#i basically never finish video games so everyone please clap

[kamisatoayato]

i beat baldurs gate 3

[blueberrysets]

Alright so I may or may not ha e just seen your navigation post and diOaksnsks ma'am you now have yourself a top fan soaowisis anyways, may I request headcanons for Yaku, Kenma, Akaashi, and Sugawara with a same year as them s/o who's part of the music club and the younger members look up to said s/o like a big sister? I wonder how they'd react...

From: The one and only BucketofForks

To: You :DD

okay, this request is sO CUTE!! AHH!! thank you for being my first request and I hope you enjoy it! :) 

their musical s/o that acts like a big sibling  to the younger members

sugawara 

suga met you after school when he just so happened to walk by the music room on the way to practice.

his ears picking up such a beautiful sound flowing from the cracked open door that his body just seemed to move by itself over there.

through the small window, he could see that someone was obviously practicing the violin. their eyes closed with a pleasant look on their face.

he was mesmerized, his eyes following along with the way their body would sway along to the music and their foot-tapping to keep the rhythm

he couldn’t help himself to push further into the room and clap after they were finished, a bright red blush spreading across your face as you realized someone was watching you

“that was amazing,” suga exclaims, his bright smile livening up the room

“really?” you ask, “I’ve only had the piece a couple of days, but we have a show coming up soon so I want to get it down.”

“well I think you definitely have it down alright, can you play me another?”

yes, he was late to practice that day, but BOOM romance erupted from there.

the first time the boys met you, it was when you walked into the gym to give suga some notes for one of his classes. of course, you walked right into the fifth kageyama and hinata argument of the day.

of course, all of the other boys are tense and not sure how to stop them from bickering but DUN DUN DUN suga’s s/o to the rescue.

“alright, it seems like you two need to sit down and have someone guide this conversation,” you blurted out, everyone’s head snapping towards the unfamiliar voice.

“hey sugar,” suga voiced as he jogs his way over to you, wrapping his arms around you before placing an obnoxious kiss on your cheek, “don’t worry about them, they do this all the time.”

“is that so? well, it seems like they’re holding everyone else up, I’ll sort them out.”

coach ukai is just like please, I’m begging you.

so kageyama and hinata are dragged over to the bleachers where they are scolded by their upperclassman and lead through a very thoughtful and successful conversation

even made them hug it out, which was great blackmail for tsukishima later on.

the boys knew that if you could calm down kageyama and hinata, then you definitely need to stick around.

and you did, in fact becoming very close with them.

you’re seen at every one of their volleyball games, cheering so loudly for the boys (well, mostly suga.)

you probably yell embarrassing things like “SUGA YOUR BUTT LOOKS GREAT.” “HINATA SWEETIE, PULL UP YOUR PANTS.”

the boys are in the front row for every performance you have, asahi has definitely cried once when you had a solo

you’re one of the few people that can pick on tsukishima, and him not having a comeback for it

you walk around and make sure that the boys are eating properly at lunch

you help yachi with breathing exercises when she gets too overwhelmed

you always make sure that they all get big hugs after the games

you tease nishinoya and tanaka by telling them that someone was going to ask kiyoko out today, just to see their reactions

but most importantly, you give them all emotional support when the boys need it the most.

overall, suga’s s/o would be just as chaotic as him. but loves to give them bear hugs, a good scolding, and sneaks them some snacks throughout the day to make sure they have enough energy.

akaashi

akaashi met you during one of fukurodani’s talent shows, hosted by the music club!

you signed up to perform, deciding to play your guitar and sing as well.

akaashi couldn’t take his eyes off of you, his heart fluttering with every note that you would sing.

he loves the way you let yourself get lost in the music even though you’re performing in front of hundreds of people right now.

he had to talk to you, and he gathered up the courage to after the show.

“hey,” he stutters slightly as he approaches you, you’re even more stunning up close, “you did amazing up there.”

“oh gosh,” you laugh slightly covering your red cheeks, since you’ve always had a crush on the observant setter of fukurodani, “you’re too kind, but thank you.”

“would you teach me how to um, play the guitar maybe?” he blushes

you couldn’t believe it, THE akaashi keiji is asking YOU to help him learn how to play guitar? you obviously agreed to it, anything to get close to him

the weekly guitar lessons, turned into weekly dates, that turned into finally becoming significant others. 

the first person you meet is bokuto, naturally. he forgot his lunch at home that day and didn’t want to spend money to get something to eat. his hair all frumpy as he goes into emo bokuto.

but lucky for him, you always pack an extra lunch in case one of your friends forget theirs. so you offer it to him, and bokuto looks at you as if you put the stars in the sky. bokuto happily eats your food, complimenting it with every bite. then invites you to come to their practice.

akaashi was nervous to have you come to practice, what if he messes up? what if you think volleyball is lame? what if the boys hate you?

yet when you stepped into the gym, you seemed to fit right in.

you help them set everything up, you get along with yukie and kaori, you compliment bokuto when he seeks your praise, you help toss to konoha, and sneak in little kisses for akaashi

since that day, the team seems to stick to you like glue

they always ask you for help when it comes to studying

you give them little performances during their breaks in practice

you give them head pats and words of encouragement before every game

you even invite them to every single one of your performances, knowing exactly where they in the crowd from bokuto’s prominent voice.

basically, you become the teams' second mom behind akaashi. you support them with motherly love and they support you back by being your number one fan.

kenma

you were a mystery to kenma at first

every day after school, kenma would hear the most beautiful voice singing in the stairwell of the school. yet, he could never see who it was since they left before he reached the bottom.

but one day, he was determined. it was like figuring out who the mysterious voice was that was guiding him in a video game, so he left earlier to wait at the bottom of the stairs. lo and behold, here comes you singing to your heart's content as you descend the stairs. 

stopping in the middle of a long note as your eyes land on kenma, sitting on the bottom step looking up at you with a slight smile on his face.

“you have a nice voice,” his soft voice states as your cheeks become redder by the second

“oh, thank you, I don’t really sing in front of others,” you state bashfully

“you should join the music club,” he casually states as he picks up his volleyball bag, “they would accept you right away.” then he walks off, gaming on his phone.

the next week you come racing towards him, a bright smile on your face as you explain to him that you got into the music club. 

“but,” you explain as your smile drops, “I still can’t get over the nervousness of singing in front of others.”

“you can start by singing in front of me, if you’d like,” kenma states, his eyes lowered in shyness, “then maybe once you’re comfortable around me, you can work your way up.”

“oh! like leveling up in a video game,” you exclaim.

kenma swears his heart stops for a second at that statement, his cheeks a bright red.

“yeah, exactly like that.”

so every day, either before or after school (depending on his practices) you would sing in front of kenma. while either walking to school or from, eventually kenma couldn’t hold his feelings in any longer and finally asked you on a date. and then you became love birds.

you met the boys by kenma’s idea actually

“you’re comfortable around me, what about we move up to my team?”

you agreed, reluctantly of course. but here you are, in the gym about to sing to a group of boys. 

but you put your big kid pants on, and you did it. you ended up making lev cry from how beautiful your voice was, you had to console him with hugs and head pats.

the boys were in awe of not only your talent but the way you just casually hugged lev. soon enough, all of the boys wanted hugs. then they became your little clingy cats.

you had Yamamoto hissing at people in the hallway when they looked at you as if kenma did already do that.

you sang the periodic table song per kuroo’s request

you always listened to lev excitedly explain something and explain something to him if he didn’t understand

when it came to your first ever performance on a stage, the boys sat in the front row so you had familiar faces to look at.

it was at that moment that you would’ve never been where you are without kenma.

yaku

the boys were curious, why has yaku been showing up to practice at the last minute every day?

he would run in, out of breath, with a sappy look on his face. 

so, they followed him (as sneakily as lev and Yamamoto would let them) and see what he did after school every day.

that's when they found you and him in the music room, you were playing the piano while GASP, YAKU WAS SINGING?

the boys were astonished, not only because he had this talent and he never told them. but because he has the voice of an angel??

his voice is what made you approach him in the first place, you heard him singing loudly with his headphones in his ears while he walked home from school one day. you just so happened to need a voice to test out the new song you just wrote.

so you asked, well more like begged him. but you were too cute to say no to. you would meet every day after school, he even helped you fix some things for the song. eventually, you two would start hanging together at lunch and even after school. leading you two to start dating.

but now here we are, with all of the nekoma men's volleyball team in too much shock to move as they find their libero singing beautifully in front of them.

oh but don’t worry, lev will say something.

“yaku, you sound like an angel!” he exclaims as he steps into the room.

“LEV?”

“Actually we’re all here.”

“WHAT?”

cue yaku running around the music room to hit each and every single one of them for a. stalking him and b. finding out his secret.

which leads to you introducing yourself, and having another shock to the team as yaku actually has a significant other?

“whaattt?? yaku got someone before me?” kuroo whines as he pouts with his arms crossed. leading you to karate chop him on top of the head, because no one disrespects your mans >:(

that small action would make the team realize that they now had two mothers to yell at them.

and oh boy would you.

you had to scold lev if he would say something mean to other teams (without realizing, he's a precious boy he doesn’t mean any harm) 

you drag Yamamoto by the ear when he over girls for too long

you take kenma’s gaming devices so that he eats during lunch

you also scold kuroo every time he hits lev with a ball

but they wouldn’t have it any other way, because they adore you (and you keep yaku calm)

when it finally came to performance time for your song and for yaku’s big singing debut, you wouldn’t want any other team to be in the front row.

[cosmiclatte28]

#4 Hello, Rival (Mark Lee x you)

Fourth day of Christmas

Hello, Rival (Mark Lee x you)

I do not own the pictures, but I own the stories :) enjoy! 

Moving on to a new country has never been easy, even for you who was only eight when you leave New York to Toronto. You certainly miss the Christmas lights New York always have each year, but turns out Toronto is not that boring, or at least your neighbor is not boring.

You grew up with the family tradition of decorating your house with Christmas lights. Your father likes to step up your house’s Christmas lights to another level. He once designed the theme to be Avengers, once he made it Winter wonderland, another one of your favorite is the time he made a Frozen castle in front of your house. Those were back in New York where people always take a picture in front of our house.

It is now your third Christmas in Toronto and your father hasn’t come up with any idea.

“Dad, are we going to put on the lights soon? Our neighbour has started cleaning their lawn.” You peek over the blinded window to the house next to yours. They look like they’re a big family, judging by the number of people sweeping the leaves right now.

Your brother joins you on spying your neighbour, “I wonder what they are making this year. Dad are we going to decorate the lawn this year?”

Your father throws a shocked look to you and your brother “My dear (y/n) and Jaehyun, there is no way I am not putting lights this year! Just wait I’ve drawn them nicely here.” He opens his laptop and the two of you scurry to his side.

He opens his blueprint and Jaehyun claps his hands, you marvel at his work.

“Nutcracker?” your mother suddenly joins the three of you.

He nods his head proudly, “Tomorrow my nutcracker air mascot should come in the mail and we can take the lights out! We can do this, we’ll make our house looks nicer.” He places his hand and we all put ours on top of his.

“Okay now, ginger cookies are here! Let’s decorate!!!” your mother places a hot tray of fresh baked cookies on the dining table and you’re more than delighted to decorate the house.

Your family always make them and distribute some of the batches to neighbours. You spend the entire afternoon jamming to Christmas carols and finish writing small quotes on every cookies. You hand them to your mother so she can pack them nicely and you flop on the big couch in the living room.

Your brother, Jaehyun is playing the piano while listening to you commenting on your neighbour who has started putting on lights.

“I think theirs will be the usual theme, just snow man and some santas.” You spy on your neighbour as if this is a secret mission.

Jaehyun just chuckles and lets you spy more, he even adds fire like asking you how many people are there and who seems to be the laziest one.

“Are you going to school tomorrow?” your mother asks after dinner is over and you and Jaehyun are lounging over the TV playing on some video games.

You nod your head, “Tomorrow is the Christmas celebration in school and we have holidays!”

“Then you better sleep or you will be cranky. Jae you’ll help us with the lights right?” your mother asks your brother. He nods his head, “I’m free tomorrow.”

You pout, “I want to be a part of the team too!!”

Your brother teases, “You’re in school. Sorry but you won’t have credits when people come to gaze at our house.”

If your mother did not stop the two of you there, you’re sure you will be on the floor trying  to tackle your tall brother.

“We will wait for you. Jae will pick you up on twelve and we can eat lunch and start preparing the lights. Now bed time!” she points to your room and after you get up to brush your teeth your mom send you to dreamland.

The next day, you cannot hold back your excitement. You’re super happy to attend the school’s Christmas party and the last day of school, but you cannot wait for the bell to ring.

“Jumpy today, unusual…” your friend Jisung asks you.

“Oh Jisung I’ll put on the Christmas lights today!! Can’t wait.” You pick up your bag and almost run away if not for his little scream of “wait”

You turn your body and he hands you a nicely wrapped box, “I made them, some chocolates. Merry Christmas!” he waves his hand to you and you hug him tight, “Thank you!”

He is your best friend in school, you’ll miss him! Your sadness disappeared as soon as you step out of your school and see your brother with his annoying smirk.

He just waits until you’re by his side and the two of you start walking back home.

“I got a chocolate from Jisung.” You boast the small present to your brother.

Jaehyun looks at it without much interest, but his hand is fast and before you can see a piece of chocolate gone, Jae has already munch on the sweet food.

“Yak!!”

He smacks his lips, trying to savour the taste, “Hmm I guess it’s good, might need a second test.” He reaches out again but you quickly close the box and glare at him.

Jaehyun laughs at your angry face and just pokes your cheek, “Sorry, come on don’t put a sour face! It’s Christmas soon!”

When your eyes catch the pretty decorations, your neighbours had made on their garden, you forgot your sour face and run to your house.

Jaehyun has to run after you and there in your lawn you can see your father already planning out the things we have to put up today.

“Okay put your stuff inside and come out quick.” Your mother says as your father is already busy putting on the lights on the higher parts of the house.

Jaehyun helps father with the roofs and electrics, while you help mom with the tinsels and just the balloons.

It took all four of you the whole time from One to Five to finally plug in the cable to the socket and cheer when the lights perfectly work according to plan.

It really looks magical! With the white snows and the lights, you can feel like you’re in a new world, the nutcracker realm.

After cleaning up and dinner, all four of you spend your night taking pictures in front of the house. Documenting the project for this year and basically updating it to your social media.

Your eyes see the flashing lights your neighbours also have on their houses. Everyone has their own concepts, and it is all pretty.

The next day you wake up with a happy feeling. You enjoy your breakfast and see a freshly baked pie with sweet inviting smell on the kitchen.

“Mom, are you making pies?” you yell and she replies from the laundry room, “Oh that was from our neighbour. Mark’s mother baked them, cut it up if you want.”

You eye the freshly baked pie but suddenly stop when your mother appears in the kitchen with a jar of cookies.

“If you have nothing to do, please help me deliver this to their house.” Your mother hands you the jar of cookies you decorated last night.

You knit your eyebrow, “Which house is Mark’s?”

Your mother rolls her eyes, right you never meet him. “The one on the left.”

Your mouth pops an “Oh” and you grab your coat quickly. After putting on socks and boots, you take the cookies to the house next to yours. The same house that you spied on yesterday. Their decoration did not look bad, though you like yours more.

After knocking three times on their door, the door opens and a young man similar to your age greets you. His face looks surprised.

“Yes?” he said.

You clear your throat, “Oh Mark right? I’m (y/n) your neighbour. Ever since we move here, we kind of have an unspoken Christmas lights competition,” you look around and he also peeks to see your house. You continue, “And I finally meet my rival!” you grin. He laughs and you hand him the cookie jar.

“For you and your family. Thank you for the pies!” You shyly brush your hair away and feel your cheeks burn when he examines the cookies.

“Looks nice and yummy. Did you make this?” he brings out one and tastes it on the spot.

Your eyes dilate as you hope he says something good “My mom bakes it, I decorate it.”

He chews and swallows, his eyes lit up, “Hm interesting! I love this. Thank you (y/n)!”

You reach out your hand, “Nice to meet you, rival” you wink

He laughs and smirks, “Nice theme over there too, rival.”

The two of you laugh.

“Come here next time and play with me.” He politely invites you over, since both of you had never hold a conversation before.

You nod your head, “Feel free to visit me too!”

He winks, “No worries, I’ll visit you whenever I am free. Okay then, see you! I have to help mom send some more pies.”

You turn your heels away after sending the last good bye and with light foot steps you reach your home.

“Christmas never disappoints! Look, I finally know my rival and we’re going to be good friends.” You tell Jaehyun your story as soon as you see him.

“Oh yeah? How are you so sure?” he yawns bored about the lame childish story he always hear from you.

You smack your lips, “Because my heart says so, and I am not like you.”

See you!! Christmas masterlist

[stellacolletore]

08.31.2020

from tsukuba’s peak (falling waters have become)  characters: tsukuba haruomi, mashima taichi/ayase chihaya, tsukuba akihiro summary: Haruomi knows Ayase-sensei’s no damsel in distress. That doesn’t mean he’ll stand by while a Bad Guy goes after her, though. notes: takes place when the 2nd of the tsukuba triplets (haruomi) is in his first year of high school and chihaya’s just been a teacher in mizusawa.

Haruomi might have been giving the wrong impression with his slit eyes for as long as he can remember, but those who know him know better. He’s a pretty perceptive guy.

It’s yet another quality that sets him apart from his younger and older brothers, who, at an earlier point in time, looked so identical with him that people mistake them for triplets. Now the only commonality they share with one another is their undying admiration for Akihiro-niisan. In a span of five years, Fuyumasa-niisan found soccer more of his league than karuta (which almost got him disowned by Akihiro-niisan, who then was the president of Mizusawa Karuta Club) while Natsufusa-kun’s attention was gradually stolen by the world of video gaming.

As for Haruomi, he stuck with karuta like their eldest brother, reaching Class A in his last year of middle school and studying so seriously for once with the hopes of entering the high school of his dreams.

Which isn’t Hokuo, he’d tell the recruiters sporting the well-known red shirt of Tokyo’s current high school karuta powerhouse when they scouted him last tournament. I’m going to Mizusawa High.

“But Mizusawa’s golden days are long over,” Haruomi remembered one of the recruiters snickering. To which he had replied defensively, “That’s going to change, though. Because she’s coming back.”

And Ayase-san has indeed returned, finishing her college degree and immediately applying for a teaching position at Mizusawa High School. She’s the defender of the Queen title for two consecutive years now, and is currently on her way towards─

“ ─making Mizusawa into a karuta powerhouse.” He recalls the brimming confidence in her voice on the first day of club meeting, finally understanding what Akihiro-niisan means when he tells him when she’s on your side, Ayase-senpai’s karuta gives your karuta a certain level of strength.  Ayase-san─Ayase-sensei to him, now─certainly had been over the moon with his club membership. After all, Haruomi’s one of the Shiranami society members who grew in leaps and bounds before her own eyes.

Everything’s going well that when trouble finally entered the picture, Haruomi’s able to spot it in a blink of an eye. Or, to be more precise, spot him.

Likening the situation to one of the shoujo mangas Sumire-neechan rants about during break time back at Shiranami society, Yamazaki-sensei’s definitely the Bad Guy who goes after the Female MC with the sole purpose of threatening her relationship with the Male MC. (He shakes his head at the thought of his vocabulary being this much influenced by Sumire-neechan.)

Not that there’s an ounce of doubt when it comes to Ayase-sensei’s relationship with Mashima-san. They’d been going steady ever since their last year in high school, and Haruomi himself won’t be surprised if one of these days they’d suddenly announce their engagement. But still, this development is concerning. Call it a guy’s intuition, but Yamazaki-sensei looks like he’s after more than just being a karuta club ‘vice adviser’.

As if affirming his thoughts, Yamazaki-sensei asks, “Ayase-san, would you like to go out for dinner after practice? I’ve been waiting for that a few weeks now. Surely you’re free this time.” Glaring eyes instantly latch onto Bad Guy, ever protective of their undeniably beautiful─and undeniably dense ─karuta club adviser. As usual Ayase-sensei takes his question in stride. Innocently, she replies, “Ah─but I still can’t, Yamazaki-san. I’ve already promised to eat dinner with someone tonight.”

Yamazaki-sensei sniggers; Haruomi detects a hint of annoyance in his teacher’s voice. “Is this your ‘boyfriend’ again?”

He definitely wants to wipe that expression off Bad Guy’s face. It’s a telltale sign he’s about to say something obnoxious.

“How come we’ve never seen him around? Ayase-san, you know it’s not a good example for your students if you’re lying about dating someone when, in fact, you’re not.”

Haruomi had enough.

“Ayase-sensei’s not a liar! Mashima-san’s real, Sensei. In fact, he’s a better karuta player than you could ever be.”

“What did you just─” In a flash of anger, Yamazaki-sensei lunges at him from his seat on the tatami. Haruomi already has his fist clenched, prepared in case it needs to take a swing at his teacher’s face, but Ayase-senpai’s barreled into the space between them just in time. “Please don’t fight!”  

Taking advantage of their momentary surprise, she addresses Bad Guy apologetically. “I’m so sorry, Yamazaki-san. We can get dinner next week─it’s just that tonight’s really one of the few times Taichi’s free.” Turning towards Haruomi, she softly reprimands. “Thank you for your concern, Haruomi-kun. But you should always remember to show respect for your teachers. It’s wrong to yell at Yamazaki-sensei, ne, Haruomi-kun?”

Properly chastised, both boys retreat their offensive stance. Pleased at handling the situation before it escalates (again), she claps her hands together, gathering the attention of the members previously watching the showdown. “All right minna! Time to go home!”

They soon disperse, his teammates on their way home and Ayase-sensei to her date. Meanwhile, Haruomi finds himself staring at the door of the teacher’s lounge, where Yamazaki-sensei is preparing his things before heading out of the school. As much as it annoys Haruomi, he’s still a man of principle; and as such, owes even Bad Guy an apology.

He’s already opened the door when his ears pick up on Bad Guy’s Obnoxious Voice again.

“You’ll see her, don’t worry. I’m not lying! She’s really Ayase Chitose’s sister! Yeah, she’s hot, too, all right. Didn’t you get the picture I sent you? Anyway, see you next week─yeah, she’s already promised to come. Okay, okay...Bye.”

What is it he’s about to do again?

Haruomi walks away from the room, his hand reaching on the inside of his bag. He opens his phone and dials a number.

“Onii-san, could you give me Mashima-san’s contact address?”

***

It looks like a normal practice meeting, with everyone expecting to go through the same routine. Except for Haruomi, who’s certain that things will be changing as soon as it’s over.

As expected, Ayase-sensei, with her ultrasonic hearing, notices him first.

Her head springs up from the match against Haruomi, eyes trained towards the sliding doors. Confusion mars her features, as if the sound she hears doesn’t correspond with her surroundings. Guilt pricks Haruomi for a second.

After all, asking Mashima-san to make a surprise visit to their club is also asking him to skip what obviously are very important classes. But this is important, too! His conscience immediately reasons out.

Mashima-san appears at the spot Ayase-sensei is looking at, and without missing a beat he hears his teacher gape unceremoniously. “Taichi! What are you doing here?!”

The abrupt mention of their sensei’s boyfriend’s name effectively wrenched everybody’s concentration away from the game. A yomifuda is read but everyone’s attention is on the very surprising, very handsome visitor at the entrance.

“Eeeeh?! ”

“Sensei’s kareshi?! That’s sensei’s boyfriend?!”

“Ikemen! ”

“Masaka…”

His teammates’ expressions are priceless, sure, but Haruomi is most amused upon finding Bad Guy’s eyes blown wide, skin getting paler by the second.

