#he would love someone straight out of a hair metal magazine you can’t change my mind

[livfastdieyoung69]

me 🤝 imagining men w probably the most basic taste having an alt s/o that could mentally save them

[firefly-in-darkness]

Misconceptions - 1/12

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Y/N & Sam Wilson (briefly).

Summary: Bucky Barnes overhears a conversation that he shouldn’t have...

Word Count: 2k.

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, jealousy...

Beta: The always lovely, Stacey - @princessmisery666 // all mistakes are my own.

A/N: This is one started as a dream and after bouncing ideas around with Stacey & Bee @negans-lucille-tblr​​, this was born and half way through writing I knew it would be more than a one shot.... Hope you enjoy - I love hearing your feedback too!

Series List

Firefly’s Library & Masterlist

Bucky glared at the mirror, he didn’t like wearing a suit or attending parties. He’d rather be out of sight, watching from a distance. Not chaperoning Y/N on a recon mission. He adjusted the bowtie, it still looked wonky. He gruffed at his reflection, put on the jacket and pulled through his shirt sleeves, letting the cufflinks glisten against the black velvet.

Once he placed the earpiece in, he left his room in the hotel suite and wandered over to knock on Y/N’s door. He faltered at the sound of her sweet voice floating through.

“I just wish you were here.” He heard her soft sigh, could see the way she’d twist the end of her hair in between her fingers.

Bucky strained to hear the other side of the conversation but even his super soldier hearing couldn’t work out who was at the other end of the phone call. His heart raced at the thought of Y/N wanting to be with someone else. Not with him, her supposed best friend.

“I’m worried about how he’ll react.” 

He scoffed, clamping his hand over his mouth and steadied his breathing in the hope she hadn’t heard him outside. 

He stepped away, knowing it wasn’t a good idea to listen in then he heard a giggle and muffled words, he leant his ear to the door.

“I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s driving me crazy.”

Bucky felt sick. She’s fallen for someone that isn’t him. His mind swirled with anger, or was it jealousy?. He pulled away from the door, fingers running through his now shorter strands of hair. He couldn’t hear anymore but his heart panged at her last three words.

“Love you too.”

Jealousy was similar to anger but what he felt now was definitely jealousy.

He bolted from the hotel suite without a second thought.

Ten minutes earlier….

Y/N spritzed the perfume across her collarbone, dabbing a bit behind her ear and her wrists. A quick glance to the mirror brought a smile to her lips; for once she was able to wear something glamorous. She checked her up-do was still in place, admiring how such an easy few pins could create an elegant look. The off-the-shoulder black dress sparkled in the light, she twisted and almost giggled as the floor length gown swirled around her legs, the split exposing her smooth, unarmed thigh. 

Finally, she was able to hang up her catsuit and its attached gadgets and weapons for the night. Well, she still had a pistol strapped to her other thigh, obscured by the skirt and of course the knives concealed in her heels. It might be a reconnaissance mission but things could always escalate.

Her smile faltered as she remembered the man in his own part of the suite, getting ready to support her in the mission; James Buchanan Barnes. 

Her phone ringing gripped her attention, a selfie of Sam and herself pulling silly faces was lighting up her phone. She pounced on it and held the device to her ear with her shoulder whilst she checked the blades were secure in her heels.

“Hi baby girl,” His smooth voice sent a grin to her face.

“Hey handsome.” She crooned back.

“How are you?” He tentatively asked.

She took the phone away from her shoulder, standing and smoothing the skirt. “I'm okay. This bed is huge.”

“You're changing the subject.” Sam scolded her.

Y/N knew that his eyebrow had quirked upwards and winced. Of course, he was checking up on her because of her mission partner.

“I don't know if I can handle this mission with him.” She sighed and sat back down in the chair, gliding the pendant of her necklace along its chain.

“Yes you can, it's only a recon mission. He's your back up.” Sam’s voice altered to that of her superior.

“I just wish you were here.” Y/N whined, and if she hadn’t refrained herself she might have stomped her foot.

Sam’s tone remained strong, not settling for her tantrum. “He's best qualified for this and you know it.”

“Yeah, you're right. it's one night.” She whispered.

“You still haven't told him have you?” Sam’s voice softened.

Y/N began pacing back and forth in front of the floor to ceiling window before heading back towards the door, “I don't know how to tell him. I’m worried about how he’ll react.”

He huffed, “Seriously! Go to his room right now and tell him how you feel.”

Y/N’s stomach lurched at his demand, “I can't. Not yet. He’s my friend and if I tell him this, it will make things awkward.”

“You know you need to tell him. Try it on me first. I can pretend to be the tin man, let me get into 

Character. Dark and brooding. Grumpy old man.”

She took a seat at the dressing table, a giggle falling from her lipsticked mouth, “Stop it. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Go on, hit me with your best line.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, and sighed, “I can't stop thinking about you and it's driving me crazy.”

“Yes, a little basic but whatever, now go tell him. If you don't then I will when you get back.” Sam chuckled.

She stood as apprehension filled her thoughts, alongside her fear of being rejected, “Don't you dare, this needs to come from me.”

“Okay sugar, good luck, text me. Love ya”

“Love you too” With her phone locked, she placed it into the clutch bag that complimented her outfit. 

Y/N’s head spun as she heard the suite door close, eyebrows furrowed as to why Bucky had left without her. She gathered her skirt and followed after him, in the hope to catch up with him before they entered the gala.

Y/N was not in luck, she entered the party alone. Even though her mind was reeling with uncertainty, she held her head high as she weaved amongst the guests and those carrying trays of canapes. Her eyes flickered around the room, trying to catch sight of Bucky but kept being distracted by others attempting to make conversation about their businesses, charity donations and anything that made them seem better people than they really were.

Their mark appeared and Bucky was beside him with his back to her, a blonde woman draped on his arm. Y/N’s heart dropped into your stomach, and it churned at the sight of his arm wrapping around the strange woman’s waist and hand gliding down her back to grip her bottom. Her eyes went back up to their faces, focusing on whether or not this was a distraction technique from Bucky.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes.” She whispered into the comms.

Y/N’s dress swished around her feet as she darted across the room, glancing back to see Bucky watching her; his lips on the rim of his whiskey glass, eyes dark and jaw set tightly before he turned back to the woman. She shook her head at his lack of response and carried on towards the double doors leading to the elevator. A bodyguard stood to the side and she tripped straight into him.

“Oh my, I am so sorry.” She fluttered her eyes and let out a soft giggle, “I think it’s time for me to go to bed.”

“No worries ma’am,” He lifted her upright, a grin on his lips as he drank in the sight of her exposed cleavage and doe eyes. 

She clutched his arm as he guided her to the door, her other hand unhooking the access card from his belt.

“Let me get the door for you, Miss, take it easy.”

Y/N sauntered through, nodding as she passed him. Entering the elevator and giving him a small wave. She pressed the door close button before she swiped the stolen card against the penthouse access pad.

As the elevator ascended, she sunk against the metal wall, flicking her skirt to the side and unhooking the glock from it’s holster on her thigh. She checked the magazine, clicking back in place with the palm of her hand. The doors opened with a chime and she entered, gun raised while her eyes took in her surroundings. Not much had changed since she visited two weeks ago, learning the layout and setting up the bugs to gain an insight on the criminal.

Without hesitation, she strode down the corridor to the study and rolled her eyes as she pushed the door open. Not even locked, this is too easy. She rounded the desk, opening the lid of the laptop and entered the password. A smug smirk accompanied the wink she sent to the camera hidden in the bookcase knowing Sam was watching back at base.

She pulled out the lipstick from her clutch, taking off the lid to reveal the hidden USB drive. Plugging it into the laptop and downloading it’s contents. Y/N crossed her arms and tapped her foot waiting for the green bar to fill but it was painfully slow. 

“Are you ready to get out of here?” Her eyes widened as she heard Bucky’s voice through the ear piece. The sultry tone made her freeze from removing the USB stick.

“Okay, one more dance and then I’ll show you a real good time.” His words sent pangs through her chest.

A giggle drifted around your mind, they must have been inches away from one another.

“Oh Doll, don’t tease me like that. We don’t want anyone to see.” The term of endearment and the image of what they could be doing brought tears to Y/N’s eyes. 

She ripped the ear piece out and threw it into her clutch. A quick glance to the camera, she shook her head, knowing Sam had also heard what was happening. She detached the drive, leaving the penthouse and striding back to their suite as quickly as possible.

Y/N marched into her room, kicking off her heels and began attempting to get out of her dress. The zip getting caught, a frustrated groan rumbled through her body. She clambered at the tag, and eventually was able to pull it down her back and let it drop, pooling at her feet. Stepping out of it as she pulled the pins from her hair, letting it cascade down her back.

Once Y/N had put on her pj top and shorts, she grabbed her wash bag and headed into the bathroom. She brushed through her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail, removed her makeup and moisturised her face, focusing on the repetitive motion of massaging her cheeks. But then the tears began to fall, they were hot on her cheeks and her breath dragged harshly through her lungs, almost choking on the sob. She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand.

As Y/N rinsed her mouth and put her toothbrush back in it’s case, she heard the sounds of laughter and stomping outside. Even though she felt sick at the sound of their happiness, she yanked the door open and walked out the bathroom. Y/N found them, bodies backed against the wall, in a state of undress; Bucky’s bowtie was hanging loose, the shirt open and his pants discarded down the hallway and her in a tiny lace set that didn’t leave anything to the imagination.

“Oh, who’s this?” The high pitch squeak from Bucky’s companion grated Y/N’s nerves.

Bucky spun around, “Oh that’s just a friend. Staying in the other room.”

Y/N stormed past him to her room. She heard the laughter pick up and the door shut to his bedroom. The giggles began to drift into moans and she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle it. She plugged in her earphones to her cell and blasted the music whilst she filled the cabin bag with her belongings as quickly as she could.

With a quickly scrawled note on a napkin, placed on the bed for Bucky to find in the morning, she left the hotel without a second thought.

Continue Here...

[frooopsen]

kyalin - part 3

Tw: mention of suicide

Huge thank you, to @linguini17 for beta-ing the chapter. Most competent pasta, you’ll find! 😉

Work

She bent the freshly polished armor around her core, trying to make as little noise as possible. Kya still lay in their bed, occasionally snoring. Lin never understood how someone could contort their body the way Kya did and actually sleep. She herself would probably wake up with tense shoulders and at least two dislocated extremities. Getting out of bed without waking Kya was a challenge. She was a sound sleeper (unlike Lin), but also a clingy one. It had taken Lin a while to get used to the arms around her waist every night, and even when they started out with some space in between them, sooner or later Kya’s legs were sure to find a way around Lin’s. Leaning down to close a drawer, her badge loosened and fell to the ground.

"Damn it!“ she muttered and looked over to the bed, where silver hair was brushed aside to reveal blue squinting eyes. "I’m sorry. Go back to sleep, I’m just getting ready.“ She walked over to plant a kiss on Kya's forehead, causing her to close her eyes once more.

The metalbender walked out into the kitchen. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, she thought. Kya had found her way into Lin's subconscious and kept reminding her of little things like that. Lin rolled her eyes at her own thoughts and grabbed a piece of fruit before bending the Satomobile keys her way and heading for the door. She turned around to find Kya yawning, not bothering to bring a hand up to her mouth. "Morning, beautiful, “ she slurred, leaning against the wall.

Lin paused at the compliment. Kya had called her beautiful many times, but always after sex or when getting ready for some unnecessary event, never randomly like this. It made her blush as she didn’t know how to answer. Should she thank her? Compliment her back? She didn’t understand why she still struggled like that and – not wanting to stay silent – settled for a simple, but soft, "Good morning.“

"Don’t you want to say goodbye?“ Kya giggled when Lin opened the door to leave for the station. Lin's heart dropped and she swung around.

"What did you just say?“

Kya jumped slightly at the force in Lin's voice. "I was just –“

"Show me your hands!“ Lin demanded harshly, eyes focused on the waterbender’s hands. A ‘please’ wouldn’t hurt now and then, Kya thought to herself but obeyed, nonetheless. It was the morning and she was too tired to argue about something this insignificant.

Lin didn’t quite understand why, but something shut off inside her. Yet the sun shining in through the window seemed more blinding now and the room started spinning around her.

“What can my hands do for you?” Kya smirked, as she moved in her direction, fingers stretched out in front of her. If Lin wasn’t going to, she might as well close the distance between them. “What, no eye-roll?” she teased. “What’s wrong, chief?”

Lin shook her head but reached for something to lean on.

"I can’t breathe. Kya, I can’t breathe.“ Panic overlaid her voice as she staggered towards the couch. Kya reached out as Lin's knees gave out, forcing her to lower herself to the ground. Her eyes widened as Kya rushed over, but the confusion left her at a loss for words. Lin’s hands fumbled in a desperate attempt to bend away her armor. She couldn’t feel the metal, like someone had cut off her connection to the element, only increasing the panic.

"I can’t breathe. Why won’t it come off?“ Kya tried the old fashioned way, but had problems opening the switches on the sides of the metal plates, as Lin shivered beneath her hands.

"Try to calm your breathing,“ she said, doing her best to stay calm herself. When the armor lay on the floor next to them, Lin was sweating, her chest heaving. "I think I’m going to be sick,“ Lin said, clutching at her throat, trying to loosen the sling she felt, only to find her nails scratching her own skin.

Kya recognized what was happening and repositioned herself in front of Lin. "Lin. Look at me. You’re ok.“

Lin's eyes darted around the room until she felt her face being guided to meet the waterbender’s. "I can’t breathe Kya.“

"Yes, you can. You’re having a panic attack. Try to do this,“ Kya explained. She took a deep breath, her gaze moving to Lin's mouth as her fingers wrapped around her wrist to feel her pulse.

"Three seconds in,“ she said as Lin followed the instruction. "Now hold it. One, two, three. And breathe out for three again.“ After a few minutes Lin's pulse had eased and the redness of her face started to fade  .

"One, two, three.“ Kya‘s voice echoed in her ears. Only now did Lin realize the waterbender had framed her face with her fingers. It felt like a thousand hands were touching her simultaneously and she soon became overwhelmed. Kya let go immediately as she felt Lin backing away.

"You’re ok, I’m here," Kya said, feeling helpless. She didn't really know what to say to make Lin feel better and figured it would be best to wait. She had supported patients through panic attacks, but it felt different with her, like Lin was actually about to stop breathing.

"I’m s-sorry,“ Lin stuttered.

Kya instinctively shook her head. "Nothing to be sorry about. Try sitting up a little. You’re all hunched over.“

Lin's muscles felt sore as embarrassment crept up inside her. This had never happened to her. What had that even been? The tightness of her throat finally seemed to loosen and the rushing in her ears eased up as well. "I’m sorry, I didn‘t mean to scare you,“ she repeated. Kya helped her stand back up and then immediately let go, as Lin had found a solid stance.

"Worst part’s over,“ Kya promised. "But you’re staying home today.“

Lin instinctively tried to protest but she felt her body grow weak at the thought of going to work. She could only nod in agreement.

"Let’s get you into the shower first. We’ll see how you’re feeling after that.“

---------

"I’m sorry.“

Kya looked up from the magazine she had been reading. Lin had taken her time in the shower, after reassuring Kya that she was capable of doing so on her own.

"You don’t have to keep apologizing, you know.“

"I know, I’m –“

"Sorry?“ Kya smiled, patting on the couch next to her.

Lin sighed as she fell back onto the cushion, cuddling up to Kya until her head rested on the other woman‘s chest. "I have never had that happen to me,“ she mumbled.

"It was a panic attack. I’ve seen it with patients before long healing sessions. Not being allowed to move triggers most of them,“ she told her in an attempt to make Lin feel better.

She felt Lin trembling again and looked down to see tears tumbling onto her shirt. "It’s ok,“ she reassured her again. As Lin wept silently, Kya did her best not to break out in tears herself. “We’re going to work it out. It’ll be alright.“ It was a reminder to both of them that they had gone through worse and come out the other side; together.

---------

"We need to talk,“ Lin said with a serious tone in her voice. "I’ve been putting this off for way to long. Let’s just get it over with.“

Kya suppressed a snappy comment and got two glasses of water from the kitchen before sitting back down on the couch. "Then let’s talk,“ her soft voice answered. "Do you want to begin with that night?“

Lin’s expression darkened in response, instinctively wanting to escape the conversation she had finally built up the courage to start.

"Was it Ammon? Did he take your bending away again?“ Kya asked, noticing Lin‘s struggle.

"No, no. It was nothing like that,“ Lin said, "It actually started out quite…nice.“

They now sat next to each other, leaving space between them. Lin’s feet were touching the ground and she was leaning back semi-relaxed. Kya put her arm on the backrest, supporting the side of her head with the hand. She looked – and most likely was – more relaxed with one of her legs crossed and the other loosely hanging off the couch. While she looked at Lin, showing her that she had her full attention, the other woman kept her gaze straight ahead, not meeting her eyes. Kya knew it had nothing to do with her, but with Lin's difficulty when it came to sharing.

Lin had changed her mind and decided not to hold back any details even though she was afraid of Kya's reaction. With a deep breath, she started. Kya stayed silent until Lin had finished. Towards the end Kya held onto her own wrist, where Lin had clenched a few nights ago, now understanding the metalbender’s need to hold onto something.

"That sounds horrible. Knowing you…no wonder you didn’t want to talk about it,“ Kya finally exclaimed after letting the story sit in silence for a few minutes.

Lin raised her brows. "So you’re not disturbed?“ she asked in disbelieve.

"Not really. I mean, confused, yes. But I’m just really…I don’t know. I understand better now. Besides…you forget that we’ve both seen things that were way more disturbing than someone plunging a knife into their chest.“

Lin’s expression turned angry as Kya’s attempt to lighten up the situation backfired. "Except it wasn’t someone,“ she hissed. "It was you. And it wasn’t only once. That happens in a lot of my nightmares.“

"What, me committing suicide?“

Lin tried not to squirm. Hearing Kya talk about this dream like it was the weather made it less difficult, but it somehow hurt more.

"No. You, dying. What’s wrong with me? Why would I dream that?“

Kya looked at her trying to understand Lin’s train of thought. Lin’s instinct was always that if she didn’t understand something, there must be something wrong with her. Kya had a hard time, comprehending what had led to that conclusion this time. She couldn’t have been right, could she? Had Lin subconsciously noticed a change in Kya's mood, that she herself had missed? No, that couldn’t have been. There was no emptiness inside her now. She’d always felt emotions strongly: love, passion, joy, nostalgia even; more fear, fury and anger than she’d care to admit t. But she hadn’t experienced emptiness in a long time. When she had come across people during her travels that had lost people to suicide, they had always told her that emptiness had been the real cause of death.

"There’s nothing wrong with you,“ she finally answered, "It makes quite a lot of sense to me, the more I think about it.“

"We are still talking about the same dream, right?“ Lin reassured herself. "The one – and I cannot stress this enough – where you die. Knife-plungingly.“

Kya couldn’t suppress a smile at the change in Lin’s demeanor. "Yes. To me it does. If you’re up for it, I could tell you why.“

"If I’m up for it?“ Lin huffed. "I had a slight breathing issue. I’m not an invalid. Go ahead, do your thing.“

Kya ignored the remark as to not change the topic. One trauma at a time, she thought.

"You have a record of being left by people.“

Lin wanted to interject. This is exactly what she had dreaded, but she knew Kya would not tolerate being interrupted. It was one of her biggest pet peeves. So she waited and listened attentively.

"Your mom left. Your sister left. Your…“ she paused. "Tenzin did.“

Lin turned her head to look away, but Kya still saw her flinch. "What’s your point?“

Kya knew it was difficult for the other woman and she felt some kind of pride for even having gotten this far in the conversation. She knew, she didn’t have the luxury of holding back, so she might as well say what came to her mind.

"We expect to be able to rely on the people closest to us. When we learn over and over that they leave us to fend for ourselves, our minds start to learn that sooner or later – no matter how much we care for someone, or think they care for us – they will leave.“

Lin felt the tears well up in her eyes as she heard Kya's clear and brutally true words. She fought them back. She knew crying would make Kya stop and if she wanted to understand, she needed her to keep going.

"The mind will shield you from potential harm. It plays the scenarios you are afraid of, to give you a chance at dealing with part of the pain beforehand. That’s also why talking about it is so important,“ Kya smiled softly, "Because if we don’t, it will create more of those scenarios. You got a taste of that today and judging by earlier, that force surprised even you.“

Lin finally turned to face Kya as she started seeing the connections herself. "But you wouldn’t do that to yourself. You wouldn’t kill yourself. Why would my brain feel the need to process that?“

Kya shrugged her shoulders. "I don’t know. Maybe there’s a positive aspect to it.“

Lin couldn’t believe her ears. "Have you lost your mind?!“

"No, not to me dying,“ Kya quickly corrected, "I meant the way your brain chose to…off me.“ Lin stood up, no longer being able to sit. She started pacing a little.

"Well, it could not have chosen a more unlikely scenario. We have fought spirits, blood-benders and other maniacs with a god complex and still your brain thought that I would be the greatest danger to myself. You must have a great deal of faith in my survival abilities,“ Kya smiled. "Or in your protecting skills.“

"Yeah, because I did such a great job protecting you from that knife.“ Lin had a hard time keeping track of all the theories running around her head. she started massaging her temples. The tears had slipped her control when she started talking again. "I couldn’t even move. You noticed that. Not in my dream and not when you woke me up. I tried. It didn’t work.“

Kya sighed and walked over to draw Lin in for a tight embrace. Some kind of limit had been met and though she felt Lin’s wish to keep going, she felt the both of them being overwhelmed. Herself by the waves of confusion and fear, mixed with anger and frustration, that were sent her way. And Lin who felt that the emotions rushing over her made it even more difficult to grasp the context of the spoken sentences.

She welcomed the hug and it felt like Kya, who was still a whole lot calmer than she herself, transferred some of that calmness to her for every second they stayed intertwined.

They pulled away and looked at each other, while Kya brushed the tears away. "I don’t want to push you too hard,“ she said carefully, "That’s not the point of this.

They both weren’t sure what would happen if they continued right then and there and decided to think about the conversation while going about their day.

----

“Listen,” Lin cleared her throat, “I’m very thankful for your insight. I know that I can be a little…inaccessible, unavailable, whatever you want to call it, sometimes.”

Kya looked up from her soup, sucking a few noodles into her mouth before answering.

“You’re very welcome. I know it’s hard for you. I can’t see inside your head, but I’ll always listen to you,” she assured her.

A smile found its way across Lin’s face and her eyes filled with adoration, when she realized she didn’t even question, whether Kya was being sincere. She knew it.

“You do always look beautiful when you smile,” Kya added, “I think I saw you flinch at that this morning,” she kept talking as Lin blushed slightly, “Guess I’ll have to tell you more often, until you don’t anymore.”

[digitalworldbound]

miyako and hikari (platonic) for 133?

Number 133: “Slushies aren’t just for kids. Fuck society!”

Characters: Miyako & Hikari. Finally, one of my 02 babies! This is set while the girls are maybe around 15 and 16.

I wrote this in first person as Hikari, just to give it a more casual, carefree feel! I hope you enjoy these teenager-y, summer vibes. The ending kind of sucks, but please ignore it. (Minor swearing) 

Send me a prompt! 

As a certified teenager, it’s safe to assume that I love summer. Why wouldn’t I? It’s the time of the year when you can pretty much do whatever you like. Summer is the grand time where the months-long prep and countdown for family vacations actually come in fruition.

But there’s danger that lurks during summer. It’s the trap of monotony where sleeping late, waking up at noon, watching endless TV, and playing video games for hours become a routine. Well, not if you are friends with Miyako.

Despite chatting with friends into the wee hours of the morning, the girl is an early riser. She’s the “get up and go” type, only grabbing a banana for breakfast as she sprints out the front door. Afterall, an object in motion in stays in motion.

It was the first Saturday of summer vacation when she barged into my room, a flurry of purple hair and lipgloss. “Hika!” she screeched. Miyako was one of the only people that called me by a nickname, and never failed to abuse this privilege. “What are you still doing in bed? If you want to go scope out hot guys on the beach with me, you have to get up. We’re burning daylight!”

I didn’t even have to glance at the clock to know that it was inhumanly early. The coffee machine in the kitchen was silent, and the sound of my brother snoring permeated the apartment. Somehow, I managed to pull myself away from the warmth of a slept-in comforter, yawning all the while. Before my feet hit the floor, Miyako was rummaging through my wardrobe, clicking her tongue in disapproval at my large collection of borrowed basketball t-shirts. “Hmm, where do all these come from, I wonder?” she asked pointedly. She laughed airily, flashing me a wink.

“Ha, ha, Miya, very funny. You know me and him are just friends,” I offered, attempting to stretch the sleep out of my joints. She shook her head in disapproval, purple ponytail swinging behind her.

A note about Miyako: she fancies herself a matchmaker, and believed I was her perfect target.

For years, she has tried everything to pair me up with my best friend. A few summers ago, she locked us both in the hall closet, smushing us between the extra linens and a scratchy, wool blanket. Takeru and I are pretty close, so we weren’t particularly bothered by our close proximity. We might have been able to enjoy our time together had Miyako not forgotten about us. It wasn’t until my brother came home from soccer practice that someone heard our desperate pleas for freedom. Ever since then, she has stayed out of it.

With a hum of approval, she tossed a sundress in my direction.  I barely had time to catch the flimsy, yellow fabric before she barked out another order. “Go to the bathroom and put that on, we need to hurry.”

Another note about Miyako: Never argue with her when she gets in one of her Moods.

My socked feet padded their way silently to the bathroom, pausing only to check the time displayed in the hall: 7:45 in the morning. Changing quickly, I slipped the sundress over last season’s bathing suit, adjusting the straps as the material settled around my hips. Miyako, being a full year older than me, had taken puberty gracefully, filling out gradually and evenly. My body, it seemed, had other plans. The hips seemed to be its first priority, leaving the top of my dress little to fill itself out.

I made my way back towards my room, careful to avoid any creaky floorboards. Miyako sat atop my bed, flicking through a stray magazine. She hadn’t noticed my arrival, and I took my few extra moments of silence to study her.

This past semester, she had shot up several inches, giving her legs the slender look of a model. Her cut-off shorts only emphasized this fact. Her Hawaiian-esque button down should have been tacky, but she left the buttons undone, showing off her camisole underneath. A bathing suit top poked out from underneath it, accentuated her new curves. Compared to her, I felt like a little girl playing dress up.

While I struggled to coax the tangles out of my horrendous bedhead, Miyako gave me the rundown of the day. “Okay, so I was thinking we hit up Starbucks first. They have some new fruity lemonade that I’ve been dying to try, and I’m also kind of hungry.” As if to punctuate her statement, my own stomach growled, and I grinned sheepishly up at her. “Make that two of us,” I laughed.

She rambled on about sunbathing and beach volleyball, the metallic jingle of her bracelets accentuating every point. Miyako talked with her hands, making gestures large and small as if it would help the listener understand her better. Spoiler alert: it never did, but it was fun to watch all the same.

My hair finally tamed, I applied some light concealer, desperate to rid myself of the dark circles clinging underneath my eyes. “You know,” her jingling stops, “You really don’t need any makeup, Hika.”

I only snort in response; taking compliments has never been my forte. Grabbing my purse and phone, I slipped on a pair of sandals. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Let’s rock and roll!”

-

As one could expect on the first weekend of summer vacation, Odaiba beach was cluttered with people. For mile it seemed the white sand was obscured by sunburnt bodies and an array of towels, but that was understandable.

The passing heat wave had been brutal. One could not go outside without sunscreen, lest risk getting sun poisoning. Within minutes, Miyako sucked her lemonade dry, settling on chewing the left-over ice. “Oh!” she squealed, bits of ice flinging about. “An empty spot, just over there!”

Years of running away from evil Digimon  looked like practice as we narrowly dodged the ample bodies of beach-goers. Arms linked together; our feet kicked up sand behind us as we ran. Just as we were about to secure our small area, a blue beach towel obscured the white sand.

I was panting too hard to notice Miyako’s eyes light up or the stranger’s shadow obscure the sun’s rays.