See, sensei? He’s real, all right.

Apparently, Mashima-san had a lifetime’s worth of encountering greetings like this, merely blinking at them before giving a slight bow. “Hajimemashite. I’m Mashima Taichi, Mizusawa High School alumni and co-founder of this club. Doozo yoroshiku.”

Haruomi then discovers just how much the girls of his karuta club are similar to Sumire-neechan when they crowd over him in a classic montage of high school girls fawning over handsome guys.

“You and Ayase-sensei made this club?! Sugoi!─”

“That’s so romantic! Ano, did you like her since first year─”

“How was Ayase-sensei like before─”

“Ikemen!”

“Calm down, minna,” Ayase-sensei implores. After the girls have listened, she repeats her question, this time with evident concern. “Taichi, why are you here? Did something happen?”

Mashima-san quells her worries with a reassuring smile. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just,” his golden eyes proceed to sweep the room, locating Haruomi who’s been pushed at the back by his overexcited teammates, “your student there asked for my help.”

The implication behind her boyfriend’s words totally goes over Ayase-sensei’s head, but definitely not Yamazaki-sensei’s. Bad Guy is basically trembling in the corner and nothing has even happened yet.

Ayase-sensei’s face registers a brief moment of surprise, before lightening up. “I see!”

The reaction is equal parts endearing and frustrating, really. How Ayase-sensei manages to keep every bit of that childlike trust even in adulthood, Haroumi would never know. Nevertheless, she definitely has to pick up on some social cues before Mashima-san goes crazy with worry.

Thinking that the past Mizusawa karuta club President’s really only here to help out, Ayase-sensei wastes no time in having him observe how her students play.

And help he did, doling out insights on everyone’s game strategies. In less than an hour, his identity transformed from ‘Ayase-sensei’s gorgeous boyfriend’ to the ‘President who led the team to national championship’. Haruomi himself is knee deep in the practice session that he almost forgets Mashima-san’s true purpose for dropping by.

Almost, because even when a confrontation could be avoided if he just stayed respectful for once, Yamazaki-sensei’s Bad Guy streak doesn’t disappoint.

“It’s nice, really, when one is able to give good advice,” his Obnoxious Voice grates at Haruomi’s ears, “but I think it’s too extreme to call it incredible.” He gives a pointed glance to Rina-chan, who had just called Mashima-san that after a one-on-one consultation on card placements. “What’s incredible is being able to ‘show’ the ‘talk’, if you get what I mean.”

Tension immediately spikes inside the room, Haruomi and his teammates displaying looks of discomfort and annoyance. Teach him a lesson, Mashima-san! They mentally plead.

Mashima-san, an air of uncanny calmness around him, responds lightly. “I do. Say, Yamazaki-san, Chihaya’s been telling me how good a mentor you are yourself. I’d actually like to see how you play your karuta.”

Ego inflated, Bad Guy predictably challenges. “Why not have a match with me, then, Mashima-san?” He glances at the students, “The kids could take notes.”

Mashima-san places a hand on his hair, looking sheepish. “Ah, but my skills are rusty. Haven’t been playing much since entering med school.”

Irked at the girls rendered swooning at the knowledge that Ayase-senpai has a runway-model-level handsome, karuta playing, intelligent boyfriend, Yamazaki-sensei pushes on, “I’m sure you can put up a fight. I’ll go easy on you, if you like.”

Appearing unaffected by the blatant jab at his capabilities, Mashima-san checks his watch, nonchalant, before turning to Ayase-senpai for permission. “What do you say, Chihaya? Do we still have time?”

Ayase-sensei considers the request. She notes how a full match would extend their club meeting for an hour at least. Then, addressing the rest of the club, begins to ask. “Is it okay with you if─”

Not even waiting for the end of her sentence, Haruomi and his teammates answer eagerly, “Hai, Sensei!”

“O-okay then,” Ayase-sensei heads to the door, “I’ll just let Miyauchi-sensei know we’re finishing up late.”

At their teacher’s exit, Haruomi and the members promptly settle down. He hands Mashima-san a deck of karuta cards, whispering a plea at the same time, “Show him his place, Mashima-san. We really can’t put up with him any longer.” His Shiranami society senpai reaches a hand to ruffle his kouhai’s hair playfully, eyes crinkling with reassurance.

While shuffling the cards between him and his opponent Mashima-san suggests, “Ano, Yamazaki-san, don’t you think it’s more exciting if we bet on something? We used to do it a lot back then.”

Yamazaki-sensei, after a brief moment of surprise, agrees. “Hm, let’s see,” his Bad Guy mind tries to conjure a wicked request. “Okay...If I win, you’re not allowed to come here during practice hours. Sorry, Mashima-san, but looking at how the students are distracted and all over the place with today’s visit, it’s best if we eliminate anything that interferes with their concentration.”

Shouts of protests instantly ensue. Mashima-san simply laughs, finding their sensei’s rudeness amusing, apparently. With a certain gleam in his eyes, he replies, “As for me, I have one condition: Whoever wins this match gets the right to be the club’s mentor.”

Meeting his opponent’s shocked expression with an easy smile, he elaborates. “Of course, we can’t have Chihaya’s team settling for anything less than the best, wouldn’t we?”

***

Ayase-sensei comes back thirty minutes later only to find the room in complete uproar. “Sorry, I got held back─”

“ ─It’s already over?! Just like that?!”

“Sensei couldn’t even get one card…”

“Mashima-san’s the real deal.”

“Kyaaa! Ikemen, hontoni ikemen!”

“I WAS HOLDING BACK!” Yamazaki-sensei exclaims, face burning with obvious humiliation. He points an offending finger at Mashima-san, who had been coolly observing Bad Guy’s pathetic breakdown from his side on the tatami. “One more round, Mashima-san! I’ll be playing all-out the next round.”

“That’s fine with me, Yamazaki-san,” he says languidly, “but you’re going to have to place a new bet.”

“If─!” Bad Guy doesn’t miss a beat, “─I win, I get the mentoring rights back.”

“Mentoring rights?” Ayase-sensei inquires at Haruomi. He grins, “Mashima-san’s earned his place as your vice adviser as of the moment, Sensei.”

Ayase-sensei’s confusion doubles when she hears her boyfriend’s end of the bargain. “Then, if I win, I get to borrow your phone, Yamazaki-sensei.”

“His phone?! What are you going to do with Yamasaki-san’s phone, Taichi?” She asks, concerned at how Bad Guy instantly petrifies at Mashima-san’s words. The rest of the room is also stunned at the odd request. But his intention is perfectly clear to Haruomi, and he has to physically restrain himself from blurting it out in the open. Mashima-san’s got this. I have to let him handle this.

Haruomi sees Ayase-sensei’s boyfriend put on a bashful expression, looking much like a boy who’s had to explain why he’s acting sneaky. “You know those pranks where you hijack a person’s gallery and post something silly on their social media? I just wanted to try it out.”

Sufficiently manipulated, Yamazaki-sensei releases a breath he’s been holding. His teammates nodded in understanding as well.

However, Ayase-sensei only squints her eyes, clearly showing how she’s well caught up with Mashima-san’s lie.

It’s then that Mashima-san’s gaze shifts, connecting with Ayase-sensei’s and holding her in place. Haruomi’s familiar with that type of communication─it’s something  that exists between long time friends or lovers. And since both apply to Ayase-sensei and Mashima-san’s case, it doesn’t take a minute before his girlfriend’s demeanor changes, too, having received the wordless message. She doesn’t prod any further.

The second match goes more or less the same, the only difference being Yamazaki-sensei’s resolve slowly crumbling at every card he couldn’t defend, every fault he commits. Gone is Mashima-san’s lighthearted persona, too, and Haruomi wonders whether this is what his senpai looked like when he was actively playing karuta back in the day. An image of Harada-sensei enters his mind right then, comforting Haruomi with the fact that Mashima-senpai’s karuta prime is still yet to come.

Contrasting the mood of the rest of the match’s audience, Ayase-sensei is looking troubled beside him. He even hears his sensei plead silently, “Don’t, Taichi.” Curiosity getting the better of him, he asks,“What’s wrong, Ayase-sensei?”

He gets a worrisome answer. “Taichi...he’s...using nasty karuta. The kind that makes your opponent want to stop playing. He hadn’t played like this since...”

Abandoning her explanation, Ayase-sensei shifts towards questioning him back, brown eyes pleading to understand.

“Haroumi-kun, what is it you’ve asked his help for, exactly?”

***

A conversation at Mashima Taichi’s car, moments after practice had finished and the karuta club members went on their way home.*

“Anywhere we have to stop by before I drop you home?”

“Eto...The pharmacy! And I won’t be going home tonight.”

“Okay...Let’s go over those one-by-one. What do you need at the pharmacy? Are you feeling sick?”

“It’s not for me.”

“For Chitose-san, then? I thought her acid reflux was handled already.”

“Not for her too. It’s for my boyfriend, actually. See, he’s about to get another migraine.”

“Wha─”

“I know you’ve been pulling all-nighters for the past week, Taichi. And if it were me playing your scary karuta a while ago, I’d be dead asleep by now. I might not be the one who’s going to be a doctor between the two of us, but I’ve been with you long enough to realize that even your superhuman brain hurts sometimes.”

“Glad to see how you’ve successfully bribed your way to getting my schedule from Nishinoya. Did you promise him an exclusive Daddy Bear merchandise?”

“That’s the thing. I didn’t have to, because he’s just as worried about your workaholic lifestyle as I am. Honestly, you have to look out for yourself better, Taichi.”

“That’s awfully ironic, coming from you, Chihaya.”

“...”

“Sorry. What I meant was─”

“No! Don’t apologize. You’re right. I haven’t been looking out for myself all that well, either. If I were, then you and Haruomi-kun wouldn’t be so worried, right? Enough for you to break Yamazaki-san's phone 'accidentally'?”

“...”

“In case you’re wondering, I can see why you’re both concerned about Yamazaki-san. He’s always acting...weird. But I thought that’s just because he’s new, and I shouldn’t pass up any opportunities that could help the club. Especially when I’m not yet the strong advisor they needed.”

“Chihaya...You’re already doing great. And I remember Sakurazawa-sensei telling you the same last time, too.”

“...Thanks, Taichi. I’ll try harder to remember that...Anyway, I’m going ahead and answering you next question: I’m not going home because I’ll be staying at your place.”

“But, as you know from your stolen copy of my schedule, I’ll be stuck studying.”

“Yep. Alchemy midterms, right?”

“Chemistry, Chihaya, it’s Chemistry ─You know what? Call it what you want.”

“That’s good, because it really sounds more interesting that way! But going back to your point─it’s my turn to look after you now, after what you just did for me.”

“And how can you help me with my midterms?”

“That’s what the painkillers are for. I’ll be busy nursing your headaches, baka Taichi. Which reminds me─can we stop at the grocery too?”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to burn my kitchen─hey, stop punching me! Cook, alright─Don’t tell me you’re going to cook again.”

“Whether you like it or not, I’m cooking. If I’m going to be called Mashima-sensei by my students in the future like what Haruomi-kun just did, I might as well start preparing to pass Mrs. Pressure’s standards, ne, Taichi?”

“...”

“See? I thought so, too.”

[wolferals]

🌹HIGHSCHOOL SWEETHEARTS🌹

arón piper preference

*

*

-it was your first day of senior year at the new school

-your mom and dad made you move to spain by the beginning of august and its was september when you first set a foot into your new hell

-of course your alarm didnt go off and you were almost late

-you were wearing black jeans with a red tight shirt and a flannel on top

-your hair was up in a messy bun that still looked kinda stylish

-when you walked through the strange looking hallway you got more and more nervous

-what if they would be mean?

-what if they dont speak english?

-what if they hate me because im new?

-you worried a lot

-but you had no choice but to enter the classroom with the number 121

-since it wasnt 9 yet there werent many people and no one even noticed you walking in

-you sat down on a free chair in the back and put your backpack on the floor

-then you started observing

-the girls looked alright, they didn’t look like people that would treat you like shit

-there were two boys laughing and talking in spanish pretty loudly

-and there was this one guy sitting in the opposite corner, hood over his head and his phone in his hands

-from the way he was sitting he seemed bored, maybe tired?

-you could only see a bit of his face though he looked kind of sad

-but maybe he was just tired because it was the first day after summer and all

-after everyone had sat down a very tall woman came in and put her name onto the board

-she looked strict

-then she started talking in spanish and you knew you were fucked

-this was supposed to be english class but they were still speaking spanish

-so you leaned back and looked around and kind of ignored the teacher

-you didn’t understand anyway

-until you heard your name

-„y/n trabaja con arón, no?“

-you raised your hand and spoke:“sorry i don’t understand, what about me?“

-the teacher smiled and answered:“oh right you‘re the new girl. I just said that you will be working with Arón.“

-„work on what?“ you asked confused

-she came up to you and then explained:“We do this every year that the students team up and do a project together. This years topic is „drama“, you could either talk about a dramatic book or movie in general or become creative.“

-you nodded at her and eventually looked around to figure out who this arón is

-„when‘s the project due?“

-she walked back to the front and said:“You got a month“ in a harsh tone suddenly

-after the first 4 classes you were sitting outside looking through the english text book when someone stepped into your view

-you looked up

-„hola.“ the guy with the hood from before stood there

-„hey.“ you answered and he looked around while putting both his hands in his pockets

-„im arón.“ he then said

-you looked at him and replied:“Okay?“

-„yes.“ arón said back

-„ohhh right! Project partner!“

-he nodded and then asked:“Do you want to start today?“

-you nodded as well and answered:“sure, at your place?“

-aron agreed and then gave you his number so you could text about it again

-its been 3 weeks of you two working on the project when you finally had the courage to ask him

-„why do i never see you talking to anyone in our class?“

-he seemed alone all the time

-and you were a little concerned because from what you‘ve seen he‘s a really nice guy with a huge heart

-he was a little shy but could be hilarious and charming occasionally

-you guys were sitting on his desk just finishing some posters

-„i think its because the other boys are better?“

-he looked sad again

-„what why?“ you asked seriously not understanding his statement

-he leaned back, scratched the back of his head and replied:“i dont know, they just dont like me. Im not really attractive i think.“

-you were seriously mad at him now

-why would he think that?

-i mean you werent ready to date him after knowing him for only 3 weeks but you could imagine it after some time

-„you dont think you‘re attractive?“ you asked looking deep into his chocolate eyes, trying to understand what he was thinking

-„no.“ he simply spoke and put on a fake smile

-„oh no, arón.“

-without waiting for a response you hugged him as tight as you could

-it took him a bit to hug back but then he grabbed onto your waist

-„dont say that, ever! You‘re a great guy!“

-he laughed quietly and let go of you again

-„i swear, you‘re cute! And you‘re the only person who was nice enough to talk to me. Well.. you kind of had to because of the project but its been 3 weeks and no one except you showed any interest in me.“

-arón smiled at you and pulled up his sleeves. „you‘re really nice. i like you.“

-„i like you too cabrón.“

-he laughed, showing the gap inbetween his front teeth

-„you learned a spanish word!“ he clapped a little

-„thank you.“ you laughed too and then said „gracias guapo.“

-he grinned and then asked:“do you know what you just said?“

-„no.“ you smiled and leaned back

-aron leaned forward and whispered:“you just called me hot“

-you shrugged your shoulders and just answered:“well.“

-another couple of weeks later you and aron got really close and you spent almost every minute together

-in your breaks he taught you spanish, which you slightly failed but it made him laugh hearing you mispronounce words

-and it made you happy seeing this cute boy laugh

-after class you guys hung out

-either watched a movie, spent some more time with spanish, walking through Luarca or playing video games

-you felt like now you guys were on a level where arón was fully comfortable around you

-he told you about the problems with his parents and then he told you the story why no one talked to him in class

-„it was 2 years ago.“ he spoke taking deep breaths every now and then

-you were sitting in front of him looking at his face while he was telling you the story

-„i was with this girl, her name‘s Ana (sorry if thats your name). I did everything to make her happy but it was never enough. She cheated on me with this soccer player and told everyone that i cheated on her. No one believed her because someone saw her kiss this boy.

But then one day she came to school with scars and black spots and when the teacher asked what happened she said i hit her, which is not true! She cried in front of everyone so they believed her. I was suspended and now everyone in school now thinks im aggressive.“

-he had started crying a little while telling you the story

-„arón no!“ you took him in your arms and gave him a kiss on his soft curls

-„i believe you! You wouldnt hit anyone.“

-aron hugged you tightly and rubbed your back softly

-„te quiero“ he then told you but since your spanish was still bad you didnt know what it meant and just kind of ignored his statement

-the next day in class you told aron to talk to one of his ex best friends and first he didnt want to but you kind of forced him

-when he walked up to him and sat down you could hear this guy getting loud right away

-aron talked to him for a while, more like discussing

-he this guy hit him in the jaw and aron stumbled backwards

-„hijo de puta!“ you heard aron yell at the guy but unfortunately the teacher was right behind him

-„Arón Piper. Oficina del director. Ahora.“

-he gave you a quick glance, grabbed his back and then left the classroom looking hella mad

-„he didnt do anything! He hit him.“ you then basically yelled at the teacher

-„y/n please sit down.“ she spoke and pointed at your seat

-„no its fucking unfair how aron is being treated here. Dont you see how painful it must be to be hated because of a misunderstanding?“

-the teacher had lightly grabbed your arm to calm you down

-„y/n, please.“

-a girl then stood up and said:“arón is an asshole and a loser. Also why do you hang out with him? Like, you could have better.“ she looked at a certain guy in the front row

-you couldnt believe it

-„god you guys suck so bad! Ive known aron for only a month now and i already know that he‘s a better person than you all together! You know why? Because he‘s a real human fucking being. He is nice, caring and sweet and doesnt judge anyone by their looks, whats wrong with you people?“

-„y/n enough! Principals office!“ your teacher yelled back at you making you stomp out full of anger

-at the principals office you found out that aron only got told to be nicer to them

-„what happened to you?“ he asked coming your way in the hallway

-but you were too mad to talk so you walked a little faster

-and grabbed his head

-you kissed him rather roughly in the middle of the hallway

-he was surprised but kissed you back and put his hands on your waist

-your kiss was rough yet passionate and sweet

-you felt like he let it all out

-all thats ever made him upset

-and you just wanted his kisses

-he was the perfect guy for you

-no matter how he saw himself

-he was good looking, smart, talented, sweet and the best spanish teacher you‘d ever imagined

-„arón piper! Y/n y/l/n, you can come back here right away.“

-you pulled away

-the principal was standing in the door staring at both of you

-„puta.“ you whispered, then smiled at him and grabbed his hand to pull him to the principals office

-„here we go again.“

[takonei]

Beta AU - Main story, Chapter 3, daily life (Part 2)

Note of the author: It’s motive time bois.

Chapter 3: What is beyond humans’ control - Daily life

Day 10 since the beginning of the game. 8:00 AM.

Shuichi woke up at the morning announcement. he slept better than expected, thankfully.

After taking a shower, he got dressed up to join the others in the dining hall.

Just as he left his room, he saw Angie leaving her room as well.

“Oh, hey Angie.” he yawned.

The girl span around so fast she almost tripped on her own feet. “G’morniiing!”

Shuichi chuckled. The two started making their way to the dining hall together.

“Apparently you helped Himiko and Kokichi making statues yesterday?” he decided to start a conversation.

She nodded. “Yeah! I taught them how to use chisels and hammers and woodpeckers and a lot of other tools!”

“I see,” he smiled. “That must have been fun then.”

She grinned. “Although they’re not the best at it, it was their first time!”

There was a short silence.

Shuichi didn’t know if asking her about her island was a good idea, but it was worth a shot. “Hey... I know this is probably a touchy subject for you and I won’t force you to talk but... How was it back there, sculpting?”

But when he looked at her, her eyes were empty. She had stopped in her tracks. “... I wish I could slaughter Atua with my own hands for all the shit he put all of us priestesses through. Just cutting him like Monokuma cut Maki with the scissors and watch his-”

The violinist couldn’t believe what she was saying. He wanted to put his hands on her shoulders, but refrained from doing so. “Angie! I-”

He paused. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have talked about this.”

She stared at him silently for a moment, then took a step back. “I told you, didn’t I? This is all behind me now! Now I can live with you all here in the academy!”

Shuichi didn’t know how to respond. He wanted to leave but seeing Angie like this made him feel sad. He had a family to go back to, but for those like Kirumi and Angie, this was a whole other story.

“Let’s... Just go to the dining hall. Miu and Kirumi probably already made breakfast.” he couldn’t look at Angie in the eyes. “But please consider talking to Kiyo about all of this. He can try to help you just please...”

He looked at her with pleading eyes. “Talk to someone about this.”

She looked at him with dumbfounded eyes, but then smiled. “Sure thing! But you don’t have to worry about this, Shuichi!~”

They finished their walk in silence.

When they reached the dining hall, Shuichi hoped to see breakfast ready and some of the others here to brighten up the mood.

Unfortunately, a way more confusing scene unfolded in front of his eyes.

Ryoma was in the corner of the room, curled into a ball, Rantaro desperately trying to talk to him.

“Ryoma please- Are you feeling okay??” he asked.

“S-Stay away from me! What did I even do to you?” the small man shakily replied. That was... Unusual.

Miu was a few meters away. She subtly approached the two.

“What’s going on with him?” Shuichi whispered to her.

“No one knows what’s going on. Ryoma looks afraid of everything and everyone, Tsumugi seems to have amnesia and we’ve been trying to understand the situation for twenty minutes. The two also have a huge fever from what Rantaro said.” she replied, as confused as him.

The others came in one by one, and explaining what was going on was impossible.

Rantaro was desperately trying to resonate with Ryoma, but it was useless.

Kirumi tried to talk to Tsumugi, but all she got from her was “Who are you?” and “Where are we?”

Once everyone got into the dining hall, the monokubs popped in.

“My goodness! That’s obviously bad!” Monophanie exclaimed.

The students turned to the bears.

“Teddy bears?” Tsumugi asked, confused.

“What did you do to them??” Miu yelled.

“Ahem! It looks like you want some explanations...” Monotaro said.

“Yeah no shit.” Kaito glared at him.

“MEET-YOUR-NEW-MOTIVE. THE-DESPAIR-DISEASE.” Monodam explained.

That didn’t seem to answer a lot of questions.

“We... May or may not have let some tiny insects inside the academy and it looks like they find you all appetizing!” The pink bear rubbed the back of her head.

Rantaro sighed. “Quit your bullshit. This is obviously your doing. No existing disease infects people that differently.” he glanced at Tsumugi, quietly sitting on a chair and Ryoma, curled up in a ball in the corner of the room.

“How dare you assume we’re lying! Bears never lie!” the red one raised his metal paws up in the air. “Anyway. It’s a really annoying disease where you get a high fever, along with various symptoms!”

Monodam pointed at the two sick students. “TSUMUGI-HAS-THE-AMNESIC-DISEASE. RYOMA-HAS-THE-COWARD-DISEASE.”

Kiyo put a finger on his chin. ”So basically the opposite of their normal personalities.”

“But be careful! Sometimes the despair disease can get passed from person to person just like a cold!” Monophanie put her paws on her cheeks.

Rantaro’s eyes widened. “And it had to be contagious of course.” He approached the bear. “And what’s the cure?”

“THIS-DISEASE-DOESN’T-NEED-A-CURE. IT-WILL-HELP-EVERYONE-GET-ALONG.”

“That’s right! It’s in the most difficult situations that you guys help each other. We thought that would help you all!”

Everyone fell silent. The absurdity of the statement was way too much.

The cubs, noticing the sudden tension in the room, chanted their catchphrase and left.