“Hey, guys! What are you two doing here?” a familiar voice asked, humor lifting at the end of his question. My breathing stopped mid-pant, silently cursing whatever deity that would listen. Once my heartbeat was under control, I managed to stand up straight. Raising a singular eyebrow, I challenged our guest. “Well, Takeru, the last time I checked, this beach is open to the public.”

His blonde hair reflected the sunshine, a soft, golden glow haloing around him. As if I needed any more reason to fall in love with him. He laughed in good nature, smiling a boyish, toothy grin.

“You took our spot.” Miyako pointed out, arms crossed over her chest. Wrinkles formed between her brows, her effort to look more menacing. A pair of heart-shaped sunglasses shielded her hazel eyes, and I almost giggled at the thought of her trying to look domineering while wearing something so innocent.

“Who says we all can’t share?” he countered; blues eyes illuminated by mischief. Never one to back down from a challenge, Miyako stood her ground, “I don’t think so.”

Anxiety clenched at my stomach. As of late, being in a close proximity to Takeru made me nervous, especially when he was shirtless with little rivets of water trailing their way down his abs. He was no longer the cute little eight-year-old that sat with me by the campfire. Years of basketball practice had solidified his athletic figure, and two summers ago, his growth spurt had him towering over his own brother. Seeing him in nothing but a pair of swimming trunks did not help my flushed state.

“It’ll be fine, Miyako. We can just squish our towel beside his.”  Rolling her eyes, she begrudgingly pulled out her Hello Kitty! themed towel, spreading it haphazardly on the ground. “Let’s just get in the water. That’s where all of the cute guys are, anyway.”

Takeru, for his part, pretended not to notice the hostility in her voice. He was as used to her moodiness as I was. Standing there awkwardly, he only made the move to leave as we began to strip down to our bikinis. “I should probably go find Ken and Daisuke. I’ll catch you both later,” he stammered, eyes intently focused on the granules of sand that had clung themselves to his hands.

Looking at each other, Miyako and I burst into a fit of giggles. She had a twinkle in her eyes as she wiggled her eyebrows in my direction. “No, absolutely not.” I deadpan, knowing exactly where this was about to go.

Her glossed bottom lip poked out, her attempt at a puppy-dog look. In my opinion, she looked more like a Kardashian, and when I told her exactly this, the lip was sucked right back in.

Though it was still pretty early, the sun was high in the sky. My cheeks were warm, and my shoulders had turned a light shade of pink. “We need to put some sunscreen on before we fry.”

“Nah, I’m good. I need to work on my tan anyway.” Miyako’s high-waisted bikini bottoms and halter bathing suit top suited her figure, the cornflower blue color complimenting the slight tan she had already developed. She raised an eyebrow at my pink one-piece, but I just shrugged. Shopping for a skimpy bathing suits had never been one of my priorities.

Neither of us felt comfortable oogling guys when our friends were here and apt to make fun of us, so the though of swimming was abandoned. I smeared sunblock on any bit exposed skin, using the technique a toddler would when icing a cake: all hands on deck.  

The pair of us sprawled out, Miyako’s body covering most of the cartoon cat. My pale legs claimed Takeru’s towel as my own. His blonde hair had disappeared in the throngs of beachgoers, and considering that he wasn’t the sunbathing type, I figured he wouldn’t complain.  

Rays of sunshine encapsulated me, and the muscles in my shoulders slowly unwound. Eyes closed, I only half-listened to surrounding conversation. A child begged his mother for ice cream while some teenaged girl made her move. A nearby volleyball game was in full swing, both teams shouting at one another. The summer air was stagnant, smelling of sunscreen, sweat, and salt.

We laid around, soaking in the sunshine and the freedom that came with summer vacation. Those last few weeks of school had been stressful. Between taking pictures for the school paper and studying for any upcoming exams, I had been ready to lose my mind. Takeru had also been acting strange, flip-flopping between avoiding me at all costs or never letting me out of his sight. It had all be so intense that I was grateful for Miyako’s distraction, even if it meant waking up at the ass-crack of dawn.

“Psst.” I whispered. I rolled onto my side, doing my best to ignore the way iced coffee moved around in my belly. In our haste to get to the overcrowded seaside, we had forgone any breakfast, hoping that caffeine would be enough to fuel us throughout the day. The rumble in my stomach proved otherwise.

Miyako groaned, peeking at me through her ridiculously long lashes. Note to self: interrogate her about the brand of mascara she uses.

“Psst, Miyako.” She ignored me once again, opting to rotate like a rotisserie chicken.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll go find food on my own.” I stood up, dusting invisible debris off of my legs. Sure enough, I had my friend’s full attention. Anything that involved eating always got her going. In a flurry of purple hair and sand, she was up on her feet, eyes searching for the nearest snack source. A laugh bubbled out of my throat. Miyako tended to do all things with a theatrical flair, making even the most mundane tasks enjoyable.

Once, in middle school, we were both sentenced to lunch duty. Our job was simple: serve food to our peers. Dishing out food was easy; just ladle the mystery meat on a plate and voila! You were finished. It would have been simple enough, had we not had to wear hairnets and white smocks that made us look more like a middle-aged lunch lady than we ever wanted to. Miyako was never the type to wallow in self-pity. She ignored the looks of sympathy other girls gave us and found pleasure in the odd slurp sound the food made when hitting the trays. Soon, it became a competition of who could create the best squelch, testing out different flinging techniques until we were satisfied. By then end of lunch period, our smocks were littered with oil stain, and our cheeks were sore from smiling.

Miyako channeled her inner lunch lady food-flinging abilities as she practically pushed innocent bystanders out of her way. God help those who stood between Miyako and, well, whatever it was that she wanted. Her ponytail navigated through the crowd, giving me no choice but to follow. Her legs lead us to a slushie cart, manned by a woman who was all smiles and sticky syrup. It might not have been solid food, but I wouldn’t deny myself a sugar high.

A small line had already formed, several children tugging on their parents’ sleeves. My bathing suit clung to my skin uncomfortably. I tried to shift in place, but the air was thick with heat. Aside from seeing my childhood crush half-naked, waking up early hadn’t been the best idea. The sun was high in the sky, my morning shadow disappearing.

The line moved quickly, and before long, the pair of us stood at the front, pondering our choices. Finger resting on her lip in faux-concentration, Miyako made a show of deciding on a flavor “Could I have a mix of wild cherry and blue raspberry, please?”  

“Why pretend to chose when you get the same thing every time?” As a woman of few pleasures, I found a great joy in calling Miyako out. Her flush of embarrassment was a rare sight.  Turning towards the employee, I order the first flavor to have ‘strawberry’ in its name.

A few minutes later, we found ourselves walking along the shoreline. The waves lapped at our bare feet and we slurped on our slushies, rambling on about anything that came to mind.

“You know,” I said, disrupting the natural lull of conversation, “The last time I drank a slushie like this was before I even met you.”

By now, Miyako’s slushie had melted into a dark purple, the last remnants of red dye staining her lips. “But slushies are, like, a summer staple. What’s up with that?”

I twirled my straw around, savoring the last bits of pink ice that had collected on the bottom of my cup. “Well, my brother would probably make fun of me. He already gives me a hard-enough time about my ice cream addiction; he says sweet things are for children.” Switching voices, I lowered my pitch and curled my arms, much like an ape would at the zoo. In a horrible attempt at mocking my brother, I continued, “ ‘Hikari, sweets bad, protein good. Eat more meat.’”

I took a few more steps before I realized she was no longer beside me. Turning around, I barely had time to register the shocked look on her features before she cried out: “Slushies are not just for kids! Fuck him!” Apparently, my friend took summer treats very seriously. 

If her passionate outburst hadn’t of attracted attention, her colorful language sure did. Quickly, I grabbed her arm, hastily pulling her towards our belongings. Embarrassment colored my cheeks as I attempted to dodge the gazes of judgmental bystanders. “Miyako, you can’t just say things like that,” I whispered to her, clenched teeth giving my tone a pinched quality.

“C’mon,” I thrusted her towel into her arms, “let’s get out of here before we get kicked out.”

Pulling on her shorts, she cast me a sideways glance. “I’m sorry, Hika, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Sighing, I held both of her hands between mine. “You said what you did because you care about me, and I can’t fault you for that.” I gathered up the rest of my own belongings before continuing. “Besides, you forgot to feed me today. I’m thinking we get some McDonald’s. Your treat?”

She laughed, hands now busying themselves with her shirt. “Isn’t McDonald’s for kids?”

Tossing my purse over my shoulder, I turned around and winked. “Fuck society.”

[xbreezymeadowsx]

200 Questions

No one asked me to do it but I made @sharpiewashere do it so it’s only fair I suffer through, too.

200: My crush’s name is: Zach because husband but also... Tommy motherfuckin’ Flanagan

199: I was born in: New Hampshire

198: I am really: horny and annoyed

197: My cellphone company is: Verizon

196: My eye color is: Brown

195: My shoe size is: like 10.5W I think.

194: My ring size is: I think it’s a 9.

193: My height is: 5’ 3”

192: I am allergic to: cats and crop dust

191: My 1st car was: old ass shitty Jeep Grand Cherokee

190: My 1st job was: at a stand in a city mall where we had an inflatable slide and two bounces houses and served sno cones, smoothies, and novelty ice creams

189: Last book you read: Fangs by Sarah Andersen

188: My bed is: fuckin’ broken and uncomfortable and clearly not big enough for myself and my bedhog husband.

187: My pet: 1 old black cat.

186: My best friend: Yuki (that bitch is my best best best friend and I miss her to pieces)

185: My favorite shampoo is: Garnier Whole Blends: Honey Treasures

184: Xbox or ps3: Fuck both. Switch.

183: Piggy banks are: cute

182: In my pockets: nada at the moment

181: On my calendar: is scribbles from my kid

180: Marriage is: Don’t marry a redneck!

179: Spongebob can: stop. Give me the early Bob but that’s it.

178: My mom: loves Unicorns

177: The last three songs I bought were? Wap metal version, Room with a Zoo, Shoop

176: Last YouTube video watched: GabSmolders playing Control

175: How many cousins do you have? technically only 2 by blood and actual familial connections. 6 if you count some others. 9 if you count step-cousins.

174: Do you have any siblings? 1 big Seester!

173: Are your parents divorced? Yeah

172: Are you taller than your mom? Maybe? IDK, we’re both shorties

171: Do you play an instrument? sadly, no.

170: What did you do yesterday? Slept and worked

[ I Believe In ]

169: Love at first sight: yes

168: Luck: yes

167: Fate: yes

166: Yourself: HA, you’re funny.

165: Aliens: no

164: Heaven: these are...

163: Hell: ... kinda loaded...

162: God: ... questions

161: Horoscopes: maybe

160: Soul mates: yes

159: Ghosts: yes

158: Gay Marriage: yes

157: War: yes

156: Orbs: yes

155: Magic: yes

[ This or That ]

154: Hugs or Kisses: hugs

153: Drunk or High: unfortunately neither.

152: Phone or Online: online

151: Red heads or Black haired: black

150: Blondes or Brunettes: brunette

149: Hot or cold: cold

148: Summer or winter: winter

147: Autumn or Spring: autumn

146: Chocolate or vanilla: chocolate

145: Night or Day: night

144: Oranges or Apples: apples

143: Curly or Straight hair: straight

142: McDonalds or Burger King: McD’s outta these choices but I’d take Steak’N’Shake over either.

141: White Chocolate or Milk Chocolate: Milk and Dark.

140: Mac or PC: PC

139: Flip flops or high heals: flip flops

138: Ugly and rich OR sweet and poor: Zach can be sweet (he certainly isn’t ugly to look at) and we’re definitely on the poor side.

137: Coke or Pepsi: Pepsi (anybody remember Pepsi Twist? That was the best!)

136: Hillary or Obama: Obama

135: Buried or cremated: Buried I guess. Though, if I’m cremated, my ashes need to be spread in one place and no separating them.

134: Singing or Dancing: singing

133: Coach or Chanel: I am a redneck, these things don’t mean anything to me.

132: Kat McPhee or Taylor Hicks: who?

131: Small town or Big city: small town

130: Wal-Mart or Target: Either? I shop Wal-Mart all the time out of convenience but I do like Target

129: Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler: I am overall not a fan of either barring a select couple movies (like Heavyweights and Little Nicky)

128: Manicure or Pedicure: no thanks.

127: East Coast or West Coast: east coast

126: Your Birthday or Christmas: Christmas

125: Chocolate or Flowers: chocolate

124: Disney or Six Flags: Can I go to a Zoo instead?

123: Yankees or Red Sox: I’ll say Sox because New England but I don’t particularly care for baseball.

[ Here’s What I Think About ]

122: War: there’s a time and place

121: George Bush: he’s an idiot?

120: Gay Marriage: yay!

119: The presidential election: tearing families apart because people are stupid and vote for Trump

118: Abortion: this is a bit of a grey area for me. While I firmly believe in “my body, my choice”, I do not accept that argument if you are constantly getting them as if it is a form of birth control. Use proper contraceptives you slut.

117: MySpace: does that even exist anymore?

116: Reality TV: certain ones can assume me.

115: Parents: love them even when you don’t like them.

114: Back stabbers: pussies.

113: Ebay: never used it

112: Facebook: is reserved for pictures of kids, pets, funny videos and memes, and gifs.

111: Work: shitty... literally

110: My Neighbors: I’m just glad they aren’t the cousin-fuckers or the Methicans anymore.

109: Gas Prices: it takes like 20 bucks to fill my tiny car gas tank so whatever.

108: Designer Clothes: never fit me

107: College: didn’t go.

106: Sports: HA. My fat ass play sports? Maybe Badminton or Tetherball but that’s it.

105: My family: lives too far away.

104: The future: needs to be better than now.

[ Last time I ]

103: Hugged someone: like 20 mins ago when my kid was trying to suck up to me to get a sip of my frappe.

102: Last time you ate: two hours ago.

101: Saw someone I haven’t seen in awhile: Zane’s first day of school this year. Miss Angie came over to see him off in the morning.

100: Cried in front of someone: probably a few weeks ago.

99: Went to a movie theater: Twilight Breaking Dawn pt 2.

98: Took a vacation: three years ago.

97: Swam in a pool: probably close to 8 or more years ago.

96: Changed a diaper: 4-5 yrs ago.

95: Got my nails done: professionally? never. By Zane? last weekend.

94: Went to a wedding: three years ago.

93: Broke a bone: never. dislocated shit though.

92: Got a piercing: over a decade

91: Broke the law: probably frequently without realizing it.

90: Texted: couple mins ago.

[ MISC ]

89: Who makes you laugh the most: oh I’m a funny bitch

88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: nothing? fuck this house. fuck this town. fuck this state. I wanna go HOME home.

87: The last movie I saw: Smokin’ Aces 2

86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: my nephew’s birth and the vacation we plan to take to see him!

85: The thing i’m not looking forward to: the travel for the vacation stated above.

84: People call me: a lot of things. most of them true.

83: The most difficult thing to do is: wake up

82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: nope

81: My zodiac sign is: Taurus

80: The first person i talked to today was: my husband

79: First time you had a crush: I had a massive crush on Shawn Micheals as a kid.

78: The one person who i can’t hide things from: my Seester

77: Last time someone said something you were thinking: probably someone in the Flanaclan Chapel

76: Right now I am talking to: the Flanaclan on and off

75: What are you going to do when you grow up: I’m supposed to grow up?

74: I have/will get a job: yes

73: Tomorrow: is Halloween

72: Today: I’m horny and annoyed

71: Next Summer: is a long time away

70: Next Weekend: work

69: I have these pets: already answered

68: The worst sound in the world: right now I’d have to say it’s Zane clucking his tongue.

67: The person that makes me cry the most is: myself? or more specifically my anxiety brain.

66: People that make you happy: my Flanaclan friends, my bff, my sister.

65: Last time I cried: a few weeks ago

64: My friends are: on the internet and/or mostly too far away

63: My computer is: a hunk of shit laptop

62: My School: never going ever again.

61: My Car: looks like the car emoji.

60: I lose all respect for people who: beat animals

59: The movie I cried at was: recently? Up

58: Your hair color is: brown

57: TV shows you watch: SOA, SVU, SWAT, wrestling, Wynonna Earp, Van Helsing, Supernatural

56: Favorite web site: tumblr and youtube

55: Your dream vacation: Scotland, Ireland, Wales, England, all that.

54: The worst pain I was ever in was: dislocating my knee

53: How do you like your steak cooked: med rare

52: My room is: some boring off-white

51: My favorite celebrity is: Tommy Flanagan

50: Where would you like to be: New Hampshire

49: Do you want children: I have 1 and that’s 1 too many.

48: Ever been in love: yup

47: Who’s your best friend: didn’t I already answer this?

46: More guy friends or girl friends: girls nowadays. guys around here suck.

45: One thing that makes you feel great is: reading Chibs fics, staring at Flanagan

44: One person that you wish you could see right now: Flanagan

43: Do you have a 5 year plan: hell no

42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: no

41: Have you pre-named your children: I did not.

40: Last person I got mad at: me

39: I would like to move to: for the millionth time, New Hampshire

38: I wish I was a professional: dog sitter/walker

[ My Favorites ]

37: Candy: Sour Patch Watermelons

36: Vehicle: 90′s Ford Ranger, Jeep Renegade, Jeep Wrangler, Jeep Gladiator, Ford Shelby GT350R 

35: President: certainly not the fuckin’ current one.

34: State visited: Massachusetts

33: Cellphone provider: Verizon

32: Athlete: Aleister Black, Drew McIntyre, Luchasaurus, Sonny Kiss (and fuck you if you try to tell me they aren’t athletes)

31: Actor: Tommy Flanagan

30: Actress: Millie Bobby Brown

29: Singer: Ville Valo

28: Band: HIM

27: Clothing store: don’t care.

26: Grocery store: don’t care.

25: TV show: Law & Order: SVU (as much as I’d love to say SOA, Law & Order was my first real love)

24: Movie: 10 Things I Hate About You

23: Website: tumblr, youtube

22: Animal: dogs, wolves

21: Theme park: Zoos

20: Holiday: Halloween

19: Sport to watch: professional wrestling, football, hockey

18: Sport to play: nothing that requires that much energy

17: Magazine: don’t read them much

16: Book: the House Of Night series and sequel series by P.C. Cast and Kristen Cast (I don’t care that I’m probably too old for them now, I love them)

15: Day of the week: Saturday

14: Beach: Hampton Beach, NH

13: Concert attended: 69 Eyes headlined (opening with Night Kills The Day, then Fair To Midland which were fine but also Wednesday 13!!!!!)

12: Thing to cook: fajitas

11: Food: apple fritters/apple cider donuts

10: Restaurant: Panda Express I suppose.

9: Radio station: WGFA

8: Yankee candle scent: Midsummers Night

7: Perfume: don’t wear perfume so much as body spray and it’s usually something like cucumber melon or some baked goods scent.

6: Flower: Tiger Lillies

5: Color: Green- specifically Forest/Hunter

4: Talk show host: idk I used to watch Maury all the time, does that count?

3: Comedian: George Carlin

2: Dog breed: Pittie mixes, mutts, labs, medium to big short haired breeds

1: Did you answer all these truthfully? Yes I did.

[valentines-in-london]

I Need Fire (Part 2)

Gif by @robwiethoff

Previous chapters: Chapter 1

Next Chapter: Chapter 3

Summary:  Rayne moved to LA a few years ago and has never really fit in.  While most of the Sunset Strip girls were movie star beautiful, with thin builds and blonde, Rayne stood at 5′10 in flats, had curves that no diet would make disappear and had big red curly hair.  The only person that ever made her feel normal was her best friend and room mate Jo.  In this chapter Jo tries to play matchmaker…

Authors Note:  Hey there, thank you all for coming back for chapter 2!  Spread the word tell your friends, as always my asks are open for suggestions, reviews, what you like, what you don’t, etc, etc<3</p>

Word Count: 3,297

Taglist: @triplehaitches  send me an ask if you want to be added!

Chapter 2

It was a hot weekend in Los Angeles, today alone was going to hit 88° according to the local news.  So what were two girls to do?  Of course, lounge by the pool and catch some sun!  The apartment complex that Rayne and Jo lived in had a giant pool that no one ever seemed to take advantage of, it was always a ghost town.

Rayne brought her boom box to the pool with a stack of cassettes.  First she put in On Through The Night by Def Leppard and pressed play.  “I know you’re gonna say I listen to this too much but the guy at the record store knocked it out of the park with this suggestion!  This band is gonna be big.”

“I mean you certainly have had much worse phases.”  Jo giggled from her lounge chair as Rayne took off her baggy t-shirt.  “Oh Rayne if I looked like you I would wear a bikini!”  Jo complained upon seeing Rayne in an emerald green one piece.

“You’re crazy!  I love my curves but no one wants to see me in a bikini.”  Rayne scoffed while laying back in the reclining chair sliding sunglasses over her eyes.

“Oh I can think of one person who wouldn’t mind seeing you in less than that.” Jo teased taking a drink of her iced tea.

“Huh?” Rayne asked propping herself up on her elbow.  "Who?“

“Well I saw Vince the other night and he told me that his drummer has been talking non stop about some bombshell red head he met the other night at the apartment.  He described you to Vince and then said you left with some blonde who was there for Vince.  Vinny later put two and two together that you must be my friend.

"Oh God!” Rayne put a hand on her forehead in exasperation.  “Of course he’s your fuck buddies friend.”

“You know Tommy is pretty sexy.”  Jo pushed the issue.

“Jo he ate a girl out in the middle of a room full of people.  I’m pretty sure her cum is on the walls.” Rayne slid her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose.

“Well at least you know he’s good at it!” Jo laughed before shoving Rayne’s shoulder.  "Oh come on, you deserve to have a little bit of fun!“

Rayne thought about it, maybe she did deserve to have some fun.  But was someone like Tommy worth the trouble he would undoubtedly bring with him?  "I don’t know Jo, I don’t think dating a musician is worth it. They tend to be like leeches.  Remember when Danielle dated that dude from Ratt and found out he was just using her for groceries?”

“I think this band is a little bit different Ray, they sell out every show they play on the Strip.  They’re making money. Vince says he thinks they’ll get signed soon, they have a label executive trying to convince the label to sign them.  And besides, who says you have to date, just fuck him and leave him.”

“If they’re making money why does their apartment look like a bomb went off in it?  God I can’t believe you fucked Vince in there!” Rayne laughed, not even wanting to justify the second part of her friends statement.

“Oh my god it’s awful in there isn’t it?” Jo agreed clenching her hands into fists in front of her.  "I think I saw a cockroach crawling on the floor when Vince had me bent over the bed.  But at that point I didn’t care.“

Rayne gave a loud sound of disgust and threw the sunscreen at her friend.  “Ew!  That’s so fucked.”

Rayne adored moments like this with Jo, where they could just get down to straight up girl talk.  Back home she never had friends that she could talk honestly with, most of her girl friends said that she had no tact and was more like a guy in that way.  Rayne would never forget the first time she ever met Jo after answering a want ad in Recycler magazine for a room mate.  When Rayne entered her hopeful future apartment she was greeted by a disheveled looking Jo, her blonde hair a mess, partially up in a pony tail and an off the shoulder loose fitting top.  Within two minutes of them talking Rayne watched as a guy walked out stark naked, her jaw dropped when he asked if Jo had a pair of pants he could borrow.  The blond smiled at Rayne with a megawatt smile, “I thought he was going to be gone by the time you got here, but I think I wore him out.”  As strange as it sounds Rayne knew in that moment she had met a kindred spirit, even if Jo made Rayne look like a prude most of the time.

The two girls sat by the pool for a few hours gossiping about new bands on the strip, new girls on the strip and every now and then going into the water to cool off.  That night they were going to the Roxy. No bands were playing that they were particularly interested in but the Roxy played the best music when no bands were on and the girls were friends with the DJ who would be spinning there.  Little did Rayne know that Jo had told Vince they were planning on going. If Vince was going that undoubtedly meant that the rest of the band would be there. Jo joked with Rayne that she needed to get laid, and it was all in good fun, but she truly didn’t want the white collar world to suck the fun out of her best friend.  Maybe a bad boy would be just what the doctor ordered.

Later that night the girls entered the Roxy and music already blasted out of the speakers, specifically "Fashion” by David Bowie.  Jo shouted in Rayne’s ear, “I’m gonna go find Robbie.”

Rayne nodded her head making her way over to the bar to grab drinks.  She smiled when she saw that her favorite bartender David was behind the bar. “My love!”

“Hi David.” Rayne smiled hopping onto the bar giving her friend a big hug.  "I keep missing you! We don’t come to the Roxy as much because you guys haven’t been doing live music as much.“

"That’s all going to change soon babe.” David said happily.  David had been working at the Roxy since Rayne moved to LA he was a typical bartender in that he was charming and worked for his tips, he also made a damn good drink.  "What can I get you?“

"I’ll just have a Cardu neat.  Jo is saying hi to Robbie, but let’s get her a vodka cranberry.”

“You got it sweets.” David winked.  After a few short moments he pushed two glasses across the bar.  

Rayne slid a twenty dollar bill back at him telling him to keep it.  "David, would you mind keeping an eye on our bags behind the bar tonight?“

"Always.” David reached his hand out to grab onto Rayne’s leather purse.  "Save me a dance tonight.“

"Oh I don’t know about that.” Rayne smiled and winked.  Rayne crossed the club floor weaving in and out of people to find a decent spot.  She and Jo had become strip rats so to speak, they went out basically every single night, mostly for live music but in that time they had made a little family of friends.  You go out to the same places enough you start to see familiar faces, and you either get along or start to mark your territory against those you didn’t like.  Working her way through the mass of people she spotted Jo coming down from the DJ booth through the crowd of people towards her as Metal Guru by T. Rex started to play.  "David will take your bag for the night, and here’s your drink. Drop your purse and come out and dance with me!“

Metal Guru could it be you’re gonna bring my baby to me She’ll be wild you know a rock and roll child, oh yeah Metal Guru has it been, just like a silver-studded sabre-tooth dream I'II be clean you know pollution machine, oh yeah

The two friends danced to the music singing with each other as they danced.  Swaying her hips to the music, Rayne lost herself in the music she absolutely loved.  T. Rex and Marc Bolan, even if in real life she would have towered over him, were huge influences on her music taste.  T. Rex wasn’t changing the word but they did change hers.  When Marc Bolan died Rayne vowed she would get to the UK one day and pay her respects in some way.

Metal Guru is it you, yeah, yeah, yeah!

The girls sang the lyrics to each other as the song faded into All The World Is A Stage by Slade.

"I thought that was you.” Rayne heard a male voice from behind them.  Spinning on her tiger print heel her stomach flipped when she saw Vince, Tommy and two others with them.  One being the guy who lit himself on fire the other night and the other Rayne hadn’t seen before, he was slightly shorter had long black hair and was wearing aviators, even though we were already in a dark club.  Tommy’s eyes were locked on Rayne causing her stomach to do flips.

“Babe!” Jo shouted jumping onto Vince wrapping her legs around his waist.  The two kissed and Jo mouthed I’ll be right back to Rayne, leaving her alone with the other members of Vince’s band.  Thanks for being my wingman Jo, Rayne thought to herself.

“You like T Rex?” The fire guy asked.

“I love them, they’re one of the greats.  Too bad I never got to see them live.” Rayne smiled genuinely at him.  "What’s your name?“

"I’m Nikki.” He tilted his head upwards in greeting.  Rayne looked down at the shorter man with longer hair.

“And who’s Mr. Way Cool?” Rayne said jokingly to the man wearing aviators.

“Mick.” He said, short and to the point.  "The sunglasses usually make people fuck off.“

"Have you found that works?” He simply nodded, Rayne smiled approvingly.  "Well if that’s the case I might have to start wearing sunglasses when I go out. Not that many people take notice when I’m out with Jo.“

"They should take notice.” Tommy quickly interjected over the music, his dark eyes hadn’t left Rayne since she had turned around upon hearing Vince’s voice.  She saw Nikki roll his eyes and she was sure Mick did behind his sunglasses.

“I need vodka.” Mick said.