Shuichi glanced at Rantaro. He looked beyond mad. He took a deep breath and clapped his hands once.

“We’re gonna have to isolate them for now. Except we don’t have a comfortable separated facility for them.”

Shuichi pondered. “So we’ll have to keep them in their own rooms...”

“This is going to be a nightmare to take care of them. I have stuff in my lab but if I have to walk from my lab to the dormitories each time they need something I’m not going to keep up for long.”

Kirumi was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed. “I know this isn’t the best place, but what about the three rooms on the fourth floor? We’ll have to transport stuff here but at least it’s closer.”

“That’s probably the best we can do for now.” He lifted his head to look at everyone else. “I’ll stay here to keep an eye on them for now. Please try to make two of those rooms as comfortable as possible for them. There are three beds in my lab. I’m counting on you for this.”

“W-wait...”

Kokichi raised his hand. “I d-don’t really know... M-Maybe I’m wrong but... I feel like I have it t-too...”

Himiko jumped. “Huh? Really?”

He nodded. “I... I feel dizzy a-and my head is spinning... But I don’t feel any mental change s-so I’m not sure.”

Rantaro approached him and put the palm of his hand on the small boy’s forehead. “You’re feverish. We shouldn’t take any risks.

He pondered for a moment. “Does anyone else feel sick, aside from Kokichi, Tsumugi and Ryoma?”

No answer. “Good. You guys prepare the three rooms while I keep an eye on those three.”

Shuichi turned to him. “Hold on, you're volunteering to take care of them until they get better? You think you can take the risk being infected?”

He turned to the violinist. “I’ve seen worse. I’m the ultimate medic, so don’t worry about me, alright?”

The two stared at each other. Shuichi nodded. “Thanks a lot, Rantaro.”

The rest of the students spent the rest of the morning transporting the beds from the medic’s lab to the rooms. They also took furniture and items from various rooms and labs to make the room a bit more comfortable and less creepy than before.

Lamps and books from Tsumugi’s lab, chairs from Kirumi’s lab, and some decoration and items from the other labs and the warehouse.

At least those rooms looked more like bedrooms than occult-ish rooms. Of course there wasn’t the usual comfort of the dorms, but it was better than nothing.

Shuichi let Rantaro guide the patients to their rooms. They were surprisingly cooperative.

Tsumugi, Ryoma and Kokichi... He really hoped those three would get better.

Shuichi went to Rantaro’s lab. It pained him a little to learn that he was going to do everything by himself from now on.

When he stepped in the room, he was wearing a mask and plastic gloves, carefully handling medicine, beaker and eyedropper in hand.

Once he saw the violinist entering the lab, he put down his tools to look at him. “Do you need something? It’s probably best if you don’t approach me too much, just in case.”

Shuichi winced. “I mean... We can’t let you do everything by yourself... Can we at least do something for you?”

“Shuichi’s right! I can’t just stay here and let you do all the work!” a feminine voice came from behind.

Miu had just appeared in the lab. But while Shuichi was calmly asking how he could help, the girl was clearly determined to do so.

“I... Want to help the others in this. I want to apologize for everything I did after the motive videos... Even though it’s just a little, I want to be useful.” She bowed to Rantaro.

Unfortunately his expression was almost unreadable because of his mask, but Shuichi could clearly see the surprise in his eyes.

Rantaro stood up. “Like I said it’s better if only one of us takes care of the patients, and I’m the most qualified for this. But...”

He paused.

“If it’s not too much to ask, could you please make individual meals for the ill ones and me? And perhaps bring me a sleeping bag since I’ll probably stay here for a while.”

Shuichi put a finger on his chin. “And you’ll probably need some clean clothes too...”

Miu quickly stood up, pointing two fingers to her temple. “Leave it to me!”

Rantaro smiled behind his mask. “However could you bring me dish soap with it? It would be bad to give you back contaminated empty dishes.”

Miu smiled. “Got it!” she turned her back to him, and added: “Make sure to take care of yourself, alright sweetie?”

The medic chuckled. “Alright, alright. Take care of yourself as well, okay?”

The street artist smiled and left. There was a visible blush on her face.

He turned back to Rantaro and giggled. “She really seems into you, calling you ‘sweetie’ like this...”

He shrugged. “I’m not really used to affection like that, but it feels nice. Although I don’t see her ‘that’ way.”

Oh.

“I’ll go for now. Just like she said, don’t overwork yourself, okay?” Shuichi said.

Rantaro gave him a thumbs up. “Don’t worry about me. We should be alright for now.”

-

The group spent lunch together, but there were four less people than what was supposed to be. Obviously Himiko looked worried for Kokichi, but Angie was keeping her company, so it was fine.

Afternoon came and with four less people around, the academy felt empty. But at least they were in good hands.

Himiko and Angie were once again sculpting items in the latter’s lab.

Kaito and Keebo were in the warehouse. The biker had tried to replace Tsumugi and Ryoma for his maintenance.

Miu and Kirumi were cooking in the kitchen some meals and snacks for the infected ones and Rantaro.

Kiyo was outside, not doing anything in particular, so Shuichi approached him.

“Oh, hello Shuichi. Do you need anything?” he asked.

He shook his head. “Not really. Just thought we could hang out.”

The two sat under the wisterias of the courtyard. They had a relaxing feeling, and Shuichi often saw Kiyo talking to people under here.

The violinist picked a flower and started fiddling with it. “What do you think about all of this? I’ve never heard what you thought about this situation.”

Kiyo looked at him. “About what exactly?”

“I would guess the disease... Rantaro said he didn’t believe the bears and said they were lying about the origin of the disease.”

The therapist pondered for a moment, staring at the void.

“... I don’t really know. To be honest I’m contemplating the possibility of the mastermind being one of the ill ones.”

Shuichi’s eyes widened. “Huh? You think the mastermind is either Ryoma, Tsumugi or Kokichi?”

“I didn’t say that I was sure, just that we should not exclude the possibility.”

The violinist frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean...”

“Let’s say the mastermind is the one who gave the ‘disease’ to us. We would obviously think they wouldn’t give the disease to themselves. So they could have just given themselves a fever and act like have the disease.”

Shuichi put his elbows on his knees, head resting on his hands. “But can we even be sure there is a mastermind among us? Maki’s execution still went on even though Monokuma was destroyed, and he came back right after...”

“I don’t really know about this part. We thought that the mastermind would go to the hidden room to summon another Monokuma, but Maki’s execution proved us that it wasn’t the case.”

Shuichi tried to think. “Maybe... They had a remote on them?”

Kiyo narrowed his eye. “That’s a possibility. But... Monokuma wants us to feel despair, right?”

Shuichi raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Because Monokuma reappeared the next day the first time he was crushed, we assumed someone had to go in the hidden room to manually create another one, and they needed to wait until everyone was asleep to act.”

He nodded.

“But if Monokuma’s objective is to destroy our hopes, the mastermind probably let us hope he was definitely destroyed, then created another one to intensify the psychological effect. They could have been able to do it since the very beginning. However, since Maki’s execution was an emergency, they didn’t have time to think and immediately created another one.”

Shuichi lowered his head. “That’s messed up... But that doesn’t explain how they do so...”

“I’m not sure. The remote seems like a plausible theory. We were all in a panic when the courtroom was falling appart, so they could have done something without us realizing.”

That... Made sense.

“But if they can create another Monokuma whenever they want, doesn’t that mean there is a possibility they’re not among us and simply hiding in the hidden room?”

Kiyo hummed. “It’s possible, however since there is still a chance they’re in this group, I wouldn’t talk too quickly.”

Shuichi nodded.

“But to come back to what you said about the despair disease, what would the mastermind gain by giving themselves the disease?” he asked.

“To make us think they’re not one of them, at the risk of not being able to do anything since Rantaro keeps an eye on them at all times. But that would be quite the gamble.” Kiyo explained.

That was quite unlikely, Shuichi thought, but not impossible.

“And Rantaro... I can’t say for certain. He has a great influence on the others but I know a genuine speech when I see one. That’s what last trial proved me.” he added.

Shuichi remembered Kirumi’s words the day before.

‘Willing to listen’ and ‘trusting’ are two very different things. That’s what differentiates strategists and friends.

Rantaro... He was a strategist. He gave the key to his lab to Ryoma in case someone tried to get it from him. He knew another killing would happen and did his best to keep the group calm and rational. Even going as far as to expose the truth about the lack of benefits he would get by escaping. He also volunteered to take care of the ill students all by himself. It was clear he wanted to have a good influence on the group. To be in control of the situation, in a good way.

But him being the mastermind wasn’t something Shuichi wanted to think about.

A part of him also hoped Kiyo wasn’t the mastermind and said all those theories on purpose to confuse him.

The discussion felt tiring.

The two decided to drop the subject for now to talk about their respective lives.

-

Evening came. The rest of the group joined in the dining hall but Shuichi still felt like someone was missing.

There were 12 students alive in the academy. 3 of them were resting because of the illness and one was taking care of them. Yet only half of the remaining students were in the dining hall.

After a quick glance, Shuichi noticed both Miu and Himiko were absent.

Right after thinking that, the street artist entered the dining hall, alone.

“Where’s Himiko?” he asked as she sat in front of Kaito.

“She’s in front of Kokichi’s room and they talk through the door. She’s been at it for an hour now and I don’t think she’ll leave soon.” Miu explained.

Kaito raised an eyebrow as he was eating. “Rantaro doesn’t mind?”

She shook her head. “He said as long as Himiko doesn’t enter the room it’s fine. Also that she must be out of the way during his checks.”

She took a sip of water from her glass. “So right now they’re eating dinner separated by a door.”

Shuichi nodded. Rantaro probably knows more about him about what they should do.

After finishing dinner, since there wasn’t much to do, everyone parted their ways. However there was one last thing Shuichi needed to do.

He quickly looked at his monopad to see where the therapist was. He was outside, on a bench near the wisterias, as usual.

It didn’t take long for Shuichi to reach him.

“Hey, Kiyo?”

He turned to him. He seemed to have been lost in his own thoughts. “Do you need anything?”

He winced. This was a touchy subject, but he had to.

“I think you should try to talk to Angie... I’m a bit concerned about her.”

He explained the whole situation. What she told him in her lab and their discussion this morning.

Kiyo hummed.

“I see. If as you say she resents her home more than this entire killing game, then there is a high possibility she went through severe trauma.”

He stood up. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll talk to her tomorrow, since it is getting late.”

The two went back to the dormitories, hoping Rantaro would be fine by himself.

The disease didn’t need to make any more victims and suffering.

They could only hope for the best.

[lovecaitlined]

NCT 127 while you’re studying~ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Wow, writing this while I’m studying, too! (Hence, the not-so-common concept.) Can’t wait for Yutae’s Phoenix vlog tonight!!! 💖 [okay everyone say SIKE, I really thought I had their vlog every 2 days schedule down pat.]

Anyway, hope I ace my Friday exam, hope I ace this subject, and hope I ace my sem and get high grades that I want until grad and basically ace life in general. 🥰💖🙏🏻 Enjoy!

Taeil: Taeil doesn’t understand all the deep words and symbol-filled formula that you’re reading, but he sits by your side to keep you company, anyway. He just stares, wide-eyed, at your notes—and at you, too, of course! He helps you sort out your papers, and picks up your pen when you drop it, and finds your calculator after it gets buried under a pile of books. (He’s getting pretty good at that.) Long after you make him go to sleep, while you’re pulling an all-nighter again, he sends you photos to remind you of the beauty of life even in your academic struggle. Like a picture of the full moon, for example. “Fighting!” his caption reads~

Johnny: Johnny isn’t the studying type. (“You don’t want me to do that,” he says, as you jokingly ask him to help you write your thesis.) But he *is* the supportive type, at least. “Coffee?” he asks, staring aghast at the mountain of work on your desk. You nod, half-alive, half-dead to the world. Sometimes he goes on Starbucks runs, but his favorite thing in the world is making you his own special cup of coffee. You don’t know what it is—his so-called “coffee connoisseur skills,” the tips and tricks his dad taught him, the special beans he had imported from South America, or simply all his “Johnny-ness,” but it���s the best-tasting drink in the world. Johnny would be your energy, your caffeine, cheering you on through long nights.

Taeyong: You knew Taeyong had big eyes, but they go especially large when he sees your work. “That much?” he asks. When you nod, he insists on helping you, deaf to all your protests. He would be the most extra boyfriend ever, buying you all the highlighters in every color of the rainbow. Then he’d do it again, only this time he’ll get the pastel version. (“They’re prettier!”) He’ll look up the pointers for review and help you break down the info in carefully-coordinated index cards. He’ll flip through pages and organize so much info, that you joke that with his neat freak-ness and OCD, it’s like *he’s* the one taking the test. “I’m doing this because I love you!” he says innocently, and your heart flutters~

Yuta: Yuta takes one look at your notebooks and makes some remark on why this was why he chose sports instead of studying. But he helps you hit the books anyway~ As funny or as charming as he is, Yuta actually becomes serious when he needs to be serious. You begin to realize what a solemn yet pure soul he has. The intense gaze he has when he helps you tackle problems or long passages makes you realize how he became so fluent in Korean. When you two finish studying, however, before you can get your thanks out, he’s already giggling and stretching his arms and grabbing you to head on a new adventure somewhere, “to reward yourself for working so hard!” And that sort of persona, serious when it needs to be, funny when there’s no need to be so solemn, and loving all throughout in spite of it all—that’s the Yuta Nakamoto you know and love. 🥰

Doyoung: Doyoung is that guy who hates acads with a burning passion, but succeeds in them anyway, even when he’s super-clutch. He’ll take one look at the pile of papers on your desk, then head to the kitchen to whip up something good to eat. “Brain food!” He’ll study the texts intensely and help explain them to you. You work together like a tag team—he quizzing you on his self-made index card reviewers, and you answering his questions as fast as you can. He sings when you get too stressful, and his beautiful voice is a plus. (Let’s forget how sassy he is when you get something wrong, though.) After a long day, he’ll high-five (or ask he calls it, hi-touch) you with a smile, then pretend to fall asleep right after. Cute~

Jaehyun: Okay, so it’s completely unfair that Jaehyun just magically gets the lesson and loves working hard more than anyone. When you ask him how he does his work so fast, he flashes you a dimply bread smile and says, “I’m not smart, I just did my best and got lucky, I guess!” But he’s the best and sweetest boyfriend ever, leaving you your favorite orange gummies (“I’ll be your human vitamin!”) to munch on while you revise, or dropping off a stack of pastel pink highlighters and index cards (“Use this to study better!”). Oftentimes, he tutors you, and if it weren’t for the fact that he’s super intelligent and super good at rescuing, you’d melt at the sound of his voice and get distracted by how good he looks in glasses. But he’s always the most encouraging and most helpful boyfriend, sending you texts and always helping you go on. “I’ll be your motivation.”

Winwin: Okay, let’s be real, Dong Si Cheng isn’t the biggest fan of studying. You love him, but he’s way too quiet, always just giggling by your side, making jokes on how you all should just drop out together for good and the like. Or sometimes, he gets pretty moody too, playing games on his phone or sleeping on your bed while you study. But he offers to carry your books for you or to help you re-type or transcribe anything under the sun. When you’re busy, he’ll be beside you, and you can just ask him to “please research on this topic” or “please tell me what this word means” and he’ll do it. Sicheng is so silently supportive and you love him more for that. There’s nothing better than finishing all five chapters of your exam, looking over at him, and then seeing him give you a huge thumbs-up with the biggest grin on his face.

Jungwoo: Jungwoo is pretty quiet too, but he’s the food master. He’ll help you study, that’s for sure, with maximum energy, pumping you up with his adrenaline. When his hyperness wanes, he suggests you go out for food. When you decline, saying it would take too much time, he’ll go out and buy a bunch of snacks or fast food for you, or get some delivery. His orders are huuuugeee and you’re not sure how you will finish it all, but that boy eats like there’s no tomorrow. Anyway, he’s always there cheering you on, always whisper-shouting words of encouragement and clapping his hands whenever you announce that you’ve just finished a topic. More importantly, he makes you laugh even when math is kicking your butt with his over-the-too jokes. His humor and positivity really just rub off on you. 🥰

Mark: Mark will try, alright. He’ll try indeed. You tell him you’re alright, and you’re perfectly capable of reading something or doing an assignment yourself. But he will insist. It isn’t that he gets bad grades, his are pretty average, in fact. But he’ll start reading a passage and then stutter. Or he’ll be mumbling a few sentences to himself, before saying something like, “Hang on, what does ‘insolvency’ mean again?” You may get him to calm down with all that nervous energy of his, but let’s face it, he’s overtly sweet and shy with his earnestness to help you. You can never stay mad with those big, innocent eyes of his. You’re never going to escape, but at least you’ll have a great time together. 😂

Haechan: You’re not going to bother asking Haechan for help since that boy hates studying. He would sit by your side, complaining about the stuffiness of the room, and proceed to play games on his phone or sing loudly to himself while you revise. (You tell him to stop being so loud; eventually, he remembers to start bringing his headphones). Haechan *acts* like he doesn’t care, but one day, while his eyes are glued to the video game screen, he’ll wordlessly reach into his backpack and hand you a reviewer book he bought at the store just because he remembered you had a hard time with that particular topic. Haechan may be allergic to acads, but he’s more supportive and helpful than anyone you know, brightening your life and adding light like the Full Sun that he is! ☀️

[imnotcameraready]

chivalry is dead (8)

A/N: PLEASE READ ALL THE WARNINGS!!! — also if i’ve missed any warnings, please please please let me know!!! this chapter’s a doozy, and i don’t know everything that could be construed into something that might upset someone, so please let me know if you think there’s something i’ve missed so i can update this chapter and make sure it’s tagged in future chapters! or if i've worded any of them wrong! 

anyway, im so stoked for this chapter y’all wouldn’t even bELIEVE. you also finally get to see how much i adore the em-dash, ‘cause there are 33 in this chapter Alone

WARNINGS: Sympathetic Deceit, panic, panic attack!!, scarring/scars, past fights, loneliness, isolation, self-hatred/self-deprecation, self-isolation, swearing/cursing, curses, death threats, thoughts of ducking out, public torture (implied), argument (no yelling but Hardcore Debates)

WORDS:  9752 (it.,,.s,.s  so su fkcing l ong .,,. ,. .,   akshdlgasf sorry im so proud of myself bc i rarely ever write single chapters this long and im screaming)

PAIRINGS: I. am so fucking proud to say. that there’s a lil’ Prinxiety, Anxciet, and Roceit. more Prinxiety than the other two, but that’s because Roman’s doing all the legwork in this chapter

MASTERPOST

AO3 link!

@starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda@askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil

enjoy!!! love y’all so much <3 <3 <3 <3 

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

Virgil didn’t think the first quest he’d have through Roman’s Imagination would involve trudging through a sewer line.

He pulled his hood tighter around his face, trying to block out the scent but leaving a hole just barely wide enough to see Deceit and the Thief walking in front of him, leading every step with the ball of his foot and basically tip-toeing through the cobblestone tunnel. The Thief had led him and Deceit around some roads too fast to follow, instructed them to put their hoods up and hide as much of their faces as they could until they breached the town’s defense wall, and to do that, they’d have to follow one of the paths beneath one of the two river branches. Underground and not seen. They were on the run from the guards, after all; Virgil agreed that getting caught would throw a wrench in absolutely everything.

Deceit was a little more careless. Virgil kinda wanted to kick him for it, actually. For someone so concerned about what was best for Thomas the real person, Deceit seemed very nonchalant about the whole “Roman, Creativity, might be gone forever�� situation.

Roman was NOT gone forever.

Holy shit, Roman was gone.

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled, covering his mouth with his hood. The realization was coming in waves, slapping him with the ice cold knowledge that they’d demoralized Roman so much he’d basically ducked out. He’d done more than ducked out. He was fucking dead.

Calm down time, he could hear Patton’s voice in the back of his head start counting one, two, three, four. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

“Virgil. Are you coming?” Deceit said.

Virgil looked up to see Deceit and the Thief both stopped and standing a few paces in front of him, waiting. While Deceit just watched with his mouth pressed in a line, the Thief looked more concerned.

Was that concern? Virgil couldn’t tell. He just nodded, not removing the hood from his mouth or taking any further steps forward, but it seemed that his approval was enough to placate the both of them.

The Thief turned back around, continuing to lead. “Sorry. I know it’s dismal down here, but this’ the safest passage out of the city,” his fingers trailed along the right wall, making a soft scraping sound as the leather rubbed against the stone. “We’re almost out.”

Deceit was trailing right behind the Thief, close enough that his cloak’s flapping was gently hitting his shins. It seemed best to stick close to their guide, especially in as confusing a situation as this one. Plus he may be able to learn some more about the Pandora’s box that they’d opened when interrupting this death fight nonsense. He actually kept trying to grab the Thief’s hand, something to guide (not comfort), but he kept missing. Or the Thief was dodging. But no, no way would he be doing that.

They turned another corner and the Thief held up a hand, stopping Deceit and Virgil behind himself. Neither of them opened their mouths, but he still shushed quietly and turned to face the wall. It looked like dirt and stone like all the rest of the walls. The Thief said something, not to either of them but himself. Deceit leaned forward, hand outstretched, but Virgil swatted it away.

He also ignored the glare Deceit shot him. “What?” Deceit taunted quietly, “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Fuckin’ liar,” Virgil grumbled into his hood, muffled enough that neither of the others could hear what he said.

Deceit heard that he said something, though, and smirked. It was always rewarding to watch Virgil squirm, especially since….

His smirk fell and was replaced with a sigh. The path to hell was paved in good intentions, after all.

The Thief stepped back, causing Virgil and Deceit to jump. They hadn’t noticed that he’d set a few fires — there were a few wicks embedded in the stone — and the glittering golden flames formed a circle in the wall. In the circle, where there used to be wall, was a hole leading to the outside world. Virgil could definitely see grass out there.

He followed the Thief as he stepped through the opening and out into the grass. “C’mon. And stop arguing, I can hear your eyebrow muscles moving,” he said.

Both Deceit and Virgil stopped, casting wary glances at each other before following again. The Thief didn’t look at them at least, but that just made it even more confusing as to how he knew they’d been shooting each other death glares for the whole sewer trip.

Ah, well. Nothing in this realm made much sense, anyhow. Virgil looked up, squinting at their surroundings. They were definitely out of the city. Behind them was the looming city wall, definitely over four stories tall and seemingly impenetrable. The hole they’d exited from was closed, small wisps of smoke rising from where the Thief had extinguished the spell’s flames.

And speaking of which, apparently there was a Roman who was a witch or something. Logan was right about the magic in this world, then. That was another thing he’d have to be wary about. Are you ever so stressed that you’re calm? Oh, worm.

Virgil snorted to himself and rubbed his face. The memes, they’d ruin him one day.

Deceit cast him a curious look, but disregarded it before Virgil noticed. They didn’t have the time nor expendable energy for animosity. Not here, and not with the stakes so high. He was trying his best to not antagonize Virgil — okay, but come on, it was just so easy!

To their left was the river, though it was more like a stream as it cut through a grate in the wall and along the grassy expanse towards the forest. The Thief seemed to be following it, humming a tune as he pushed around reeds and tall grass. To his credit, the Thief seemed less stressed now that they were out of the city; he was swaying, even, to the song he was humming.

“Thief,” he stopped humming when Deceit interrupted him, “You live in the tree, in the forest, correct?”

“I do. You’ve seen it?” the Thief looked over his shoulder at Deceit quickly.

“Yes. When we arrived in this world, we were in a patch of grass in the forest. Your tree was our first checkpoint.”