“I need a bump.” Nikki quickly said after.  Both of them heading in opposite directions leaving her alone with Tommy.  Fuck, everyone’s leaving me!

“You have to tell me your name.  It’s driving me crazy.” Tommy spoke his eyes begging like a puppy dog.

“Why should I tell you?”  If she was being honest with herself, Rayne kind of enjoyed this game of cat and mouse the two were playing.  Rayne wasn’t used to being chased, in fact since moving to LA she had gone on three dates, just three!  None of those resulted in anything longer than a few weeks and a few free meals.  For the life of her though she really couldn’t figure out why this good looking drummer was showing any interest in her.

“Because you’re fucking beautiful.  You’re a knockout. A ten!” Tommy said enthusiastically.  He certainly had a magnetic energy about him.  His dark hair was fluffed and teased but still maintained its shine.  He was in his leather pants again but this time wore a top with holes cut all through it.  He looked like he was ready to go on stage in this outfit, the other night he seemed more casual, even with the leather pants.

“Look, I appreciate that I really do.  But I am not the kind of girl you want.” Rayne said politely, pulling out a cigarette, offering one to Tommy which he happily took.

“Why not?” Tommy questioned pulling a lighter out igniting a flame for Rayne to use.  Rayne put the cigarette between her lips and leaned into the flame the end lighting up like a cherry.

“I’m not my best friend Jo.” She exhaled gesturing to the ladies room where her friend had gone off with Vince.  "I’m not going to fuck you in the bathroom of a club.“

Tommy flashed a smile before exhaling a stream of smoke, "Oh just give me some time.” As soon as the words left his mouth he closed his eyes and made a face.  "I can’t fucking believe I just said that.“

Rayne chuckled while reaching up and wrapping both her hands around Tommy’s neck, her fingers lazily playing with his hair.  "Don’t worry about it Tommy boy. I’m sure you and the fire hydrant will be happy.”

Tommy had a confused look on his face before it clicked, she was talking about Bullwinkle.  "No she’s not my…”

Rayne pulled one hand away from his neck taking a deep inhale of nicotine, “Yeah, yeah I know.  She’s not your girlfriend. That’s just the point I’m not that girl.  And you guys in bands enjoy being with those girls.”

“Oh so you think you know what we all want?”  Tommy narrowed his eyes.

“I’ve been around enough of you to know it is what you want.  That or I’m a bet between you and your buddies, which has also happened to me before. Good looking guys don’t go after the big girl.  They go after girls like Jo.” Tommy’s eyebrows shot up.

“So you think I’m good looking then?” He smiled wide resulting in Rayne playfully shoving his shoulder.  He’s a beautiful idiot, Rayne thought to herself.

“Oh fuck you.” She laughed, pushing his shoulder slightly.  Rayne had to give it to him he was charming.  His eyes were chocolate brown and strangely kind, if she didn’t know better Rayne would have thought he was being genuine with her.

“Come on!  Have a drink with me?” Tommy motioned over to the bar.  Her heart wanted to, badly. Her mind on the other hand…

“You never give up do you?”

Tommy leaned in close, so close that Rayne could feel his hot breath against her ear.  "Not when I see something I want.“ His response was simple and resulted in an electric shiver to coarse down Rayne’s spine.  Tommy reached down to take her hand in his and Rayne thought the two would catch on fire from the sparks she could feel between them.  She’d never experienced anything like this before.

Just when Rayne was about to open her mouth and say something, she was almost tackled to the ground by an excited Jo.  "It’s our song!!!”

Jo’s approach had snapped Rayne out of her Tommy fog and she realized Stay With Me by The Faces was blasting through the speakers of the club.  "Let’s dance!“ Jo led Rayne away from Tommy to a clear spot on the floor.

Red lips hair and fingernails I hear your a mean old Jezebel Let’s go up stairs and read my tarot cards, c'mon

“That’s you girl!” Jo smiled at her best friend pointing to her hair.  "I bet Tommy wouldn’t mind going upstairs and pulling on that hair.“

"Shut it you perv.”  Rayne laughed while continuing to dance.  She occasionally stole a glance over to Tommy and Vince who were watching the two girls intently.  She knew she’d regret it later but she definitely danced a little more seductively knowing Tommy was watching her.

Hours flew by music, smoke, drinks and swirling lights surrounded everyone in the club.  It was so easy to lose yourself along to the music, it was intoxicating.  Surprisingly Tommy left Rayne alone for the rest of the night, in every way at least except his eyes.  He couldn’t take them off of her. The way she moved, her smile, the way she’d get excited when a song she liked came on, and that mass of curly hair swaying back and forth.  Her hair was a shade of red that resembled fire, a mix of copper and wine that Tommy just wanted to run his fingers though and pull on.

“Tommy if you keep staring at her you’re gonna burn a hole in her ass.”  Nikki said sitting down next to Tommy at the bar pouring out a line of coke.

“It’s great to look at though dude.  I’d like to do more than look at it though.” Tommy smiled at his best friend as Nikki dipped his head down snorting up the dust.  "I’m just drawn to her. I don’t know why, I’ve never felt this way before.“

Nikki sat up and rolled his eyes at the statement, "Really Tommy?”

“Dude!  I’m fuckin serious!  I’m getting a fuckin boner just from watching her dance, that hasn’t happened to me since I first started getting boners.”

“She hasn’t given you the time of day, forget about her and take a look at the sweet thing over there who’s practically drooling at the sight of you.  She’ll definitely relieve the blue balls induced by red over there.”  Nikki spoke gesturing toward a blonde girl at the end of the bar. She wore a hot pink string bikini top and pursed her lips when she saw Tommy look at her.  "I think we could have a threesome on our hands man.“

"Or a two-some, just you and her.”  Tommy laughed clapping his hand on Nikki’s shoulder before his eyes went to his beautiful red head on the dance floor.  He turned back to Nikki and simply said,  "She doesn’t even compare.“

"Well, T-Bone turning down pussy.  I think you should see a doctor man.” Nikki smiled before getting up and approaching the blonde.  Tommy stared down at his drink until he heard a voice from heaven next to him.

“Hey David, we’re heading out for the night can you grab our bags?”  Rayne spoke from beside him. The bar was packed so he could feel her pressed against him as she leaned over the bar.

“You’re just cruel you know that?” Tommy said shaking his head in disapproval looking up at her from his seated position.

“Am I?”  Rayne asked flirtatiously leaning into him, he could tell she’d had a few drinks.

Tommy spun on the stool fully facing her, taking a risk and resting his hands on her hips.  "Let me take you on a date. Come on.“

Rayne’s green eyes drifted to the ceiling in thought.  "Tell you what rockstar, if you can find me this week before your next show that I’m sure I’ll be dragged to by my best friend.  I’ll go on a date with you.”

“You promise?” Tommy smiled up at her leaning in to try for a kiss, his hands sliding down to her ass.

“Oh no you don’t.  I’m drunk but I’m not that drunk.” Rayne grinned grabbing Tommy’s hands and putting them in his lap.  He looked like a kid that was just told he couldn’t have cookies before dinner.

“Come and find me.” Rayne huskily said leaning in and kissing Tommy on the cheek, leaving a stain of red lipstick behind.  When she pulled back she broke eye contact. “Thanks David, see you later.”

And with that she was gone in a sea of people.  Tommy turned to the bartender that had handed her bag to his red haired beauty, gesturing for him to come over.  "David,“ he called him by the name she had used, "let’s talk you and I.”

Tommy punctuated his statement by pulling out a $50 slamming it on the bar.

***

Song Inspiration for this chapter: Def Leppard-Rock Brigade T. Rex-Metal Guru Slade-All The World Is A Stage The Faces-Stay With Me

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Playing to Win (baon)

Summary: Some people play games to have fun. Some people play to win.Stretch is pretty sure he knows what category he falls in.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Original Undertale Characters, Fluff, Domestic, Flirting

Notes: This story is for @stoffelees who gave me the idea! 

To quote:

"Each person gets $20 and has to buy their outfit for the date at a visit to the thrift store immediately before starting the date (so no washing or altering)."

Way too fun of an idea to let go!

part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

“You’re all taking forever,” Stretch whined from where he was sprawled across a couple of chairs outside the dressing rooms. If anyone else had been there, he would have behaved and sat up, but it was Wednesday night and they were at the thrift store. Not exactly lining up to get in.

If there were any adventures to be had tonight, then they were definitely going to have to venture out to find them. Which was the damn plan, if all the slowpokes would hurry the hell up.

“Keep your hair on, I’m almost done,” Jeff called. Whatever he was changing into seemed to involve some effort, there was a lot of shuffling around going on in there. If he hadn’t actually seen Antwan going into another dressing room, Stretch would have peeked under the door to count feet.

Stretch leaned back until his head was hanging off the side of the chair, “if that’s supposed to be a pun of some sort, andy, i’m deducting two points for lack of originality.”

“Hey, it could be foreshadowing,” Jeff complained amicably. “For all I know, you’re wearing a wig. Isn’t that the point of this?”

Huh…well, he made a good argument.

“true,” Stretch agreed, “i’ll allow it, full credit.”

“Thank you,” Jeff said primly. It was ruined by Antwan’s interrupting with a fresh round of exasperation, only a little muffled by the door.

“If you two are done, would you let me finish getting this on?”

“yeah, yeah, hurry up in there!” Stretch twisted so he was straddling the seat, eyeing the trio of closed doors. Edge was being suspiciously quiet, but then, he was counting himself lucky just for getting him through the door. His baby had a sense of humor, but this was a little more prop-oriented than he usually went for.

It had been Stretch’s idea from the beginning, borrowed from a link someone had sent him on Twitter. Every week he posted a list of his thrift store finds and last time someone had sent a reply suggesting that since he loved thrifting so much, maybe he’d like to try a game.

Once he’d read up on it, well, of course he fucking had. This was 14-karat comedy gold and all he needed was a few willing victims players.

The rules were simple; each of them had twenty bucks to spend at the thrift store on an outfit for the night. There was no washing, no adjusting, straight up as it came and that, friends and neighbors, had sounded like an excellent time.

If he were honest, Stretch hadn’t really believed they’d be able to talk Antwan or Edge into it. Sometimes they were a little…eh…stodgy might be a good word.

Tear-inducingly boring might be better. It was Wednesday, the most mind-numbingly crap day of the week. If Stretch had to guess, he’d say even Wednesday’s mom didn’t like it. Had to step it up on Wednesdays to feel alive, that was a fact.

Although to be fair Stretch really thought not being able to wash the clothes beforehand was what would put Edge off more than anything.

It had been an unexpected, and delightful, surprise when Edge readily agreed. Stretch wasn’t sure why, but he also knew you didn’t look gift horses up the ass, not if you wanted to keep the gifts coming.

He didn’t know how Jeff had convinced Antwan and wasn’t gonna ask. Not until they had a few drinks in them, anyway. An exchange of goods and/or services was maybe involved, and Jeff did like to chatter after a few shots.

However they’d gotten their two lovable ‘A’ personalities to unpucker their assholes, real and implied, enough to get through the doors didn’t matter. The point was they were here, and it had been an abso-fucking-delight to see the way those two had gotten into it.

They’d kept a suspicious distance from each other, hiding their best finds under a pile of cheap coats in their cart. Stretch had to give them both credit; when Edge and Antwan did anything, they did it with furious intent. They were playing to win, and it was gonna get heated.

Stretch really hoped it got heated, in many, many ways.

Course, he did have a slight advantage, not that Stretch would ever admit to it. He knew most of the people who worked here, and they tended to save anything they thought might tickle his funny bone. He might have accidentally let it slip to them about the game when he’d stopped in last week and they’d acted like he issued them a personal challenge.

It wasn’t cheating, thank you, it was taking advantage of an available resource. And he didn’t think Edge was going to mind once he got a good look.

Not long after they’d gotten here, one of the floor workers had snuck him an armful of secret clothing goodies and Stretch could have kissed them all for their hard work, with generous use of tongue.

Somehow, they’d wrangled him an actual zoot suit, a rich striped brown with a burnt orange shirt and a matching tie. They’d even found him a fedora and so long as he was dressed like this, he felt not a single hipster vibe. Every time he glanced in one of the mirrors, Stretch grinned. He looked like he was about to break into a jazz riff at any moment and considering how gleeful he felt, he just might. This was a winner, for sure.

But it was his Twitter followers who would be the ultimate judges.

“I’m ready,” Antwan called. Before Stretch could even grumble that it was about time, the flimsy door creaked open and so did Stretch’s jaw. He was starting to suspect he wasn’t the only person with an insider because Antwan was in a full tuxedo with tails, complete with gloves and an actual damn top hat. It was maybe a little big on him but hell, he was owning it. If he busted out with a Broadway rendition of ‘Phantom of the Opera,’ Stretch couldn’t say he’d be surprised.

“you look great,” Stretch said, flabbergasted to honesty.

“I know,” Antwan preened. Even his shoes were polished to a mirror shine and Stretch had a nasty feeling there had been some judicious backstabbing here in the form of Thrift Store Employees who wanted a fun night even more than he did.

He was retracting his mental offer of tongue, et tu, Macklemore.

“Okay, my turn!” Jeff all but skipped out of his dressing room, posing like a cheerleader and Stretch couldn’t help a laugh.

Jeff pretty much looked like he’d stepped out of a Tiger Beat magazine. In a denim miniskirt and sneakers with scrunched socks, topped with a t-shirt emblazoned with glittery letters that proclaimed “I ‘heart’ the 80’s”.

He gave Stretch a teasing wink and blew a large pink bubble, snapping his gum. Stretch caught a whiff of Hubba Bubba.

“extra points for realism,” Stretch grinned. “looking good, debbie gibson,”

“Hell, yeah, I do,” Jeff neatly settled a pink plastic visor on his head. “I shaved my legs the second you told me about this. Shame you can’t wear your own clothes, I have an awesome bedazzled denim jacket that would go great.”

“You look great even without it,” Antwan assured him. He tugged Jeff in for a kiss and Stretch watched shamelessly, his chin propped on one hand. If he bothered to glance in the mirror, his eye lights would probably be little hearts, but there was no time for confirmation. They were still one shy from a trip down the runway.

Stretch rolled to his feet and tapped lightly on the closed door, “you joining us tonight, babe?”

“I’m almost ready,” Edge said, a touch curtly, and Stretch stepped back with a mental shrug. Maybe Edge wasn’t as cool with this as he’d thought he would be?

Stretch couldn’t even guess what Edge had found or even what the local traitors had helped him find. Maybe he’d gone for simple, a plain button-up and jeans, or a sweater? Maybe even a suit, they had a pretty nice selection available for people looking to pick up a cheap outfit for a job interview. It was possible he was even feeling playful and might be wearing a t-shirt with a silly slogan, but that was probably asking too much.

Didn’t matter, whatever he was wearing was going to be awesome, because Edge had agreed to play along even if he probably thought it was stupid. He’d agreed because he knew it would make Stretch happy and that meant more to him than any t-shirt or funny shoes. It meant the world.

He plopped back into his chair as the doorknob started to turn. The first thing Stretch heard right before the door opened was a jangle, what the hell—

“uh…” Stretch said, blankly. Every thought in his skull came to a screeching halt, melted like warm butter on a stovetop, and left nothing behind but two words on repeat, an alarm klaxon of oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck—

The jangle was from his boots, full-on motorhuckle ones with crisscrossed buckles and chains that went halfway up his calves. Edge was wearing a plain black T-shirt that outlined his ribs enticingly, a red bandanna tied around his neck, and a leather vest hanging open overtop. His jeans were criminally tight, riding low on his pelvis and whenever he moved, Stretch caught a tantalizing glimpse of his iliac crests.

The whole package was topped off with a wide leather belt, the metal buckle an actual skull and crossbones, what the fuck, abort, abort, Stretch needed a full damn reboot, this did not compute. This little game was supposed to be funny not…not…this!

His crotch was giving a pretty firm alert that funny was not the correct adjective of the night.

Edge gave him a smirk, cocking his hip in a way that dragged his T-shirt up another bare inch. “Problem, love?” he asked, silkily.

“that did not cost twenty bucks,” Stretch said flatly.

“Hm, you’re right,” Edge mused. He propped one foot up on the seat right next to Stretch, the smooth leather brushing against his hip, and what that did to his jeans had to be illegal by state and federal law. “The boots are mine. The rest, however, is well within the rules.”

He leaned in, catching Stretch’s tie between two leather-clad fingers, letting the silk fabric hiss through his grip. “You look good.”

“thanks,” Stretch swallowed hard, trying to ease the embarrassing squeak in his voice. Useless, probably, it was a little surprising that he had enough magic left in the upper half of his body to even allow speech. “that outfit is better suited for your motorcycle than the car.”

Edge smirked and the crimson of his eye lights was a banked fire. “So it is. I think I’ll keep it. You never know, it might come in handy someday.”

The low, growling purr in his voice was definitely cheating and as soon as a thought managed to rattle to life in Stretch’s empty skull, he was going to call him out for it. Any time now..

“Okay, enough with the eye sex,” Antwan sighed, breaking the spell, and Stretch thought he deserved an extra point or two for the rescue. “I’m starving, the movie starts in two hours, and the clerks look like they are half a step from a riot over there.”

True enough, every worker in the store was crowded by the registers, phones in hand. Stretch made a mental note to remind them all to keep their head shots off the internet, clothes-only for the voting. Cheating could only go so far.

“We can’t have eye sex,” Edge pointed out. “Technically we don’t have eyes.”

“Uh huh,” Antwan looked like he was biting off an argument, which, hell, two points for suppression of Lawyery Instincts in the face of expediency. “Whatever it is, it belongs in the bedroom, not the thrift store. Let’s hit it.”

He gave Jeff a light pat on the ass, earning an indignant yelp but not an actual protest, the two of them making their way up front.

Stretch hesitated and gave Edge a narrow look even as he tried not to fall under that gorgeous denim spell again.

“you lost, you know,” Stretch told him, loftily. “the boots disqualify you. everything was supposed to be from the thrift store.”

“Did I?” Edge asked, unconcernedly. Stretch had to stifle a moan that definitely didn’t belong in the vicinity of a thrift store as Edge crowded up behind him, denim and leather scraping roughly against his suit. His breath was hot against Stretch’s skull as he whispered, “I think you’ll find I may have lost your game, but I’m definitely winning mine.”

“uh huh,” Stretch mumbled inanely. He stood wobbling on his feet as Edge drew away and went to join the others. The sway of his hips in those jeans did absolutely nothing for rebooting Stretch’s flagging IQ.

It did plenty for other parts of him.

Stretch closed his eyes and gave himself a mental shake. If that was the way Edge wanted to play, well, maybe it was time for him to rack up some of his own points. He cleared his throat, testing his voice, “ready for my close up, mr demille.”

Smooth as the silk of his tie, Stretch decided with a smirk of his own and spun his hat on one finger as he made his way up front.

Time to play.

-finis-

[silverfootstepswrites]

Butterfly [22]

summary Who?

“I’m so worried!”

“Mmhm.”

“Maru is usually so energetic! He loves to run!”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think it could be a tumor? Some kind of stomach problem?”

Kiba sat up straight. His magnifying glasses made his eyes bug out. Ignoring the fretting old woman, he reached around to grab a pair of tweezers. Bending over the dog again, he pulled the big thorn out of the animal’s paw. He rubbed the big Akita between the ears before he applied a little ointment on the cut and placed a bandage over it.

The old woman thanked Kiba profusely, all the way to the lobby. Lifting his glasses on top of his head, Kiba squinted. He rubbed his eyelids before he looked around. After the woman had paid and left, Kiba frowned.

“Where’s Akamaru?” he asked his mom. 

“Sakura-chan came by and took him a little while ago,” Tsume replied, not looking up from her phone. 

“Took him where?” demanded Kiba. When there was no response, Kiba walked up to the counter and waved his hand in front of her face. 

“Ma. Where?” he asked again. 

Tsume shrugged. Kiba sighed.

“Thanks, Ma.”

“No problem, son- Alright! Sugar Crush!”

“And Kiba-san really doesn’t mind?” Naruto asked for the millionth time. He patted Akamaru on the head. Akamaru’s tongue lolled out as he stretched out on the cool floor. He exposed his belly, tail thumping back and forth as Naruto scratched it.

“Eh. It’ll be fine,” replied Sakura with a shrug. 

Naruto had returned from the baseball tournament significantly tanner and a little taller. Other than a bruise on his arm from a collision with a teammate, he was unscathed. And he had immediately headed to the rink. Not to see Sakura, so much. More like because-

“IT WAS SO HOT. There wasn’t even air conditioning in the dorms!” griped Naruto, lying on the surface of the ice. Sakura maneuvered around him to avoid slicing his hand open with the blade of her skate. 

“Well, you’re home now. And the summer’s almost over,” replied Sakura. She turned in time to see Naruto flail. 

“What’s the point of summer break if I don’t even get to enjoy it, Nee-chan? All because of dumb baseball,” he grumbled. 

Sakura stopped in front of him. 

“You love baseball. Besides, when it starts getting cold, you’ll be whining that you can’t wait to play baseball again,” she pointed out. Naruto pouted. She put her hands on her hips. When he continued to sulk, Sakura reached down.

“Come on, kiddo. You still remember how to do that Lutz?” she asked.

Naruto took her hands. Let her pull him to his feet. 

“Is it the toe pick or the edge? I forget.”

“Naruto,” she sighed, laughing a little.

Kiba showed up a couple hours later. 

“Hey! How are you going to go around kidnapping people’s dogs?” demanded Kiba, pointing at Sakura as she landed a perfect toe loop. She stuck her tongue out as she spun away from him. 

“Hi, Kiba-san!” Naruto chirruped. 

Kiba turned his head. He found Naruto and Akamaru both lounging on the bleachers. The cool metal surface was like a paradise compared to the heat outside. Akamaru wagged his tail a little but didn’t even get up to greet him. 

“Akamaru, you asshole,” growled Kiba. Akamaru snuffled once and closed his eyes.

If Kiba starred in his own ice show, Sakura had once said, it would be called “Disaster on Ice”. After nearly cracking his skull open in elementary school, Kiba refused to set foot on the rink. And this left Sakura free to skate around while Kiba was stranded outside. Which is exactly what she did.

“Say, Haruno...” Kiba said as he watched her glide past in lazy laps. 

“Yeah?” she replied, slowing a little. 

“Are you alright living in that big house alone?” he asked. 

It was only then that she stopped right in front of him. Snow sprayed out from beneath her boot. She came closer until her toe picks almost bumped against the side. 

“I’m not alone. I’ve got all you guys to come bother me, right?” she laughed. His eyes flickered down to her hand, to her bare ring finger. And she knew what he was implying. But she pretended not to as she pushed off again, to the other side of the rink. Just the scrape of her blades against the ice. 

Kiba stuck around for a little while longer, watching her. And when he waved her over, it was so he could say goodnight. He slapped the back of his hand against hers twice before hitting their palms together. Kiba clapped Naruto on the back in passing. Then he took Akamaru home. 

Naruto offered to walk her back later that night. But she could see his eyelids drooping. The tournament had taken a lot out of him. And he needed plenty of rest before school started again. Duffel bag over her shoulder, she ruffled his hair and headed out on her own. The cicadas serenaded her walk home.

“Have you seen Haruno-sensei?”

Asuma gave Mirai a push, sending the swing arcing forward. She squealed, hands reaching high into the air. It was cool enough in the morning to take the toddler to the park before the sun’s blazing heat destroyed all hope of a pleasant outing. 

“Hm... Mirai-chan, have we seen Sakura-san today?” he asked, grabbing hold of the swing. She tilted her head back to stare up at her father.

“Sakura-tan?” she repeated. And then she shook her head. “No Sakura-tan,” Mirai confirmed, still shaking her head. 

“Haven’t seen her today. Have you tried her house?” Asuma suggested, one hand on his hip. When Mirai said, “Papa, push!” he pulled the swing back and gave her a hearty push. Mirai giggled. 

Itachi pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“I don’t want to seem... aggressive,” said Itachi. Asuma snorted.

“This is the countryside. It would be weirder not to. Just go knock,” Asuma urged. 

Thanking him, Itachi headed off to the east side of town. 

As August began winding down, it seemed like summer was gradually releasing its stranglehold. Every day, the days were a little less blisteringly hot. It was still humid enough to make sweat pour down the back of Itachi’s neck. But it seemed like the locals were already preparing for autumn. 

On his walk, Itachi ran into a few students goofing off during the last days before school started up again. Among them was Naruto, whose drawings of people always ended up looking like monkeys. Still, he was a good kid. And he gave a little bow as he walked past. 

A thought occurred to Itachi. 

“Uzumaki-kun!” Itachi called. And when he turned, Naruto had stopped in his tracks. 

“Would you happen to know where Haruno-sensei is right now?” questioned Itachi. 

Naruto blinked a few times. “Have you tried calling her?” he questioned, holding up his phone. 

“I did. She’s not picking up,” responded Itachi. 

“Oh. Then... why don’t you just knock on her door?” suggested Naruto. 

Itachi sighed. He thanked Naruto for his help and continued on his way. 

This certainly wasn’t his first time at Haruno Sakura’s house. He had even slept on her living room floor once. But it felt different showing up unannounced, as opposed to when she had invited him over. 

He rang the doorbell, waiting in the shade. But after a minute, there was no response. He rang it again.

Just as he considered leaving, he heard noises from inside. There were footsteps. And then the door swung open.

“Yes?” she asked. But when she spotted him, her eyes widened. 

“Hi!” Sakura greeted him.

“Sorry. I’m just sort of... here,” Itachi said in return. And then he added, “I did try calling you first. I didn’t want to just... show up.”

Sakura’s eyes widened. “My phone died so I’m charging it. What’s going on?”

Itachi held up his own phone to show her a photo. It was of a flyer he had spotted at the mall the other day. 

“There’s an art exhibition going on today. Are you free?”

Sakura smiled. “Another favor?” 

“Only if you don’t mind.”

She invited him inside. 

“I’ll be quick,” she assured him. But she could see that he was absorbed in staring at the magazine covers and newspaper clippings covering the wall. He wasn’t really hearing her. 

Sakura headed to her room to wash up and to change her clothes. She had been busy all morning sorting through old photos in her pajamas. She hadn’t expected company, so she took a couple minutes to at least fill in her eyebrows and curl her eyelashes. There was no need to rush, though. By the time she finished dressing, Itachi was still standing in the hallway, expression intense as he read.

“Is it true that you broke the world record at 17?” Itachi asked when she joined him.

He was in front of one of the biggest frames. Her photo splashed across the front page of The Asahi. In huge kanji, it read: ‘Teenage Skater Wows the World’. Beside was a photo of her, arms laden with stuffed Shiba plushes and bouquets. Just out of focus were the extra flowers and stuffed animals thrown onto the ice in a downpour. 

She remembered that season. Her light purple outfit with the sheer sleeves. Still wide-eyed and shaky at the end of that free skate. Winning a bronze medal at Worlds had seemed like a miracle at the time. She wondered how she would have reacted if someone would have told her she would grow up to become the six-time World Champion. 

“Yeah,” was all she could think to say. She shifted her weight to her other foot. “Shall we go?”

Itachi turned to look at her. Only, he wasn’t just looking at her. 

He saw her. 

Itachi’s eyes flickered back to the clipping one last time. He smiled. 

“Yeah. Let’s go,” he agreed.

The art gallery Itachi had chosen this time was farther this time. It was almost a two-hour drive up north. They had to stop to get gas while Itachi plugged the address into her phone. One thing Sakura had learned about Itachi during the summer was that he didn’t have a driver’s license.

“My cousin tried to teach me once. But I valued my life more than knowing how to drive,” commented Itachi, a wry twist to his lips. It was rare for Itachi to bring up his family. Sakura shifted her hands on the steering wheel.

“Are you and your cousin close?” she queried. 

“Unfortunately,” replied Itachi, chuckling a little. And then he asked, “What about you, Haruno-sensei?”

Sakura tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. She eased off the acceleration a little. 

“No cousins or siblings. My grandparents passed away before I was born. It was always just my parents and me,” she answered. She switched lanes to avoid getting off on the wrong exit. 