Deceit moved the reeds in front of him away with his hands. Crickets were chirping out here, the water glittering golden as the sun lowered behind them. Sunset would be happening soon.

It seemed everything shone gold, here.

“Like a video game?” the Thief asked, humor laced through his voice.

Deceit sighed. “That was Virgil’s idea.”

“Hey—!”

“It was a good one,” the Thief cut him off, waving a hand at Deceit without looking at him. “The concept of checkpoints isn’t just a video game thing. Any story has constants, things that’re always there to help the reader place themselves into the story and understand how things flow. My tree’s always been that, so we’ve always got somewhere we’re…,” he trailed off, then chuckled. “Rooted to.”

“Booo,” Deceit groaned, ignoring Virgil’s quiet snickering, “Patton would approve.”

The Thief winced. He stopped walking — they were halfway to the forest, following the river — and pointed two red fingers at them both. “I should warn you, watch out whose names you say. You never know who’s listening.”

Deceit shot a panicked and confused look right at the Thief’s back. He turned to Virgil and found his expression mirrored on the anxious side’s face, both not liking the implications of that statement.

They turned back to the Thief, who had just turned around and continued walking. Virgil cleared his throat first.

“What do you mean by that….?”

“There’s a curse on your guys’ names. Logan, Patton, Virgil, Deceit,” the Thief’s voice was light, airy, as though he didn’t particularly care. “If you say it, everyone hears it, knows where it was said and who said it. I don’t really care but, well. I would prefer not having too many uninvited guests tonight.”

“O….kay.” Deceit cleared his throat and shook out his hands, a little more frustrated now with that knowledge. He would have to ask more about that later — there were so many things they didn’t know about, that they needed to approach, but he couldn’t keep dropping things for others. “But….more on the tree. How old is it?”

Make the Thief finish a train of thought. Virgil raised an eyebrow at Deceit, who nodded. That was their gameplan. Milk him for information, on anything, because at this point, anything was helpful.

He clapped happily, Deceit noted, walking with a slight pep in his step as his thoughts were redirected toward his tree. “It was formed before this challenge. Roman made it, actually, back when Thomas was a kid and wanted a treehouse he could escape into. When….we feel like we want to be alone, it’s where we go, so it was fitting that I’d move into it once this challenge started.”

Virgil sped up a little, to catch up enough to walk inline with Deceit. No point in bringing up the rear the farther they got from the city. “You see this whole situation as a challenge? Like, the battle royale situation.”

The Thief waved a hand as the incline changed, entering the forest. “Something like that, yeah. Mostly we’re all fighting about what we think is best for Roman.”

Deceit and Virgil shared a look. They remembered the Playwright’s words, about maintaining order. It was easy, in the euphoria of finding Roman, to forget that all of these forms had ulterior motives.

Briefly, Deceit considered what the Playwright’s ulterior motive was. He hadn’t mentioned having one, but it was in his nature to not trust that sort of silence.

“What do YOU think is best?” Virgil asked as they both turned back to the Thief.

He didn’t turn to look at them, holding out a hand as a small bluejay — where the fuck did the bird come from?! — landed on his hand. The Thief whistled quietly at it, and it chirped back, and flew away.

They could see a sliver of his face, drawn up in a small smile, expression strained even as they couldn’t see it.

“....Stay in the Imagination. For forever.”

There was a pause.

Deceit was watching the back of the Thief’s head, eyebrow raised and glare frozen. That was a twist. No, no it wasn’t. He should have seen this coming — the others’ letting him stay locked in his room would definitely send the message that they didn’t care if he came out. Of course.

He glanced at Virgil, only to find the anxious side glaring absolute daggers at the Thief’s head. He wanted to duck out (quack). Son of a bitch, there was a part of Roman that wanted to duck out (quack).

Virgil was gonna scream.

Deceit made a gesture, and Virgil’s hand clamped over his mouth. He shot daggers at Deceit, who did his best to only focus on the Thief.

“That doesn’t sound healthy,” Deceit said, voice quiet.

“I don’t remember asking your opinion, little white lie,” the Thief grunted as he climbed over a particularly thick root.

He shot Deceit a quick glare before disappearing around it. His hand stuck out and motioned them both to follow. Virgil punched Deceit’s arm with his other hand and Deceit sighed, letting up so Virgil could speak.

“That wouldn’t benefit anyone,” Virgil hissed, dread laced through his voice as he held back as much of his panic as he could. He and Deceit both cringed when his Tempest Tongue slipped out, though.

They climbed over the root, Virgil first and giving Deceit a sharp kick in the side as he did so. Deceit hissed, and slapped Virgil’s back.

The Thief watched them both with a glare as they appeared over the root.

virgil could definitively say that the Thief was one of the parts of Roman that he didn’t like. He was squirrely, too ready to judge and too eager to cut ties, and Virgil didn’t see what a center-stage hog like Roman would gain from losing his audience. It was counterintuitive.

But maybe it was tied to ducking out. Who fucking knows.

The Thief’s expression seemed to let up, but he looked away again, continuing up the hill. “You, too, Dark Knight.”

They followed for while in silence, until Deceit asked, voice softer, “And what if you’re wrong?”

Now the Thief stopped. His shoulders were stiff, as though he had half a mind to tell them to shut up, or even to turn them back. Virgil opened his mouth, but Deceit held out a hand, shaking his head. Let him think.

Eventually, he slumped, tilting his head back and exhaling. “That’s the point of breaking Roman apart,” his voice was strained, “We need to piece him back together into something more, ah….I’m bad at wording, but something more indestructible.”

That was what he had suspected. Deceit sighed, lowering his arm and approaching the Thief’s back. Carefully, he rested his hand on his shoulder, giving him one tug to turn around and ignoring how stiff the Thief turned. The forest around them was darkening, and red light from the setting sun streamed in around them.

A harsh breeze swept through the opening. Virgil held his cloak tight around himself and looked around. The fear of bears was definitely more real now. But Deceit was unfazed. He held the Thief’s arm tight, even though it was limp in his grip.

He wasn’t going to lose Roman over something so….well, for lack of a better word, trivial.

“No one’s perfect, Thief. Everyone’s got flaws and denying yours might result in,” Deceit paused, trying to phrase this without revealing his exact thoughts, “Unwanted consequences.”

The Thief’s eyes were cast down, at the ground. His entire body was rigid, as though Deceit’s hand had frozen him upon touch.

Had he always looked so defeated? Held a darkness in those eyes just as bright as the shine that comes when spinning a yarn or acting in a play?

Deceit glanced at Virgil, then back at the Thief. How had they let this happen?

He shrugged Deceit’s hand off with a sharp shake, still refusing to look at him. “Yeah. It probably will. And, once you’re all out of here, you won’t have to deal with those flaws again.”

Deceit’s eyebrows shot up, hand curling into a fist at his side as he argued in the only way he could. The Thief didn’t care?! “It’ll hurt HIM, and it doesn’t matter who wins this stupid challenge. You understand that, right?”

“Yeah,” the Thief barked out a laugh, “I’ll take your word for it, Silver Tongue.”

He continued forward, not checking that they were following.

Deceit’s hands were curled into tight fists at his sides, shaking slightly. That went against all of his work. All of his and the other Sides’ wor, too! Trying to save Roman, for him to snap back and self-destruct like this.

It was going to hurt THOMAS, didn’t Roman understand that?

Did he WANT that?!

He huffed, eyes fixed on a dandelion growing in the grass. It did make sense, it was a long time coming — of course, what an oversight on his part, to allow this isolation to extend for so long—

“Hey, breathe,” Virgil’s whisper brought him back to focus, “C’mon.”

Virgil’s hand wrapped around one of Deceit’s, coaxing his hand open with practised understanding and gripping tight. “Don’t panic. That’s my job.”

Deceit cast him a sidelong glare.

Virgil shrugged, lips pursed, but a thin smile still present. He swung their arms up, then down again, and tugged him along. Deceit could feel him taking away some of his anxieties. There was no doubt that it was unhealthy, for Virgil to be roiling in everyone’s panic, but he couldn’t help but also being thankful as Virgil squeezed his hand in small pulses, tugging him along after the Thief.

After about a minute, he exhaled.

“Thank you,” Deceit murmured, eyes downcast.

Virgil glanced at him.

They could do this. Deceit swung their arms, and Virgil let out an exasperated sigh.

He was definitely still high strung, but they could do this.

But the Thief still wanted to leave.

Deceit pressed his lips together as he felt Virgil physically stiffen, the thought kicking him back into the reality. Which, in and of itself, was ironic, because the Imagination was super duper not reality.

“Thief,” he didn’t turn towards them, “You want to duck out.”

It wasn’t a question. Virgil was glaring at the Thief’s back, eyes a little wide.

Something was ringing in his ears. That’d been his fear — that’d been Virgil’s actual, personal fear for this whole endeavor. It’d just been confirmed.

The Thief stepped over a particularly large root, waving his right arm out towards the forest. “Of course. You’re necessary. Anxiety needs to have a seat at the table, yeah. You keep him out of trouble.”

He kicked a rock and hopped over another root. “We don’t. Uncreative people’re out in the world everywhere. Thomas can live without us, or with us muted.”

Oh my goodness gracious, Virgil was so glad Logan wasn’t there to hear that leap of logic. He couldn’t help the growing disgust on his face.

Deceit squeezed his hand again, but the Thief continued. “Getting to spend all our time here, in a world of our own creation? Win. You all get to go about running Thomas without getting annoyed by us all the time? Win. It’s a double win. A win-win.”

Virgil stood up straight, finally letting go of Deceit’s hand to gesture angrily at the Thief’s back. He seethed, throwing his arms into the air and shaking his tightly-gripped fists at the sky. It was like talking to a brick wall! An incredibly stubborn and narrow-minded brick wall who didn’t seem to have any critical thinking!

Maybe he should call it quits. He squatted, wrapping his arms around his head to block out the sunlight, trying to calm down again.

“Virgil.”

No, no, that wasn’t what he did. If Roman was stubborn, then Virgil was immovable, and he was gonna get his idiot back.

A hand rested on his shoulder, pulling him upward. Virgil swatted away at it, growling quietly into his own arms.

“Virgil, get up,” Deceit’s voice was barely audible over the blood pounding in his ears, “Or he’s gonna walk away.”

He nodded, exhaling into the ball he was curled into.

Let go. Let go of the damn worries.

“Virgil. Listen to my voice. Perhaps we cannot convince him, not alone and not tonight, but we can at least stay with him. Give him options.”

He’d trained himself to not listen to Deceit, who’d lied and manipulated his way around Thomas’ head. But, just this once….

Virgil nodded again and stood upright slowly, knees creaking and popping. They could do this.

Deceit patted his shoulder and motioned forward. The Thief was already a few yards ahead, but not out of sight just yet.

They both hurried after him.

Until he stopped.

The Thief’s shoulders slumped in relief as he finally spotted his tree in the distance. His pace quickened, jogging himself across the few meters between where he stood and the tree, and was followed by the other two Sides. Once they reached the tree, the Thief placed a hand against its side, running it along the bark slowly. As though greeting a friend.

“Welcome home,” he hummed, smiling up at the canopy.

He searched in his pocket and pulling out a lighter — a regular modern lighter, wasn’t there supposed to be a medieval theme or something?! That was MULTIPLE ITEMS— Deceit squinted at it, opening his mouth in an offended fashion. He was going to say something about that, because it was pretty unfair that he got to have something so modern while everyone else was relegated to objects that were period accurate, but Virgil elbowed him in the side.

The Thief, who was pressing the lighter to the black chalk, swirling the flame along the “door” opening, didn’t seem to notice. Virgil honestly just wanted to see what this magic was all about. Once he was done drawing the circle, he stepped back and held a hand out, pushing Deceit and Virgil back, too. “Open sesame,” he said with a grin.

All of the black chalk was alight, glowing gold from the flame. The Thief held a hand out for the drawn-on handle, and as soon as his hand got within an inch it glowed golden itself. The chalky text lit up red. He slowly turned the handle, now filling his hand with an amorphous golden light, and pushed the door open.

It swung easily, as though on invisible hinges.

The Thief smiled as the scent of home wafted over him. He took a deep breath, it’d been a long day, he was home, he was safe, and he turned to Deceit and Virgil.

Both of the other Sides were staring at the thick hole in the tree, mouths open slightly and eyes open much more. There wasn’t much to see inside the door, as there was a small staircase leading up to the actual living quarters, but the fact that the fairly solid tree opened was something. Neither of them had seen the magic in Roman’s kingdom, after all, and while they knew this was what happened….seeing it was a much different experience.

It was kind of humorous, actually. To think that he’d be bringing other Sides into his little sanctuary.

It felt….nice.

Shut up, shut up with that romantic bullshit.

“Are you coming?” he asked, cocking his lips into a smirk as he waved them in.

Virgil snapped out of it first, surprisingly. He shook his head and nodded. “Yeah. ‘Course.” He elbowed Deceit, who jumped and nodded so vigorously his hat fell off.

The Thief caught it, hand shooting out, and blinked at himself. And then he laughed.

His demeanor had flipped almost at the exact moment they got to the tree. He wasn’t curled inwards, dancing around words and ideas. No, here he was, his laugh light, airy and carefree, something that he didn’t seem capable of prior. A few birds in the forest even chirped along. One cardinal landed on his head, whistling with him, and he didn’t seem to mind.

Virgil and Deceit shared a look, both equally blushing. This was a stark change and their glum guide was kinda cute.

The bird thing was textbook Disney prince too, like, how did he even —

“Alright,” the Thief brushed off the hat, lips quirked in a small smile, “Enough fucking around, c’mon.”

He put the hat back onto Deceit’s head, hands carding through Deceit’s hair as he did so. If the Thief noticed how much redder he got, then he didn’t let on, because he turned around as soon as the hat was on snug.

Virgil noticed, though. He pressed the butt of his palm to his mouth, stifling a laugh as the snake spluttered silently at the Thief’s back.

The Thief, still unaware — maybe unaware, maybe not? — went into the tree and climbed the stairs without waiting for them to follow. Virgil went first, then Deceit quickly, not wanting to be alone in the forest for long and not wanting to think about that incredibly gentle and not-at-all pleasing interaction.

No sir. Not pleasing. Not what he absolutely wanted for the rest of his life.

For once, he cursed the existence of gloves. How much softer would the Thief’s hands be without them?

Deceit would die before acknowledging that he absolutely definitely didn’t not have a crush.

Virgil stepped up to the top landing, beside the Thief, and looked around. It was small, but cozy. Before them was a sitting area with a thick couch, identical to the one Thomas actually had in his living room but without the bend. In front of it was a wooden coffee table, beneath was a rug with circles, almost like the rings of a tree, Virgil thought. Atop the table was a vase of red roses in full bloom.

To the right was a small kitchen alcove, separated from the sitting area with a counter peninsula that had two toasters sitting on it. Two toasters. This Roman must like his bread, apparently. Floating around between the kitchen and sitting area were some candles, all lit and casting the room in a comforting warm glow. On the left was a stairwell, wooden and spiraling up in such a way that Virgil could only see the first few steps.

Besides the stairwell was a second door. As Deceit stepped up into the room, the Thief went to the second door and opened it. As soon as the door touched the back of the hall it opened to, it disappeared, leaving an uninhibited opening down to a curving hallway that seemed to wrap around the tree’s trunk.

“Make yourselves at home,” the Thief said, waving his hand at the living room, “Do you want me to take your cloaks?”

Deceit put up his hand dismissively, turning in a circle and examining the room.

Virgil also shook his head, holding his cloak around himself more. The Thief shrugged at him, taking off his own cloak. “Suit yourself.”

As he moved to hang it up, Virgil could see that the gloves went to the middle of his forearms, and his shirt seemed to be tucked into them. No part of him was exposed other than his collar, neck, and head. Interesting?

When Virgil turned back to Deceit, to maybe, you know, indicate that this Roman was taking some pages out of his book, he found that Deceit was wandering through the kitchen. He pointed to the two toasters, made a judgemental face at Virgil, and continued opening the cabinets and drawers. Virgil slumped a little. Figures.

He sighed, walking over to the couch and flopping onto it. Oh. It even smelt like Thomas’ couch. The tension left his shoulders as he rolled onto his side, pressing his face into the cushions and taking in a deep breath. It was dizzying, how quickly this lowered his heart rate. Virgil hadn’t realized how stressed he was with the fast-paced changes of this situation.

The hardwood floor creaking indicated that Deceit had moved from the kitchen to the hallway. His footsteps echoed away down the hall.

“You want some tea?” Virgil heard the Thief ask.

He shook his head. He just wanted to lay down for now.

“Deceit? Tea?”

“I’m fine, thank you. May I go upstairs?”

“Intrusion doesn’t seem to be something you worry about, given how you went through my kitchen.”

Deceit didn’t grace that with a response, and Virgil heard his footsteps tapping up the stairs.

Silence again. He hummed into the pillow and rolled over into his own cloak. He just needed some time.

“....Do you want something to eat?” the Thief tried and, again, Virgil shook his head.

“‘M good.”

“Mhm.”

The Thief went around the kitchen calmly. Virgil could hear it. His steps were soft, though not as quiet as Deceit’s. More just….comfortable. Not as heavy as Romans typically would be, either.

Virgil sat upright slowly, still hugging one of the cushions, and looked up. The Thief’s gloves were sitting on the counter, as was the Thief himself, cradling a mug in heavily-scarred hands. Virgil actually did a small double-take upon seeing them.

The Thief raised an eyebrow, questioning.

“....Your hands’re fucked up,” Virgil stated.

He got a nod back. “Wow, I had no idea ‘bout that. Not like they’re on my body or anything.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. Roman always was a smartass. “No shit. Were….Roman’s hands aren’t like that, right?”

The Thief took a sip from the mug and did a so-so motion with his hand. “Yes and no. All my scars are definitely real. It’s not like we get out of every scrap with creatures, monsters, villains, the like without any damage. But Roman just sorta conjures flatter skin on top of it.”

Virgil frowned. There were a lot of questions he had for that, but he didn’t want to bombard him just this second. “That’s pretty weird, not gonna lie. So they normally heal into scars?” he gestured to the Thief, who nodded.

“Yeah, and it’s better to conjure up new skin than make you all worried.”

He must have recoiled, because the Thief laughed a little at him and took another sip. He wiped his mouth with the butt of his palm, shaking his head and speaking into his hand. “C’mon, you can’t tell me Patt wouldn’t flip if he saw this shit.”

Patton….very much would. All of them would, if Roman ever came in with that many scars. He was scared of what they’d say.

Virgil was getting a clearer image of the Thief’s intentions every minute. Still, for now, he just shrugged and conceded. “You’re right, I guess.”

The Thief nodded, opening his mouth to continue, but Deceit’s footsteps hopping down the stairs interrupted him. The snake in question popped out around the spiral staircase’s bend, and Virgil saw that he’d removed his hat and cloak somewhere. He had a hand raised, too, to get their attention.

“Thief, question. Well. First, the top floor is beautiful — marvelous work,” the Thief raised his glass, but otherwise didn’t react. Must not be so susceptible to flattery, Deceit noted. “I saw a city. A modern looking one, behind the mountains.”

“Oh, yeah.”

The Thief took another sip of his drink and motioned for Deceit to sit by pulling out a stool from beneath the counter, with his leg. “That’s just another setting. We don’t always adhere to a medieval theme in here, but right now we’ve kinda fallen back on the Disney royalty theme because it’s something we’re familiar with. That, and we can all agree it’s marvelous.”

“I see,” Deceit sat beside Virgil, crossing his legs on the cushion. “So you’re never going to change the setting, though?”

Deceit thought it was a fair question, but the Thief let out a short laugh. “Are you kidding? We’d have to flip everything around! God, we’d need new names, too, and new hiding places. It’s all too much work.”

He took another sip, then set his mug down. Deceit then noticed his hands, brow furrowing. He opened his mouth to bring it up, but Virgil elbowed him in the side and waved his hand.

He’d explain later. Best not interrupt, because the Thief rubbed his mouth and continued. “I don’t even think we can. It’d need to be a unanimous decision, like a coherent thought, and we’re not really capable of that right now.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Virgil asked.

The Thief looked at them both. He seemed to be debating something.

This Roman took his time with his words. That must mean he had a lot to hide, Deceit thought, or he didn’t want to expose certain ideas.

“For one. Dragon would kill us.”

Ah. “Dragon?” Deceit asked, “Care to elaborate?”

The Thief looked at his knees, then hopped off of the counter. “I’m going to make dinner,” he said, voice a little more airy, clearly trying to deflect from this conversation, “Spaghetti okay?”

“Tell us about Dragon,” Virgil pressed harder.

The Thief shot him a squinted look and relented as he set up the pot of water. “He’s another one of us, another Roman,” his voice held so much disdain. “He’s dramatic, loud, all that good stuff, but the biggest thing about him is that he really likes being right.”

“You don’t like him,” Deceit stated.

“Can’t say I’m a fan.”

He opened a cupboard and took out a box of pasta. He cleared his throat, glancing up at the two expectant faces before relenting again.

“He’s a bit of a sadist. Like….he moved into the castle. He controls the guards. They all listen to ‘Roman,’” here, the Thief did air quotations, “But they aren’t sentient enough to notice that there are seven of us now, so they listen to the guy who took charge. Dragon.”

A villain part of Roman, apparently. One who would attack the others, if the way they found the Thief being chased by guards was any indication. Virgil stood up, going into the kitchen. “Where’re the plates?” he asked quietly, “‘M gonna set the table.”

The Thief nodded to one of the cabinets and Virgil opened it, taking out some plates. He set them down on the counter only for them to be picked up by Deceit and dispersed around the peninsula, where the three counter stools were.

“Dragon,” Deceit reminded, and the Thief sighed.

“Before you guys showed up, he caught another one of us. Another Roman. And, God….” his voice trailed off.

The pot was boiling. The Thief put the noodles in, taking a wooden spoon and easing them into the water. He seemed to roll something around in his head, lolling back and forth, before grimacing and continuing. “He….he did a lot of bad things to Damsel, the other Roman. Beat him publicly, in the village’s central square so all the characters got to see. So that we could all see. It was horrifying.”

A chill swept through the glassless windows of the tree.

“That’s….” Virgil and Deceit spoke at the same time.

“Dark.”

“Awful.”

They shared a look before turning back to Thief, who was churning the noodles, eyes glued to the rising steam and boiling water. It was surprising that the steam didn’t put out any of the candles, actually.

He looked forlorn, lost and defeated. “It was like a warning, to the rest of us. Don’t get caught, or else.”

Deceit picking up the conversation. “I didn’t realize there was a part of Roman willing to do….that. And for what?”

“For approval. And what can I say? He lives for validation, would kill for it, too. We all know you’re in here, so he’s definitely hunting you guys, maybe to gloat and probably hoping you all will tell him he did good,” the way Thief said it sounded almost too nonchalant, like it were forceful.

He turned off the stove top’s heat — hang on, Deceit thought, a stove?! Well, fuck the theme-ing then. This was a neverending hell of inconsistencies — and pulled a strainer out from another cabinet. Slowly, the Thief strained out the water, talking all the while.

“He probably wants to….” his eyes flicked up at them, quick as a flash, and he let out a small exhale. “I dunno. He’s a bit of a dice roll. One second, he’s talking about how much he wants all of you to love him, brushing his hair in the mirror and painting his nails, just being harmless, and the other second he’s talkin’ about how much he wants to dismember you and throw your bodies into locked boxes in the river.”

Virgil and Deceit exchanged a look, one worried and one determined. They were safe, knew how to defend themselves, and had the means with which to defend themselves, but….

Virgil’s brow furrowed. Logan and Patton were out there somewhere. And there was a bit of Roman that seemed happy to kill literally anything.

He looked up at Deceit, who was watching him with squinted eyes. Logan and Patton must be fine. They must be.

What if they weren’t? Virgil squinted right back at him. They could be hurt.

No, they were fine.

The Thief cleared his throat, cutting through the tension like a knife and drawing both of their attentions back to him. He was heating up some sauce now, mixing in some herbs with what looked like a tomato-paste base, eyes shifting between Virgil and Deceit.

The staredown lasted for a minute or two before he relented, exhaling and hitting his spoon on the side of the pan.

“Let’s….pause, for a hot sec. Dinner’s almost done and, after that, you both should sleep,” his voice carried like a whisper around the small kitchen.

Neither of them responded, and the Thief just kept cooking. He slowly poured the noodles into the sauce, mixing up a little before gesturing to the pasta.

He couldn’t honestly expect them to just drop the conversation like that. Could he?

“We are going to have to confront Dragon,” Deceit raised an eyebrow at him, “You know that, right?”

The Thief shrugged. He picked up a plate, took out a pair of tongs, and began putting pasta on the plate. “Probably. I can’t help you there, though. I’ve just been setting off all the booby traps in the castle, so he gets stuck in them. And stealing his jewelry. He’s got a hoard of it.”

Like a dragon, Virgil thought. And with scales, probably, and claws. And wings. Maybe he breathed fire.

He was frightened to all heck, but if they wanted Roman back, they’d have to….what. Talk with him? Probably talk with him.

He looked at Deceit, who was looking at the pasta, and then he heard his own stomach growl. The Thief had sat down at one of the peninsula stools, pointedly ignoring them for his noodles.

Then, he giggled. The Thief covered his mouth with a hand, but they both could see that a broad smile was behind it.

“What?” Deceit asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The Child just said the Social Nerd-work’s name. That means Dad-ton Abbey and him’re safe at the Artist’s house,” he explained, waving a hand and swirling his pasta on a fork, “Wow.”

Wow indeed. A little bit of the tension in Virgil’s shoulders released. Patton and Logan were safe, fine, hidden away with another less-murderous Roman. That was some good news.

….Well. Virgil sighed, more at ease now, and relented to the pasta. As he sat at the counter, Deceit went to make himself a plate.

They ate in nearly absolute silence, none of them wanting to mention the lack of a plan and the looming fear of this villainous Roman who apparently wanted to kill them all.

Deceit finished first, and he ran his hand through his hair, smoothing it back. “We’re sleeping here, correct? I also don’t suppose you have a shower or something?”

Thief pointed down a hall. “We might have an aesthetic going, but I’d die without a whole bathroom set up. Down and to the left, there’re towels in the side closet,” he took a final bite and set his fork down, standing up

“Thank you,” Deceit said, shooting Virgil a small look as he ducked toward the bathroom.

Deceit probably wanted him to ask more about the situation. Virgil tiredly continued to eat, but the pit that was opening his stomach was taking up more room than the pasta could fill. It was clear that the Thief — both of the Romans they’d interacted with, but right now, the Thief — trusted Virgil a lot more than Deceit. At least it showed a certain awareness on Roman’s part of Deceit’s trickery?

And it wasn’t like Virgil could help how upset he was by all this. It was a stressful situation and had a stressfully silent week before it.

“I also,” Virgil looked back up at the Thief, who gestured to Virgil’s plate, “Forgot to thank you all. For coming after us. Honestly didn’t expect it.”

Virgil nodded and carefully stood up from his stool. The Thief smiled and took the plate, but his brows were pinched. He wanted an explanation, didn’t he? It felt like a weird thing to need to explain. It was obvious. Wasn’t it?

“We were worried,” it sounded lame aloud, but the Thief just nodded in response.

“Thanks,” he put the plates into the sink and pointed down the hall, too. “You should go check out a room, too. Maybe change into some pajamas or something more comfortable? There’re, uh, pajamas. I’m just going to do the dishes then head to bed myself.”

Again, Virgil nodded. He was at a loss for words, honestly, and that was all a lot of information to process.

Take one thing at a time, though. That was what the Thief was suggesting, wasn’t it? “Sure thing,” he said, dashing away immediately.

The hall was dark, long, and curved. There were candles floating along the walls, same as out in the living area, and there were doors on either side. One already had Deceit’s double-snake-head logo shining yellow. Besides that door was another, unmarked door, but Virgil could hear a shower coming from inside.

He needed to get a room, first. Across from the bathroom was another unmarked door, probably a bedroom, and Virgil ducked into it, closing the door quickly.

He immediately threw himself onto the bed and rubbed his face. That probably smudged his eyeliner. It was already smudged.

No, no, he didn’t have the time to care about that. Virgil sat upright and looked around. There was a small open-fronted wardrobe pressed against the wall, with some pairs of pants and some shirts hanging on the wall. Surprisingly, they all looked to be various combinations of purple, black, and grey. He stood up, against his desire to curl into a ball and sleep on that bed for all eternity, and checked out the clothing. Yep, everything was about his aesthetic, and some even had his logo on them. Neat.

There was the bed and there was a mirror on top of the wardrobe. Around the room were some floating candles, but none were lit, and there was a light switch by the door. Virgil squinted. How the fuck did that work?

He flicked the switch and they all turned on, lit by flames. Alright. That was cool.

Virgil had to talk to the Thief. He couldn’t dance around it.

Or he could stay in here and admire how the wardrobe auto-filled with clothes that fit his style. Or he could admire the cool candle lights. Those would look sick in his room, actually. He should talk to the Thief about that, instead of literally anything else he actually had to talk to him about.

He just wanted Roman back, goddamnit. He wanted the Roman who would do outrageous things just to see Virgil smile. The one who would put on Black Cauldron for the millionth time, without complaint, when Virgil was having a bad day. He wanted the Roman who worked to improve himself and worked to include him, and didn’t shy away, and didn’t want to hide, and didn’t make him feel like he himself had overlooked something so disastrous as a crumbling self-image and gnawing concern that no one loved him.

The guilt weighed heavy in his stomach. Yeah, guilt. Virgil had felt Roman’s anxieties growing, but did he bring it up? Well, okay, he did. But every time that he did, Roman had deflected it with a witty quip or incredibly stupid comment or even that dumb, dashing smile. And then Roman would catch that he was nervous about something. He would never guess that it was himself.

Virgil could almost imagine what he’d do. Roman would take him by the hand into his room, always with the lights dimmer, more simplistic than was usual. He’d sit him in his squishy armchair, stand behind him, rub his shoulders and let him just vent.

Or maybe Roman would lead him down into the kitchen, sing a merry tune and make Virgil some peppermint tea. Swirl around in the kitchen, making jokes or telling stories, on those days where Virgil didn’t want to talk.

Ever since they’d shifted to accepting him, Roman had done his best. Extra, frivolous, occasionally over-the-top, but his fucking best. Virgil owed his best right back.

Virgil had to get him back. He had to face the music.Virgil’s fists balled at his sides as he whispered to himself, “Fuck it,” and threw open his door.

He hurried out of the hall and stopped in the entryway into the living area. The Thief was cradling another mug, sitting on a stool and staring at the flower vase sitting on the coffee table.

“Hey, Roman,” the Thief jumped and some liquid splashed out of his mug. Virgil winced. “Sorry, Thief?”

Virgil felt a little more guilty as the Thief sighed, rolling his shoulders and casting him a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, Virgil? You need anything?”

“Not really,” Virgil leaned on the wall as the Thief pulled out a roll of paper towels and tore some off. “I just wanted to say thanks. For keeping us safe. I don’t know what we would have done if you didn’t let us sleep over.”

The Thief pressed the towels to the spilt tea and matched eyes with Virgil. He gave him a reassuring albeit crooked smile, hair falling out of whatever order it’d been. It fluffed up around his face and, almost, looked like a crown. One of his hands reached up and ran through his hair, pushing it back into the messy but suave side-part Roman always had.

Hey, stop staring. Virgil blinked slowly and focused on the Thief’s words. “....probably safest place in the setting.”

He nodded, then shifted his weight, putting his hands in his pockets. Here goes. “Also, I don’t really understand why you want to be alone so badly. Like, I do, I get that feeling too sometimes, but….”

The Thief sighed, frustration laced through his breath, and Virgil added. “You know we’d miss you, Roman.”

That got him to falter. He stared at the countertop, then lifted the flower vase and cleaned beneath that. “I can’t say I wouldn’t miss you all, too,” he said. “I wish I wouldn’t. That’s more what I want. When we are all together, the best moments are so good. Nothing brings us more joy than seeing you smile and laugh at memes with us, or hearing Logan’s gasp when he reads something enticing, or watching Patton fuss around the kitchen. Heck, even Deceit’s dumb smirk makes us happy.”

Virgil could hear the “but” hanging in the air, especially once the Thief scrubbed the counter with extra vigor.

“But the lows. We can’t always handle the criticism, the shouting, the arguing and belittling. Being told we’re not enough,” he sighed, then added in a much softer voice. “That I’m not enough.”

He tossed the paper towels away into the trash bin, beneath the sink, and leaned his back on the sink’s edge. “Sometimes, I can’t help but wish I wanted to be alone. And if we self-impose that loneliness, then it might make it easier. To be alone.”

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, watching. He’d known that they were less than supportive, on the best of days, but that was their job. Especially Virgil’s. He was the guy who was supposed to spot possible problems, things that the audience might not like, things that might endanger Thomas. He’d thought that Roman understood that he was doing it out of….

Alright, there was the L word again.

His internal monologue was interrupted when the Thief stood up straight and faced Virgil determinedly, wearing a tired smile.

“If you can convince the others, then I’ll come quiet. I just think that being alone’s….easier to handle,” he laughed a little to himself, a quiet chuckle that Virgil thought sounded hollow. “Besides, if Roman isolates himself, then it doesn’t matter if….”

His smile faltered a little, eyes seeming to watch something distantly away from Virgil. As quick as the expression came, though, it went as he looked back down at the counter. He reached up and ran his hands through his hair, settling it back.

There must be something Virgil should do or say. There must be, because sitting in silence like this — god, the Thief was gonna start crying, wasn’t he?

What wouldn’t matter? The question burned in his mind.

“....Haven’t I been through enough heartbreaks?”

The Thief’s question was so quiet, so desperate, that Virgil thought he just imagined it until a floorboard creak behind him indicated that someone had approached. He glanced back to see Deceit, hair still damp, clothed in a simple cream shirt and dark brown trousers. Pajamas, clearly, maybe taken from the room. Deceit nodded to the Thief, who was hunching over the counter, eyes stuck on the counter.

Virgil pursed his lips and made a so-so hand motion. He didn’t know exactly what was motivating the Thief, but they were getting inklings. Deceit nodded again in response and stood behind Virgil.

Who turned back to the Thief, still staring at the table. “We need you,” was how Virgil started, trying to piece together the best way to phrase what he wanted to say.

The Thief looked up at him and Virgil saw some wetness glittering in his dark brown eyes. They locked with his, not necessarily a glare nor anything aggressive. You could have convinced Virgil that the Thief was pleading. But for what, he couldn’t tell.

And then he smiled. He smiled and shook his head, looking away again.

“I…” He covered his mouth with a hand and reconsidered, shaking his head, “Nah, it’s dumb.”

“You’re not dumb, Thief.”

Virgil pushed off of the doorway to stand besides the Thief as he sank into one of the counter stools. Gently, like Roman had done for him many times, he put his hands on the Thief’s shoulders. “Can I?” he asked, voice quiet.

The Thief nodded, hand holding his mouth tight. His other hand, resting on the table and not gripping anything, had a slight tremor. Deceit stepped into the dining area, lips pinched in worry. He certainly wasn’t the one silencing the Thief, if it was anyone at all.

Virgil began rubbing the Thief’s shoulders, leaning closer and watching as his shoulders hiked up a little more. He was so tense, stiff as a rock.

“Listen. Thief,” Virgil glanced at Deceit, who was shifting his weight lamely, and nodded toward the mugs.

Deceit seemed to get the idea, because he nodded and got to work immediately. The Thief’s hand slid upward, covering his eyes now, and he shuddered as Virgil put more pressure on his shoulders. “Is this okay?” Virgil asked again, quietly, and the Thief nodded.

“Thanks,” his voice was so quiet that Virgil could barely hear him.

“You know,” Virgil hummed, quiet but determined. “I tried the whole lone-wolf thing. Thought it’d be good to keep myself separate ‘cause it would protect you all. Thought that was for the best. None of you seemed to want me back then, either.”

The Thief whined, and Virgil let up. But as his shoulders stiffened again, Virgil felt his anxiety mount. “No–uh, sorry, no that just–that was a good spot,” the Thief tried to explain, face turning redder under his hand.

Deceit snorted behind him, and Virgil kicked his heel out, managing to hit him square in the shin. He let out a chuckle when Deceit hissed in pain.

“I’m sorry. That we made you feel like that,” both of the other Sides looked at the Thief, whose hands were now both on the counter.

Virgil’s were still resting on his shoulders, so he exhaled and pressed down again. “We-We shouldn’t have—” the Thief tried to continue, but Virgil cut him off.

“Not saying you shouldn’t have, but you’ve been apologizing for it. You….all accept me, now. I’m working on getting used to that, you all work on making me feel included, and we work together. Maybe there’re highs, maybe there’re lows. That’s how everything goes, but we always get through it when we work as a team. ‘Cause teamwork makes the dream work, right?” Virgil smiled when the Thief snorted, “And we can’t make the team work without the dream.”

The Thief sat up a little more. Virgil didn’t want to pressure him or anything, so he rubbed a particularly tight knot near the base of his neck before letting go. It seemed that the Thief came to some understanding, though.

“Hot chocolate’s done,” Deceit said.

He leaned down beside Virgil and set a full mug down on the counter in front of the Thief. He then nudged Virgil’s hip with his own, holding out a mug for him but eyes not meeting Virgil’s.

That was the first bad sign. Virgil pressed his mouth into a line. Before he could make a move, though, Deceit picked up his own mug and stepped away. “I’m going to sleep,” he announced, “I can only assume tomorrow will be just as taxing as today was. Goodnight Roman. Virgil.”

Deceit’s eyes were still cast lower as he nodded once toward the Thief and once toward Virgil, and he stared at the floor as he hurried to the hallway. He disappeared down the hall, into the darkness, and they both heard his door close sharply.

Damn. So much for that truce.

Yeah, sure, Virgil wasn’t fond of Deceit. Much.

He used to be. They used to be thick as thieves — Patton would be proud of that pun, Virgil thought — and while time and responsibilities have wore down that relationship….Deceit was still important to him. Yeah, he was a bad influence, but, like….

Whatever. He didn’t care. He didn’t.

The Thief leaned back a little, head resting on Virgil’s shoulder. “You should sleep, too, Paramoody.”

His head tilted back and he smiled up at Virgil, who squinted at him. “If you fall backwards on that stool, I’m gonna laugh.”

“In fact, I’m the owner of Roman’s single braincell,” the Thief’s smile softened, “Thanks for earlier. I’ll think about that.”

His eyes were so soft. Had Roman always had that little beauty mark? Virgil really only noticed it now, with his face so close and with that weird scar pointing at it.

Not that he endorsed Roman being damaged in any physical way, but the scar was also. Pretty hot.

The Thief chuckled quietly, one hand reaching up to patt Virgil’s cheek.

His hands were a little cold, but they were soft, despite the scars. Virgil could feel him shudder a tiny bit as the Thief gently ran his thumb along his cheekbone.

Virgil felt….comfortable.

Why didn’t he want this, again? The Thief watched Virgil watching him, and saw him slowly lean his head into his hand. He must be tired, that was why Virgil was so open with him. There couldn’t have been another reason.

Still.

“Alright, you actually need to sleep, ‘cause your eyeshadow’s all over your face,” the Thief pulled his hand away and sat upright again.

As he slid off the stool, saying something about sleep and grabbing his hand, Virgil tuned him out, letting himself be pulled around.

What the hell was THAT moment? This was the absolute worst time to be reminded that he was a disaster, and the Thief must be so creeped out by how he was just staring at his goddamn face.

“And my room’s upstairs. If you go up the stairs, take a left, you’ll find me, okay?” Virgil blinked, looking up.

They were at the entrance to the hallway now. The Thief smiled kindly at him, though his brow was pinched in worry. “Have a good night, Virgil,” he whispered, hand still holding Virgil’s.

Virgil nodded, not trusting what he’d say if he opened his mouth, and met him with a small smile.

He wished had retained more of the romantic parts of Roman. Then, maybe, he’d be able to find the right words to describe how willing he was to throw this whole challenge away just to see that smile for the rest of eternity.

The Thief leaned in and pecked Virgil’s cheek. Then, he darted away, waist sash trailing up after him as he escaped up the stairs.

Virgil stared into nothing, eyes stuck to the empty staircase. Slowly, his hand lifted to his cheek, fingers grazing where the Thief’s — Roman’s — lips had been.

What the fuck.

Don’t even consider it.

He found himself walking back to the room he’d chosen — it was easy to find, his storm cloud logo was glowing a soft purple on the door — and collapsed onto the bed.

Virgil was absolutely sore from how fast his thoughts had been running today. It felt like years ago that he’d found Deceit in the hall and slammed him into the wall.

Oof. Maybe he wouldn’t sleep tonight, now that he’d remembered that. Virgil groaned into his pillow, crossing his arms over his head and pressing into it as his breathing’s erraticness increased

Deceit had been truly upset. Frustrated, angry, yeah, sure, that was the point — Virgil hadn’t expected that flash of betrayal. He couldn’t get that stupid snakey hurt expression out of his goddamn head. Plus it was just poor instincts to immediately strangle someone. And the way Deceit had slunk out of the kitchen just now, not daring to look at either of their faces.

He screamed into the pillow, pressing down into it even more. Calm down. He had to calm down.

What, why calm down now? You’d been holding this panic attack in all day, Virgil.

The pillow grew damp beneath his face; he hadn’t noticed that he was crying a little.

Virgil flipped over, now pressing the back of his head into the pillow, and wrapped his arms around his head, wiping at his eyes with his hand. He began tapping his left hand on the back of his arm, counting quietly as he inhaled, held, and exhaled.

It helped that it wasn’t completely silent. Virgil’s room had a window, a circle in above the bed. A gentle breeze wafted in, as did the sound of the trees rustling, frogs croaking, and bugs buzzing — a solid background noise to focus on, rather than the day’s events. Virgil mentally counted the frogs’ croaks as he felt his chest loosen. Maybe it was a product of being in the Imagination and, by extension, Roman’s room, but he got a grip of himself faster than usual.

As he calmed down, though, he also regained the feelings of absolute exhaustion. Calm quickly turned to drowsiness, and Virgil was asleep within seconds.

[tinycamembert]

team bonding

This started out as me just wanting to write about a scene based on the splat jam drawing from yesterday and it turned into many more words basically of me being mushy about how much I love this team. 4 little drabbles, the name shows the POV! All characters belong 2 @bottledupcomic / @tamarinfrog

I’m posting on mobile so sorry if there are formatting issues!!

———

1. Whinter

"What about this one?" Vadelma asks. On the plate lie four small pastries, sample size for her teammates, little berries nestled in the center of the flaky dough and melted chocolate drizzled over top. Whinter tries his best to admire it for half of a second before he shoves the entire thing in his mouth.

"Mmhmph," he manages, white hair flopping in his eyes as he empathetically nods his approval. To his left, his teammates are just as absorbed in the taste testing as he is.

"What's in the middle?" Marian asks, studying the half of the pastry left in her hand. Logan has already finished his and is eyeing the plate on the counter with extras.

"Raspberry compote," Vadelma says, fiddling with the plate as she watches her teammate's reactions. "It's not too much? That's what I wasn't sure about, adding that but then also putting the berries on the top? And then the chocolate—"

"It's perfect," Marian says.

"I love it," Logan agrees. He has a smudge of chocolate on the corner of his mouth. Vadelma smiles like a sunbeam.

"Great!" She says, scurrying back to the counter. "You all can have the rest, then. I'll make a brand new batch for customers later." The plate with the leftovers has six pastries.

"In case your parents want to try," Vadelma says to Marian, placing two gingerly in her outstretched hands.

"For your dad," she hands one to Logan.

"And one for your mom, one each for your brothers," Vadelma continues, this time to Whinter. She gives him quick little wink as she hands him the last one. "I put extra chocolate on this one for Cloud. So don't let those pesky brothers of yours take it."

"Oh, I won't." Whinter tries to wink back, but he's not sure if he winks so much as blinks really fast with both eyes. Not like it really matters. He knows that Vadelma already knows how much it means to him.

2. Logan

"Ha!" Marian crows, triumphant from her kneeling position on the floor. She had started the race leaning back on Vadelma's legs, but as the match progressed she ended up hunched forward over her controller, focused on the racing game on the screen in front of her.

"There's still another lap," Logan points out on Marian's right. He's not exactly feeling the pressure of competition, considering Whinter still is figuring out what all the buttons on the controller do and Vadelma is perfectly content to stay in the middle of the pack. Logan zooms around a corner and takes a jump off to a shortcut on the race map, which lands him safely in front of Marian again.

"Wh—you can't do that!" Marian exclaims. "That's cheating."

Logan grins slyly. "It's strategizing. Not cheating. You can see the path break off, you just chose not to take it."

"I didn't know it was a shortcut. But fine," Marian huffs, leaning forward further as she concentrates. Logan hears Whinter snicker behind him. Marian would never be able to complain about Logan taking shortcuts if he called it strategy. He's pretty sure it would go against her entire team philosophy, even if right now they were just playing Mario Kart. Whatever! Didn't matter. He was still gonna win.

"Ooh, Vadelma got something," Whinter announces, and Logan hears Vadelma's telltale giggle behind him. It is not a comforting sound.

"What did—hey, no!" He yells, but it's too late. Vadelma launches the blue shell, and the beepbeepbeepbeep of the timer starts to play in his corner of the screen as his doom rapidly approaches. Marian cackles beside him.

Marian isn't too far behind him, and neither is the blue shell—so Logan slows down.

He times the move perfectly—just as Marian catches up to him, she realizes her mistake, and the blue shell comes crashing down on them both, Logan's kart spinning in the middle as Marian goes careening off the edge.

"Logan!!" She shrieks, as he crosses the finish line all alone and Whinter howls with laughter behind him.

"Oh dear," Vadelma says, her voice choked up like she's trying very, very hard not to laugh. She gives Marian a pat on the back as consolation. "Well, I tried my best, dear!"

Marian waves her hands around in the air as if trying to shoo the loss away. "No, no," she says, her cheeks red, a smile threatening to break its way onto her face. "You know what? It was a good strategy."

3. Vadelma

"Oh! And one last thing," Marian says, as Vadelma pours her captain a cup of lavender tea—another one—now almost an hour into this team meeting. She wishes she had brought the coffee pot over for herself. Honestly, Vadelma could listen to Marian talk all day about anything, but this supposedly "super quick" team meeting Marian called had devolved into a lecture about punctuality and new bottling plans and Vadelma's eyes were starting to droop.

"It's September 1st," Marian says, slapping her hands on the table as a form of punctuation, "So— it's almost Halloween."

Whinter lets out a long-suffering groan, thumping his head on the table. Logan pats him on the back. Marian narrows her eyes.

Very subtly, or so she hopes, Vadelma pushes the cup of tea a little closer in Marian's direction.

"You've been brainstorming costumes since July," Whinter grumbles. "What else is there to talk about?"

"I'm so glad you asked," Marian says, and pulls out her phone.

Vadelma peers over Marian's shoulder as she opens YouTube, and Marian scoots a bit closer and angles the screen towards Vadelma, looking pleased that her teammate is interested. The soft edges of her hair tickle Vadelma on the cheek.