“But I was never lonely or anything,” she added, sneaking a glance at him. He was looking at her. Their eyes met as he nodded. She turned her attention back ahead. Tilting the steering wheel to follow the curve of the road.

As the highway cut through the hills, it began to follow the shape of the coast. The ocean glittered to their right. Itachi opened up his window, letting the wind whip his hair around. The smell of the saltwater filled the car. Screeches of seagulls traveling through the cloudless sky. 

Sakura leaned her elbow against the door. She turned up the music on the radio and opened her window too. 

The exhibition they traveled to was called ‘Sessions’. The esoteric ways artists titled their work were beyond Sakura. She bit her tongue to avoid making a snide comment about it. 

The paintings hung on the tall walls. Each one was lit by a sconce placed on either side of it. This gallery had a second floor; it looked like there were even more paintings up there. But what caught Sakura’s attention wasn’t really the canvases. There were chains of paper cranes tied to the pipes running along the ceiling. The colorful birds dangled in clusters throughout the room. They swayed back and forth as people brushed past them. And, in a way, Sakura almost liked the origami better than the actual paintings. 

Itachi handed his tablet over to her as they walked. The programs from last time were already opened up. 

“So, are you ever going to explain what this is for?” asked Sakura as she spun her way through the color wheel. She kept her eyes on the screen and let Itachi guide her in the right direction. When she almost bumped into a pole, Itachi pulled her to the left. And then he guided her past a small group of people. His hand lingered on her elbow as he continued to steer her.

“Thanks. Anyway, this could be part of some conspiracy,” she went on.

“A conspiracy?” Itachi repeated. 

“These hex numbers could be... code for something,” Sakura told him. 

She nearly bumped into his back when he stopped walking. Only then did she lift her chin. He looked over his shoulder at her, eyebrows rising. 

“For what, Haruno-sensei?” questioned Itachi. Sakura shrugged.

“It’s your conspiracy, not mine,” replied Sakura with a wink. He laughed. Crossing his arms over his chest, he gestured with his chin toward the painting in front of them.

“Well, it seems you don’t mind contributing to my evil scheme. What colors do you see here?” he asked.

They spent a couple of hours wandering through the exhibit. There were mostly paintings of forests and mountains with a few waterfalls scattered here and there. Sakura listened to Itachi comment about the “brush strokes” and the “texture” of each one. His talk of the painting’s “composition” only baffled her even more. 

“This one was done in Gouache. Look at the way this part reflects the light,” Itachi pointed out, gesturing with two of his fingers. Sakura looked over at him. He touched the earpiece of his glasses to his chin as he stared at the painting. There was a glitter in his eyes that wasn’t normally there. His lips parted as he drunk in every part of the canvas over and over again. 

A smile touched his mouth as his gaze finally flickered to her. 

“What is it?” he asked her. 

Sakura looked back down at the tablet. “Nothing,” she replied, smiling too, for some reason.

She engrossed herself in picking out the shades that colored each landscape. Nodding and humming in response to his comments. Because even if she didn’t understand the terminology, she recognized that tone. The way people spoke when they were so utterly in love with something. So even though she didn’t understand a single word of what he said, the rhythm of that passion was familiar to her. And that felt like enough. 

This art gallery was much bigger than the last one they had visited together. There were also more people. But everyone spoke in low voices, and Itachi did a good job of making sure she didn’t bump into anyone. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw that Itachi had actually taken a half-step back. So anyone who brushed too close would knock into him and not her. 

“Are you up for one more?” asked Itachi. Her gut let out a pitiful growl in response. They both looked down at her stomach. Sakura gave it a pat. 

“Sorry. I’ve usually had lunch by now. And a snack too, actually,” she said, glancing down at her watch. 

“Well then... screw the painting. What’re we going to eat?” Itachi asked her. Sakura laughed as she began closing the cover of his tablet. 

A gasp interrupted them. 

“Doesn’t that look like Haruno Sakura a little bit?” someone whispered nearby. 

Sakura’s eyes flitted to Itachi. Her gaze then darted toward the door. Itachi gave her a nod. Slipping him his tablet, she strolled along the wall, pausing every once in a while, like she was examining the paintings. She fiddled with her cap to make sure it was covering as much of her hair as possible.

“No way. I hear she’s still in Sendai. Rumor is that she’s coaching Shimizu Haku now,” someone else murmured in return. 

“Really? I thought she was mentoring that girl. Um... Honda? Harada? No, that’s not it.”

Eyes darting around, Sakura snuck her way to the door, Itachi just a few steps behind her. As soon as they burst into the afternoon heat, Sakura let out a huge breath. Hand to her chest, she shook her head. She retreated to the shade to pull out her phone. 

“That was close,” she sighed as they made their way down the street. 

“It must get frustrating,” commented Itachi.

“Huh? What does?” asked Sakura. 

“Having to avoid getting recognized. When you’re just trying to go about your business,” Itachi clarified. Sakura blinked a few times, frowning. And then she shook her head, waving her hand in front of her.

“Oh, no way! That’s not why I ran out! I love talking to my fans,” replied Sakura. It was Itachi’s turn to frown.

“Then why did you run away?” he called after her as she turned a corner, following the GPS on her phone. She looked over her shoulder at him to flash a quick smile.

“Because then I’d have to say hello to everyone. And that would get loud. And then it would take attention away from the art. Wouldn’t that be rude to the artist?” she replied.

Itachi didn’t respond to that. He just followed her the rest of the way to the ramen restaurant she had chosen. 

School resumed at the end of August. It was still hot. Classroom windows were left wide open. Students came back from break with various degrees of tans- some with sunburn. They shared photos between classes. The ones who had been stuck at home groaned with envy. And the sounds of lectures and chalk tapping on boards echoed up and down the halls. 

Sakura nudged her aloe plant into a good slice of sunlight. And then she leaned against one of the wooden tables as she looked around the room. As always, her eyes found the wall with the gorgeous mural. It was the perfect shade of blue to soothe her eyes. Sakura had even overheard a few students comment on how pretty it was. 

The door slid open. A few girls walked in, notebooks and pencil cases hugged to their chests. 

“Good afternoon, Sensei,” they said. They bowed to Sakura before they settled in at one of the other tables. 

Sighing, Sakura got back to work. She had received some donations from a local bookstore. The titles were mixed up in boxes with no rhyme or reason. Fashion magazines were put together with reference books. Self-help books were placed with manga. She picked up the title on top of the stack. She had been digging through the boxes since morning, but it felt like the number of books to sort hadn’t gone down at all. 

Sakura sighed again.

The door opened. She heard the girls greet someone. But she didn’t pay much attention. At least, until a hand rested on the cart. He picked up one of the books, leafing through it. His shirt was white with a pattern on it that wasn’t quite polka dots. She squinted until she realized that it was covered with a bee print. 

“You’ve got a bee on you, Sensei,” she commented. 

“Ha ha,” replied Itachi in a flat voice. He watched her roll a rubber stamp in ink before she pressed it to the inside cover of a book. She blew on the marking for a couple seconds. Then she added it to another pile on the opposite end of the cart. He handed her a new book and observed her repeating the process. 

“Is everything okay? Did you need to ask me something?” she asked as she pressed her stamp down onto the book. She flapped her hand over it to help the ink dry faster.

“Not particularly,” Itachi replied.

“Okay,” she said. When she set the novel down, he handed over a fresh one. He helped her get through an entire stack. The dry rustle of paper did the rest of the talking for them that day. 

[curlsandcrown]

The Next Step

Summary: Jughead decides one day that he and Betty need something new in their relationship.

Word Count: 3,061

Jughead isn't sure when this seed of an unknown lingering idea in the back of his mind blossoms into a full-fledged plan.

One day he's walking in the city after a meeting with his writing agent when he passes a jewelry store and backtracks until he's standing in front of the window display, all sorts of jewelry staring back at him. His mind races, reflecting back over the years, though he can’t give any reasoning as to why -especially right here at this particular moment. Things between him and Betty have never been better. They're both well-paid adults, having purchased an amazingly restored brownstone in the city with the money from his first novel. Betty is writing for a major magazine where Veronica also works and maintaining her own website for New York City local news with a few other writers.

Needless to say, everything has been perfect. His dad comes to visit at least once a month and they handle Betty's parents whenever they make the trek into the city along with her sister, Polly and the twins.

But suddenly he just gets this feeling that something is missing from their life as he stares at the sparkling jewels in the middle of the day on a crowded street. They have the house he's always wanted, a backyard in the city which is extremely hard to get, the beautiful blonde he's admired since he was twelve, grown-up jobs doing exactly what they wanted since talking about it in the days of the Blue and Gold.

Moving closer, he adjusts his trademark crown beanie, which is now only worn in the wintertime and looks at the rings. There’s something that sparks inside him at the thought of Betty walking around with a ring that he put on her finger, making every man and woman in all of New York aware that she belongs to him. Some primal instinct of wanting the flirtatious looks to stop whenever he’s beside her.

Before he knows it, he’s making a phone call.

“Hello, Jughead. Is everything okay?” Veronica’s melodic voice fills his ear.

“Yes and no. Can you meet me?”

There’s a concerned edge to her voice as she replies. “Of course! Text me the address and I’ll be right there. Well...as long as New York traffic complies. I’ll see you soon.”

He isn’t ashamed to say that he’s nervous about going inside the store. He looks down at his appearance - old beanie, nice-ish looking jeans, a plain t-shirt in replacement of one of his old ratty S ones, and a nice leather jacket that Veronica had gifted him for Christmas. Someone who looks like him doesn’t belong in a store like that, they'd be judging the weight of his wallet by his appearance. (His old insecurities still flare up every now and then.) He's sure they’d make a running joke out of it and be all ‘sir, let me show you the more affordable rings’ which would likely have a diamond the size of the small studs Betty would wear in her ears in high school.

Turning around, he moves to a part of the building with no windows and leans back against it, staring up at the cloudy sky and watches his breath come out as little puffs. It feels like a switch has been turned on inside of him. Even Archie hasn’t proposed yet and this feeling that’s come over him feels like it came from left field.

His eyes close briefly and before he knows it, the sound of clacking heels along the pavement stop near him and his head lulls over to where his girlfriend’s best friend is standing.

“What’s the emergency?”

Jughead stares at her then looks up at the sign he’s standing next to. It takes her a minute before she gasps and looks into his eyes again. “Something has happened, Veronica.”

“Did you,” she pauses and stares at him. “Did you propose and she said no?”

“Thanks for the lack of confidence.” He rolls his eyes then stands up straight, tucking his hands into his pockets. “No, I was walking home from my meeting and I just passed this place and it hit me like a ton of bricks. It hasn’t even remotely crossed my mind until I walked by it and just...I don’t know. All of a sudden I was thinking about how great everything has been and it’s like something just clicked into place that this is what’s missing. Like the powers that be just slapped me in the face.”

She stares at him and blinks, trying to wrap her head around his words. Maybe they weren’t the most eloquent but that’s just how it flitted across his mind. But then her eyes are starting to mist up and she wipes a finger under her eye and then she’s immediately back to the perky woman he’s known for years.

“Okay! So, are you wanting my help?”

He rubs his hand over the back of his neck and looks at the door again. “Yeah, I mean you know that side of Betty more than I do. We’ve never talked about rings. And I didn’t want to go in there dressed like,” he runs his hand down his body then shrugs.

“You are a confident man. Who cares what you’re dressed like, Jug. You look hot.”

It’s not the cold that’s making his cheeks burn at the moment. “They’ll be judgemental bitches.”

At that comment, Veronica beams up at him then takes his hand, forcing him to walk in a different direction than the store.

“Veronica, the store…”

“I have a much better place. It doesn’t matter who walks in there, they’ll treat you like you’re the prince of England.”

Internally he groans, because if that’s the case then the rings will be something that only the prince of England can afford.

He changes his mind.

This is single-handedly the best service he’s even gotten while shopping and Veronica’s smug smile screams ‘I told you so’ all over it. It probably helps that she’s dressed like she would own a place like this with her dress pants and expensive silk top, her pearls flashing brightly at anyone who dares to glance at that part of her chest.

They’re bringing the two of them champagne while consulting on what they’d like to look at. Jughead runs his thumb across his bottom lip as they go over different cuts and he looks at Veronica, no doubt like a deer in headlights.

Veronica leans over and places her hand on top of his. “Do you have a price range?”

“Not really but I mean, I don’t want to have to sell my house to afford it, if you catch my drift.”

Both women laugh and he feels his ears burning even though his beanie is sitting in his back pocket at the moment. The saleswoman nods and writes down a couple of notes.

“Mr. Jones, are you wanting something simple or a little over the top.”

Again, he feels like a dumbass. “Veronica, I honestly have no clue. That’s why I called you. Betty doesn’t wear a ton of jewelry, mainly earrings, and a necklace. My gut says simple but my mind thinks ‘this thing has to be amazing.’ So…” he trails off with a shrug.

With a nod, Veronica makes eye contact with the saleswoman and they set off to find different rings. Setting his head in his hands, he wonders why this had to happen today. He didn’t even know how he would possibly want to propose. Would it be today if he got a ring? How have others proposed? Hell, how did his dad do it? Of course, there’s the fancy dinner or going on a vacation. Should he do it in front of all their friends and family?

He groans then leans back in the chair, draining his champagne then resting his head back against the chair.

There’s Valentine’s Day but that’s such a cliche. New Year’s has passed and he definitely can’t hide a ring until Christmas with Betty’s Nancy Drew detective skills still lingering around.

“Jughead, I found a few that I think she would love. Take a look?”

The raven-haired girl gives him a reassuring smile and he leans forward, seeing about half a dozen options. There’s a few that he immediately pushes away with a look of disdain. If he has to look at this thing on her finger for the rest of his life, it can’t be something hideous.

After he’s pushed those away, he looks at the rest of them and picks them up individually. None of them scream Betty to him so far. As they’ve grown up and moved into adulthood, the pastels have mostly disappeared along with the cardigans, a more confident and sexy woman’s wardrobe settled into her closet, so it feels like the ring should match.

But there, in the middle is something that just draws him to it. He can tell Veronica’s eyebrows furrow a bit. It has a shade of pink to the metal, a fairly big sized diamond sits in a dainty halo of diamonds on a thin band that’s also got small diamonds running along it and a thin rose gold wedding band to match.

It honestly takes his breath away a little bit.

“This is the one.”

Veronica holds her hands over her heart then leans over to hug him. “She’s going to love it, Jug. Thank you for letting me help.”

He hugs her tightly in thanks then blows out a breath. Now the hard part.

It takes him a couple of weeks to plan everything and to discretely decorate their backyard while she’s off at work when he’s supposed to be working on his deadline. He’s decent at cranking out what he needs to when it comes down to making it right down to the minute, so he figures it’ll all be fine.

Betty is currently at work as he plugs in the twinkle lights that he’s strung along the dressed and railing of their backyard, admiring his work. It has a tiny garden and a firepit with some chairs and a staircase that twists going up to their bedroom but there’s also an entrance on the ground floor to get to their kitchen. Then don’t even get him started on how weird it looked while he was walking down the street with a wooden ladder to go along with his proposal on the back porch, not to mention that it looks bizarre when they have a staircase.

Now that she’s not here, he’s got it propped up against the top balcony and climbs up it, looking down at the patio. The fire pit will be lit up but the way the lights look in the two trees that they have and along the fence looks pretty damn good. Once he’s got everything in place, knowing that she won’t be coming outside anytime soon, he gets back down then unplugs the lights.

As soon as he starts to head inside, something wet drops onto his nose and he realizes that it’s starting to flurry outside. With a grin, he runs inside and changes then makes a few adjustments in his plans.

Betty walks inside and sighs in relief that the fireplace is warming up the downstairs. Tugging off her coat and scarf, she yells out to Jughead that she home then hangs them up. She can smell something cooking but she decides to go upstairs and see if he’s working on his newest book.

“Juggie?”

He looks up from his desktop, wearing a jacket which makes her tilt her head at him. “Are you cold?”

Jughead shrugs and leans his head back when she moves to give him a kiss. Her hands are cold and he shivers before relaxing back in his office chair. “A little more now that you put your popsicle hands all over my face.” With a playful roll of her eyes, he looks over her work outfit and smiles. “Why don’t you take a hot bath and change? I’ll go finish up dinner.”

“That sounds amazing. I won’t be in there too long since I want to hear all about your day.”

She swears that he almost has a look of panic but then he smirks. “Not much to tell, babe, but alright.”

She blows him another kiss then moves towards their bedroom, taking a look outside their floor to ceiling windows at the snow that’s falling a bit more rapidly now. With a shake of her head, she pulls out leggings and her favorite off the shoulder sweater then fills up the tub.

Twenty glorious minutes later, the water is cold and she starts to drain it. Pulling on what she laid out, she goes to her closet and grabs some socks and her house boots that she likes to wear since her toes get extra cold until she can cuddle up with her boyfriend on the couch. Just as she tugs on the left boot and lets her hair down to settle in loose curls on her shoulders, there’s a thunking sound against the window.

She moves over and looks up at the sky, checking for hail even though that would be completely bizarre for January. Betty is about to move out the room when she hears it again. Clearly feeling like she has lost her mind, she unlocks the door to the balcony and pushes it open, only to meet the site of Jughead on a ladder.

“Hey there, Juliet.”

“Juggie, what are you-” she pauses then glances at her boyfriend with his infamous smirk on his face.

He’s got on her favorite white shirt that comes down to his elbows, the buttons at his neck unbuttoned even though they stop right below his clavicle and some worn out light colored jeans. The beanie is now gone and his dark hair is threatening to fall into his eyes while a small bucket of pebbles are sitting next to him while his elbows lean against the railing.

Her heart flutters as she moves towards him then gasps as the lights in the background twinkle along with the snow and the sunset. The trees, the fence and all the railing coming up to their balcony is covered in string lights.

“Jug, what is all of this?” she asks with a breathless laugh, moving forward while he holds his hand out.

“I’m not great at the big, romantic cliche speeches but I am really good at stating the facts, Betty. You have been by my side, fighting for me since that day at the Blue and Gold when you wanted me to write for you. You stood by me when I got sent to Southside High and held onto me while we waited for my dad to be released from jail. You were there to help me to fill out my college applications and you cheered me on when I got signed on to my publisher. You’ve been my best friend throughout it all, every single piece of happiness and darkness that has filled my life. Nothing has felt more right in my life than all the times that you have been my side. I've never been happier since we packed up the motorcycle and left Riverdale. I want you to be next to me for the rest of our lives. I love you, Betty Cooper.”

He pauses and reaches down into his pocket, her eyes following his hand when he presents a light pink velvet box that makes her give him a watery laugh, memories of her childhood bedroom coming to mind. Betty’s teeth dig into her bottom lip as she moves even closer and holds onto the balcony railing, her eyes finally meeting his stormy blue ones up close. Jughead opens the box revealing a beautifully, dainty rose gold ring with diamonds sparkling up at her.

“Will you marry me?”

It’s almost as if time stops for her. The snow has stopped in midair, a few snowflakes resting snug in the dark strands of his hair and the lights causing blurs in the background. She’s even noticed the fire pit blazing away. The pair of blue eyes that she’s looking into are full of love and hope for a future that’s within their grasp.

Just like that, time moves again but this moment will forever be ingrained her heart and mind.

“Yes,” she whispers as tears fill her eyes. “Jughead Jones, I would love to be your wife. I love you.”

Betty moves forward and just like moments ago, her hands cup his face and she kisses him while salty tears from the both of them move over their lips. Pulling back, he grabs her left hand and slides the ring on. Her heart nearly stops but then he’s climbing over the edge and pulls her against him, deepening their kiss and she’s almost sure that her heart has burst from the pure love that he’s pouring into her.

“Do you like it?”

Biting her lip she looks down and watches as it glistens on her finger. She nods, too scared that her voice will crack and she would cry even more.

“I love it,” she whispers.

“Do you mind if I borrow it for a second?”

Her eyebrows furrow together as she nods. Jughead takes the ring and sets it back into the box, letting it stay open on the railing where the ladder is at, the background of the proposal showing up even better in the background. He takes out his phone and snaps a photo, then quickly returns the ring to her finger.

“What are you doing?” she asks with a giggle, wrapping her arms around his middle since it still is insanely cold outside.

“Sending a photo to Veronica,” he says cooly like it’s not a life-changing moment that just happened.

Jughead: She said yes.

Veronica: I knew she would! So happy for you. Now toss some hints towards Archie.

Later that evening when they’re laying in bed, sheets wrapped around their naked bodies but her left hand resting on his chest over his heart, Betty looks up at him then kisses his jaw.

“Can we get married in the winter? Snow and twinkle lights might be my new favorite thing.”

“Anything you want, Betts.”

Patio:

Ring: 

Hope you enjoyed the second installment in our Universes in which Bughead gets engaged series. Written by J. 

Requests are open! 

J + R

[like-a-bag-of-potatoes]

My Saviour - Part One

A/N: I finally have enough chapters of this finished so that I can start posting. I will be posting once a week and I'll try and stick to mondays, but I can't guarantee anything. I need to thank my beta @thorne93 for still keeping up with me, you are awesome and I would be thoroughly lost without you. Feedback is highly appreciated since I practically live for the stuff.

This story is going to be a very bumpy ride, with a lot of angst, pretty much in most chapters. The reader is in an abusive relationship. I will warn properly for each chapter, and do my best to tag it properly as well. But if you are easily triggered, this might not be a series for you.

This is also an AU. Dean is a doctor, Sam is a lawyer. 

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Alex (OMC mentioned)

Wanings: Mentions of abuse, low self esteem, language, Dean being a doctor (yes that's a warning)

Wordcount: 2170

MASTERPOST

You were sitting in the emergency room, one arm carefully cradled in the other, wondering if it was the third or fourth time you had broken that same arm. You could hardly feel the physical pain of it anymore, and on the inside… you were just numb.

You sat there and looked around the near empty room, some informative posters on the walls, some pamphlets on a stand in the corner, several year old magazine littering the few tables, and a half dead plant near the entrance. You had gotten pretty familiar with this room over the past few years, and you imagined that at some point you would get immune to the smell of disinfectant, and the deafening quiet in the room… but no. The smell still made you queasy, and you had read through all of the magazines at least twice.

As you sat there and waited, like you had done so many times before, you wondered how your life had come to this. After you graduated high school, you had decided to take a year off before you started college so that your boyfriend, Alexander, could move with you to wherever you wanted to study. He had gotten an internship at his dad’s construction company that was set to start right after graduation, but he promised that after that year, he would come with you wherever you wanted to go. You made your peace with that and started your own job hunt.

It didn't take long before you got a job at a local bar, The Lucky Leprechaun, as a waitress, a job you still held to this day, and you were happy back then. You and Alex were perfect at that point, and madly in love. Two eighteen year olds, living alone, working, partying, it was the dream. Time flew by and before you knew it, it was time to send in your college applications, and not long after that came the great news that you had been accepted to Stanford University to study law. You were ecstatic.

You and Alex had started packing up your belongings, even found a place to live right off campus, when his father died suddenly. Heart attack. Alex was an only child, and now all of a sudden the CEO of his own company. There was no way he could just leave. After a lot of research, plenty of phone calls, and many sleepless nights, you had managed to postpone college for another year, while the two of you tried to save up some money.

Two year's turned to three and then to five, and before you knew what was happening, you were married. Alex bought a house that the two of you lived in, he bought your car, he paid the bills. You were in charge of shopping, cleaning, cooking… it was like you were stuck in the 50’s. Things changed, Alex changed, you changed, and now you were sitting in the emergency waiting room and you had no idea how many times you had been here.

“(YN) (YLN)?” The friendly voice calling your name snapped you out of your thoughts and you stood from your chair to follow the nurse through the double doors and into exam room four. There was no need for an introduction since you had met her before, on several occasions. You hopped up on the tall examination table and sat quietly while she checked your vitals.

The red haired nurse left when she was done, reassuring you that the doctor would be with you shortly. You sat on the table, your legs dangling off the edge, your hand resting carefully in your lap. The clock on the wall showed 11.30 pm and you found yourself zoning out as you listened to the steady ‘tick, tock’ as time went by.

Fifteen minutes later, the doctor came in, knocking softly before making his way over to you.

“I'm Dr. Dean Winchester,” the man said, extending his hand for you to shake, but quickly realizing his mistake. “Oh, sorry about that,” he said, looking down at your arm.

“That's okay. I'm (YN),” you said politely.

“Are you okay to place your arm on this table here?” Dr. Winchester asked, looking into your eyes. He had the most amazing green eyes you had ever seen, and a few freckles dusting his nose. You hadn't noticed that when you were in school together.

You didn't say anything, it was enough just trying not to cry from pain as you carefully maneuvered your arm up on the small table. It was hard to keep a straight face as Dr. Winchester was examining your arm, lifting it slightly, twisting it carefully from side to side, a frown etched on his handsome features.

“I think it's safe to say that this is broken,” he said, ridding himself of his gloves and throwing them away. “But I need to know exactly what we’re dealing with here, so I’m gonna send you to get some x-rays done, and then we’ll get that arm fixed.”

**

Within the hour, Dean found himself analyzing the x-ray pictures. It was a clean break, and should be an easy fix, but that was not what had caught his attention. It seemed to him like your arm had been broken before, not just once, but three times, almost at the exact same spot. Something didn't seem right about this, but right now his job was to patch up his patient.

“Definitely broken,” he said as he walked back into the exam room you were in. You looked startled when he entered, your head snapping towards him as soon as he spoke. “Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you,” he said apologetically.

“It's okay. Just lost in thought I guess.” You shrugged.

“How are you holding up? Did you get anything for the pain?” he asked as he started gathering what he needed to put a cast on your arm.

“I'm fine. I got some pills that I can take when I get home,” you said, watching him retrieve equipment from a cabinet in the corner.

“But you haven't taken any now?” he asked, looking at you over his shoulder.

“No, I have to drive home after this, so I rather wait,” you explained.

“Are you sure? This is probably going to get very painful without any pain relief. You don't have anyone that can come pick you up after?” Dean asked, pushing a small, metal table with everything he needed over to where you were sitting.

“I'm sure. I drove here, and I need to take my car home.”

“You drove here? With a broken arm?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. You just nodded. “Wow…You’re tougher than I am,” he said with a slight chuckle.

You didn't have any response to that.

Dean sat down on one of those small chairs with wheels on them, wheeling himself over to you. “You ready?” he asked, looking up at you.

“Yup.” You quickly averted your eyes from his, making him frown for just a second before he started working on your arm.

“I don't know if you remember this, but you and I went to highschool together,” he said, trying to distract you a little from what he was doing.

“I remember. You were a couple of grades above me though,” you answered, keeping your eyes on what he was doing with your arm. You tried your best not to flinch as he pulled the fabric on to protect your skin from the cast.

“So you noticed me, huh?” he asked, shooting you a cocky grin.

“You were captain of the football team. Everyone noticed you,” you answered. “I haven't seen you around town though,” you noted, trying to keep the conversation going, to keep your mind away from the constant pain shooting through your arm.

“I just moved back here a couple of months ago. I studied medicine at Stanford, and then I had my residency at a hospital in L.A,” he explained. “Once my residency ended, I realized just how much I missed home.”

“Yeah. No place like home, right?” you asked, sarcasm lacing your voice. Luckily Dean didn't pick up on that.

“Right. So, how have you been?” he asked, still keeping his eyes on what he was doing.

“I've been good. Husband, house, work…” you summarized.

Dean's eyes snapped up to meet yours, confusion evident on his face. You had a husband, but had to drive yourself to the emergency room at 11 pm? He thought back to your x-rays and an uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach. Although, there could be several reasons that your husband couldn't drive you, he could be at work, or out of town.

“You want to tell me how you broke your arm?” he asked as casually as he could.

“That is a long, embarrassing story,” you said simply. Over the year's you had gotten pretty good at covering up your injuries as common household accident, so the lies just rolled off of your tongue.

There was an awkward silence that settled between the two of you after that. Dean worked on your arm, and you kept your eyes glued to the floor now. You wondered if he knew. If he could tell by the fracture what had really happened. It was one thing when the doctor treating you were someone you had never met before, it was an entirely different thing when it was someone you used to go to school with, someone who knew who you were.