Well, Vadelma is definitely interested. Maybe not in exactly what Marian is showing her on the screen, but it's fine. She watches anyways. The title of the video reads I Put a Spell on You.

"Um," Vadelma says, about a minute into the video. It looks like a dance number from an old Halloween movie.

"So... you want to do these costumes?" She asks. Please, just the costumes, she thinks.

"Well, yeah," Marian beams, passing her phone across the cafe table to Whinter and Logan so they can see what she's talking about. Marian takes a moment to adjust her glasses as they watch, and Vadelma and Logan exchange a look of barely concealed terror.

"Singing," Logan mouths. Vadelma widens her eyes in response and gives him a rapid shake of her head. She had the same thought.

"Marian." Logan says flatly. "What is this?"

"Hocus Pocus," Marian says, but the boys' faces remain blank. "The movie. That's the name of the movie? Hello?"

"Never heard of it," Whinter mumbles, still transfixed on the screen.

"That settles it," Marian says. "We'll do a team movie night so we can watch it. And then we can figure out who is going to be who."

Okay, a team movie night would be fun—

"And we can practice the dance some other time," Marian finishes. She takes a pleased sip of lavender tea.

Well, at least she didn't say singing. Probably. Vadelma will go along with it, and so will her teammates, because they all know how much it means to Marian.

"Like you said, it's almost Halloween," Vadelma says. "Would you like to get out the decorations?"

4. Marian

"Oh, no no," Marian says, feeling her cheeks flush darker by the second. "Don't sing. Please don't sing."

"But it's your birthday!" Whinter protests. "We have to sing."

"There's too many people in here!" Marian blusters. People in the cafe were already looking over when her teammates paraded out the cake Vadelma had made, no doubt having toiled over it for hours beforehand—at least Vadelma did. Marian is doubtful that Logan and Whinter had helped much beyond stealing fingerswipes of icing off the top of the cake while Vadelma swatted at them with the frosting pipe.

The mental image makes her grin for a moment before she's jerked back to the present, where her teammates, despite her protests, are now singing.

Happy birthday to you...

Happy birthday to you...

Everyone is looking over now, and to Marian's horror, other people are joining in.

Happy birthday, dear Marian,

Happy birthday to you!

Other cafe-goers clap as the song finishes, and Marian fights the urge to bury her face in her hands and laugh and strangle Vadelma and Whinter and Logan and cry with gratitude all at once.

"Thank you," she giggles, wondering if her face has ever been redder in her entire life. "You idiots."

"You're welcome, dear," Vadelma beams. "Try the cake!"

"We all worked very hard on it," Whinter says solemnly, and Vadelma must jab him in the back with her nails, because he lets out a yelp and Logan snickers at the spectacle.

The cake is beautiful. It has three layers and light blue icing slathered generously all over the top and sides, piped with darker blue waves that flow gracefully around the outside. There are rainbow sprinkles on top, which Marian guesses is the aforementioned hard work that Logan and Whinter said they put into it.

"The icing has lavender in it," Vadelma adds. "We thought you might need it."

Marian smiles like an idiot. She has the best teammates in the world, even if they embarrass her to death sometimes.

"I'll have some, but everyone else has to have some, too." she concedes. "This is way too big to eat by myself. Besides, it'll taste better if I can share it with all of you."

———

[rynne311]

Wayne Kid Game Night

Request: Hello!! If requests still happen to be open, can I request a batsis!reader x batboys where the reader is playing a game called Beat Saber and the watch in awe, but how will they react once she puts herself up against the hardest song and aces it? Thanks so much in advance, and please don’t stress about having to finish this! Take your time!

Requested by: Anon

Word Count: 578

Requests are Open HERE.

A/N: I haven’t played this game.  I think I saw a video of it once, so I had to read up on it and improvise along the way.

It could be talent, but it could also be the many hours you spent here basically alone while your family was out patrolling Gotham.  No matter what, you were a force to be reckoned with when it came to the many video games that found their way to the manor media room.  

Alfred had long since stopped trying to pry you away from the consoles after he watched the restlessness that washed over you when you weren’t physically and mentally swept up in what you were doing.  Even the small amount of hand eye coordination you needed for your games seemed to be enough to adequately occupy both your hands and mind.  You never called your time playing your array of video games training, but you did like to keep your skills sharp.

Having a Wayne kids game night meant there was the potential for a literal bloodbath if competitive spirits could not be contained, but still you were excited that your brothers were taking a night off and actually hanging out with you.  Game night just interrupted your usual videogame routine from when they’re usually out patrolling.

It was next to impossible to find a game that would satisfy everyone.  Dick was partial to the classic board games.  Jason wanted something with a little more strategy like a card game.  Damian wanted something physical, and Tim wouldn’t pry himself away from his laptop until the game was decided.  You knew there was no way you could appease everybody, but you could get close.  While your brothers argued about what to play, you silently got up and got one of your games set up.

“No more fighting,” you interjected into your brothers’ argument. “Let’s play.”

You rarely ordered them around, but when you did, they all knew it was in their best interest to listen to you.  Game night was for your benefit to get some quality time with them, especially since they got that with each other just about every night.  You could feel the attention turn to you as you queued up your turn. 

You were looking for a challenge and elected to put on a song that would be next to impossible for most to win.  There were mumbles about how difficult this was going to be while you waited for the song to load.

You hit the first set of notes in quick and accurate succession to the amazement of your brothers.  They began to gasp at every difficult note you slashed, pulling themselves to the edges of their seats.  Before long, the song was coming to an end.  You hit the last few notes before your score and accuracy ratings were tabulated and presented on screen.  

When the 97% accuracy rating populated the screen along with a new high score notification you heard a slow clap start from the doorway.  By the time you turned around to see your dad in the doorway, the slow clap had turned into a round of applause with all of your brothers joining in.

“Anyone else want to change Wayne kid game night to ‘watch Y/N destroy this game night?’” Jason asked to an affirmative chorus.

Your dad picked the next song for you to play as he took a seat in his recliner.  While the song loaded, you smiled to yourself, happy with the turn tonight had taken and the chance to show your family some of the skills you’d picked up on your own.

Tags:

Everything: @societiesholyskittle @pickyblue12 @icycoldbeanieweanies

Batsis: @ilava-you

Want to be tagged?  Let me know via message or ask box!

[thewildheroine]

Fly Away |Two|

Warnings: None

Words: 1857

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: I’m so glad people are enjoying the story so far and I can’t wait to keep on writing it. This chapter we’ll get to see our main character really interacting with Peter. Enjoy!

 I’ll be posting part three super soon seeing that it’s already done.

|Masterlist|

|Prologue| |Part One| |Part Three|

My head tiredly leans into my hand. It takes so much energy to even keep my eyes open to understand what our Algebra two teacher is teaching us. Not that I even care at this point in terms of this class or in general. I’ll just look up online videos online. The rest of me, however, is seemingly in shambles.

This morning I was forced to put on a stained sweatshirt and loose jeans that smelt the way that all dirty clothes do when they lie around for too long. I had just sprayed the whole outfit with the most pungent perfume in my room. Not even waking up on time to catch the train I was forced to ride my bike most of the way which let the rain that I hadn’t even noticed until stepping outside drench me.

I can say pretty confidently that our main janitor hates me now after I walked into school dripping wet. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was out to get me. Especially after I slipped and fell into one of the recently repainted walls, leaving a weird wet splatter.

“Y/N,” someone next to me whispers for my attention. I barely turn my head enough to see all of Peter’s face.

“Hmm,” I hum with an annoyed tone.

“Are you okay,” he asks me with a nervous and unfamiliar, worried smile. I cock an eyebrow at him. My head begins to nod unsurely and I glance back up to the board when I hear Mr. Tiller coughs loudly. I wait to see if he’s pointedly glaring me and Parker down before returning my attention back to the shy boy.

“Really,” Peter laughs and lifts his pencil a little to point at my still wet sweatshirt, “because you’re soaked and look like you haven’t slept in forever.” I stare numbly down at my clothing before shrugging.

“I had a tiring day yesterday, so I woke up really late and had to ride my bike in the rain.” I turn myself all the way back to the lessons. “No biggie.” Next to me Peter shuffles and twists in his chair the most awkward and distracting way possible. I sigh and turn my head towards him again since he’s obviously still seeking a conversation with me.

“Oh- uh- did you hear about that huge fight yesterday?” he asks while pushing back his hair. My eyes immediately narrow at him as I try and figure out what he’s doing. It makes sense that it would be on the news, but why is he bringing it up to me about it. Ned is right by him. Usually, they’re the ones who talk about all the crazy things that happen in New York. Maybe MJ, but other than that he doesn’t go up to anyone else.

I look past him and glare at Ned who seems to have been watching me for god knows how long. Suddenly. Peter plops his elbow down on his desk, leaning on it an ruining my view of his friend.

“Pretty- pretty wild huh?” Peter manages to even make me feel awkward from what he says, and it isn’t because of the topic. “I guess someone got a video of what went down and there’s this super cool girl who like save a kid and…,” his voice drops off for a second as his eyes concentrate on me completely. “Stopped the guys since Spider-Man wasn’t there yet.” Peter quickly shakes himself from whatever trance he was in and finishes his sentence.

“Yeah…” I murmur. “Wild.” The bell abruptly rings overhead, dismissing the class. As quickly as possible I grab my notebook, throw on my backpack, and rush outside of the classroom.

Someone got the fight on video? Does it show my face?

Hastily I yank my phone out of my sweatshirt’s front pocket and begin typing something into the search engine. Immediately, the video of me pops up over everything else. My body moves into the lockers so that people go around me. I tap on the play button and watch the fight like I’m seeing it for the very first time. Surprisingly enough, it really does feel like this is my first time.

The girl in the video moves around and flies off the ground like a graceful dancer. When she throws out the golden blades in her hands and controls them to fly towards each of the criminals it’s captivating. I gasp at the sight of her hovering like an angel in the air, controlling her magic perfectly. The only thing that isn’t in the video is a clear image of her face.

I don’t even remember this. Doing this. Of course I know that I had the fight and I know the basics of what I did, but I had no idea I did them so well.

“She’s pretty cool, don’t you think?” My head twists around, showing my shock, and I find myself nose to nose with Peter. A startled expression spreads across his face from the closeness of our bodies. Even feeling uncomfortable in the situation myself I back away a little bit.

“Yeah,” I mumble.

“Everyone’s trying to figure out who she is. There have even been rumors that the Avengers are trying to find her identity.” I have to look away from him and down at my water filled boots to hide the sudden fear in my eyes. “Her powers are amazing.” When I look up at him Peter’s eyes show an intensity I’ve never seen anyone ever look at me with. His dark brown irises are soft though.

“Do you-,” he stops as if he’s thinking if he’ll be wording this next phrase right. “Do you believe in magic Y/N?” My heart stalls for a second in my chest. The only time any person ever asked me that question was on the playground when I was young and my friends and I were playing stupid, pretend games with moms and dads and annoying teenage sisters that pretended to have a giant wad of gum in their mouth.

That was fun though. Just them purely being curious and not motivated to ask because of videos of sorcerers. I hope that for a second Peter may admit to being joking and just drop the topic. He’s not though. His eyes are glued to mine and he wants to hear my answer. An honest answer.

I swallow and look at the clock telling me we still have three minutes of passing period left. My father would tell me to keep it vague. To not let Peter know the truth about my magic and just say that maybe it is.

The thing is the world is changing though. I saw the sanctions falling on the news and felt the change when the Sorcerer Supreme passed away. Then Strange began fighting alongside the Avengers. People with enough sense should know by now that there is magic in this universe just as there is magic in others.

“Well, of course I believe in magic. Haven’t you seen the stuff that Doctor Strange does?” For a moment Peter smiles at me, but then it turns into a frown when I finish my thought. “Why are you asking me this stuff anyways? Aren’t you and Ned supposed to be best buds or something?” I begin walking down the hall again before I risk being late to another class like this morning. Peter automatically starts following.

“Yeah, but I don’t really talk to you much,” he replies, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“That’s exactly my point Peter,” I clutch my books to my chest. “You don’t socialize with me at all. The only time we ever talk ever is when we’re paired up for projects, and even then we are barely talking-talking to each other. I’m pretty sure you even rush to finish early so we don’t have to spend any time together after school.” The hallways have cleared up except for the few students who are jogging to their classes on the other side of the school. Peter grimaces a little.

“I have stuff I’m always doing after schools, that’s why,” he explains. I roll my eyes and step in front of our class’s door.

“Like what?” I retort. Peter lifts his hands defensively and moves closer.

“Like the Stark internship,” he answers after making an incomprehensible noise. I scoff and open the door. We both walk into chemistry together, ignoring how our peers glare at us. My body loosens a little when I see that our teacher hasn’t come in yet.

“I thought you lost the internship,” I scoff. I remember that day vividly. For the first time in weeks, he had actually been focused on school, but that didn’t change the fact that I could tell that he was devastated. He dedicated a ton of time to Stark.

“I- I got it back,” Peter stutters. “I just thought- you know- maybe we should spend more time together since we both have the same classes.” I twist my body around so that I can stare him down. That’s not the only reason he wants to hang out with me. I know it, but a part of me tells me just to go along with him.

Defeated, I sigh and rub my eyes. “Fine Peter,” I say begrudgingly. A wide smile spreads across his lips as Peter pulls his hands out of the pockets they were once hidden in. The whole class looks over at us as he claps them together excitedly. With a laugh, I roll my eyes.

“Peter, Y/N, can you please take your seats,” our teach asserts to us as she enters. I look back at Peter’s smiling face.

“Wanna hang out after school?” he wonders.

“I thought this was only going to be a during school thing?” I question curiously. Peter shrugs off his bag and throws it next to his stool.

“I only ever said I wanted to get to know you. I never said how.” Before I get the chance to turn down the offer or even ask how I’m going to know where to go he walks away from me and goes to his seat.

“Y/N,” the teacher shouts at me. I mutter a quiet apology and take a seat. Even though I somehow have regained my energy I can’t focus on the lesson. My eyes are still caught on Peter. Luckily he hasn’t noticed my confused staring.

I groan to myself and drop my head. My soft hair drops in front of my face, caging my eyes and keeping me from studying him anymore. The only time I look through the strands is when someone quickly places something on my desk.

A little rectangle piece of paper sits patiently by my calloused fingers. Hesitantly, I pick it up by the corner and inspect it. On the front is a phone number with Peter’s name messily written at the bottom. I glance back really quickly and catch him staring at me as he grabs a tissue from the box lazily before tossing it in the trash without using it. My hand goes up to my mouth to cover up the grin as I pocket the paper.

[dee-vine]

Shutter Speed Ch. 14

This chapter sucks (writing wise) and I struggled so much but it’s a good chapter I swear, and it’s extra long because I felt bad for not getting it out sooner like I planned. I hope you guys enjoy it!

PLEASE like and reblog and comment, it makes it easier for me to write if I actually know you guys like it. 

xx Dana

Ch 13 | AO3

Betty is tired. She got to work at 7:30 this morning, and didn’t even get a break until her shift ended at 3:30. All she wants to do is go home and nap, but she promised Jughead that she would go over there after work. She sighs and makes her way towards his apartment building, which is only a few blocks away thankfully. When she reaches it, she presses the button for his apartment number and waits a few seconds until the buzzer goes off, unlocking the door. She makes her way up the stairs, thankful he’s only on the third floor, and texts Veronica that she’s here and should take the car here so they don’t have to walk back home.

Before she knocks on the door, she smooths down her shirt and takes her hair out of its bun, running her fingers through it. She lets out a deep breath before knocking on the door, hearing the “come in” yelled from the other side. She opens the door and is met with an unpleasant sight-- Toni sitting on the couch next to Jughead, laughing with him and Archie about something.

“Hey Betty! It’s been a while,” Archie comments when she walks in, grinning at her. She smiles and closes the door behind her, hanging her purse up on a hook next to it.

“Yeah, my schedule has been insane, I haven’t had a chance to see anyone. Veronica’s on her way, also, I came straight from work,” Betty tells him. She glances at Toni before sitting in the armchair beside Archie, pointedly avoiding Jughead’s stare.

“It was your long day, right?” Jughead asks. Betty just nods, still avoiding making eye contact with him. She can feel Toni’s stare and feels a little self conscious, shrinking into herself. “You’re probably exhausted. We could’ve rescheduled, you know.”

“No, it’s fine Jug. I actually feel better now that I’m sitting down,” Betty amends, finally meeting his eyes. He looks concerned, his fingers tapping on his knee. He’s about to say something when Toni speaks up, clapping her hands against her thighs.

“Jones, we’ve been sitting here for hours doing nothing. Entertain me with something,” she says, poking him in the cheek. Jughead averts his eyes and flinches away from her with a laugh, Betty’s back stiffening.

“You’re asking the wrong guy, I’m not fun,” he answers, turning his head away from her. She pouts out her bottom lip and then, with a small smirk forming on her lips, sets herself on Jughead’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“But I always have fun with you,” she says lowly, almost purring. Archie’s head snaps up at the same moment Betty stands up from her chair.

“I’m going to get a glass of water,” she mutters to Archie, and all but runs into the kitchen. She feels angry, the image of Toni on Jughead’s lap stuck on repeat in her mind. She leans over the kitchen sink and turns on the faucet, letting the water run as she takes a few deep breaths. After a few moment she hears someone walk in, so she quickly grabs a glass from the dish rack and fills it halfway with water. She takes a sip before turning around, only to be met with the sight of Toni leaning against the fridge, arms crossed with a smirk on her face.

“You ran out so quick I almost didn’t see you,” Toni says. Betty’s free hand clenches into a fist, but she tries to keep her composure, gently setting her glass down.

“I’ve had a long day, needed to wake up. Plus, you didn’t seem to mind my absence,” Betty remarks, dragging her gaze back to look at Toni. She’s still smirking at her, but stands up straight and makes her way over to Betty.

“Is that...jealousy?” Toni asks in a taunting voice. She steps into Betty’s space and leans against the counter next to her, which makes Betty want to shrink away. She doesn’t though, instead stands her ground and levels her with a look that she hopes is intimidating.

“It’s clear we don’t like each other, so why don’t we be outright and say it, Toni,” Betty says. She turns to face Toni, their fronts aligned, and Betty can’t help but feel a sense of pride at the way she towers over her. Toni doesn’t seem phased, however, looking up at her with a fake smile.

“Props to you for your honesty,” Toni says. She holds eye contact with Betty, neither of them willing to back down until she smiles, taking a step back. “I think you should tell him.”

“Excuse me?” Betty asks, thrown off by the statement.

“I know you’re not dumb, Betty. And you’ve gotten my approval,” Toni tells her, walking away from Betty. She’s about to walk out of the kitchen when Betty stops her, still clearly confused.

“What are you talking about?” she asks, stepping away from the counter. Toni turns back around, rolling her eyes and sighing.

“Listen, you’re clearly gone for Jughead, and I think you should tell him,” she says with a shrug.

“But, you and him…” Betty starts, confusion clouding her face. It worsens when Toni laughs out loud, shaking her head.

“You’re so naive, that’s so cute,” Toni laughs. “If I didn’t already have a girlfriend, I’d definitely try to win you over.”

And with that, she’s walking out of the kitchen, leaving a confused and slightly annoyed Betty in her wake. Betty stays in the kitchen for another few minutes before making her way back out by everyone else. Toni seems to have left, instead being replaced by Veronica who is already cuddled up to Archie. Jughead is on the couch alone, a game controller in his hands.

“Did Toni leave?” Betty asks. They all turn their heads to look at her, startled by her sudden appearance.

“Yeah. She came back from the kitchen saying ‘I miss Cheryl’ and walked out, who I am assuming is her girlfriend,” Jughead says, pausing his game and turning back to her. “What were you guys doing in there that you were gone for so long?”

“Oh. We were just...talking. Getting to know each other,” Betty says, walking over to the couch to sit next to him. Jughead looks at her strangely, but she ignores it, turning to Veronica and Archie instead. “V, how is your cleanse coming along?”

“Really great. I’ve never felt more amazing, so I think I’ll keep it up,” Veronica says, leaning her head on Archie’s chest. Archie groans and throws his head back against the chair, Veronica shushing him in response. Jughead snickers from beside her, resuming his game. Betty turns away from the two lovebirds to look at him, watching as he focuses on the game. She thinks about what Toni said to her, considers taking him to someplace quiet to tell him the truth, like Veronica would want. If only she had the confidence to do that.

“Can I play?” she asks him. He whips his head to look at her, his player getting killed in the game as he does.

“Dammit! Um, yeah, sure. Let me get the other controller, I can teach you as we go,” Jughead says, getting up from the couch and grabbing the second controller from the tv stand. He sits back down by Betty, handing her the remote as he does. “So it’s pretty difficult at first, but I’ll walk you through it.”

“We just have to kill everything in sight, basically?” Betty asks, turning the remote over in her hands.

“Yeah, we’ll work as a team to do that. It’s really not that hard, press this button to hit or shoot, this to move, and that’s really all you need,” Jughead explains. Betty nods, running her fingers over the buttons as he starts the game. Right away, she’s off, killing everything she needs to before Jughead even has a chance to. She even catches the attention of Archie and Veronica, both staring at the game until they finish the level, looking at her dumbstruck. She looks from them to Jughead’s own surprised face, his mouth ajar.

“Would you believe me if I tell you that was beginner’s luck?” Betty asks with a small smile. In truth, she’s played a lot of video games with her dad, but they don’t need to know that. Jughead shakes his head and turns the game off, throwing his remote to the side.

“Remind me to never play against you in anything,” he comments. Betty giggles as Archie and Veronica stand up, Veronica dragging him away from the living room and towards his bedroom.

“We’re gonna have a chat. Don’t get too crazy out here,” she says, throwing a wink over her shoulder. Betty feels her face heat up as the door slams behind them, leaving a weird silence behind. Betty and Jughead sit there for a moment, until Betty remembers something.

“Didn’t you have a surprise for me?” she asks. His head shoots up to look at her, his face brighter.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot,” he says, angling his torso so he can face her. “So my boss at the magazine came up to me the other day and said she wanted to do a feature on me, as an upcoming photographer to look out for.”

“Jug, that’s so cool!” Betty exclaims, her hand falling onto Jughead’s knee. He smiles bashfully, adjusting the hat on his head.

“Yeah, I wasn’t really expecting it. And she also wants you to be featured in some way, because she says you have ‘progressed in front of her own eyes’ and might be a little bit obsessed with you. She wants a full feature, but if you don’t want that I completely understand,” he tells her. She stares at him, mouth slightly agape, completely shocked.

“Jug, that’s...why would she want to feature me?” she asks.

“Because of your progress. She says you have real potential to be big in the fashion world,” Jughead states with a shrug. Betty ponders his words, considering the offer she’s given.

“I don’t want to do it. You’re the one that should be featured, not me. You’ve worked so hard all your life and you deserve an entire magazine written about you,” Betty tells him, a genuine smile on her lips. Jughead looks up at her through his fallen piece of hair, an appreciative smile spreading across his entire face.

“Thanks, Betts. It means a lot,” he tells her, placing his hand atop hers. There is a moment where neither of them move, but they both realize how close they suddenly are. The air feels thick, and Betty can feel the words in her throat, but they get interrupted by Archie’s bedroom door opening, Veronica emerging. She has a few hairs of place, but everything else seems to be intact as she gives them a weird look.

“Did I interrupt something?” she asks, arching her eyebrow. Jughead doesn’t make a move to take his hand off of hers, so Betty doesn’t try to either, slightly shifting her body to look at Veronica.