“Aaand… done,” Dean said as he fastened the bandage around the cast. “How does that feel? To tight? To loose?” he asked, turning towards you.

“Feels alright,” you said truthfully.

Dean placed your arm in his palm, looking at the fingers that were peeking out. “Can you move your fingers for me?” You did as he said. “Great. Any discomfort at all?” You shook your head. “Awesome. Then you’re good to go,” he said, a smile playing on his lips.

“Thank you Dr. Winchester,” you said politely, jumping down from the examination table you were sitting on.

“I suggest you take it easy for the next couple of days at least and keep it elevated as much as you can in the next twentyfour hours, just to minimize the swelling,” he started. “And you can call me Dean,” he said.

“Can I still go to work?” you asked, worry evident on both your face and in your voice. Not that you would mind a couple of days off, but going to work was the only thing that got you out of the house these days.

“That depends. What is it that you do for a living?” Dean leaned against the table you had just been on, his arms crossed in front of him, his legs crossed at the ankles.

“I'm a waitress,” you said, looking down at the floor. In that moment you felt ashamed of your job. Not that there was anything wrong with being a waitress, but Dean was a doctor, and you were a simple waitress in an embarrassing uniform, that had given up law school to serve food and drinks for handsy customers.

“Then I would recommend taking a few days off,” he said simply. Noticing the expression on your face he continued. “I can write you a note for work. Just for a couple of days or so.”

“Okay,” you said, feeling a little defeated. Work wouldn't be a problem, you had worked there for ten year's now, and you had been a model employee since your first day. It was being home you were scared of.

“Where is it that you work? I've been looking for good places to eat.”

“The Lucky Leprechaun. It's more of a sports bar than a restaurant though, but we do serve the best burger in town.”

“I'll remember that,” Dean said, winking at you.

“Thanks for patching me up, Dean,” you said, offering him a small smile before opening the door.

“Happy to help,” he said, mirroring your smile. “It was nice seeing you again, (YN).”

“You too.”

**

Dean didn't have any more patients after you, which was a nice change of pace. In L.A there was never a moment to sit down. It was a massive hospital, just the E.R alone was larger than this entire hospital, and even though he enjoyed the high tempo, it was nice to be able to follow up his patients properly. As soon as you had left, he pulled up your file on his computer, the suspicion he had in the pit of his stomach kept gnawing on him, and he wouldn't be able to rest before he knew more.

It didn't take him long before he regretted that decision though. Four fractures in your right arm. Multiple accounts of bruised ribs. Several concussions. And all of this in the past five years.

“Son of a bitch,” he said loudly to himself, anger pumping through him.

Tags: (add yourself HERE)

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[broodyjc]

Is This Thing On?

“Your mic is still on.” She tries to speak, blood rushing to her cheeks. “I’m taking my hand away now, okay?”

Surely, resting wrapped on her lapel is the offending metal piece, apparently not off yet.

“Is this still on?”

“Yes.”

“Did I just destroy my career?”

OR

Lena gets caught on mic saying exactly what she'd do to Supergirl if given the chance

Also on AO3 here 

For @karalovesallthegirls.  I'd like to thank this prompter for the amazing ideas and say that it was really hard choosing between them (I loved both and really wanted to write them, but with only a two-days notice I couldn't). Anyway, I hope I made justice to this one and I'm sorry in advance.

Lena takes one last deep breath in, exhales shakily and puts on her best friendly smile, which, she knows, doesn’t mean much. She feels the way her cheeks hurt from the action, how unnatural it seems, so, when the curtains open for her and there’s a sudden flash of light straight to her eyes, she rests her lips against one another and goes with her usual smirk in place.

Press conferences were a challenge, to say at least. Press conferences were her way of putting a giant target on her chest while begging for someone (most likely her family) to try to kill her, if the last couple of times were any indication.

Yet, there she was. Standing tall and proud, head held high, hair in her usual tight bun, red lipstick and the confidence she learnt to have as someone in a position of such power as she finds herself in.  

She tries to scan the crowd, the blinding white light seeming to follow each and every movement. By now, she would think she was familiarized with the procedure: look straight forward, take strong steps to the podium, give her speech in an unwavering voice, receive the mix of applauses and jeers, leave the stage after a couple of questions. Throw in there the slight (high) possibility of a murder attempt stopped by Supergirl and it would be just another regular day on Lena Luthor’s life.  

Instead of the confidence she should feel after all her time as the acting CEO of L-Corp, all she actually feels is the annoying way her palms were sweating against the fabric of her pencil skirt and the increasing heart beat against her ribcage.  

It would never become an usual setting, since the thought of people caring about what she has to say and not judging her for her family’s mistake was not something she had a grasp on yet.  

A step forward is all it takes for her eyes to get used to the incredibly dark auditorium. A step forward is all it takes for her eyes to start searching familiar, supportive faces. She sees Alex and James by the middle. Winn just a few rows back and left.  

The next step comes with a widening of the smirk, red lips tugging at its corners as she distinguishes more and more people. A representative for Wayne Enterprises, who she is pretty sure is their CFO; a few reporters from CatCo she’s only seen a couple of times before; Sam Arias is standing by the front with Ruby by her side; Professor Wells from Star Labs; even Lois Lane had the grace of showing up.

It’s cold inside the auditorium, she notices as the air hits her ankles and calf, and there’s this small part in her brain that chastises herself for not wearing a pantsuit.  

The absence of Kara Danvers doesn’t go unnoticed, though, there’s a falter in her breathing and a frantic search for assurance. But it only lasts until Lena gets the glimpse of a red cape standing a few yards away from the main crowd. It’s enough to keep her going.

Lena readjusts the small, wireless mic on the lapel of her blazer then tugs her earpiece a little deeper, fidgets with the notes resting on the podium as she feels all sets of eyes landing on her. She clears her throat once, twice, the sounds dying progressively as she does so.  

“Well, first of all I’d like to thank you all for coming here in this lovely evening, I know it must be hard to leave your homes in such hostile weather. Let's hope there’s no attempt in no one’s life to ruin this pleasant atmosphere.”

A chuckle courses through the people, she even allows one from herself.

“The past couple of years haven’t been, exactly, easy for L-Corp. Trying to rebuild a company is easy, but changing its ideals and its image is hard. This comes from someone who knows how much everyone involved in this process is trying their best to clean a stained name, to try and lighten the darkness casted over the Luthor name because of our past mistakes. And this dedication, from all of our workers, is the reason why we are here tonight. This dedication brought us one step closer to the future. So, it’s with great pleasure that I announce L-Corp's newest launch: a Digital-to-Biological Converter."

She feels the need to stop herself as the sound of applauses grow stronger and bolder, she smiles at herself, the warm feeling of pride blossoming through her chest.

"The DBC, which is pretty much a fancy name for a DNA fax machine," She raises her voice to be heard over the muttering, hands coming to rest at the edge of the podium and giving it a hard squeeze to soothe her nervousness "has the potential of preventing massive outbreaks by mass-producing vaccines printed from genetic codes sent from anywhere, since it maximizes the distribution of the prevention and the treatment, and printing off personalized medical treatment for each patient, based on the specifics of their viruses. And our team is still working for the next level. In a not so distant timeline, maybe in a couple of years from now, the DBC can be used to transport organisms to other states, countries and planets, even."

As soon as the last words leave her mouth, there is a chorus of shouted questions and raised hands as, once again, she loses the focus of the people in the room.  

For once, she's not all that worried. The DBC is a project she's been working on with her best engineers since her brother was still in charge of the company. It's a work she's always been proud of and she has made sure there were no mistakes this time, nothing that could be used to drag the image of L-Corp to the dirt once again.  

She smiles, despite the bundle of nerves growing against the pit of her stomach, and raises her hands, silently asking for their attention. She is met with an encouraging nod from Sam and enthusiastic claps from Ruby.  

She finds out, then, it's easier to bury her nerves once her eyes land again on National City's beloved hero. Supergirl has her arms crossed in front of her chest, long hair completely swept over one shoulder, and that look of concentration on her face. Still, there's this warm tug at her lips that give Lena all the encouragement she need.  

"Thank you. The first successful prototype has been synthesizing vaccines steadily for the past semester, the lab tests on animals started on the last quarter with the lowest rate of failure our company has ever seen. We were confident enough to move the testing stage to humans and I am very happy to announce we are yet to see a patient who hasn't been treated from their disease. Hopefully, if we continue working with the dedication we have now, the first DBC  will be released on the second semester of 2018. We have time for some questions, if you have them. Right, yes, Miss Lane with the Daily Planet, I believe?"

"That would be correct, Miss Luthor. Congratulations on the announcement, it sounds like a revolution on the medical industry. That said, don't you think your new technology could be used to create and spread new epidemics around the world? Epidemics that would grow so fast we could not control?"

"You are right, it could. Like any other human or technological improvement, it can be used, if in the wrong hands, to create chaos. And that’s why the DBC won’t be available to the market. L-Corp will be responsible for the allocation of all the machinery as well as providing access only to trained, trusted professionals in hospitals across the US. Along with Wayne Enterprises, we intend on not letting a breakthrough happen. Unfortunately, I can’t promise it won’t, I can only try my personal best to prevent it. We’ve achieved this technology, a very advanced one must I say, with dedication and hard work, which means someone else might do it too. Until then, I can’t hold back such development on science.”

Lena doesn’t spare her another glance, thrown hands up in the air waiting for their time. She waves absently towards the front row.

“Steve Raymond, from CatCo magazine, Miss Luthor, isn’t the concept of synthesizing vaccines already in use in our country? What advantages are you offering for us?”

“Dynamics, cost.” She shrugs a bit, hopes no one could see the act. “The mass production of medication in slow and, overall, the demand tops the quantity available. Sometimes, our current medication doesn’t have the same effect on the same disease on different people. This could be our chance of optimizing our hospitals and bringing only the best for our citizens. Yes?”

“Curtis Sykes, with Metro Times. What is the involvement of your brother in all this?”

Her eyes stop in Supergirl, heart racing in a way it hasn’t done in days. It stings, she finds out, how things always get to that point, how people will always assume Lex was behind it all. She sighs, holds the podium tightly, fingers turning white from the use of her strength.  

“None. Lex is currently serving his time in jail and, as far as I am concerned, he has no news over what’s happening on the outside, on a company he is no longer associated with or welcomed in. That said, I'd like to thank you for your questions and for your presence, I’ll be more than happy to indulge in any doubts that lingers during the event.”

Supergirl only gives her another nod before turning around and leaving. For the first time, she wasn’t needed when Lena was around, it didn’t mean the City didn’t need her still.  

As the lights fade out and away from her, she reaches up for her earpiece, already taking it off and turning around to walk down the platform, curtains closing behind her back. Just because she no longer had a speech to attend it didn’t mean she wasn’t needed still. Unfortunately, old, white men never waited, after all.  

Sometimes, duty never ends.  

Jess appears, tablet in one hand, phone in the other and talking rapidly on the set piece firmly on her ear.

“Mister Wayne wants to know when you’ll be able to meet again.”

“As soon as possible, Jess. Thank you.” Her fingers move to tug at the pins holding her hair tightly. She is smiling though, with no monthly assassination attempt and a bodyguard like Supergirl, it could be considered a good evening. God, she’s so hot.

“Excuse me?”

Lena looks forward once more, Jess is staring at her with a raised eyebrow and mischief in her eyes. She coughs, runs her fingers down the back of her neck.

“Did I say that out loud?” A nod. “It was about Supergirl.”

As if it was enough explanation, Jess only chuckles. Somehow, it made Lena have an urge to try and explain herself.  

Later, she will realize her impulsive decisions will be the death of her, right now, she will blame her need to overshare on the giddiness she's feeling over the acceptance of L-Corp new project.

“I mean, she’s undoubted beautiful and her muscles are just so… I don’t even have the words to describe them, still even though she looks like a top, I bet it's not that hard to get her begging on her knees in that short skirt. I like to think I can be smooth, but how long does it take for Supergirl to understand you are politely asking her to be on top of you? Or like, subtly implying you want to ride her”

“Miss Luthor.”

“…and have your hands tugging at her hair, or just, I don’t know, have her thighs wrapped around your”

“Miss Luthor.”

“…while she shreds the sheets from how hard she's holding onto them, or maybe to have her bending you over your desk at the office”

A hand over her mouth stops her from continuing. She doesn’t miss the widening eyes from her (Sam’s) assistant, or the red cheeks, or the giggles threatening to leave her lips. She hums against fingers, give the best nod she can under her circumstances.

“Your mic is still on.” She tries to speak, blood rushing to her cheeks. “I’m taking my hand away now, okay?”

Surely, resting wrapped on her lapel is the offending metal piece, apparently not off yet.

“Is this still on?”

“Yes.”

“Did I just destroy my career?”

“Probably not. But it’ll take some time for people to take you seriously after that."

“Would it be too rude if I just left?”

“Probably yes.”

Lena starts walking, heels clicking loudly against her ears. It’s a great feature being able to hear it considering how loud her heart was beating and the amount of blood currently on her head.

“Miss Luthor, where are you going?”

“Nauru, beautiful place and I would only have to face eleven thousand people there. I have more employees at L-Crop and twice more with CatCo, it should be less humiliating."

[silvormoon]

AkoRyuu + 53? :D

“There’s no way in hell i could fall in love with someone like you”

A voice behind Ryuu said, "Well, well. Look who we have here. You just can't seem to get enough of my company, can you?"

Ryuu turned around to glare at the speaker. Akoya, of course, was unrepentant, smiling and relaxed, posing as though expecting to be photographed for a magazine at any second. He'd have fit right in, too. This was a posh party, and he had dressed for it in a way that only someone with his money and fashion sense could. He sparkled. Nothing too overt, of course, just tiny glints of metallic thread worked into the details of his suit where they could catch the light just so, and diamond cufflinks and tie tack to add their own flashes of rainbow fire. Similar threads and gems had been worked into the braid of his hair. He shimmered every time he moved. There was something hypnotic about the ensemble, and it was all Ryuu could do not to stare.

"Don't kid yourself," said Ryuu. "I didn't even know you were here."

"I don't think I believe you," Akoya replied. He took a casual sip of his drink. "Really, this is not your usual scene. I think you must have had an ulterior motive."

"Only the usual one," said Ryuu. "Io had a ticket to the gala, but something came up at the last minute and he gave it to me. I figured I might meet some ladies, but so far it's been kind of a dud."

Akoya laughed. "Oh, Ryuu. You try so hard to deny your feelings, but we both know you're completely smitten with me."

Ryuu felt himself begin to grin and tried unsuccessfully to stifle it. Same old Akoya. It was nice to know some things never changed.

"There's no way in hell I could fall in love with someone like you," he said.

"I'm out of your league," Akoya agreed cheerfully. "You'd get your heart broken."

"As if," said Ryuu. "I have options, unlike certain people I could mention."

"I have standards," Akoya retorted, "unlike certain people I could mention."

Ryuu had to fight not to laugh. Akoya certainly was in good form tonight. Perhaps it was the champagne loosening his tongue. Then again, maybe he had been saving up his repartee for just such an opportunity.

It has been a few months, Ryuu mused. I sure have missed this guy... What do I do for fun when he’s not around?

"Lucky for you," said Ryuu, "my standards are low enough to ask you for a dance."

Akoya blinked. "Wait, really?"

"Sure, why not?" said Ryuu. "Or don't you think I can dance?"

Akoya's startled expression relaxed into a smirk. "I'm sure you do something you call dancing."

"I don't see you getting any better offers," said Ryuu. "Come on, what's one little turn around the floor for old times' sake?"

He held out his hand and flashed a grin that he knew from experience with a thousand girls was nigh irresistible. Akoya hesitated a moment, looking as genuinely nonplussed as Ryuu had ever seen him. Then he gave a little shrug and a half-smile, set aside his champagne glass, and took Ryuu's hand.

"Well, perhaps just for old times' sake," he agreed.

They stepped away from the refreshment tables and onto the dance floor. Akoya fell easily into a stance that spoke of many years of practice, and Ryuu took that as his cue to whirl him expertly into the dance. Akoya was an excellent partner, graceful and light on his feet. Ryuu kept to basic steps for a few bars, until he got the feel of it, and then began leading Akoya through some fancier steps. Akoya's eyes widened a little.

"You do know how to dance," he said.

Ryuu grinned. "Why be surprised? Don't you know it impresses girls when a guy can dance? I've been doing this for years."

"Color me impressed," said Akoya dryly. "All the same, next dance, I'm leading."

"Oh, we're getting a next dance now?" asked Ryuu, raising an eyebrow. "I thought this was just once for old times' sake."

"I'm feeling generous," said Akoya. "You can have another... if you manage to make it through this dance without stepping on my feet."

Ryuu laughed. "Better step up your game, then, Twinkletoes."

"I'm just trying not to leave you behind," said Akoya.

"Hey, I was holding back specially for you!"

The song ended and a new one began. This one was slower, and without even thinking about it, Ryuu pulled Akoya closer to him. Akoya moved more readily than Ryuu would have expected, settling trustingly into his embrace . Ryuu was unexpectedly touched. The two of them spent so much time verbally sparring that sometimes it was easy to lose track of the fact that Akoya had feelings besides "mild amusement" and "mild frustration". He was so close that his hair tickled Ryuu's cheek. He smelled sweet, like lilacs, and his hand on Ryuu's shoulder was warm. As Ryuu led him through a turn, Akoya glanced up and flashed him a quick smile, as if guessing some of what Ryuu was thinking, and his blue eyes sparkled in the light of the crystal chandeliers. For an instant, Ryuu lost track of his footing and Akoya laughed.

"I knew I was too much for you," Akoya whispered in his ear.

"You wanna bet?" Ryuu retorted. He felt suddenly reckless. He wanted to do something extravagant, something that would completely blow Akoya's mind. It dawned on him, too, just how easy it would be to just lean forward a little and...

"Excuse me," said a voice beside him, "but may I cut in?"

"No!" said Ryuu and Akoya in unison, and the interloper scuttled off with a slightly panicked expression.

Ryuu began to laugh. "Oh, wow. Did that just happen?"

"Apparently," said Akoya. He laughed too. "It seems I was enjoying myself more than I thought."

"I guess so," said Ryuu. "What can I say? You're an interesting challenge."

Akoya gave him a look that was frankly assessing. "Interesting enough to pick up where we left off just now?"

Ryuu hesitated for a beat. Then he laughed and began tugging Akoya off to a more secluded corner.

"All right. Since you asked," he said. "But I'm still not going to fall in love with you. Let's get that straight right now."

"We'll see about that," said Akoya.

And then he leaned in for a kiss, and clever retorts were no longer an option. Nothing was an option except putting to use a lifetime's expertise in romantic endeavors. For Akoya, nothing but the best had ever done.

All right, Ryuu admitted, if only to himself. Maybe just a little bit in love.

Not that he was going to say so, at least, not yet. After all, half the fun was in the challenge, and no one had ever challenged and stimulated Ryuu like Akoya did.

Yeah, just a little bit, he repeated. Just like we were only going to have one dance...

[sabraeal]

Rarely Pure and Never Simple: Part 3

Shirayuki half expects their relationship to end when the show does.

It would make sense, in a way. Outside of the insular theater fish bowl, Obi’s the school’s bad boy, the super senior with a mysterious past, someone who’s had sex, and she -- well, she spends the first five minutes after she wakes up Monday morning straightening out with Higata when they should go over the latest Mathematics Magazine. Now that drama season is over, they have to catch up with the other Mathletes. She can already feel atrophy in the area of her brain she’s dedicated to functional equations.

That’s the real problem: when the curtain closes and the lights go down, he’s still just as much of a bad ass as he always is, and she -- she’s never been more than twenty points away from a perfect score on any of her SATs. Out of seven classes, four of hers are AP, she’s taking three STEM courses and -- and she enjoys extra credit assignments. The closest she’s ever come to sex was when she forgot to turn on safe search in ninth grade image-searching for stallions.

(”Stallions?” He’s so close to her, she can feel the way his shoulder shakes against hers. Every nerve feels electric when he sits next to her like this, and it feels dangerous to be in near-darkness with him, only the emergency lighting illuminating his face. “What’s a cute kid like you doing looking for stallions?”

“Someone told me I looked like I liked horses!” He’s practically quivering with laughter now, and she can’t even bring herself to be embarrassed, not when -- not when she can make him laugh. “I thought I should try to learn about them --”

“Jesus Christ, kid,” he snickers. “You don’t need to meet everyone’s expectations.”)

Yes, god, the way you sound, Obi growls in her memory, god, fuck, that’s so good, please --

Well, it had been the closest she’d been until last weekend, at least.

But that’s the point. She’s not that girl she was in the car, her skirt rucked up to her hips and tights with runs in them, rocking into -- into things. She’s just...her. Heavy sweaters and high-waisted skirts, kitten socks peeking over the tops of her boots. She’s never even seen a condom outside of health class. With so many other options, there’s no reason for someone like him to stay with her.

She spends the fifteen minute walk to school heavy-breathing with her head in her hands, trying to prepare herself. It’s fine, it is. He’s had a night to think about it. He’ll realize that this is like, Stockholm Syndrome or whatever, and let her down gently. This is all just...pulling off a band aid. She’s just got to get it over with.

At least that’s what she thinks until she sees him waiting on a stile outside the school, breath misting in the air. His whole face lights up the moment he catches sight of her.

“Kid!” he calls out, falling into step beside her. A wave of finality washes over her. This is the moment of truth; this is when he either does something or --

His fingers thread through hers, their palms kissing as he squeezes tight. A smile curves his mouth; not a smirk, not a grin, but a smile. In the morning light, she can almost make out a blush under his skin.

“Hi,” he says shyly, swinging their hands sweetly between them. “Did you, um, have a good night?”

(He pulls back, panting, pupils endless in the darkness, his hand still hot on her waist. “Kid,” he gasps, “if you don’t go in, your grans are going to wonder why you’re out here, sitting in my car for so long.”

Her stomach feels bruised, and it’s only when she shifts her gaze the the clock on his dashboard that she realized she’s been shoving it into the center console, as if she could make it a less solid barrier by force of will.

“It’s fine,” she breathes, struggling to bring his mouth closer to hers. “It’s after eight. They’re probably asleep watching TV. They won’t even notice --”

“Kid.” He jumps away, chuckling under his breath. “You should go in. We’ve got plenty of time for...things. Don’t gotta blow your --” He drags his words to an abrupt stop, scrubbing a hand over his face. “We can do more later, I mean.”

She whines. “But --”

“Later,” he says, firmer this time. He presses one last kiss to her lips. “I promise.”)

“Y-yes.” She’s practically tripping over herself to seem normal, but he’s just -- just holding her hand as they walk, like this is something they do every day, like this isn’t totally foreign country. He’s so casual, and she’s struggling to figure out if he’s flirting. “I-I, um, has a very nice goodnight kiss, so I, uh, had very sweet dreams.”

His eyebrows inch to his hairline, heat flaring in his eyes. “Is that so?”

Oh, he should -- he should not be able to sound like that at school. She ducks her head, burying her face into his side. “Mm-hm.”

He draws to a stop, fingers hesitantly slipping away from hers, and for a moment her heart pounds, her palms prickling with sweat and -- and maybe that was too much? She’s not really sure how to flirt, whether she’s coming off too corny or if he just doesn’t like it, but --

She looks up. A floral decal stretches across deep red metal. Oh, they’re at her locker. The end of the line. Obi fidgets with the strap on his his messenger bag, not quite meeting her eyes.

“Hey, is it okay if I --” He stops with a sigh, shaking his head. A slight pressure urges her chin up, her gaze falling straight into the warm amber of his eyes. His fingers reach out, hooking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “That’s better. Is it okay if I --” the words catch again -- “would it be okay if I kissed you?”

Shirayuki blinks. She didn’t complain last night, what could have possibly changed for him to --?

He jostles against her with a grunt, head snapping over his shoulder to glare. Kai winces, holding up a hand as he squeaks by. “Sorry, man!”

Oh. Oh. It’s not about whether she wants to kiss him, it’s about -- about whether she wants to to this in public. Whether she wants everyone to know.

“Obi,” she laughs, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, urging him to face her. She raises up on the tip of her toes, his hands coming to support her --

This should be chaste; it’s just a quick good morning kiss, not hot back-seat make outs, but his lips slide against hers with a lazy heat, as if they’re wrapped up in silk sheets and it’s Sunday morning -- god, she watches too much TV -- and she loses herself. Her back falls against her locker, and she drags him with her, his hands squeezing her hips just hard enough to send frisson sparking through her belly. She opens her mouth, letting his tongue slide past her teeth --

“Ah,” Zen coughs. “That would be what happened.”

Obi startles under her hands, but he doesn’t jump away. He pulls the slightest bit back, letting their lips part with a soft smack.

“Ah...” He rubs his neck with one hard, casting a shrinking look over at him. “Hey, Chief.”

To his credit, Zen doesn’t look mad, just -- resigned. Knowing. “I was just coming over to tell you that Izana approved your shifts this week.”

“Oh, uh.” Obi looks like he’d rather the floor swallow him whole than keep talking. “Thanks, man. I need the hours. You know, play stuff.”

“I know. It’s no problem.” Zen’s eyes dart between them. She doesn’t even realize how hard she’s clenching Obi’s shirt until his gaze catches on them, both eyebrows raising to his hairline. “And, ah, congratulations, I guess.”

Obi mumbles his thanks, so flushed he’s beginning to look pink. Shirayuki smiles, fingers loosening so that she can trail her hand down to one of his, squeezing it tight.

“Thank you,” she says. “I’m -- we’re very happy.”

Zen’s mouth pulls tight, but she barely notices over the way Obi is looking at her; this wide, wondrous look as if he’s never seen her before.

“Good,” Zen says finally, and he -- he means it, she can tell. “You both deserve it. Being happy.”

He clears his throat, turning to Obi. “You’re still going to come play ball with us this Saturday, right?”

Obi almost sags in relief. “Yeah, if you don’t mind losing.”

“Hey,” Zen laughs, “Kiki’s on my team this time.”

“Yeah, okay, shorty,” he claps back, mouth parted in a grin. “You tell yourself it’s gonna matter.”

For how much his attraction -- and her own -- took her by surprise, she expects people to be more...shocked than they are.

“You weren’t already together?” Ryuu asks, disinterested, as he stares at the ceiling, trying valiantly not to look at Obi splitting into their flask.

(Enzyme chemistry had been his worst unit so far -- and Obi’s favorite.

“What’s not to love?” Obi drawls, leaning back as he swirls his saliva around, trying to read the marks on the side. “You get to eat things in class, and now I’m being told to spit in shit.”

“Bodily fluids,” Ryuu offers, pained, before laying his head on the bench.)

“I just assumed,” he continues, settling out one of the tubes of potato starch. “You always sat next to him on the tech couch. And you were always touching. I didn’t see you kissing, but I assumed that was because I was around.” He blinks his wide blue eyes at the both of them. “Isn’t that how couples act?”

Obi coughs into his shoulder, and she glares.

“Well,” she huffs. “I was surprised.”

Kiki glances at their joined hands when they come sit with her at lunch.

“Finally,” she says, so smug. Shirayuki wishes she could sink through the floor.

Mitsuhide, at the least, is shocked. “Finally?” he yelps. “I thought – didn’t you – didn’t Zen –?”

Kiki leans over, squeezing his thigh. “Things change.”

The tips of his ears burn a bright red. “O-oh. That’s, um, true.”

Kihal’s is the most embarrassing by far.

“Oh, thank god,” she drawls, casting an appreciative look over to where Obi’s bent over a flat, trying to tell Kai how to break down the frame without ruining the wood. “Someone needed to be getting some of that.”

Shirayuki feels her face flush. “I, um, I mean --”

“I mean look at that.” She gestures to what Shirayuki assumes are his, ah, assets. “Someone needs to put their hands on it. For science.”

She doesn’t know how to explain she hasn’t, not yet, so instead she says, “Did you know Mitsuhide and Kiki are dating now, too?”

It’s strange how easy it is to be with him.

After Zen, where every moment seemed fraught and important, like if she breathed at the wrong she would lose her chance, being with Obi is – simple. She’s used to Izana looking down his nose at the girl whose grandparents run the local pub, or her grandparents exchanging worried looks when Zen dropped her off after practice.

He lives up on the hill, doesn’t he, they’d ask, mouths set in worried lines, what’s he doing stepping out with a girl like you?

She tells them she’s dating Obi, and they both grin, exchanging knowing looks, and ask, when’s he coming to dinner?

Friday is the answer.

Izana has him working nearly every day at the club the rest of the week; he’d taken two weeks off for tech, and at the end of the day he could only just barely afford it. She asks when his next free day is, and Obi blurts out Friday in an eager burst, breathless. She blinks, confused, until it dawns on her – they haven’t been together in a week. Alone.

They’ve kissed, of course, quick pecks that more often than not lead to lingering lips and late classes, but they haven’t had time to – to do things. Make out things. As good as she’s promised herself she’ll be, she misses the feel of his skin beneath her palms, of his breath stuttering into her mouth, of his soft groans beneath her lips –

Ah, right. Maybe it’s better that they…haven’t had time.

Or so she thinks, until he’s seated across from her at her grandparents’ trestle table -- It’s Amish-made, Grandad tells him proudly when he asks, brought it up from Dutch Country as a wedding gift. An heirloom piece, yanno? -- and she can see the straight set of his shoulders beneath the soft cotton of his shirt, see the shy way he ducks his head when Nanna compliments the box of French pastries he’s brought for dessert.

“I just boxed up some extra from work, is all,” he says with a shrug. “We’re allowed to take some at the end of last shift.”

“It’s very thoughtful,” Nanna tells him, with the sort of tone that says she won’t hear anything to the contrary. “Glad to see Shirayuki’s got good taste.”

“Nanna!” she hisses, clapping her hands to her cheeks, heat building under her palms. “Don’t say that! That’s so embarrassing.”

Shirayuki wants to melt under the table, she wants a yawning abyss to open up right under her --

Until Obi laughs.

She’s seen it before; he usually snickers or -- if Mitsuhide is being particularly oblivious -- giggles, but sometimes, when he’s real happy, he does this. He just fills up on it, laughing right up from his belly until his eyes tear.

It’s the most perfect sound she’s ever heard.

It’s inconvenient that her grandparents are right there, when she wants to kiss him so badly. She wants to taste the joy on his lips, the pleasure in his breath, and --

“You staying after dinner, Obi?” Nanna asks, startling her right out of her reverie. Oh god, she was thinking about that at the dinner table.

“I, uh --” He sends her a panicked look.

“We’re going to do homework,” she says, and he’s relieved, like he thought she might kick him out and tell him she’d see him on Monday. “Obi came straight from the club, and I saved some work.”

“Oh my,” Nanna says with a soft smile. “How responsible of you.”

“As I always say,” Grandad chimes in. “The couple who works together --”

“Stays together,” her and Nanna chorus, with a wry look between them.

Grandad huffs, poking at his peas. “I don’t say it that much.”

Obi’s distracting.

Not that – he’s not trying to be; he’s not beside her on the bed, peppering her neck with kisses as he quizzes her on anatomy, hands sliding hotly over her thighs –

Oh no, he’s not doing that, but he might as well be for the amount she’s able to focus on the bones of the skeletal system. She has a quiz tomorrow, but she’s swapped the tibia and the fibula twice on her practice tests, and on the last one she wrote in tibula and fibia for the arm bones, and she’s just – a mess. She’s a mess.

It’s not his fault; he’s perched at the end of her bed, surrounded by a host of her stuffed companions, long legs stretched out as he tries to pick his way through Catcher in the Rye. He’s minding his own business, brow furrowing deeper with each turn of the page, mouth bowed into an almost comical frown. He hates it, she knows, and it’s almost more entertaining to watch him hate it than to read any of it herself.

(“Holden is such a fucking complainer,” Obi grouses, perched on the arm of the tech couch. Her arm presses into his thigh, and oh, she should have known so much sooner how she felt. Hindsight really is twenty-twenty. “Has this kid ever had a problem in his life?”

“His brother is dead and he got expelled from prep school?” she offers.

Gold peeps out from beneath the thick fringe of his eyelashes. How does he manage to look like this without mascara? “Yeah, but like a real problem.”)

The problem is her; every time she looks at him she is reminded of his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips, of the soft noises that tipped from his throat when she pressed her lips to it, of the way his head fell against the headrest, his eyes screwed up in pleasure –

She lets out a huff, exasperated. She needs to – to learn how to forget that, or at least how to function with the knowledge of what he looks like – what he sounds like – when he –

– ah, yes, like that, god – fuck, Shirayuki, I –

Shirayuki slams her textbook shut. She’s not getting anywhere like this. Time for an easier subject.

She glances up, interested in how outraged he’s become, but instead of seeing his head bent and face crinkled in consternation, she sees curious gold, shaded by the dark fringe of his eyelashes. He’s peeking. At her.

He notices she’s noticed, and if anything his lean becomes even more aggressively casual. “Problem?” he asks, and for a moment she thinks of just saying no, real quick so he can’t suss out her lie, but then he stretches, shirt riding up the taunt drum of his stomach and –

“I’m just distracted,” she admits, not bothering to hide her naked appreciation of him. He’s her boyfriend after all – shouldn’t she be able to look?

He laughs at that. “Yeah, I’ve been reading the same five pages for the last five minutes,” he admits, mouth slanting into one of his self-deprecating smile. “Hard to remember what this kid is complaining about when all I can think about is how I want to kiss you.”

He must not mean to say it since his eyes round when hers do. “Kid, I –”

“Then why don’t you?”

There’s only a thin halo of gold around his pupil. “Kid, your grandparents, they’re right – I mean they could –”

“It’s after dinner and they’re watching TV,” she huffs, unfolding her legs from beneath her, leaning back on her hands. “They’re asleep. And I’m at the end of the hall anyway, there’s no way they could sneak up on us.”

He hesitates, a cat caught on a curtain, but the next moment he tucks his legs underneath him, rising up onto his knees, gently setting aside each and every stuffed animal that litters the comforter between them. She wishes she had thought to round them up before he came over, ditching them in a closet or under the bed because as much as she loves Flopsy the hamster and Dino the dinosaur, it’s mortifying to watch him touch them, to rub his finger over the tiny tooth marks in Calico Dog’s molded nose or pet the bald spot her cheek wore away on Rum-Tum’s tummy.

His knees knit between hers as he stops in front of her. His back bos so his hands can cup her face, so his lips can hover tantalizingly close when he asks, “Any rules I’m supposed to be following this time?”

She feels his mouth quirk against her and --

“Just kiss me,” she begs, and then she is stretching up to meet him, his lips brushing over hers with purpose.

She allows him this chaste sort of kissing, once, twice, and then her tongue flicks out over his lips and – and he is falling into her, pushing her back more firmly onto her hands, one of his fisting in the quilt beside hers. Her neck twinges trying to hold the position, not wanting to do anything that might make him pull back, might make him stop the way his mouth moves over hers. His hips brush her knees, and she can’t think of anything but how he might be hard, how she could have the length of him between her legs if only he’d come closer, how she might feel something like that first time, with the fire coiling in her belly and the tautness between her legs and –

He pulls away, panting.

“Is something wrong?” she asks, and oh, she wishes she sounded just a little cooler, a little less breathless.

He huffs out a laugh, a low chuckle that makes her thighs press together. “No, I mean --” He shakes his head. “You just really do it for me.”

“I --” She drops her gaze, sees the bulge straining the seam of his jeans along his leg. “Wow, you’re really -- turned on. I guess.”

“Uh, yeah.” he rubs at his head, flush flaring over his cheeks. “Kissing you tends to do that.”

“Oh.” Her breath is coming heavy, hard. His eyes are fixed to her chest, to the way it shudders with the force of her breath. “Oh.”

Her hands fly from the bed, clapping around his ears, pulling him harder against her, her hands sliding up until the hem of his shirt. There’s nothing keeping them upright, and they both tumble back against the pillows. The impact jars them, sending his mouth away from hers, but she chases it before he can speak, the fingers of one of her hands winding into the thick bristle of his hair.

What feels like a boulder is digging into her back, and she squirms, trying to get off of it, but her bed’s just a twin; there’s not a lot of space. She groans, rolling to one side and Obi plucks the offending object out from beneath her.

“A unicorn?” he asks, smirk creeping up at the edges of his smile.

She flights her blush, yanking Duchess Prettymane from his grasp. “Don’t – don’t worry about it,” she tells him, and tosses her to the floor.

It only makes him grin wider. “You should be nicer to your fr–”

She pulls his mouth down to hers, tongue darting between his lips to lick at the roof of his mouth. “You were saying?” she murmurs against his lips, resting her forehead against his. Her hand slides up the bare skin of his chest, nails catching on a pebbled nipple --

He whines in response, hips grinding into the mattress between her legs and -- oh god, that should be her, she wants that to be her --

And then he is on her again, hips between her thighs, mouth sucking at the curve of her neck. His teeth scrape over her skin, and she lets her legs fall wider, grunt huffing out of her when the stiff corduroy of her skirt won’t let him closer, won’t let her feel him. Reaching down between them, she grabs a handful of the ribbed material and yanks, hiking it further up her thighs --

And then his hands are there with hers, shoving, scraping, letting her urge him on until it’s rucked up to her hips, baring the sweet pattern of kittens playing with balls of yarn on her panties,  but she doesn’t care, she can’t when -- when --

He puts his weight on her, right where she needs him most, and she bucks into him, whimpering. There’s that emptiness between her legs again, and the way the hard bulge in his jeans fits against her remind her she could be filled – oh god, he could be in her –

“Can I?” he moans, sounding lost.

She blinks, confused, and for a hot second she’s overwhelmed with the desire to say yes, to remove the barriers between them –

But he’s not talking about that. His hand trails up her side, hesitating just beneath her breast, and oh, oh, that is – that is a better idea. She arches into him with a soft “Please.”

He palms her breast through the soft material of her shirt, and she’s thankful she didn’t wear a foam bra because, oh, the way his thumb drags over the stiff peak of her nipple has her panting, has her remembering how he’d pulled down the shell of her bra and –

And something in her clenches. She’s close to – to that. She should stop – they should stop – but – but –

His hips give one sinuous roll into her, and she is moaning, tugging at the buttons on her shirt. “More,” she tells him, desperate. She’s so close, so close. “Please – more?”

“Fuck,” he whines, hips buck into her. “Yes, yes – fuck – whatever you want, babe.”

His hand is helping hers, his mouth pressing hot kisses to each inch of pale skin they reveal, until they run into the hard barrier of the high waist of her skirt. She grunts in frustration, but he’s undeterred, shoving the fabric off her breasts, teeth scraping over the satin covering her nipple, gold eyes flicking up to meet hers, to see her–

Her head tips back, mouth gasping for air, eyes clenched shut. Behind her lids she sees gold, sees the shine of the emergency lights painting them red as he runs down her copy of the script, scribbling notes in the dim light as he says, you can’t possibly need all these; she sees them crinkled into to slits, glimmering in the sun as he leans over, face so near hers as he says, I’m the luckiest kid in class, having two geniuses for lab partners; she remembers the way he’d leaned over her, palm splayed on a closed locker, saying I think you and me will get along just fine, kid, and – and –

She’s wanted him this whole time, in a hopeless, distant way, never thinking he might want someone like her. And now here he is, mouth groaning her name against her breast and tongue flicking over her nipple and his dick so close to her she can feel it twitch when her breath hitches, when her moan goes ragged and –

And she breaks, body trembling beneath his as his name falls from from lips.

Obi stiffens above her, eyes flicking up to meet hers. “Did you –?”

She can feel her face flush. “Yes.”

His mouth twists, and he sits back with a displeased hiss. “I missed it again!”

“You were looking right at me –”

“No, I –” He growls, frustrated. “I looked down at your breasts – stop laughing; they’re perfect, I’m human, so sue me.”

She’s trying, really she is. “You’ll have to do better next time.”

Those gold eyes slide coyly towards her. “So there will be a next time? For…this?”

“I-I mean. Eventually. Not – we should still – this was a surprise –”

Obi laughs. “Uh-huh, kid.” He leans over her, pressing his lips to hers in a lingering kiss. “I think you need to start making rules you can follow.”

“Shirayuki?”

They spring apart, hurriedly yanking her skirt back down her legs and Obi grabbing a pillow to hide his...problem. There’s nothing she can do with her blouse besides try to hold it shut.

“I heard some noise,” Nanna says, voice floating up from the bottom of the stairs. “Everything all right?”

“Ah, y-yeah,” she stutters, mortified at how the corduroy is creased over her thighs. “Obi just...dropped his bio book.”

“Oh, all right.” There’s a moment of silence, and Shirayuki’s hands shake as she tries to buttons on her blouse. Why are they so tiny? Her fingers can hardly hold them. “Obi’s still here?”

“I was just heading out, Nan,” he called out, stifling a laugh. “I just...gotta get all my stuff together.”

Shirayuki has to bite a pillow to stifle her giggles. His...issue is definitely not a small one.

“All right, well I packed up some leftovers for you,” Nanna tells him. “Make sure you grab it on the way out.”

Her scrubs a hand over his face. “Will-do.”

The floor creaks as Nanna shuffles away, and Shirayuki can’t help but inspect Obi’s...inconvenient complication. “You’re, um, okay?”

He raises an eyebrow, snickering when he traces her gaze to the pillow. “Yeah, I’ll just -- deal with it at home.” His face shuffles into something entirely too innocent. “I mean, unless you’re offering, kid...”

He doesn’t see her bolster coming.

[catarinaelibeth]

It’s That Easy - Chapter 2

Lena slides into the driver’s seat of her car outside of Kara’s apartment, feeling beyond grateful that she decided to drive herself there. She wouldn’t want to go through the embarrassment of having to call her driver to come pick her up barely five minutes after dropping her off at the apartment complex. Her hands grip the steering wheel until her knuckles turn white.

“Fuck,” she spits out under her breath. “You idiot.” Throwing the car in reverse, she sets herself to leave Kara’s apartment for the last time.

Without conscious thought, she drives straight to L-Corp. Her car finds its way into her designated parking spot. She rests her head against the headrest as she takes a few steadying breaths. With a steely mask upon her face, she exits her car and walks straight into L-Corp with her chin held high.

She doesn’t stop her steady pace until the door to her office closes firmly behind her. Her feet begin to feel heavy, causing her steps to stagger. Instead of going to her desk, she heads straight to her drink cart, where she pours a double of her strongest scotch. She downs the drink in one go, and refills the glass before going to her desk. Slumping into her chair, she opens her laptop. After 15 minutes of failing to focus, she slams it shut and stands from the chair. “Fuck it.” Lena calls her secretary on her intercom. “Jess, change of plans. I will be attending that meeting after all. I want to leave in 10 minutes.”

“Yes, Miss Luthor.”

Lena walks to the far end of her office to open a near hidden door. The door leads to an en suite that doubles as Lena’s emergency closet. In an attempt to keep the fogginess from taking over her senses, she washes her face and restyles her hair. Once feeling outwardly refreshed, she picks up a messenger bag and throws it over her shoulder. The door slides closed behind her as she saunters to the door of her office. She pauses at the door for a moment and purses her lips in thought. After a moment, she reaches into her purse to pull out her personal cell phone. She leaves it on a shelf before walking out of the office.

Jess makes no comment when Lena walks past her desk to the elevator. When Lena steps out onto the rooftop, the helicopter pilot is finishing up preparations. With her stony, CEO facade, she walks to the helicopter.

She’s so disconnected from her emotions by the time they take off, she can’t even feel anxious about the flight. In a blur, Lena is off the helicopter and boarding a private jet. She drinks until she passes out on the flight. The alarm on her tablet wakes her 30 minutes before it’s time to land in London. She climbs into the waiting car that takes her to a hotel. Tossing her bag on the bed once she’s in her room, she turns her attention to the bar.

Her alarm pricks at her ringing ears. With a groan, she rolls over in the bed to turn it off. When she arrives at her meeting that afternoon, there is not a single trace of the previous night’s inebriation. Like a true Luthor, she is poised and ready for anything as the powerful CEO of a multi-billion dollar company.

The next three days are spent in and out of meetings. When she is not in meetings, she is tucked away in her hotel room. Each day, more papers are strewn about the large table she has commandeered as a desk. She has spent every sober minute focused on various projects and designs. When she can no longer hold her eyes open, she downs a glass of something hard and falls into bed, so she can start all over the next day.

It’s been four days since she walked out of Kara’s apartment.

Since she finally laid her feelings out for her best friend.

Since she was shot down.

Since she discovered she wasn’t even close enough to Kara to know she has a boyfriend.

Since she accepted she simply isn’t someone that can be loved.

She only has one meeting today. After the late morning meeting, she goes straight back to her hotel. They will not be convening again until tomorrow afternoon, giving everyone time to look over the final documents. She heard a few people talking about a little preemptive celebrating with their loved ones. Lena stops to buy two bottles of wine on her way back to the hotel.

Her heels are kicked off just inside of the door, and she tosses the portfolios in her arms onto the makeshift desk. A bright flash of light bursts through the cracks around the curtain over the balcony door. Several seconds later, a clap of thunder reaches Lena’s ears. “Of course.” Lena sighs as she pours a glass of wine. She holds it up in a toast toward the balcony. “Thank you, London, for accurately reflecting my mood.” She takes a healthy sip of the wine. Plopping into the chair at the table, she flips open one of the documents she needs to review. As the rain gets louder past the curtains covering the French doors, Lena’s focus wavers. Standing up to refill her glass, she decides to see if the television will provide a distraction. A news channel flashes to life on the screen. To Lena’s surprise, the National City skyline appears on the television. Jess has called her business cell phone twice a day, per Lena’s instructions, to keep her updated. She hasn’t reported anything happening to L-Corp, but Lena can’t help but feel there’s a possibility of her company being the cause of National City appearing on a British news channel. What else would make international news in National City than the resident Luthor?

She tosses the remote on the table as she listens to the voice of a news anchor explaining where National City is to the British viewers. Old footage of Supergirl appears on the screen, and Lena sinks into an armchair, curious as to where this is going. She doesn’t necessarily consider Supergirl a friend, but they certainly have grown beyond acquaintances or even colleagues. Lately, Lena had been noticing a softness in their interactions. Supergirl seemed to genuinely be concerned for her after she was pushed off of her balcony. If it weren’t for the Cadmus drama happening, Lena may have even suggested they spend time together. In all honesty though, Kara was also a major reason she didn’t pursue her attraction to the hero.

Kara…

Lena drinks the contents of her glass in a matter of seconds. The news anchor finishes the quick biography of Supergirl, and the tone of voice changes. An air of concern and confusion overtakes the broadcast.

“Here is a video taken in National City that was sent into local CatCo magazine.” A video taken on a cell phone begins playing on the screen. “This was taken three days ago, and various publications are questioning if this is the beginning of a possible downfall of Supergirl.” In the video, a purple-skinned alien picks up Supergirl and throws her through the wall of an abandoned building. The person holding the phone is recording from a window several stories up in a building across the street from the action. Supergirl stumbles out of the building before flying into the alien. The alien goes back a few yards before landing its own blow on Supergirl, who falls back again. Before Supergirl can get back up, the alien pounces on her and begins punching her. “For those that know of the Supers, they are considered the strongest beings on Earth, which makes it hard to believe this alien overtook Supergirl with strength. Looking closely, Supergirl doesn’t appear to be fighting back. Fortunately, backup arrived. Look there. One shot from some sort of gun sent the alien flying back off of Supergirl. It’s hard to believe whatever gun the woman with short hair just fired is stronger than the Girl of Steel.”

Lena watches Supergirl appear to struggle to stand before the video cuts off. Several shorts clips are shown, and Supergirl appears to struggle more and more in each one. “We will now go to a live feed from National City.” A gasp escapes Lena when she sees her own building appear on the television before a video plays. “Just down the street from tech company, L-Corp....” The words wash over Lena as she watches a familiar face appear on the television. Her mother’s cyborg is leading several other enhanced people on an attempt to get to her building. Supergirl lands roughly in their path, blocking their way to her company. Lena has never seen the hero so… enraged. She barely recognizes her.

Her heart is hammering in her ears as she watches Supergirl let out a heart-wrenching scream before flying straight at the cyborg. The cyborg slides backward on the ground, and the two other goons attack Supergirl. She’s thrown off of them. When the camera finds her face again, it’s full of a cold anger, sending a chill down Lena’s spine. Without warning, the hero sets off at a speed the camera can’t follow. The two goons disappear from view seconds before Supergirl is standing across from the cyborg again.

Supergirl yells something at the cyborg, who only scowls in response before shooting his laser vision at her. She shoots her faster, hitting his half mask. He steps back in pain, and Supergirl takes advantage of his stumble. She lands a right hook to his jaw before a right front kick sends him landing onto his back. Lena can just see that Supergirl is yelling at him again. The hurt is evident on her face, and she wonders what could possibly be causing such pain in the hero.

Vans arrive on the scene, but Supergirl continues to throw blow after blow at the cyborg. The camera zooms out to show agents coming out of the vans. Several take the unconscious goons into custody, while others approach Supergirl and the cyborg. A woman wearing some metal armor is leading the group going toward the battle. They stop a few feet away from where Supergirl now has the cyborg on the ground. The woman in armor appears to be yelling at Supergirl, who continues to hit the cyborg.

The woman lifts a hand to her ear to what Lena assumes must be a communication device. She turns back to Supergirl and shouts something at her. The reaction is instantaneous.  Supergirl freezes with a fist poised to throw another punch. The woman says something else. One second Supergirl is in the center of the screen, and she’s completely gone the next. Lena blinks in surprise, unsure what to think of what she just witnessed. She ignores the television as she sits back in the arm chair. Absently, she takes a sip of her wine.

Since the attack did not reach L-Corp and happened before Jess arrives at work, she believes it will be at least an hour before she’ll receive a call from her secretary. Her thoughts turn to Supergirl, a welcome distraction from Kara.

What could possibly be upsetting the indestructible alien so much?

Feeling a layer of cloudiness, she opts to take a break from the wine. Carefully standing, she places her empty wine glass next to the two bottles - one is empty already. After drinking half a bottle of water, she thinks some fresh air would be wise. Her balcony has a slight overhang over the door, so the rain should not get inside of the room. She places a hand on each handle of the doors and pulls them toward her.

A gasp escapes her lips, and her eyes go wide. Her hands fall from the doors, and the wind pushes them wide open. Standing in the center of her balcony is a soaked Supergirl. Her hair is plastered down to the sides of her face, and she doesn’t seem to even notice the rain pelting her. Lena thought she looked upset on the television screen, but that was nothing compared to seeing her standing several feet in front of her. She looks… broken.

Her eyes meet the hero’s. “Supergirl, what-”

“I’m so sorry.” The hero’s voice sounds like she is barely holding back tears.

Lena blinks in confusion. “For what?”

The hero looks down, and Lena watches her take a deep breath. She’s fidgeting with something in her hands. Lena waits patiently. Keeping her head down, Supergirl brings her hands to her face. The breath escapes Lena’s lungs when she sees what the hero is doing. Supergirl drops her hands to her sides and takes one more deep breath before looking right up into Lena’s eyes.

“Kara?” Lena’s voice is a shocked whisper, and a hand comes to her mouth as her eyes go wide.

“Me too.” Kara’s voice shakes with vulnerability.

“I- K- Kara- Y-you-” Too many thoughts are swirling around Lena’s mind, fighting for attention.

“I love you, too.”

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11087598/chapters/24798813

[artificialqueens]

Make You Believe (Ravjila) - Juniper

Summary: Manila works too many hours in an old diner, but it’s worth it when a customer catches her interest. That is, until she becomes involved with someone from Manila’s past. 10K.

Saturday mornings weren’t complete without at least three coffee stains and a vow to never look at another egg again.

It was nauseating and exhausting, but Manila wouldn’t trade the breakfast rush for the world. Or so she made the customers believe, with an artificial twinkle in her eye. The clank of metal spoons against porcelain cups, mixed with the grumbles of insufferable elderlies hidden behind newspapers, was a surefire way to light a flame under her ass and remind her that this was all a way to fund her dreams.

As miserable as it got, there were things she enjoyed, too. There were the regulars who always commented on how nice she looked, even when her mascara was smudged and her hair stuck up in six different directions. She liked seeing the lit up faces of little kids when she snuck them the last chocolate chip cookie when her manager wasn’t looking.

Royale’s was one of the oldest places to eat in town, and even through many renovations, it kept its’ charm. The bar was lined with red leather stools, matching the jukebox next to the front door. It was usually playing some old soulful hit, and Manila danced to the music during closing time as she mopped the black and white tiled floors. Classic metal Coca Cola signs adorned the walls, beside framed photos of the diner hitting milestones throughout the years. The kitchen was in the back, and Manila pinned orders to clotheslines, picking up prepared plates through a small window.

Even though half the time it was covered in syrup, she loved her uniform. She and the other girls all sported the same dress, each in a different color. Manila’s was mint with pale, yellow accents and it suited her well, in her humble opinion. It was part of what had drawn her to apply two years prior, and she still felt a little giddy when she saw them all in a line, like a pretty, vintage rainbow.

Carmen always stayed at the register, in burnt orange, blowing bubbles and batting her eyelashes. Her pretty face was supposed to be the first and last thing the customers saw, as to coax them into returning. A girl like Carmen was one that you didn’t forget.

Shangie was a vision in red, but you always heard her about five minutes before you saw her. She and a purple-clad Juju always kept the customers engaged and entertained. They had big laughs, and even bigger personalities. They kept Manila’s spirits up when she was in the tail-end of a nine hour shift, dirty mouths getting them in trouble on more than one occasion.

Their senior manager was named George, and more often than not, he treated the girls rottenly. If he did have a soft spot for them, he had a funny way of showing it.

Pancakes and sausages turned into burgers and fries as the time on the clock drilled on, and sometimes she didn’t even notice she had sat on an open mustard packet until she got home. But despite the headaches, Royale’s was like a second home to Manila.

They’d have to start getting ready for lunch soon, Manila thought, as she restocked sugar packets. Juju nudged her in the side, and put her mouth right up to her ear, much too close for comfort.

“Hottie alert,” she whispered. “Check out the girl in Shangela’s section.”

She was in a booth across the diner, with a menu blocking out her face. Manila could make out a long, silvery ponytail. The girl was wearing black leather shorts, and dark legs shot out, seeming to extend for miles. She was clearly a stranger to Royale’s.

This was a mystery, and Manila was interested in getting a closer look to see if Juju was onto something.

“Just take her,” her coworker urged. “Shangela is off giving her hourly halleloo to some undeserving victim.”

Manila nodded and straightened out her apron before emerging from behind the bar. She strolled over, white tennis shoes still retaining some squeak.

“Hi, I’m Manila, and I’ll be your server today,” she said, always finding a way to make it sound overly-chipper. “Can I start you off with something to drink?”

The girl closed her menu and smiled up at her. If it wasn’t a process forever programmed into the depths of Manila’s brain, she may have faltered.

She had big, brown eyes and a pretty smile. Manila was a little jealous of how the light hit her face, her cheekbones glittering excellently. The fluorescent lighting always made her look a little tired, yet the girl in front of her made her feel wide awake.

“Hey! How’s the coffee?”

Her voice was intriguingly deep, and when she talked her head quirked slightly to the left, causing her earrings to swing.

“Fresh, if that’s what you’re asking,” Manila replied. “But I’m supposed to say it’s delicious.”

The girl giggled into her palm, and while her eyes were shut, Manila snuck a glance back at Juju, who was shooting her an unsubtle thumbs-up. Manila made a mental note to smack her with a menu later.

“I’ll take your word for it, then. Do you guys have like a bagel or something?”

“Well, breakfast is over, but there’s one of my blueberry muffins in the back. If you want it, it’s yours.”

The girl smiled again, and Manila had to resist the urge to audibly thank her lucky stars that her curls were looking right today, and that her new coconut perfume was still lingering.

“You’re an angel.”

When she brought out her order, the girl looked at her with wide eyes as she was chewing on the muffin. Manila laughed as she poured the steaming beverage into her cup.

“You really made this? You’re amazing.”