“No, we were just talking about Juggie’s internship,” she says. Veronica stares at her for a beat longer, then nods and walks into the kitchen. Betty turns back at Jughead, who she notices has taken his hat off, and opens her mouth to speak when Veronica pops her head back in the doorway, calling out Betty’s name. When she turns around, Veronica is grinning wildly at her.

“Just so you know, I’m sleeping here tonight. So maybe Jughead can be the great gentleman he is and walk you home in place of me,” she says, winking at Jughead.

“What happened to your cleanse?” Betty asks, slipping her hand out from underneath his.

“Consider it a cheat day,” Veronica says, and then she disappears again. Betty looks back at Jughead, who has a look of disgust on his face.

“Do those two ever stop?” he asks, glancing towards the closed bedroom door.

“They’d go all day if they could,” she adds, shuddering at the thought. Silence falls over them, and when they hear the distinct sound of a giggle, Jughead jumps up.

“I’ll walk you home now,” he says quickly. She stands up to follow him, practically running out of the door to avoid the moans sounding from the bedroom.

The door closes with a slam, Jughead still looking disgusted. Betty can’t help but laugh at the entire situation, even as Jughead glares at her, shaking his head. “I need to find a new roommate.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, let them live,” she tells him. He doesn’t seem to be amused, but shrugs anyways, walking towards the stairs. They walk down and out of the building, Betty giving him a weird look when he holds the front door open for her.

“I’m being a gentleman,” he grins. Betty rolls her eyes and walks through the doorway and down the stairs, Jughead catching up to her once she reaches the bottom. They walk side by side down the sidewalk in a comfortable silence, their hands brushing against each other at one point. Betty looks up at him, but he’s still looking forward as if he didn’t notice. She glances down at their hands, then back up at his calm face, watching as he moves his hair out of his eyes.

“Where’s your hat?” she asks. He looks at her, patting the top of his head as if oblivious to the fact that it was missing.

“It’s too warm out for it,” he shrugs, looking forward again. Betty knows that’s not the actual reason, because she has seen him with that hat on some of the hottest days of the summer. She doesn’t press the subject, though, because they finally reach her apartment building.

“Do you want to come up for a drink? In celebration? We could watch a movie or something, since I’m sure you don’t want to go back to your apartment,” she asks, turning to him. He looks troubled for a moment, as if he doesn’t know if he should or not. Betty is reminded of Veronica’s party, then, and the unfortunate ending to night, regretting even asking. “Nevermind, it’s a silly suggestion.”

“No, no! I’d love to celebrate with you, I really would,” he finally says. Betty smiles with relief, taking her keys out of her purse and leading him up to her apartment. He’s quiet as she leads him inside and into the kitchen. Veronica keeps the cabinets fairly stocked, so she pulls out a few different bottles and sets them on the counter.

“Pick your poison,” she tells him. He looks over the three bottles, making a humming noise as he reads the labels of each one. He picks up the white moscato last, holding it out to her.

“The only wine you’ll ever find me drinking,” he says, a crooked smile on his lips.

“Great choice,” she says, getting the wine glasses out of the cupboard. “Take it out to the patio, we can watch the sunset.”

“Betty Cooper, are you trying to romance me?” he smirks, taking the glasses from her and holding them in one hand.

“Yes of course. Now go, I’ll be right out,” she tells him. He obeys without a word, Betty letting out a large exhale of breath as soon as he’s out of sight. She can’t get Toni’s words out of her head, and it’s making her see things in a different light. If Jughead truly does have feelings for her, will something happen tonight? She thinks she’s being as obvious as she can be without saying the words out loud. Liquid courage might be what they both need.

Grabbing a blanket from the back of the sofa, she makes her way out into the patio to find Jughead making himself at home. He’s pushed two of the lounge chairs together, the wine and glasses on a table next to one. He looks up at her as she opens the door, a pillow in his hands.

“Is this okay?” he asks hesitantly, setting the pillow down on the chair.

“It’s perfect,” Betty answers, and that warm feeling creeps up her spine when he smiles at her.

They settle down on the chairs, Jughead handing her a glass of wine and leaning back on his own chair. Betty watches as he takes a cautious sip, making eye contact with her while he does.

“Do you think we can finish off this bottle?” he asks when he swallows his sip.

“Easily,” she answers, taking a sip. “And that’s as far as we’ll go, because wine drunk is not a good look on me.”

“A lot of experience?” he asks.

“Not a lot. Veronica once declared we celebrate Wine Wednesday last year, and we each had about a bottle each. Let’s just say it got a little fuzzy and I had the worst hangover the next day,” she laughs, sipping from her glass.

“Wow, I can’t believe you are such a party girl,” he jokes. Betty rolls her eyes in response, swirling the wine in her glass.

“Veronica may be a bad influence sometimes, but I am in no way a party girl,” she settles.

“You guys were random roommates, right?” he asks, earning a nod as an answer. “Do you ever think about what things would be like if you hadn’t been paired with her?”

“My life wouldn’t be as exciting, that’s for sure,” she smiles softly. She had thought about it quite a few times, and had come to the conclusion that she never wanted to go back in time and change things.

“You guys are really great friends. You both care so much about each other,” Jughead comments. Betty nods, because it’s true. Veronica has kept her grounded so many times in the short time that they’ve known each other, even when she doesn’t know it.

“She keeps me sane, most of the time,” she says. She realizes that this conversation has gotten a lot more serious than planned, and for once she doesn’t feel like she has to stop it. Jughead looks at her like he’s studying her, but she doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Even when he takes one of her hands in his, running his thumb over her palm gently. She knows that he’s noticed it before, but he was smart to not comment on it before. Betty doesn’t like talking about that, especially with someone she hasn’t known for that long. But Jughead deserves to know. “I was doing okay, for a while. But a few days ago it happened again, not as bad though.”

“Why? Why does it happen?” he asks quietly, looking up at her with earnest eyes.

“I get anxious. Like a lot. And I don’t want to be, so I try to calm myself down, and this seems to be the only thing that works sometimes. And it doesn’t happen all the time, just in times when I’m really nervous about something. Or upset,” she tells him, letting out a breath of air she didn’t know she was holding.

“What made you upset this time?” he asks, running his thumb over the small crescents on her palm. She hesitates, because she can’t exactly say the sight of him and Toni made her upset. Instead, she smiles softly at him, bringing her glass up to her lips.

“That’s not important. I’m happy now,” she says, and she’s not lying. He smiles as she sips her wine, giving her hand a squeeze before letting go and leaning back again.

“I’m glad. I don’t like when you’re sad,” he says, finishing his glass of wine and grabbing the bottle. “Some more?”

Betty finishes the last sip and nods, holding her glass out to him. He refills hers first before his own, and they both settle back in their chairs. The sun is starting to set, so Betty grabs the blanket to drape over her legs. She looks back to see Jughead staring at her, and tilts her head in confusion.

“Sorry, I just- can I borrow your phone? Mine sucks and the lighting is just right,” he says. She grabs her phone from the table beside her, handing it to him.

“I don’t think I look good enough for a photoshoot right now,” she says, taking a quick sip of her wine.

“Not a photoshoot, just a prime photo opportunity. And you look perfect,” he tells her, opening up the camera and holding it up. Betty tries to hide her blush by glancing away and taking another sip of her wine. “Just hold your glass and look that way.”

He points in the direction he wants her to face, and is glad only half of her face will be seen. She’s starting to feel the wine hitting her, her head a bit lighter and she’s sure her face is getting red. Her lips quirk up in a smile just when he snaps the picture, and then a few more right after. She turns to him with a smile, and he angles the phone towards her so she can see the pictures. The lighting is perfect, glowing around her figure like she is an angel or something.

“Are you going to post this?” she asks him. He takes the phone back and sends the photos to himself, shrugging.

“Maybe. Is that okay?” he asks as he hands the phone to her. She nods and finishes her glass of wine, causing him to smirk at her. “Another one?”

“Only if you have one too. I’m not going to be the one responsible for finishing the bottle,” she says. He laughs and pours them both another glass. She talks to him about a book she finally finished as he edits the pictures on his phone. He eventually finishes, putting his phone to the side and wordlessly refilling her glass. She feels warm inside, and happier than she has felt in a while, and it’s not just the wine talking.

They finish the bottle as the sun goes down and the air gets colder. Betty covers more of herself with the blanket, unintentionally shifting closer to Jughead at the same time. He takes notice of it, looking down at her struggling with the blanket.

“If you’re cold we can go inside,” he says.

“No, I want to stay out here. I’ll be fine,” she answers, finally getting the blanket to completely cover her legs.

“Here, come here,” he says, and she looks up to see his arm open for her. She smiles softly and leans into his side, his arm draping around her shoulders. She adjusts the blanket so it is covering both of them, and then settles back happily. “Better?”

“You’re like the sun,” she mutters, taking another sip of her wine. She can feel the laugh reverberate through his body. “How are you so warm?”

“I’m not sure, I’ve only been described as ‘cold’,” Jughead answers, tightening his arm around her and rubbing her shoulder.

“You’re not cold. You’re the sweetest,” Betty says, jokingly pinching his chin. He laughs again, snatching her hand and moving it away from his face.

“Only for you,” he says, his voice quieter. Betty can almost feel the heaviness to his words, but doesn’t say anything about it. She instead rests her head on his chest, letting him gently pet her hair and talk about nonsense. She feels so at ease, so at home, like she could really get used to this happening all the time.

She loves Jughead Jones, and she’s not afraid to admit it anymore.

[cafephan]

dan vs phil - dumb ways to die: a summary

i squealed when i saw they did this game like it was my life at one point "DanandPhilGames beans" // "i thought you were going to say dummies" // "i wouldn't be mean to them!" // "DUMBARSES" "you're our tiny beans that need to be protected" phil your biffle is trying to impress you with a full-out performance here just humour him pls dan gives up just as phil looks at him wow savage "that song has been stuck in my head for like a billion years" relatable as ever howell "we've never done it" who needs context "it's quick and impossible to bant over" i'm sure you'll give it a good go anyway "this should be a trainwreck from start to finish" this is their new branding, it fits well don't you think "i didn't know it was dangerous to put a fork in the toaster, like, i didn't know, so my mum just walked in on me going 'i'm just going to get my toast out' she was like what are you doing" see this is why i use a knife to get my toast out of the toaster i shouldn't be allowed near appliances should i "who's your daddy is an educational game" // "it is!" listen lads we all know you ain't talking about the game you played a while back we all know your interpretation "we've got to protect these beans from death" everyone reading every hunger games/apocalyptic au ever "that's getting worse every time" dan cuts phil off how rude before the action starts i want to give honourable mention to phil's fashion sense that high neck shirt is doing a lot for him and a black shirt at that is just helping everything no wonder dan is going out of his way not to look anyway on with the non-bants "who's going to go first?" // "you." // "me? but then you can learn the secrets" // "i know" why is this entire exchange literally the most domestic thing i've ever seen they're gross dan makes eye contact with the camera whilst doing that ever so suggestive hand movement like stop looking at me i don't want to be exposed to that dan just scissored phil on camera can you believe 2017 phan "i swear you're psychic" // "yep" *raises eyebrows* someone make phil singing alien into an audio post please and thank you i want it as my alarm tone "have we cracked this ipad?" // "what the-" *both dramatic gasp* // *we've cracked our ipad..." apple are 110% gonna send them a new one by next week i guarantee "that's my ipad... did you just say our ipad?" // "i said this ipad" // *that weird voice he does sometimes* "that is my personal ipad" // "you definitely dropped it" // "probably" it was definitely phil aka mister biter of controllers and spiller of ribena onto other controllers also dan going out of his way to say they have separate possessions like... you'd give the clothes off of your back if phil ran out of toilet paper don't make out you don't share legit everything "just don't touch my body." *dan looks momentarily gloomy* "you can talk but i don't want you to wobble it" phil lester, ever the professional king of words king of adjectives wobble in an attempt to make his dejection funny dan starts to sing which just amplifies it "fed the snek" two games in and dan is already subtly accusing him of cheating the amount of times phil's let you win on this channel,,, shut up man okay phil is atrocious though "okay i'm focusing. no banting." dan sarcastically claps phil's failure honestly same like pal you were awful i love you but you sucked at least on that round "best of three!" phil begs as dan takes the ipad without acknowledging what he said "let's see what happens with dan" me in every fic ever "okay this could be the shortest dan vs phil video ever" "yours are so much easier than mine!" they really aren't philly bobs... they really aren't "straight into the ambulance, check out that accuracy" *licks his lips* okay who's keeping the list of dans kinks because we've found another one "i'm a fast tapper" "get off the wiener!" again who needs context "shaking his private parts around" the stitchy stitch song is strangely catchy "like... you've already won" // "i'm a surgeon... i'm just amazing" someone try and find a dan vs phil video on this channel where dan doesn't call himself amazing does one even exist "we'll discuss this after, see how incredible i am" i think we got an insight into 2**9 just now i'm not sorry i thought he said mexican instead of hexagon i must have his tweet on the brain "frick you, you mother fricker" "connect the fucking wires you dildo" he just went from family friendly to full on dan in the space of ten seconds such a wholesome influence in so many people's lives phil looks silently pissed *phil puts his hand in front of dan's eyes* "nope. screw you." // *phil giggles and does it again* "i didn't touch you!" "you're getting extra practice from watching me do this, i think i'm setting the highest score of all time right now" phil's face lit up when dan failed the man has no shame and i love it "that looked painful..." // "right in the nads" "fuck that train one" honestly i bet he would of given the chance "right, i'm just going to say..." *dan sighs and says his score in what i can only presume is a breathy post-org*sm voice jumpcut what was phil just going to say though #letphilspeak2k17 "so i have an idea, phil. and it's not just letting you have another go, because you had your go" // "i had my go" he still looks pissed // "we're gonna do all or nothing" // "I DIDN'T SUGGEST IT, DAN SUGGESTED IT" *dan looks over fondly* // "we're going to take it in turns every level" // "sudden death?" // "and the first person to die once, never mind the three strikes, loses." shiiiit guys it's all going down here on a thursday evening are you holding on to the edge of your seat "and no holding the ipad. i'm going first." phil just lets dan have his way all the time doesn't he what a prince "what do you mean no holding the ipad?" phil honey it's self explanatory // "as in you have to give it to the other person when the level's over" dan looks off camera and tries not to laugh but fails "are you scared??" bring the fighting talk philly bring it the preparation editing and bird sounds just makes me focus on dan's crusty ass lips like for the love of all that's holy you can get a chopstick for like under a pound "this is a very edutational game" // "edutational?" PHIL THE SAVAGE RETURNS YES WELCOME BACK MY LOVE dan carries on what he's saying without bringing attention to phil's drag "hold up the ipad though, i need to be able to get it. that's a thing." "i don't know what the story of the moose and the man was there..." phil why do you suck so much at this game i had faith in you dan the ever subtle gloater "oh my contact lens has fallen out i got so excited" dans hysterical laugh returns yes my other love as deafening as you are it's a treat for the ears "let me see!" protective bf mode activated "hold your top eyelid and look down... i think it's just come down... yes it's peeling off and it's like going backwards into your brain" okay i take back what i said before, THIS is the most domestic thing i've ever seen "you need to go to the bathroom and you need to take it off right now" protective bf dan gets stricter *phil leaves the room, thank you for that beautiful leg shot* dan's little rant about contact lenses we get it you like phil's glasses so do we but he never listens to us please convince him to wear them more "imagine waking up and not being able to see until you put glasses on... i can't relate to that, my able-sighted privilege... it's checked, and because i don't have to worry about my contact lenses drifting backwards into my brain, um, i feel quite lucky." what the fuck just happened "build a bean... aw it kind of looks like me already! that's fun! i mean, i'm kind of orange, let's go there... i'm really tall, that's a skinny one... what hair do we have?? ah we don't have any coins... i mean i have eyebrows so i don't know about you... the smile, there we go... some sick shades, i mean that's not me is it... what is the skull there?? oooh, ah that's how he dies. well there we go, that is the- the dan bean." i feel like we just went on a journey there, that was more intimate than when they created dil and customised tweety "hi. i had to take out my contact lenses, something went horrifically wrong..." HELLO GLASSES PHIL MY LONG TIME LOVE also watch dans gaze as he watches phil sit down i am convinced love is real and it resides in that flat "what just happened?" // "basically my contact lens turned itself inside out within my eye. i don't know how that happened, i think it was the stress of this game. and tilting beans. and not dying." // "dumb ways to die?? playing this app and then getting your contact lens flipped inside your eyelid and going into your brain and murdering you." *phil points to himself flamboyantly* "that is a dumb way to die!" *dan gestures to phil in a way not entirely dissimilar to will smith does on that red carpet picture you know the one* phil please pay him some attention he can't make it anymore obvious "he's wearing glasses!" yes dan, yes he is, everyone is happy, everyone has a reason to live "why will you not get laser eye surgery" i'm sure dan would pay for it himself like phil wouldn't have to spend a penny *the award sticker ceremony* "here is my flaming bean" i said the same thing when the picture of dan with the black nail polish came out "majestic!" dan howell user of fine adjectives i approve "phil, i'm just saying, mine goes from top to bottom, and it's staring to fill horizontally..." // *phil starts speaking at the same time making this incredibly hard to quote ffs* "you're just stretching it out! you're just stretching it out." i said this last time but PLEASE TAKE IT IN TURNS AND LET EACH OTHER SPEAK they actually forgot to put the dvp switch sticker on the board... okay potential rematch?? "give us a tickle on the like button" // *phil overlaps him again i stg he's doing it to stress me out* "give us a little like, subscribe if you're still alive..." "don't do any of the things that happened in this video including wearing contact lenses apparently." beanisonfire AFlattenedPhil (the closest he'll ever be to being flat stanley)

[iwantthedean]

A Hit and a Miss

Summary: A special moment goes a slightly awry.  Pairing: Misha x Ashley (Mishley) Word Count: 1000 Warnings: None. Challenge: @waywardjoy‘s Love the Ships Challenge! I’m sure some people will think I’m nuts, but Misha and Ashley are my OTP. I mean, how can they not be ... I invented the pairing! ;) Edit: You’d probably like to know my prompt as well, haha. “If you were going to make an ass of yourself ...” “When don’t I make an ass of myself over you?”

Ashley clapped her hands excitedly as she and Misha took their seats in the Citi Field baseball stadium. She had been to games before, but never a playoff game, and never this close to the field.

She carefully balanced a beer in one hand and a hot dog in the other as the first pitch was thrown. Maybe at first glance she was a girly-girl who did makeup for a living, but that was no reason not to enjoy America’s pastime as far as Ashley was concerned.

“Mish, these seats are great,” she gushed. “I can’t believe I’m actually watching the Mets in a playoff game!”

“They make it to the Series, we’ll be there, too,” Misha promised.

Ashley smiled around a mouthful of hot dog. Misha smiled back; maybe baseball wasn’t as much something he enjoyed like Ashley did, but for her, he’d endure just about anything.

“So, you’re going to commentate for me, right?” he teased her.

Ashley rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it your habit to read like five books about something before you attend an event?”

Misha laughed. “You’re right, that does sound like me. C’mon, at least fill me in a little bit.

With a deep sigh, Ashley finished off her hot dog, set her beer in the cup-holder, and gave an animated lecture on the basics of baseball. He was a quick study on the sport, Ashley found, and by the top of the second inning, they were enjoying the game together.

Around the sixth inning, Misha started acting funny. He was downing beers faster than Ashley could even order them from the beer guys roaming the stands, so she threw in some more hot dogs and even some Cracker Jack popcorn. Anything to soak up all the alcohol he was drinking.

At the end of the seventh inning, there was a brief break in the game, and the kiss cam started going around. The huge video board by the score board lit up with a big heart with Prince’s “Kiss” played over the loudspeaker. Ashley giggled at the cute couples and their expressions as they realized they were the ones on camera before making the kiss quick so they didn’t miss their chance.

After several couples, Prince faded out from the loudspeakers, and the only sound was that of the crowd chattering and cheering. The familiar chords of a Paramore song began to play, and Ashley got just as excited as ever. She grabbed for her phone and flipped the camera to selfie mode.

“The Only Exception!” Ashley exclaimed. “We have to take a picture during this! It’s our song!”

Misha fumbled over his words, still working on not being quite so intoxicated. Before he could come up with a good excuse not to take the picture, the announcer was back on the loudspeaker.

“We have two very special guests at Citi Field tonight, ladies and gentlemen, and one of them has asked us to help in a very special moment. Misha Collins and Ashley Fredette, please report to the pitcher’s mound.”

Ashley’s jaw went slack, surprise drowning her features. Misha reached out a hand to help her stand up. He dropped over the wall first before helping Ashley over onto the field.

They made way for the pitcher’s mound amongst cheers and applause.

“What is going on?” Ashley asked.

Misha gave her a lopsided grin. “You’ll find out.”

When they finally made it to their destination, Misha took a microphone from one of the stadium’s interns, and Ashley nervously fidgeted with her clothes and her hair.

“Thanks for not rushing the field since I’m interrupting the game everyone,” Misha chuckled. “As many of you know, Ashley and I have been together for a couple of years now, and I wanted to do something really special for her. This is a moment I’ve been thinking about since our first date, and Ashley deserves the world.

With the microphone in one hand, and Ashley’s in the other, Misha knelt down in the dirt and looked up at his girlfriend.

“You’ve completely changed my life, Ash. There’s never anything that happens, good or bad, that you’re not the first person I want to share it with. You’re my best friend and the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. I love you, and that love just grows every day. Living life without you – I don’t know and I don’t want to know what that life would be like. Will you marry me?”

Ashley replied with a tearful and immediate, “Yes!”

Misha stood and kissed her, then, with the hand not holding the microphone he fished in all of his pockets for the ring. His eyes went wide as he looked at the crowd first, and then at Ashley.

“I, uh, seem to have forgotten the ring,” he said, clearing his throat. “I feel like a royal idiot right now. But hey, she said yes!”

The crowd cheered for them again, and Misha handed the microphone back to the intern. Ashley attacked him with a fierce hug and a kiss, then they went back to their seats.

 Later on at home, Ashley chuckled at the picture of her holding up a ringless left hand, both her and Misha making excited faces. She posted it to Instagram and added, At least it’ll be a good story to tell! Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. #CollinsPartyofTwo

She looked up from posting and the picture, and there was her fiancé, down on one knee in front of her, a diamond ring in his hand.

“Sure you want to marry me, even though I forgot the ring?”

Ashley held out her hand, and Misha slipped the ring onto her finger. “Absolutely I do. I mean, as far as how, if you were going to make an ass of yourself …”

Misha couldn’t help but laugh. “When don’t I make an ass of myself over you?”

Ashley laughed too, then happily lost herself in Misha’s sweet, lingering kiss.

[firstade-universe]

Remind Me to Thank Octavia

The campus is positively buzzing at this time of year. The new freshmen are all wide eyed and excited, while the rest of the student body is already settled into their routine. Clarke and Raven have an off campus apartment courtesy of Raven's parents, who constantly throw money at her rather than actually be involved in her life. She is over it though, because she has the Griffin's instead. It is the third Friday of the new school year and Octavia is one of said wide eyed freshman. They have all known each other for years, having grown up in the same town.

“You guys! Come on! Pleeease???” She is currently trying to get the two upperclassmen to accompany her to a party. “It's over on Rosewood. I heard they have the most epic parties.”

“That house is better known as Ragewood. And the parties are epic.” Raven nodded. “I went to one last year and I was sure that I saw a unicorn the next day.”

Clarke hummed. “Technically you did. They stole the prize mustang from Polis U and dressed it like a unicorn in a Katy Perry video, then charged $5 per photo with it.”

“See, epic! Come on guys!” Octavia whined from her spot on the chaise lounge.