“I’m alright,” Manila said. “It’s just a hobby of mine, and my manager lets me sell some of my creations. Baking is a good way to relieve stress, you know.”

“For you, maybe,” she replied, tearing open a sugar packet, letting the white granules trickle out. “The kitchen is the last place you’ll find me. I’d burn the whole place down.”

Manila didn’t believe her, but the thought was amusing.

Her name was Raja, she later found out from Carmen, who had snuck a glance at her debit card. Say what you want about the pretty ones; Carmen had an eye for detail.

After she’d gone, and Manila went to collect her tip, she noticed a napkin stuck under the salt shaker. It had been drawn on, in pen. An impressive illustration of the Gemini symbol, guarded by twin pairs of eyes. She folded the napkin and stuck it in her apron pocket.

Raja came back almost a week later, this time around mid-afternoon. Shangie begrudgingly handed Juju a dollar.

“I saw the way she looked at you,” she gloated, sticking the bill in her bra. “I knew she’d be back.”

After Raja had placed her order, Manila was pretending to wipe down the counters as she watched her aggressively type things into her phone. Every few minutes she’d let out a hefty sigh, and eventually, she  gave up in favor of staring out the window.

“Waiting for someone, honey?”

Raja looked slightly relieved to see her, but the remaining pout was adorable. Her thin frame was swallowed by a very large denim jacket, littered with buttons and patches, and her hair was only half up. Manila felt like a kitten drawn to a particularly attractive bundle of yarn; she had to resist the urge to reach out and play with it.

“Not hardly. I’m trying to draw these lilies,” she sighed, gesturing to the sketchbook on the table in front of her. “But they look like shit, and I can’t figure out why.”

Manila looked at the page for a moment, humming in thought. She took the pencil stuck behind her ear and vigorously erased.

“You need to shade the edges a bit more here, and curve these lines. It would look a lot better if the petals weren’t so straight. Not even flowers are perfect.”

When she didn’t get a response, she looked up. Raja was wearing a curious smile.

The visits became more frequent, and on the sixth, she showed up during Manila’s lunch break. She spent her time off the clock in the booth with her, and they doodled on the back of the kid menus with crayons. Every now and then, Manila looked to the clock, and spotted Carmen watching them with a sweet smile.

“So how come I’ve never seen you around until recently?”

“I just moved to town,” Raja said, working a red Crayola over the paper. “I wanted a change of pace. This place is really charming.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Manila snorted. “There’s absolutely nothing to do here. Everything about this town is so boring.”

“I wouldn’t say everything.”

Manila smiled.

–

Raja rarely came in empty handed. First, it was the sketch pads, then the books of poetry, and the fashion magazines. She was incredibly stylish, and Manila could swear that Raja modeled all the latest trends three weeks before they hit the stores.

They giggled and gossiped, flirted and fawned. If Manila conveniently forgot to add something to Raja’s bill, Carmen didn’t bring it up. When Manila found her tip folded into an origami heart, she held it close to her own. 

“She’s got it bad, ladies,” Shangela announced. “Look at her! A total love fool.”

The girls were closing up, with Manila mopping the checkered floor, a cheesy grin on her face.

“Don’t be jealous, honey. Green’s not your color.”

 “Listen to this shit,” Juju laughed, nudging Carmen. “It’s just a game of chase! It’s been months and you guys haven’t fucked once.”

“Jujubee! What have I told you about the language?”

Their manager pushed through the swinging door, looking cross. Carmen tried to hide her laughter from behind the dollar bills she was counting.

“Sorry, George,” she sheepishly mumbled.

He sighed heavily, placing his hands on his hips. The air conditioning blew the few hairs in his combover up and down lightly. His eyes looked tired, fatigued by too many years of working too many underappreciated shifts. The girls often wondered how his wife dealt with his hot temper and gloomy outlook. If there was a time when he could keep up an act of happiness out of customer company, it was long gone.

“What am I gonna do with you girls? Always too busy talking to get anything done. Luzon!”

Manila squeaked in acknowledgement.

“Hurry up, you should be done with those floors by now. Especially considering that the dinner rush was pretty slow,” he grunted. “Make sure you clock out on time. If I catch you trying to sneak in overtime again, you’re on suspension.”

“Yes, sir.”

Manila stuck her tongue out at his back as he returned to his office. Juju groaned loudly once he was out of sight.

“God, what a dick,” she huffed, sending the other three into a laughing fit.

–

“But, Carmen,” Manila whined. “We’re never both off on Friday nights!”

Carmen was focused on the roll of quarters she was unwrapping.

“Girl, I love you, but I love my man, too. I can’t bail. Next time, I promise.”

Juju and Shangela had just come back from break, and were failing to pretend to look busy. It was pitifully slow, only a matter of time before George sent at least one of them home for the day.

“How about you spend your time off with someone else,” Shangie hinted.

Manila bit her lip and glanced over to Raja, who just happened to look up at the same time. She waved happily, and Manila beamed.

Juju tossed her a small towel to dry off the clean dishes with.

“Bitch, if you don’t ask her out in the next five minutes, I’m stealing her away.”

“Good luck with that,” Manila snorted.

“Damn! That was so shady, did you two hear that?”

“Seriously,” Carmen interjected. “The girl is obviously crazy about you, Manila. You need to make a move before she finds someone else.”

“Okay, okay!” She exclaimed, holding her hands up in defense. “I’ll…I’ll do it today. I’ll ask her out, alright? I just have to figure out what to say.”

It was then that the bell chimed, and a customer walked through the door.

“Welcome to Royale’s!” Shangela greeted. “Feel free to seat yourself.”

 The girl stayed by the door, on the phone, but offered a polite nod.

“Oh, shit.”

“No way.”

“What?” Shangela turned to see her coworkers with sour expressions. Manila looked particularly disturbed.

“What the hell is she doing here? She hasn’t come in once since I got hired.”

“You got beef with that girl, Manila?”

She had bleached beachy waves, hitting just below her chin. Her makeup was exquisite, and it reminded Manila of something you’d see with a million likes on Instagram. Her manicured fingers clung onto the strap of her designer bag. Even from behind the counter, she could see her piercing eyes, matching her intense aura so well.

Raven was even more beautiful than she remembered.

“Leave it to Manila to be exes with the bitchiest girl from high school,” Carmen whispered harshly.

They were huddled now, trying not to stare. Despite the music from the jukebox, Manila could make out the faint sound of her laughter. She tapped her foot in annoyance, trying not to squeeze the glass in her hand too hard.

“Come on, she’s not that bad,” Juju protested, causing Carmen to roll her eyes. “She can actually be really sweet. Sorry, ‘Nila.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure she has to have at least one face that’s lovely.”

The forgotten girl coughed to get their attention.

“Okay, will someone please fill Shangie in on what’s happening, y’all?”

“Basically,” Carmen started, spitting her gum into a scrap piece of receipt paper. “That girl, Raven, was Manila’s BFF. For, like, ever. Hormones and shit happen, and our girl here falls for her, or whatever. Everything works out, and they start moving in the direction of a relationship. Then, at my Halloween party senior year, they finally hook up. Suddenly, that was the end of it. Raven dropped her, both as a girlfriend and a best friend. Never even gave an explanation.”

“Oh,” Shangela replied awkwardly.

Manila flushed, the memories rushing back to her. People moved to the pounding bass in Carmen’s living room, beer sloshing in plastic cups. The night was cool, but the mood was heated. She was dressed as Audrey Hepburn, classic Breakfast at Tiffany’s get-up, and Raven made a stellar Catwoman. They couldn’t get their hands off each other all night, before finally sneaking off.

She’d never been with a girl before, much less her best friend. Carmen had given her plenty of advice, but Manila was still incredibly nervous. Everything was sweet, tasting like smoke and illegal alcohol. Her hands trembled as she touched Raven’s body, feeling shaken by the purr she released into her ear.

The costumes came off, and the clouds parted, allowing moonlight to creep in through the window. With Raven’s naked, sweaty body on top of her, she began to panic. It was the part she never told Carmen or Juju, or anyone.

Her breathing became irregular, and she began to cry, burying her face in her hands. Her best friend immediately pulled off of her, and brought her close, hugging her gently. She soothed her, whispering sweet affirmations into her hair.

It was the realizations. That yes, this was really it. She was a lesbian, and she’d have to tell her parents and face that the world would feel like it deserved some explanation, as if it were entitled to her heart. This was her virginity, and she was losing it to her best friend. If she messed this up, she’d be losing the person most important to her.

Raven promised that it was okay, she wasn’t angry. Swore that she hadn’t ruined anything. They fell asleep together, covered in nothing but a sheet.

When Manila woke up with a ringing in her ears, she stretched, noting that the bed felt extremely spacious. She pried her eyes open; she was alone.

That was the last she ever heard from Raven. Texts went ignored, and she was avoided in the halls. It was a heartbreak like no other, to lose your best friend and the person you harbored feelings for in the same night. She spent many nights crying, watching the seconds tick by on the clocks in class, every minute dragging by so slowly. Her heart was so heavy, and she felt so alone.

Now, Manila shook her head, attempting to leave the dark period behind her. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder why Raven would randomly show up at Royale’s four years after graduation. Was she finally ready to make amends? Did Manila even want that?

“So, you mean to tell me you kissed those lips?” Shangela inquired.

“About five sets of injections ago,” she laughed ostentatiously. Bitterness was easier than sadness.

Carmen joked that there was nothing wrong with a little enhancement, “and really, the bitch could stand a heart transplant”.

“Come on, Car, it was years ago,” Juju groaned. “Can’t we all put it behind us?”

“I take it you’re still buddies with her,” Shangie said. Jujubee looked at the floor.

“You bet,” Carmen said. “Way to be a support system, J.”

“We’re 22 years old. I’m not going to pick teams over something that happened in high school. She didn’t break up with me.”

Finally, Raven hung up her cell, and moved towards a booth, right past the four observing waitresses.

When she slid into Raja’s booth, Juju grabbed Manila’s wrist so fast that she almost dropped the glass.

“Oh, my God. What the hell?”

There was a collective gasp as the four saw Raja and Raven exchange pleasantries, smiles on both faces. Manila felt dizzy.

“What the fuck? What are the odds?” Carmen asked, clearly stunned.

Six different forms of jealousy were taking hold of Manila’s mind, and she could barely see straight. Not only was it unnerving to see her ex-best friend turned ex-lover, but here she was, on a date with the girl Manila had been crazy about for months.

As soon as Raja excused herself to go to the restroom, Manila sped over. She never mustered up the courage to confront Raven during high school, but all of the anger was finally bubbling to the surface, pushing her closer and closer to that booth.

She set down a glass of lemonade rather roughly, causing the ice to loudly shuffle.

Raven looked up, and her face showed a flicker of shock before regaining composure.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Manila spat.

“Nice to see you, too,” she replied evenly.

“Save it, Raven. You don’t come here. You never come here. What’s the deal?”

“There’s no agenda, Manila. I didn’t even know you still worked here,” she sighed.

“Why did you come with Raja?”

“Raja? I wasn’t aware you knew each other. She asked me out, and mentioned this was her favorite place…” her voice trailed off, realization sneaking in. Something ignited in Raven’s eye as she placed her elbow on the table, chin resting in palm. “You like her.”

“No, I don’t,” Manila quickly argued. Her vision honed in on the mole right beneath Raven’s eye, and she was bombarded by confusing feelings and the scent of the same perfume from years past. She gripped the skirt of her dress, knuckles white.

“You do!” She laughed. “How cute. Sorry, Luzon. What do they say, all’s fair in love and war?”

Manila spun on her heel to refrain from saying something that would surely warrant a complaint to management.

When Raja returned, Shangela came to take their order.

“Um, ma’am, what happened to our other waitress?” She frowned. Raven said nothing, stirring her straw.

“She was moved to another section. It happens. Don’t worry, I’ll help you out for the rest of your visit!”

Raja spent half the meal looking distracted, absent-mindedly poking at her salad with her fork. Raven was growing slightly annoyed, as she could tell where the other girl’s gaze kept drifting off to.

“Earth to Raja.”

She looked up and smiled apologetically.

“Sorry! God, I’m being rude,” she said. “How’s the lemonade? I’ve never tried it.”

Raven faltered for a moment, looking down at her glass. She’d been sipping on it the whole time, never realizing that she hadn’t even ordered it.

“Um, it’s my favorite,” she said softly. Raja sighed.

“I was just thinking about our waitress. Why she switched, I mean.”

While she adored her, Raven was growing increasingly curious about the strange love triangle she’d managed to wind up in. Over the past few weeks since they’d met, they learned so much about each other, but she’d never once mentioned Manila. She suspected the lack of communication was a bigger problem than Raja thought.

“Well, I for one enjoy Miss Shangela,” she said, lifting a fry to her mouth. “I think she’s fun. Halleloo!”

“Lord knows you’re hard to impress,” Raja joked. “It’s just…the other girl, she’s always my waitress. We’re pretty good friends…we have so many things in common. I wonder if I pissed her off or something.”

If Raven hadn’t spent years perfecting her poker face, her distaste would be apparent. It would be her luck to find a beautiful girl to catch her attention, only to discover that she was tangled up with Manila Luzon, of all people.

“Maybe she’s jealous.”

Raja seemed to consider the thought for a moment.

“I don’t know, probably not. I used to think she liked me…but she never said anything. God, this is horrible date talk. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re right, you are horrible. I think you owe me a milkshake for all this grief.”

Raja exhaled and took her hand. So, there was something unspoken between the two. Typically, she wouldn’t tangle herself up in these kinds of messes.

But something about Raja’s glittering eyes told her to stay. If she played her cards right, nothing ever had to come of their little crushes.

–

Manila let the cool water run over her hands as she scratched at the goopy spots of syrup, always managing to catch rogue fuzz and dust bunnies. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror above the sink, and scrunched her nose. The good concealer was getting its use today, paired with several coats of mascara to make her look semi-alert.

Her Friday night was spent getting wine drunk on the couch, cursing at Titanic on her television screen. She sobbed loudly, pounding her pillow. It was essential emotional release, she told herself, ignoring the fact that she would have to open the next morning.

She had spent half of the morning rush with her apron turned inside out, moving from table to table in a groggy daze, only delivering their breakfasts by the sheer force of muscle memory.

When George swept by, telling her to smile, she flashed her teeth with dead eyes. He’d be back in five minutes for his coffee, and she seriously considered spitting in it.

Manila peered through the circular window in the swinging door. Since her very first visit, Raja had not missed a Saturday morning at Royale’s, yet now, her booth remained unoccupied. Manila had braced herself, but still felt disappointment. She had something else, now. Someone else.

Drying her hands on her apron, she bumped the door open with her hip. Carmen was catching up with the regulars, handing them individually wrapped toothpicks. All the men always hung around the register a little too long, unable to get enough of her.  

A set of nails tapped on the counter, and Manila turned her attention to them with a smile.

“Um, hi.”

It was Raja, perched on one of the stools, looking nervous. Her cheeks were pink, and she had a small package in front of her. There was one of her little doodles on the side, a cartoonish pineapple with a smiling face.

When Shangela bussed their table, Manila asked for the drawing left under the salt shaker, but all the napkins had was excess lipstick and grease spots.

“I’m not much of a chef, but I tried my hand at baking last night,” she offered. “They’re brownies. For your break.”

Manila didn’t know what to say. What was this? A peace offering? A “sorry I led you on and ended up with your ex” gift? She could practically hear Raven’s gloating laughter.

“Thanks,” was her awkward response.

They looked at each other for a few moments, neither wanting to be the first to say something.

“Um, so,” Manila started.

“I’ll cut right to it. I hate conflict, Manila. What did I do to make you ditch me yesterday?”

“What?” Manila blinked. “Um, nothing. Nothing, you’re fine. George just comes in and rezones us every so often, to make sure we’re not stealing tables from the other girls.”

She was lying, and prayed it wasn’t obvious. Truthfully, Manila had never even bothered to ask Raja to move out of Shangela’s section, and George hadn’t noticed yet.

The fact was that she couldn’t bear to look at Raven a second longer. This was not the reunion she had spent so many years daydreaming about. She was supposed to show up with flowers, grovel at Manila’s feet for forgiveness. Not show up with the same icy attitude and steal her crush away. Rejection from Raja would have been miserable enough, but she could have survived. However, she refused to torture herself by bringing burgers to the happy couple, sharing everything she’d always wanted.

She was feeling nostalgic in the worst of ways, and it sent her into a vicious cycle of emotion, alternating between feeling pissed off and devastated. She had spent the rest of their date spritzing the windows with glass cleaner, wiping aggressive circles into the panes to try and wash away the reflection.

Raja seemed to buy it, judging by the smile on her face.

“Oh, good. I was worried that you were mad at me.”

Manila felt a tug on her heart. Her misery wasn’t Raja’s fault. She hadn’t acted quick enough, and as far as she knew, Raven hadn’t revealed their past. She still cared for Raja, and even if it would take some getting used to, she wasn’t ready to let go of that pretty face.

“I couldn’t be mad at you if I tried,” she admitted.

“Good, because I’d miss you too much,” Raja said. “You make me believe that all of my artistic whims are worth something.” All she could do was smile.

“Go on, try one,” she urged, and Manila unboxed the treats with a giggle. Lifting one of the brownies to her lips, she noticed Raja intensely watching her bite into the chocolate.

“A little dry,” she admitted after a minute. Raja faked offense, grabbing her heart dramatically.

“Maybe you could instruct me sometime, Master Chef Manila.”

Some of the pressure was alleviated from her chest. They spoke easily, like nothing had changed. Maybe it hadn’t. The little devil on Manila’s shoulder brought its’ razor-sharp teeth up to her ear.

One little date didn’t mean anything. She could still have Raja.

–

A few days later, Manila was brushing her teeth when she received a text from Shangela.

Be prepared. They’re here. – Shangie

It sounded overly ominous, but Manila knew her friends were taking this just as seriously as she was. She had to remember to thank them later.

If Manila was going to win Raja’s affection, she needed to commit and pull out all the stops. She dug through her drawers, and pulled out her fanciest push-up bra, the red one with the black lace. Caught around one of the hooks were the matching underwear, and she opted for them as well.

She’d never gotten around to trashing the old uniform that had shrunk a bit in the wash. She pulled the green dress over her head, and felt satisfied when she saw how short the skirt had become.

When she clocked in, Shangie hurriedly fastened a few more buttons on her collar.

“Okay, Miss Thing, you’ve been hanging out with Carmen too much. We’re going for sexy, not desperate.”

Manila still felt a slight tickle in her throat from the fumes of the hairspray she’d worked over her curls. They were thick and bouncy, and her plan seemed to be coming to fruition.

Not only would she be piquing Raja’s interest, but she’d be showing Raven just what she had walked out on. She looked good, and refused to go ignored.

“I got their drinks, but they haven’t ordered yet,” Shangie whispered. They were spying from behind the counter, and for a moment, Manila had her doubts.

Raja looked extremely happy. She was speaking animatedly, using her hands to help her tell the story, and Raven watched her intently, a real smile tugging on the edges of her lips. They never seemed to run out of things to talk about. It took a lot for Raven to open up, Manila knew that better than anyone. From the looks of it, they were getting to know each other well.

“Maybe this is a mistake,” she pouted. “I mean, what if she has a real connection with Raven?”

“So did you,” Carmen snapped, and Manila flinched at her words. “If you care about Raja, are you really going to stand by and let her get hurt like you did?”

Taking a deep breath, she strutted over to their table, swinging her hips. When Raja spotted her, she stopped mid-sentence.

“Hey, ladies. Have we decided?”

Manila was talking to Raja, of course, who looked up with those sparkly eyes.

“I finally managed to get through the brownies you baked for me,” she said, with a slight edge.

“Made with love.” Her heart skipped a beat.

 “We both want the special,” Raven interrupted. Manila coolly looked at her, though Raja’s gaze did not move. Raven’s eyes were narrowed, and Manila felt a rush of adrenaline rip through her chest. There was an electricity present, a challenge. She definitely knew what Manila was up to.

“Right,” she said, jotting it down on her pad. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Raven’s appetite was quickly diminishing as she saw Raja continue to sneak glances at Manila.

George emerged from the back and had to do a double take when he passed Manila.

“Luzon? Your uniform is looking a bit on the snug side,” he started. “If you’re getting bigger, you need to let me know so I can put in an order for some new ones.”

“What an awful thing to say, Georgie,” Carmen mewled. She was distracting him, and Manila was grateful. She couldn’t let him shake her focus. “I think she looks beautiful. I wish I had Manila’s figure…”

He relented, a goofy smile creeping up on his face. Out of the corner of her eye, Manila could see Shangela gagging. No one was safe from the Carmen Carrera charm.

“Oh, come on, Carmen,” he said. “You have such a nice little body.” She flashed her teeth, twirling a caramel strand around her tanned finger. Manila cleared her throat, causing George to jump.

“Just a little laundry mishap, sir,” she said, smile strained. “Won’t happen again.”

Shangie grunted in disapproval once he’d gone. “He’s getting to you,” she said to Manila. “I’m too tiny to hold you back if you go berserk on him.”

“Whatever, he’s an asshole. That doesn’t matter now.”

“We have a development, ladies,” Carmen called, nodding over to the jukebox, where Raven was sliding several quarters into the slot. They could only see the back of her head, and Manila thought back to when that hair was long and dark. She didn’t even know her anymore.

The machine whirred as it filtered through the disks, before finally settling on the track she’d picked. As the opening chords played over the speakers, Manila saw her blow a kiss over to Raja. She was clutching her heart and smiling wide. As she walked back to her, Raven shot Manila a wink, and Shangie had to pinch her to keep her from cursing.

“That’s the song that was playing when they first met,” Juju said as she joined the others, wiping leftover crumbs from her lips.

“What? How do you know that?”

Carmen rolled her eyes and licked a napkin before scrubbing Juju’s cheek. “You could at least check yourself in the mirror before coming back from break,” she scolded. “And I told you guys, she’s a rat. Raven told her.”

Manila enveloped the tiny girl in a hug, much to the surprise of the others.

“J, this is perfect,” she grinned diabolically. “You have to tell us everything you know.”

“I’m not going to be your mole, Manila,” she protested, but with three sets of expectant eyes on her, she sighed uncomfortably.

 They’d met at the gym, in the evening Zumba class they both attended twice a week. Raven watched her long, gray ponytail bounce, and tried desperately to listen to the instructor. It was hard to follow directions, when a beautiful girl was squatting in front of her in sinfully tight yoga pants. She never noticed Raven, until one day she did. And every day after that.

She’d accidentally mopped Raven’s water bottle, chugging its’ contents before realizing it wasn’t hers. Under normal circumstances, she would have gone off on anyone who dared to touch her things, but the girl’s genuine nature left her speechless. She apologized profusely, grabbing Raven’s hand. Their fingers sparked an electric shock, and she nearly pulled away.

As the other girls all moved back into place, they stood there, staring at each other. Sweat was dripping down Raven’s back, and the upbeat song was in time with her heartbeat.

“My name is Raja,” she panted. “My water is in my bag, still. I can grab it.”

Raven simply shook her head, trying so hard to keep from smiling that it made her cheeks ache.

“Raven,” she said softly. “No need. We’re almost done, anyway. You can owe me something later.”

The next class, Raja stood next to Raven, who was stretching while she waited for the instructor to pick out a playlist.  They giggled as the got tripped up on steps, and Raja’s long limbs almost knocked her out several times. Somehow, they wound up parked next door each other, and stood talking by their cars for an hour afterwards, letting the breeze cool their heated skin.

A week later, Raven was sitting on the ground, trying to touch her toes. She always needed to stretch a bit after class was over, or she felt a bit worse the next day. Raja was kneeling beside her, tying her shoe, when she lost balance and toppled over on top of her.

Raja had one arm pinned over her side, still reeling. Their faces were just inches apart, and the tension was palpable. If Raven didn’t crack a joke now, she might lose her composure.

“If you wanted to kiss me, all you had to do was ask,” she smirked. Raja’s face was flushed, but whether it was from the workout or their position was unclear.

“Maybe I do,” she whispered huskily, dark eyes glancing down at Raven’s lips.

Overcome, Raven pulled herself out from under her and stood up, pulling down her tank top. She cleared her throat. The thought that Raja actually wanted her was surprising enough, but something stirred in her tiny, black heart when she realized that it didn’t matter that she was a bare-faced, sweaty mess. Raja’s eyes were true.

“Come on, get up,” she urged, voice on the verge of cracking. “At least take a girl out to dinner first.”

“And that’s how they ended up coming here,” Juju finished.

“What did she say about me working here?” Manila pondered.

“She didn’t even mention you.”

“What a bitch.”

Carmen clicked her tongue and crossed her arms. The song had ended since Jujubee had started the story, but Raven and Raja were still laughing loudly at their table.

“That’s like, a story to tell the grandkids,” Carmen pouted. “Okay, we have to move past playing it safe. If you really wanna get her attention, we need a plan of attack.”

Manila had to admit that Raven had gotten way farther than she had in just a few, short weeks.

She knew Raja, though. Knew things that you could only learn over the course of several months, with gained trust. They both had an artistic mentality, both knew how it was to grow up a Euro-Asian mix. What those family reunions were like, too much of this, not enough of that. They were both dreamers and doers. Creative creators.

They had shared laughter and tales of heartache, and Manila cursed herself for not being confident enough to just say something. There was something between them, she was positive.

A crash pulled Manila from her thoughts, and she saw the metal straw dispenser on the floor, plastic straws spread all over the tile.

“Jesus, Carmen, what the hell?”

“Wow, I’m such a klutz,” she responded, a little louder than necessary. “Manila, could you pick those up?”

 The spark in her eyes allowed Manila to realize that Raven and Raja were watching her. If the only thing separating her and Raven was physical attraction, she’d turn it up a notch.

She came out from behind the counter and kneeled in front of the mess, acting oblivious. Luckily, they were the only ones in Shangie’s section, the target audience for the show.

Raven’s back was burning as she watched, twisting her body to the sight happening behind her. Manila was on all fours, gathering the straws. Instead of crawling toward it, she reached for a rogue one, her skirt riding up just enough to give them a peek at her panties. She parted her knees, sticking her ass higher in the air as she extended her arm, and there wasn’t much left for Raven to imagine.

Except for the way it might feel to pull that skirt all the way up and grab hold of those dark curls. To have Manila as her own little servant, kneeling by her feet, waiting patiently for a command. Obeying when she was ordered to make Raja feel good while she sat back and watched the two girls sigh into each other’s mouths…

Raven shook her head, and turned around. She couldn’t think this way about Manila, not anymore.

Apparently, she wasn’t the only effected party, as Raja was chewing on her lip, subconsciously squirming in her seat as she watched Manila.

She rose, throwing the contaminated plastic in the garbage, and placing the dispenser up on the counter. She moved to check on them, and the tension was palpable.

“Anything I can help you ladies with?”

Suddenly, the spell was broken, and Raven realized this was all intentional. She looked to Juju who quickly pretended to be working on the nozzles on the soda fountains.

So, Manila wanted a war. She wasn’t the only one who could play dirty.

From underneath the table, Raven placed a hand on Raja’s bare knee, tantalizing the skin with her nails. Raja jumped slightly, clearly unnerved.

“I’m suddenly very hungry for something else,” Raven growled, causing her date to swallow hard. “Come over to my place for desert?”

“Luzon!”

Manila felt her eyes roll to the back of her skull, but forced a faux smile as she turned around.

“Yes, George?”

“I’ve gotten several complaints that my customers do not want to see your ass when they are trying to eat. What has gotten into you?”

Her nerves were on fire. His voice was a harsh whisper, and she could feel curious eyes on them.

“It was just a problem with the washer, really-“

“Save it, Luzon. I’m not paying you to walk around acting like a slut,” he hissed. Manila’s face fell.

Her mouth was dry, and tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Carmen spoke up, trying to control the scene. “I think she gets it, George. Look, Nila, I have a spare dress in my car. You can put it on when my boyfriend brings it by, okay?” Manila nodded, arms crossed over her chest. George sighed heavily.

“Alright, fine. But if I hear any more complaints, it’s not gonna be good news.”

Carmen hugged her, Manila sniveling into her shoulder. They were startled by the sound of the register jutting open, and looked up to see Shangela handing Raja two Styrofoam containers. Raven walked over to them, grabbing a mint from the glass jar.

“Psst, sorry to see the show shut down,” Raven whispered. She tore the plastic, an amused smile tugging at her lips. “But nice try, Luzon.”

“Fuck off,” she spat back, trying to hide her watery eyes.

“Leave her alone, Raven. Haven’t you done enough?”

Her eyes narrowed, still working the spiraled candy between her fingers. “I don’t believe anyone asked for your input, Carmen.” She leaned forward, and before Manila knew it, Raven was slipping the mint between her lips. It was cool on her tongue, and Raven’s finger lingered a bit too long. “It seems to be the trend around here to meddle in other people’s business. Right, Juju?”

“I’m not entertaining this,” Jujubee huffed. “You’re both idiots.” It was then that Raja came over with the to-go boxes in hand.

“Ready to take off?” Raven asked, affectionately kissing her cheek.

“You’d know all about taking,” Manila muttered. Her eyes were strong now.

They were staring again, and Raja looked to the other waitresses for answers. Juju smiled awkwardly, but Carmen stood defensively by Manila’s side, looking ready to pounce.

“Um,” Raja cleared her throat. “Am I missing something?”

They all responded at once, with a resounding “no”.

–

Tomorrow was Manila’s day off, and it couldn’t have come any sooner. She was the last one left to close, and her aching feet were begging her to hurry and lock up.

For some, it was eerie to be alone in the diner late at night, but Manila relished the opportunity to work at her own pace. No one to distract her or dictate her actions, just her and the sound of the music.

She gave the counters a once-over, making sure every surface had been disinfected and everything had been put away in the back for the openers. The clock said that it was almost eleven, and she didn’t have much of a reason left to stay. She closed her eyes, letting the song fill her ears, lifting her to some far-away place, where things made sense. Where she was happy.

She felt hopeless. Why had she allowed herself to parade around as some fool, acting pathetic? Manila was engaged in a game of cat and mouse that no one else was playing. Was it really to make Raja like her? This wasn’t who she was, feeling more self-conscious as the day went by, receiving lingering gawks from men that didn’t even know her. She wasn’t a display piece, and when she realized that Raja was not an object either, she felt sick to her stomach for trying to steal her away.

It was deeper than that, and repressed hurt crept into her heart every time she thought about Raja leaving, going home to kisses and soft hands.

The same touch that was once everything to her.

Manila was on the outside looking in, and she reached out into the nothingness. No one could hear her. She was withering away.

She wondered just how much more Raven could take from her before she would wilt completely.

Her phone buzzed from her apron pocket, and she unlocked it to see Shangela saying goodnight to their group chat. Their display picture stood out at the top of her screen, the four girls all laughing, drinks in hand. If Manila was lonely, at least she wasn’t alone.

A knock startled Manila, and she squinted. The door was locked, thankfully, but her heart started to slow when she saw a familiar face crouch down and wave.

–

Raja leaned up against the fridge in Manila’s kitchen, head pressed to the cool steel.

This was Manila’s zone, and she watched her move swiftly, completely focused. The hour was late, but her eyes held determination as her hands worked expertly. It was the same kind of groove that they shared, a process taking over their body, using them as a vessel for creation.

Several dirtied dishes lined the countertops, and Raja couldn’t help but feel amused that she was doing much more observing than anything else.

“Let me help,” she said, taking the big bowl from Manila’s arm, prying her fingers off the wooden spoon. She continued working it through the mixture, watching the younger girl blink slowly, batting away exhaustion.

Raja should probably feel bad for suggesting a midnight baking lesson, but she was content with standing in the lowly-lit apartment, the shorter girl’s feet pattering on the floor as she maneuvered through the room. She was in a large t-shirt and jogging pants, with a lopsided ponytail on the top of her head. She placed a hand over Raja’s, and they stirred together.

“I’m going to put them in the oven,” she said a few minutes later. “Then go to the bathroom. You can wait in my room. You remember which door?”

Raja nodded, reluctantly leaving Manila to her own devices. She knew that once she’d gone, Manila would smooth out any wrinkles she had left in her routine. Her perfectionist attitude was as sweet as the sugar she used in her confections.

A single lamp illuminated Manila’s gray bedroom walls and purple bedding. There was a painting of lilacs hanging over the headboard, and Raja made note of the loopy signature in the corner of the canvas.

Her closet was open, and she admired the clothes. Being so used to seeing her in a uniform, it was surprising to see Manila’s style on display in front of her. There was definite taste.

At the bottom, amongst several pairs of shoes, was a fabric box holding a variety of art supplies. Raja reached down, pulling out a black leather-bound journal. She flipped through, but there were no pictures, only words.

It was an old diary.

Raja peered out into the hallway, making sure Manila wasn’t coming. What she was about to do was wrong, but she couldn’t squash her curiosity. She cracked the journal open to an entry around the center, and the top of the page was dated from over four years prior.

Sept. 17 –

We’re in the swing of things! Homecoming is right around the corner, and Juju and I are leading the committee. I’m pretty sure Carmen is going to be crowned queen. She says she doesn’t think so, but she’s probably lying. Her dress is super pretty. It’s totally revealing, typical Carmen.

Raja sighed. She still felt guilty, but at least she hadn’t uncovered anything too deep. This was a standard account of high school life. She recognized the names of the other waitresses, and felt it was lovely that the girls were still friends. She flipped through a few more pages.

Oct. 12 –

Who do you turn to when you need to reveal the biggest secret of your life, but it turns out that it’s about your best friend? Carmen can’t keep a secret, and Juju is just too close to her. I guess that’s why I have this diary. I can’t feel my hands when she’s around, and all of a sudden I can’t joke like I used to. I even skipped English yesterday because I was too nervous to see her. I thought this would pass, but it feels like every time we’re together it gets stronger. It’s eating me alive. Should I tell her? What if I ruin everything?

Oct. 30 –

Carmen’s party is tonight! Of course, her parents are out of town, and some guys with fakes bought us a bunch of booze. I’m pretty pleased with my costume, but I’m more excited to spend the night with my girlfriend. Can you believe I just wrote that? Girlfriend! I think it’s gonna be a special night.

P.S. – I think my sister knows I’m seeing someone, but if I tell her, she’ll rat me out to Mom. I mean, what would they say if they knew it was Raven?

The toilet flushed, and she barely managed to shove the journal back in its box and stand up before Manila came walking in, a sleepy smile on her face.

“Hey,” she said. “We can go check on them in a few minutes. I’ll even let you stick the toothpicks in.”

Raja acted as calmly as she could, but her heart was racing. Manila was talking about some video she’d seen on Facebook, but she couldn’t focus on anything except what she’d just read.

Raven? And Manila?

Honestly, she’d had her suspicions, but to actually see it in writing was a shock. How could neither of them say anything?

“Raja?”

She blinked, and looked over to Manila, who was sitting on the bed with a concerned expression.

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you wanted to stay the night,” she said shyly. “I mean, it’s pretty late.”

She needed time to think, to figure out what to do. As if she wasn’t already confused enough, there was now a whole new layer to the situation. But she couldn’t exactly get mad at Manila without exposing herself.

“Sure.”

They ate cookies and sipped on wine, and before Raja knew it, she had completely forgotten about Manila’s diary. Somehow, she’d ended up nestled against Raja’s side, laughing about a story from work. It was comfortable, being under the covers together.

Manila was desperately fighting sleep, and she wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Raj?”

“Mmm.”

“Will you still be here when I wake up?”

Raja shifted to look down at the smaller girl. Her sad eyes looked heavy, and she was tracing circles into Raja’s sleeve. She took her hand and kissed it.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

As her eyes flittered shut, Raja wondered just what the hell she had gotten herself into.

–

The sound of chewing through the speaker of Raven’s phone was irritating enough to give an aspirin a headache. Still, she pressed on.

“I could pretend to get food poisoning,” she mused, admiring her manicure. “Bonus points if it’s Luzon’s cooking. Then I could convince Raja to never go back.”

“Are you sure you’re that convincing of an actress?”

She frowned. From her bedroom window, she could see a pair of black butterflies dancing around the flowers in her garden, scaling the trellis, careful not to wake the dormant morning glories. Raven wondered if it was a sign. Probably not.

“Maybe I won’t have to act. Is there anything you can use to, like, spike our food?”

“Jesus, Rave! Listen to yourself,” Juju groaned over the line. “You two are acting like children. Have you considered just asking Raja which one of you she wants?”

Truthfully, she had contemplated it, but she was afraid of the answer. When Raja wasn’t answering her phone, Raven knew exactly where she was. They were in too deep.

“I didn’t start this,” she sneered, deflecting the question. Jujubee sighed. Never once had she asked her to choose sides when she split up with Manila, but now she was wishing she had someone unapologetically in her corner.

“Then finish it. Just say what you feel for once, Raven. You may have lost Manila, but you still have a chance with this one. I love you, but please, stop being a coward.”

The words hurt, like a blow to the gut, and she felt the air leave her lungs. As if it wasn’t hard enough to be reminded of her choices every time she saw her face, somehow hearing it was even more gruesome.

After a few beats of silence, Juju began to speak, but Raven quickly ended the call, holding a shaking hand over her mouth.

–

Manila was puttering around the diner like a songbird, whistling and humming, blinding everyone she saw with a smile. She danced on the tips of her toes, ponytail swaying as she wiped down tables.

“What’s got you in such a cheery mood?” Carmen asked, though she knew the answer. As she moved behind the counter, she swatted her thigh with the rag.

“Mind your own business, Carrera!” She giggled. The pink in her cheeks was a telling sign, she knew, but she was much too elated to care.

“Your business is my business,” she argued good-naturedly. “If we’re on the winning team, I have a right to know.”

“There is no winning or losing,” she sang. “I’m letting go of all of that. If Raja wants me, then she’ll choose me.”

“Something in your tone makes me believe you’re hiding some details.”

“Um, Nila?” Juju chirped, emerging from the back. “George just called and asked if you could check on the restroom.”

Manila scrunched her nose. “I just did it, not even a half hour ago.”

“I’m just the messenger, girl.”

Carmen shrugged. With a sigh, Manila grabbed a broom and dustpan, pushing herself into the women’s restroom. Eyes out for any mess on the tile, she spun around when she heard a click, the door locking. She pushed against it to no avail.

“Jujubee? Let me out, this isn’t funny.”

“Not until we talk this out,” a soft voice came from behind her, and she saw Raven and Raja leaning up against two of the Pepto Bismol colored stall doors. The taller of the two had her eyes darting in every direction, nerves apparent.

“What is this? Some kind of intervention?” Manila pressed. “Raja, you and your friend are kind of freaking me out.”

Raven pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Give it up, Luzon. She knows.”

She deflated, dropping the broom to the floor. “You told her?” She whispered.

“She didn’t have to tell me,” Raja shrugged sheepishly. “I had a hunch. And I may have gone through your things?”

Manila didn’t have time to be mad. A million thoughts were circulating through her mind, and she felt dizzy. There was no backing out now; she’d have to confront Raven, and risk losing Raja.

“Look, I’m not exactly thrilled either,” Raven muttered. She took a step forward, and Manila backed up against the sink. “I know this is a lot to take in-“

“What do you know?” Manila spat, feeling her chest tighten. “You don’t know anything.”

“Manila, come on,” Raja begged. The pained expression on her face wasn’t unnoticed. Raven’s eyes narrowed, and she backed Manila into a corner.

“What do I know?” She whispered harshly. “I know exactly where you hide your snacks in your bedroom. I know where you have the scar that you got from bike riding when you were six. I know that you say that you hate yellow, but secretly love the way you look in it. I know that you’re a lactose intolerant idiot who would do anything for a chocolate shake.”

“God, you almost make it sound like you cared about me,” Manila was bitter, and hoped it reached the other two. Damn Raven, damn Raja, and damn Jujubee for making her endure this.

“You fucking moron,” Raven croaked. Manila’s eyes softened at the wavering in her voice. “I loved you.”

Raja cooed, the sound a dull echo in Manila’s ears. She shook her head, laughing in disbelief.

“No. No, you left me. You abandoned me, and it made me hate myself for tearing our friendship apart!”

“I was scared,” Raven sighed, eyes defeated. “I loved you so much, but you weren’t ready. You weren’t ready to come out, for sex, to be in a serious relationship, and I couldn’t stand the thought of going back to the way we were. Manila, I couldn’t just be your friend after being with you so intimately. It would have killed me. So…I distanced myself. It was just easier that way.”

“For who?!” Manila yelled, uncaring if the whole damn building heard. “Don’t you dare act like the martyr here.”

“You’re right, I guess. I’ve regretted it ever since. Having to walk past you, pretending I wasn’t reliving my biggest mistake was torture. What was I supposed to say?”

“The truth, maybe?” The waitress said incredulously.

“I just…maybe we can move past this,” Raven dared, though her voice still trembled. “I miss my best friend.”

“I can never forgive you for this,” Manila cried. Her cheeks were hot and she wanted nothing more than to smack her across the face. “I’ve dreamed about this moment forever, and now that it’s here, I wish it had never come.” She was sputtering and red faced, stomping her foot like a child.

With a shaky breath, Raven enveloped her, despite her thrashing. Raja looked on, a strange mixture of misery and relief twisting in her stomach, as Manila relaxed in Raven’s arms, sobbing loudly.

–

Manila was sipping on her coffee, mostly to give her an excuse to sit in silence.

Raja’s long coat was draped over her shoulders, and her eyes were still slightly puffy.

“So,” Raja urged, nudging the girl in the seat next to her. She sighed and cleared her throat, a pout on her full lips.

“So,” Raven mocked. “I was thinking. Maybe we could start over. No more secrets.”

“And no more snooping,” Raja pledged. “Or silly games.”

“Like…our friendship?” Manila pondered. She saw the glances that Raja and Raven shared, and the looked like they belonged. Two puzzle pieces, and she was the rogue obstacle, wedging herself between them. If this was the sort of feeling Raven had wanted to back away from, then maybe she could begin to understand. “I’m not sure I can pretend like you’re a stranger anymore, Rave.”

“No, I mean, like, our relationship. I don’t expect forgiveness in a day, but I’m willing to try if you are,” she replied, blonde waves rustling as she failed to make eye contact. “Can I take you out?”

Manila blinked. Something flipped inside of her, a switch, like the first warm day after a long winter. Even if she wanted to refuse, she wasn’t sure it was in her power to do so.

Suddenly, she looked to Raja, fiddling with the stray hairs that framed her face.

“But…what about…”

Raja laughed airily, grabbing Manila’s hand. “I’m here, as long as you’ll have me,” she squeezed. She looked to Raven, kissing her temple. “For both of you.”

“I’m not sure how I went from being totally alone, to having the two of you,” Manila mumbled. “How would that even work? What if things get messy?”

“Maybe,” Raven started, looking between them. “We should just let things run their own course for once.”

The door chimed, a group of schoolchildren running into Royale’s with hungry stomachs and money burning a hole through their pockets. Shangela greeted them, a gaggle of laughter as she tried to help them hoist themselves up on the barstools. The clock ticked up on the wall, in time with the beat of the music, a new track that Manila had yet to hear. The tin signs and gag license plates hung above Juju as she listened to orders, reaching for the pencil she kept nestled in her hair. A man took a crisp bill from a pretty hand, and Manila dared to look up just in time to see Carmen shoot her an approving wink.

“Maybe you’re right.”

[maryannemagnolia-blog]

Hisashi Imai + Sayoko Takahashi interview translation

From Rockin’on Japan September 1992 or BT8992

Sayoko Takahashi was the vocalist and main lyricist of the new wave band Zelda. The name Zelda was taken from Zelda Sayre, they are famous for being one of the very first all-girl bands in Japan, and of course, the members wrote lyrics, music and played instruments themselves. In my opinion, they were one of the best in the 80s Japanese new wave scene. The band was formed in 1979, made their major debut in 1982, disbanded in 1996.

Takahashi was born in 1964, joined the band in 1980. She has also released works as a solo singer, now she is in a band named Sayokootonara.

Sorry for the possible mistakes in this translation, including spelling and grammar ones. All I can say is that my translation won’t create big misunderstandings.

I = Imai

T = Takahashi

Interviewer = Tetsushi Ichikawa

Hisashi Imai + Sayoko Takahashi

We are new wave fellows

B-T and Zelda. Man and woman. Science and primitivity.

Countryside and metropolis. Even with all those differences, they are still of the same race, an interview of “the two motherlands”.

—Imai, when was the first time you listened to Zelda?

I: 1st grade at high school, it was their first album.

T: I was 17 years old then.

—You are close in age.

I: I bought many Japanese new wave records like Ippu-do and Lizard around that time. I knew the name Zelda, but their records were not easy to find in Gunma.

—What’s your first impression of Zelda?

I: impression...their music was pop, but with a strong metallic feeling.

T: Ah, metallic.

I: I love every song on the first album.

—So you are a passionate Zelda fan.

I: I was a fan!

T: “Was”?

I: Hyahahahah

T: He let it slip. I once met him in Okinawa, he told me “I like your first three albums.”

I: I’m sorry.

—But Imai felt much regret after that, didn’t he?

I: Yes.

T: Please just tell us your true feelings.

—It was the “book girl era” of Zelda, so you like Sayoko’s lyrics?

I: I like them very much, such as the triple meter one with short lyrics.

T: Ah, “If you go to buy peace~”

I: Yes, yes, yes, yes, this one.

—”The development area is always in twilight”.(Note: It’s the name of the song, “開発地区はいつでも夕暮れ”) Many people say “the old Zelda was better”, it seems Zelda have a cult following, however, as someone who has already been making music for ten years, wouldn’t you get angry at those comments?

I: Ah

T: But when people says that...

I: So you did get angry.

T: No, no. I have thought the same about other bands. If we can continue making music, and make something even better, maybe one day we will return to our old sound. Times revolve, continue creating is the most important thing, we shouldn’t be defeated by the complaints.

I: I think your sound went through a significant change in the 3rd album.

T: Yes, it changed in Sora-iro Boshi no Hi. You like the 2rd album better, don’t you?

I: But the 1st album is still my favorite.

—He annoys people. Anyway, in 1981, Zelda seemed to be so innovative, the lyrics, the sound, the appearance all had that aesthetic feeling.

T: We have attracted the most attention because we are girls, but during that period, there were also many boys bands who were very innovative in both music and the way of being.

—But among all those bands, only Zelda continues to exist in the original form till today.

T: Hm, among the Tokyo Rockers, Friction and S-KEN have been active in their original forms as well. (Note: Tokyo Rockers = bands who played in S-KEN studio in the late 70s, “Tokyo Rockers” was the name of gigs they held in that studio, later they made a complication live album with same name.)

I: Here come the great names.

—Then Sayoko, When did you know B-T’s name?

T: When we were recording Sora-iro Boshi, our former manager brought us the self-made record, the one with black-and-white cover, on which Sakurai-kun had his hair put up.

I: Ah, ah!

T: He bought us that record, said, “Those people like your music.”

I: I’m very glad. It’s “TO SEARCH” from Taiyou Records.

—What’s your feeling about it?

T: I’m sorry, to be honest, I didn’t have much of an impression.

I: ......

T: But, but I bought many bands’ many records at that time, I’ve forgotten almost all of them, I only remember BT’s, the cover was so cool.

—Hahahaha. You are about the same age, and your musical experiences both began with new wave.

I: Ah, yes. For me, it’s Japanese new wave bands, YMO, The Stalin, we were a Stalin copy band at the beginning. (Note: I think everyone already knows that, but Stalin was the name of a band)

T: It’s absolutely amazing. For me it’s foreign music, I was obsessed with Patti Smith, listened to her again and again. When I was in middle school, I thought, “Someday I will surpass her as a singer.” Then one day I saw the special issue of Tokyo Rockers in a magazine, I realized that even in Japan, there were people using words and music to express what I was thinking about. They wore black sunglasses and thin ties, put their hair up, all looked so stylish. I went to Shinjuku to see them. Tokyo Rockers were the first Japanese groups to give me influence, they were the direct reason that I decided to make music myself.

I: I didn’t see them in real time, I knew their name before actually listening to their music.

—Do you consider Zelda as “Tokyo Rockers Children”?

T: “After Tokyo Rockers”, together with Stalin and JAGATARA, we are the next generation influenced by them.

—Isn’t new wave a very special genre? The sense is more important than technique, knowledge and pattern.

T: Yes, 99% of me is feeling, so I think I was born into a good time to make use of my talents. What we are doing is more than just making music, there is something artistic about it.

—You can take elements from other subcultures.

T: Yes, yes, yes, it’s so good that we can do anything, it’s the best for me.

I: I have thought the same. I found that in this genre it’s okay to do anything, so I thought “I can do it as well”.

T: Yes, people would think so.

—The core of new wave is that even someone who has never touched an instrument before can do it, because it’s a matter of sense.

T: Yes, at that time, everyone thought so, now we can say that way of thinking was truly an innovation.

I: Me too, I began playing guitar and started the band at the same time.

T: Therefore we have much more possibilities, it’s very important that you can make music when you are not a real musician.

—Don’t you consider yourselves real musicians?

T: No, no.

I: Hmm... No. What I make is music, but I don’t understand things like music theory.

T: Me, too! Me too.

—We were born with new wave, so let’s follow nothing but sense till we die! Something like this?

I: When we keep advancing, following the sense, naturally we will find things in music theory, like the scales, look more and more familiar.

T: I feel the same. It’s not about knowing the music theory, it’s about living with music, music is inside my heart, I can release myself into the world of music while playing it. I think it will be great if I can carry music with me in this way. Do you write lyrics, Imai-san?

I: Yes, I don’t write as many as before though.

T: What are they like?

I: What!?

—Just introduce your favorite lyric.

I: Introduce? It’s a song called “Brain, Whisper, Head, Hate is noise”.

T: Whispers of brain, sounds cool, it rhymes.

I: It can be explained in many ways, I described it in an abstract manner.

—What did you describe in an abstract manner?

I: Hmm...I got a suspended sentence for it. (Note: Oh I thought only Acchan wrote that kind of lyrics after it, Maimai bravo)

—Hey.

T: I can’t understand, what’s that?

I: ...It’s like, in the midnight, doing something to make your mind so sharp.

T: Was it an awakening?

I: Yes, it feels like you are looking at something that shouldn’t be seen, suddenly you know the truth, you know too much.

T: This bad trip feeling could be experienced even when you are just writing lyrics or listening to music, when you are longing for something which belongs to a place outside normal every day life. I like that twisted feeling, twisted things are more beautiful, I can understand.

—In the early days of Zelda, Sayoko wrote lyrics about extraordinary things which were almost identical to daily life.

T: I wrote about my frustration, like “I don’t want to go to school”.

—But your expressions have a strong literature feeling, there is a kind of dignity floating around.

T: At that time, I couldn’t help hating lyrics about attacking others, but being blind to one’s own shortcomings. So I wasn’t interested in punk, which didn’t say anything about oneself, only spat on others, it sounded too selfish for me. However, new wave felt like being alone inside one’s own world, it wouldn’t cause trouble for others. Then I wrote lyrics not in a straight way, I made them warped, added a lot of adjectives, till I had added so many colors into the lyrics that they became incomprehensible.

I: I was influenced by your style.

T: Really?

I: Such as in the first album, the one with “father and mother have both turned into robots”.

T: It’s “Robotomeia”. (Note: I wrote it in Romaji because I can’t figure out its possible English spelling.)

I: It’s wonderful, I mean the mysterious feeling. But in our early days, when I was the main lyricist, I wrote a lot of embarrassing love songs. Writing straight love songs makes me nervous, so now I write them in an completely abstract way so that people won’t know they are love songs.

—But I think this straightness, this awkward feeling is one of the keys of Japanese new wave.

T: Weren’t those unorganized feelings part of our generation’s everyday life? The everyday life of shy teenagers like us.

I: Yes.

T: The appearance of new wave has freed many people from their emotional repression, including me.

I: In my case, showing my true self to others makes me embarrassed. Even the fact that Acchan is the one who has to sing it won’t help.

T: You are a bit too cold. I used to think “where is the good of singing about my real experiences”? However, 3 or 4 years ago, in Shout Sister Shout, for the first time, I wrote a love song based on my real experience, then people told me “Actually I have felt the same”. I began to know that what I felt could be felt by anyone, it’s not too embarrassing.

—You have overcome your shyness.

T: Yes, then I began to take pleasure in it, I tried to write lyrics more honestly, eventually they became too honest.

I: I have been embarrassed by music as well. It makes me want to disappear from earth.

T: I understand, our first album for me...

—Hey, sitting next to you is someone who has been enjoying your first album for 10 years.

I: Thank you.

T: But it’s our first recording, I felt repressed. I cried so much before the recording of one song, my voice was shivering, so I feel uncomfortable listening to it.

I: Which one?

T: Hehehehe, it’s “To Ra Wa Re”. (Note: it’s my fav on the album “Zelda”)

—So it’s not funny. Then, from the starting point of new wave, you went in different directions, Sayoko went for world music, Imai went for techno, it’s very interesting.

T: But if we keep going, I feel one day we will be back to the same road. Forms of our music are different, but we have the same roots. People from the new wave era have chosen the native direction, or the electronic direction, but the differences are on the surface, the basic idea of desiring to escape from the ordinary is still the same.

I: In my case, I took the guitar by chance. The digital sounds are what I have been seeking for from the beginning. I often get unsatisfied with the sounds I have made, I keep buying effects units, till I find the sound I want. No matter it sounds like a guitar or not, if it’s the sound you like, there is no need for self-control, just use it.

T: I’m different, in the end, the sounds I want are what come directly from human bodies, from a place without electricity. So we are the leading edge and the origin, but we have the same starting point.

—Imai’s “ignoring the schemes” is new wave, Sayoko’s “returning to the origin” is new wave, too, are there no such things as traditions or patterns which are followed in this genre? I mean, your ideas come not from seniors, but rather from your individual selves.

T: That’s right, it’s an universal genre dominated only by sensibility.

—I want to hear about your roots.

I: My natural sensations match new wave and techno, by coincidence. When I was in kindergarten, I got unusually excited when I saw metallic things like the vacuum tubes inside a television, one day I went to the garbage dump in a hospital, there were many plastic syringes, I felt very happy seeing those.

T: Hahahaha.

I: When I listen to music like new wave, a similar feeling comes to me. I hated listening to music before, but I began collecting records after knowing about new wave.

—For Imai, new wave is inorganic products like syringes and vacuum tubes.

I: Yes, I was attracted by the idea of turning human into machine at the beginning.

T: In my case, being born in Tokyo during the economic miracle period has a great influence. When I was a child, instead of mountains and rivers, I saw tall buildings, subways, high ways everyday around me, and I loved it! I found myself imagining doing things like diving from the skyscrapers, riding bicycles on the highways. The concrete felt like nature to me, there lay my playground, I was also very fond of reclamation ground (Note: on Zelda’s second album “carnaval” there’s a song named “Umetate”, which means “reclamation”, Sayoko said “I go to reclamation ground everyday” in it). But every place I had been to had the marks of city life, finally I grew bored of metropolis. I moved to Kamakura 2 years ago, now I live with the nature, but sometimes I return to Tokyo, find the sights to be beautiful again.

—Zelda is the synonym for metropolis.

T: People always say we are a band of Tokyo.

—It seems the glitz of B-T is not a Tokyo thing.

I: After all, we are a band of Gunma.

Fun fact 1: Kokusyoku Sumire have covered Zelda’s song Watashi no Orchestra. You can try Zelda’s version even if you don’t like Kokusyoku Sumire’s, because Zelda were not Lolitas, they were punk rockers.

Fun fact 2: Being a bungaku shoujo, Sayoko once had a essay column in the magazine Takarajima, which was a subculture magazine focused on new wave artists like YMO, Jun Togawa, etc. Later this magazine began to feature newer popular bands like Seikima II, Buck-Tick, Jun Sky Walker(s) and X Japan, then it turned into an adult magazine, became very successful. And I’m not suggesting BT is something lies between 80s new wave and porn, sorry.

(scanned by Tigerpal on Livejournal)