“I have a writing intensive, and my first paper is due Monday. Sorry O. Next time.”

The younger brunette turned to Raven. “I plain just don't want to. I'm working on building this badass computer right now.”

“You both suck.”

“We know. You have other friends that go here too, you know.” Clarke shrugged and took a sip of water.

Octavia breathed out a heavy sigh. “Atom and Ontari are going too.”

“Great! So crisis averted.” Raven clapped her hands and stood from the couch. “I'm going back to my room.” She left the room quickly and the two remaining girls sat quietly for a few minutes.

“So.” Octavia turned to face Clarke. “How true is the rumor that Lexa Woods, resident of Ragewood, picks a new girl to fuck like a god every party? Sometimes two girls?”

“I'm not sure about the sexual escapades of a stranger, but that's the rumor.” Clarke raised her brow. “Thinking about experimenting with women?”

Octavia shrugged. “I can't deny that there has been times when I have wanted to fuck a girl.”

“Well, from what Wells told me, she picks the drunkest girl or girls at the party, so she sounds shade as fuck to me. Maybe pick someone else to experiment with, O.”

“Fair.”

Five Hours Later

Octo-Menace calling…

“O? Why are you calling me at two in the morning?”

“Clarkey, I'm very drunk and Lexa says we have to go to bed now, but I don't want to.”

Clarke stood up like a bolt, throwing her brush onto the water cup and searching for shoes. “O. Are you still at the house? The Ragewood house?”

“Yeah Clarkey. I'm very soft and this bed is very drunk.”

The house that the party was at was only about 6 minutes from her apartment. She ran out of the apartment and down the stairs, foregoing the elevator. “O, I need you to keep talking to me, okay?”

“Mmkay Clarkey. Did you know my brother loves you?”

“I know. We've had this conversation, we both think it's gross.”

“He's so stupid.”

“He really is.” She made it to the parking garage and ran to her car. “How is it that he gets straight A’s if he's so stupid?”

“I don't know.” Clarke slid into the driver seat and started the car, slamming it into gear and accelerating as fast as she could. She was pissed. Who the hell does this Lexa think she is. This is not okay. Octavia is clearly too drunk for anything.

“O, tell this Lexa girl if she lays a finger on you, I’m going to fuck her up.”

“Leeexxxaaa. Clarke says if you finger me she’s going to fuck you.”

“Okay drunkie, pretty sure that not what she said. Time for bed.”  This voice was unfamiliar, soft yet firm. Then the line went dead.

Oh, if Clarke thought she was pissed before, now she was livid. She broke every speed limit and blew every stop sign posted in the neighborhood to get there faster. She slammed the car in park just outside the house and ran in. The door of the house was open and the party was still going strong. She found the closest person who looked somewhat sober and asked which room belonged to Lexa. She ran up the stairs, into the hallway to the last door on the end. Locked. She pounded on the door until she heard the lock click. She was then face to face with the most beautiful woman she had every seen, with eyes like emeralds.

“Are you Lexa?” She demanded. The woman nodded. “My friend is in here, about to be your next conquest and I am 100% sure that she is in no shape to offer legal consent to sex with you. So I'll just grab her and take her back to her dorm.” The bite in her tone was unmistakable.

“That's really not the best idea.”

Clarke moved to try to look around Lexa, who was blocking the doorway. “Why? Did you already touch her? That's ra-” The phrase didn't even finish leaving her mouth before she was roughly pulled inside the room by the arm and the door was slammed behind her.

“Don’t you dare accuse me of that. She's passed out in my bed with a bucket next to her if she decides to blow chunks. That's all.”

“Why?”

Lexa shrugged. “I do it at all the parties. Helps me duck out early.”

Clarke scoffed. “Wait. So you're telling me that you have the biggest reputation on campus for casual hookups, and you don't actually hook up?”

“What's your name?”

“Clarke Griffin. Don't change the subject.” The blonde folded her arm across her chest. “So, what, you pick a drunk girl, let them sleep in your bed and tell everyone you fucked their brains out?”

Lexa looked sad at that explanation. “Come over here and sit.” She pointed to a couch on the other side of the room. Clarke hesitantly followed, eyeing Octavia in the bed as she passed, not sure where this was going. Once they were both seated, Lexa turned toward her and sat cross-legged on her side of the couch. “I am a criminal justice major with a minor in sociology. I'm in the Master's program. I have been watching people my whole life. Reading body language and such. The first time we threw a party here, one of the girls was assaulted on her way home. I saw the guy watching her at the party and I thought he was a creep but I didn't do or say anything. I vowed to never let that happen again. So when we throw parties, I stay sober. I observe and when I see a guy who is looking to target a drunk girl, I swoop in and take her out of the equation. I tell her everything the next day, so she can learn to be more aware of her surroundings. After the first time, people assumed I was screwing them. Even if I were to deny it, it's college and no one would believe me.”

Clarke looked at her for a moment. “Huh.”

Lexa furrowed her brow. “That's… that's all you've got to say?”

“Just…. Just give me a minute.” The blonde held up her finger and pulled out her cellphone. She clicked through it then held the phone up to her ear.

“Niylah. Hey, it's Clarke. Yeah I know it's late, but I need to check a fact on something. Yes, seriously. Okay, okay. Did you or did you not have sex with Lexa Woods. Really? Why's that? I see. Uh-huh. Okay. Yep. Nope, that's all I needed. Thanks.”

“You're a journalism major, aren't you?” Lexa joked.

Clarke shook her head. “Pre-Law actually.”

“Well, do I have a witness that corroborates my story, councilor?” Lexa smiled.

The blonde smiled softly. “Seems so." She paused for a second, looking around. "So what do you do when you bring someone up here?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I hadn't busted in here, interrupting your routine, what would you be doing right now?”

“Oh. Right.” Lexa turned and leaned over the arm of the couch, then leaned back with two glass bottles of coke. She handed one to Clarke, then picked up one of the Xbox controllers on the small coffee table. “I play games. Recently, it's been Fallout 4.”

“So, you save a damsel from an unknown distress, then come up here and veg out?” Clarke raised an eyebrow.

Lexa just shrugged. “You got a better idea?”

“Not really. So you said it wasn't the best idea to take Octavia home right now? Why?”

“She's underage. One of the guys on the ethics committee texted me earlier and told me they had sobriety checkpoints outside the dorms.”

“Oh. I can take her back to my place.”

“You guys are that kind of friends, huh?” Lexa waggled her eyebrows. “That's why you went all mama bear?”

“Gross!” She playfully slapped Lexa’s shoulder. “No we're not.”

“Not into ladies, huh?”

Clarke raised her eyebrow at the question. “Oh, no. I most definitely am. Just not Octavia. She basically my little sister.”

The brunette didn't reply, just hummed along in understanding. She reached over and grabbed the second controller, turned it on, then handed it to Clarke.

“Oh, I don't really play games.”

“In regards to the video or the life variety?”

“Both.”

“Good to know.” Lexa didn't look away from the screen, just smirked. Damn that’s a sexy smirk. Clarke thought to herself. “Lego’s or Star Wars?”

“Um… Star Wars Lego's? Is that an option?”

“Oh, beautiful and nerdy. I don't even feel bad dropping the $40 to make that happen.”

One hour later

“Lexa! Those are my bricks, you cheater!”

“You snooze you lose, Clarke.” The blonde then reached over and smashed the buttons on Lexa’s controller. “Hey. You made me fall off the ledge!”

“Serves you right! Steal my bricks and you deserve to be punished.”

“Yes, Wanheda.” Lexa whispered.

Clarke looked at her and paused the game. “What did you just call me?”

“Wanheda. It's from a made up language in this book I read. I means ‘Commander of Death.’ You did just fling my character off a ledge, Clarke.”

“Fair enough.”

Octavia began to stir and drew both girls attention. She had been lightly snoring for the past hour and a half. When Lexa had placed her in the bed, she placed her on her side, so if she did begin to throw up, she wouldn't choke on it. Her phone was ringing for the past few minutes, but neither girl heard it. Clarke's phone rang next.

“Hey Bell.”

“Please tell me you are at that party with my sister.”

“Yeah, I'm here. Why?”

“Really? It seems awfully quiet for a party.”

“O is passed out, and I'm in one of the rooms with her.”

“Is she okay? Do you need help? I can be there in ten and help you get her home.”

“No! Um. No, we're fine. I have help. I'm just going to let her sleep it off.”

“Have you been drinking? I don't like the idea of you guys basically in a frat house alone.”

“I haven't been drinking. We're perfectly safe, I promise.”

“Okay. Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do. Bye Bell.”

Lexa had got up during some part of the phone call and placed a bottle of water and two aspirin on the table beside Octavia. When she sat back down, she sat closer to Clarke that she had been before. Clarke noticed, and she didn't mind.

“That was her overprotective big brother.”

“The one that's in love with you?”

“Yeah him. How'd you know that?”

Lexa pointed to Octavia. “Drunk girls give you a lot of information. Also, they say the funniest shit. One time I was helping these two girls up here and one of them looks to the other, and I swear, in a perfect impression says, ‘It’s the Claaaww. Monica, we've been chose. Oooh.’ just like the aliens in Toy Story.” Lexa laughed and looked to Clarke who had a smile slowly creeping across her face. Then she finally released a side splitting laugh.

“No!” Clarke shook her head and wiped a year from her eye. “That didn't really happen.”

“It did. I swear!” The laughter died down some and the girls relaxed back into the couch. “So, what were you doing before Octavia called you?”

“Painting.”

“Like in a home improvement way or an artist way?” Lexa raised a questioning brow.

“I'm an artist. Well I like to think I'm an artist.”

“Huh.” Lexa looked deep into her eyes. “Artist, lawyer, nerd and secret video game savant. What can’t you do, Griffin?”

It was Clarke's turn to smirk. “Are you actually flirting with me?”

“Do you not want me too? I can stop.” Lexa stammered seriously.

“No, no. Carry on. I was just making sure. I have been awake for oh, I don't know, 22ish hours. I could have been mistaken about your flirting.”

“Well, you're not.” The brunette leaned in slightly. “Not at all.” Her face was about three inches from Clarke's as she reached around her to grab her own phone from the side table. She pulled back quickly, and looked at the flustered blonde. “Want another drink. I have some water here, you look thirsty.”

Clarke reached over and shoved Lexa’s shoulder. “Asshole. Try a move like that again and see what happens.”

So, being one to never back down from a challenge, Lexa did exactly as she had done before. This time though, Clarke's hand found purchase on the back of her neck and the blonde leaned forward to press their lips together. Lexa immediately moved to deepen the kiss, while shifting so that she was kneeling between the blonde's legs, while Clarke's back was against the arm of the couch. She moved one hand to the hip beneath her and brushed her thumb across soft skin, just above the waistband of the artists jeans, which earned her a tiny gasp. It was just enough of a gasp to grant Lexa’s tongue entrance. As their tongues met, the battle for dominance began, neither girl wanting to relinquish control. The brunette decided to play dirt and moved her other hand to the opposite hip. She backed up slightly, still on her knees. Then with her firm grasp on the now slightly exposed hips, she pulled Clarke toward her, making her slide until she was laying completely on her back. She thought it would be enough of a distraction, but Clarke was focused, relentless. So Lexa pulled back.

“Why do I feel like I will never win with you?” She questioned quietly, thumbs stroking over the soft skin above hips, lips hovering just above lips.

Darkened blue eyes bore into her. “You won’t unless I want you too, but you’ve already gotten further than the last dozen or so people that have tried to flirt with me.”

Lexa dipped to kiss her chin, then up her jaw, under her ear, down her neck. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mmmm. Yeah. But I’m sure you do this pretty often, so you aren’t used to losing.”

Lexa bit down slightly on the blonde’s pulse point then soothed it with her tongue. Clarke’s hands slipped into wavy brown locks, as she moaned just loud enough to be heard. “I haven’t done this in a while. Nearly two years.”

Clarke gaped at her, and her back to face her. “Really?” She received a nod. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Well, why me?”

Lexa shrugged. “You make me feel lighter. Happier. Even if I have only know you for about two hours. I can tell you’re special.” Blue eyes shone with the explanation.

It was obviously that moment that Octavia sat straight up in the bed and looked around. The women sprang apart, clearly embarrassed by being caught.

“Clarke? What are you doing here?”

Clarke cleared her throat, stood and made her way over to the bed. “You called me. Do you remember that?”

“Sort of. I remember drinking and dancing with Atom, then Lexa.” She leaned to look around Clarke and gave Lexa a shy wave. “Then ranting about Bell to you. Then nothing.”

“How are you this sober for someone so drunk just a while ago.” Lexa asked from her spot on the couch.

“Metabolism of a goddess.” Both Clarke and Octavia chimed at the same time.

“She’s cool off a nap and some water. It pisses me off, if I’m being completely honest. She basically never has a hangover.” Clarke elaborated.

“I see. Well, Clarke, would you like to do the honors, or shall I?” She gestured to Octavia, who looked confused.

“Oh, no. I wasn’t here. By all means.”

“Shit. What did I do. I know my body well enough to know I did not fu-”

“Hold up.” Lexa began, standing and making her way next to the bed. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t bring girls up her to have sex with them. I do however watch everyone at these parties and look out for the women that I think are too drunk to be coherent. Last night, that unfortunately, was you. Your friends left and you were very drunk. There was a guy watching your every move so I brought you up here.”

“So you’re like, a drunk girls knight in shining armor?”

“Eh. No. I just don’t want anyone to end up getting hurt. It happened once, never again. So please, if you are going to go out and get hammered, take real friends with you. People who won’t leave you behind. I don’t want you to go through what Costia did.” Lexa looked at the younger brunette sadly and Octavia nodded her head.

“Thank you. Clarke, can you take me home please?”

Clarke smiled softly and handed over her car keys. “Of course. Can you give me and Lexa a moment please?” The younger girl left the room quickly, clearly embarrassed. Lexa sat on the bed and sighed loudly as Clarke moved in front of her. She reached out and lifted the brunette’s chin until their eyes met. “You and Costia were together weren’t you?” Lexa didn’t answer, just stared at her with sad eyes. “That’s why you haven’t been with anyone all this time?”

“We were dating for a few months. She was nice, sweet, I met her the summer before the school year started and we happened to both be coming here. She came to the party and I asked her to stay the night here, but she said no because her cousin was with her. At some point, they lost track of each other and… Costia. She was really drunk. I saw the guy watching her when we split up to look, but I shrugged it off. I found her cousin, but she had wondered off. I got a call the next morning from the police. She moved back home and broke up with me a week later. I felt responsible for so long, I had to see a councilor. She helped me realize that it wasn’t my fault. I talked to Costia in the spring and she told me she didn’t ever blame me, and that definitely helped.”

Clarke was rubbing small circles with her thumbs on Lexa’s neck. “And you think I am special. You have no idea.” She whispered. Then she lean forward and pressed her lips to Lexa’s forehead.

Green eyes found blue when the blonde pulled back. “Can I, uh. Can I get your number? I’d very much like to get to know you better.”

“Here.” Clarke handed over her phone. “Text yourself so we have each other’s numbers.”

Clarke left and headed back home with Octavia. When she finally woke the next morning, she looked at her phone and found one text message.

[Unknown number 7:21am] Remind me to thank Octavia for getting drunk at our party.

[jaeminlore]

Good Luck Charm // Park Jinwoo

-

the prompt: do you think you could write something along the lines of a jinjin baseball player au scenario with a friends to lovers sort of plot when you get a chance?

words: 2193

category: fluff

author note:Thank you for requesting! I tried my best and had a lot of fun writing this! Hope you like it.

– destinee

-

“Jinjin, I have to finish my homework. Didn’t you say the boys were coming? They’ll cheer you on.” You spoke to your best friend through the phone.

You heard him sigh, “But Y/n, you’re my good luck charm.”

“You’re so manipulative,” you hissed back, ignoring the strange look your sibling was giving you from across the room.

Park Jinwoo had been your best friend since elementary school, and that long-term friendship was filled with pros and cons. One of these cons was that he knew exactly what broke your resistance.

He had played baseball since he was in kindergarten. He loved the sport with all his heart, and never quit it, even when things seemed difficult for him. Even when he was only an outfielder. Now he was a first baseman, and one of the best players on the team.

You had been with him through all of the ups and downs, and he had come to dub you his personal good luck charm.

Now every time Jinwoo had a game, you had to come just so he wouldn’t lose. Or so he said.

His laugh could be heard through the phone. “I’m not manipulative, I just want to win.”

“And the only way for you to win is if I come?” you asked, a smile growing on your face.

“Of course,” Jinwoo replied confidently. “If you think Eunwoo is going to encourage me, then you’re wrong.”

You laughed quietly before you stopped abruptly. “Don’t distract me, Jinwoo. You know I have to study and yet you make me come to all of your games.”

“I’ll help you study after my game.”

“You take the team to eat pizza after the game,” you argued.

“I’ll skip pizza tonight. You can meet me in the locker room and I’ll drive you home. Then we can pull an all-nighter to study up for tomorrow’s exam.”

“Fine,” you sighed. “As long as I can wear one of your hoodies to sleep.”

“Deal.”

-

You sat on the cold metal bleachers, cheering your heart out as Jinwoo hit the ball into the outfield.

“Jinjin!” You cheered for him as he ran the bases. It was the ninth inning, and all Jinwoo had to do was get this one home run and your team would win the game.

Soon Jinwoo slid into home, ending the game. You jumped up and ran down the bleachers.

You never regretted coming to a game once you were there. The place was as familiar to you as it was to Jinwoo, since he had always made sure you were there with him.

Since the game was over, you made your way to the dugout and held onto the chainlink fence with your fingers. “Jinjin, you did it!”

Your best friend looked up from his task of wiping his sweat with a towel. He sent you a grin walked up to the fence that separated the two of you. “I told you why, Y/n. You’re my good luck charm.”

Without meaning to, you blushed when he said those words. You shouldn’t have, because he always said them. In fact, he overused them most of the time.

Still, the fact that he thought of you sent a spark of hope into your mind that wouldn’t quite die out.

“We should test that theory,” you said, smirking. “At your next game, I won’t come and we’ll see if you win or not.”

“No!” Jinwoo wasn’t the only one who shouted. Apparently, the entire baseball team had been listening in on you and Jinwoo’s conversation.

The catcher of the Hawks, a boy called Rocky, trotted up to you two and clapped Jinwoo on the shoulder. “You can’t miss one game. The whole team banks on you as Jinwoo’s good luck charm. If you don’t come, we might lose. If we lose, our winning streak will be gone!”

Rocky was known for being overdramatic so you just rolled your eyes at his statement.

“These games take up all of my evenings!” You argued as the boys began to pack up their things.

Jinwoo only chuckled before running out of the gate to greet you properly.

“Thank you for wasting your evenings on me!” he joked, locking you in a tight embrace.

“Gross!” You complained as you struggled to get out of your best friend’s grip. “You’re sweaty!”

Jinwoo laughed and released you. “I’ll go shower, then. Wait for me.”

You promised him you would as you watched him run to meet up with his teammates.

-

Jinwoo made good on his promise, skipping pizza with the team to study with you at his house.

He ordered pizza for the two of you, half of which was devoured in less than ten minutes by the two of you alone.

After your dinner, the two of you got to work immediately, only stopping to get a glass of water or for a bathroom break.

There was no conversation for hours as you both focused on your own notes. The only time you ever talked was to compare notes or ask the other a question.

By two in the morning you could barely keep your eyelids from droopng or your head from dropping onto the coffee table.

“Alright,” Jinwoo mumbled, running a hand down his tired face. “Time for bed, Y/n.”

You mumbled something incoherent about equations, causing Jinwoo to laugh softly.

He knelt down beside you and tugged your ponytail, “Y/n.”

“What?” You asked, burying your face into your folded hands.

“Y/n. Y/n. Y/n. Y/n. Y/n–”

You cut him off by slapping his hand away. “Do you know how annoying you are?”

“And yet,” Jinwoo sighed dramatically as the two of you stood up, “you love me anyway.”

You snorted, too tired to argue with him but not tired enough not to show your disapproval.

Silently, so as not to wake his family, you followed Jinwoo to his bedroom.

His room was always a safe place for you, as was yours for him. The amount of times spent goofing off playing video games or arguing over who’s parents were more annoying couldn’t be counted. You basically lived at his house, and vice versa.

The dark blue walls greeted you with nostalgia as you stood in the doorway. Shelves lined up everywhere to house baseball trophies and ribbons. His nightstand was always your favorite because that’s where he kept a picture of you two. You couldn’t have been older than thirteen, smiling beside a uniformed Jinwoo.

That was the game where he dubbed you his good luck charm, and you hadn’t let him down since.

“Here,” Jinwoo threw you a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie before turning around to cover his eyes.

You got dressed quickly and watched him stand there, waiting for you to announce your decency.

“Okay,” you said before jumping into his bed and burying yourself under the covers.

After Jinwoo changed into his nightclothes, he climbed in after you.

It was normal for the two of you to sleep in the same bed. You had done it for years with no complications. It was just a way for two friends to be close to each other.

You let him wrap his arm around your torso and rest his face in the crook of your neck. Jinwoo was always clingy when he was tired or sad, so you were used to him trying to be as close to you a humanly possible.

In return, he let you play with his hair, something that helped you fall asleep as well as him.

At times like these, in the dead of night where your thoughts jumbled together like a string of forgotten truth, you imagined yourself dating your best friend.

It was a thought that occurred often, especially since Jinwoo and you were so close.

There were no secrets between you two. Your friendship already seemed like a marriage, if you took away the physical elements.

The train of thought that you were on definitely wasn’t stopping soon, and you found yourself wondering what it would be like to kiss your best friend.

He had kissed a few girls, and you had kissed a few guys, but you had never kissed each other. That didn’t seem right to you.

Suddenly, Jinwoo’s arm tightened around you and he pulled you even closer to him, causing you to let out a quiet gasp.

This was normal for him. This was something the two of you were used to. And yet, you found your heart beating out of your chest every time you thought about the close proximity between you and him

-

“Y/n, are you coming to the party tonight?” Rocky asked you as soon as you and Jinwoo entered the university campus.

“What party?” You asked, shooting a glance at Jinwoo.

“It’s for the end of the season,” Jinwoo said, “After our last game on Friday.”

“Since you’re our best player’s good luck charm, the team thought you should come.”

“I might,” you smiled at him before pulling Jinwoo with you into your first classroom. You were ready to get your exams over with.

“You don’t have to come.”

“I know,” you replied. “But it might be good to go have some fun. Our exams will be over anyway.”

“Okay, then I’ll drive you after the game?” Jinwoo assumed.

“Sure.”

-

Parties had never been your thing. Luckily, this party was on the smaller side, with just the baseball team and their invited friends.

You and Jinwoo sat out of the deck alone, talking about the game and looking at the stars.

“So I have a problem,” Jinwoo spoke in the middle of your silence.

“What is it?”

“Coach wants to get more practices in this off-season so we can be even better next time.”

“So?” You bumped your knee against his, “You guys always do great so you don’t need to worry.”

“Actually, I was hoping you could come watch our first practice.” Jinwoo said quietly. You watched him tap his fingers nervously.

“Why do I need to go to a practice?”

“B-because,” Jinwoo stuttered, “you’re my good luck charm.”

You frowned in confusion, “But it’s just a practice.”

“Please come,” Jinwoo begged. “I really want you there.”

“Okay,” you agreed. “I’ll come, then.”

-

You should’ve asked when the practice was before you agreed to going. Now you sat on the cold bleachers on a Saturday morning, waiting for the baseball team to arrive.

Finally, you saw Jinwoo’s familiar figure walking to the field.

“Jinjin, over here!” You hollered, waving your arms around.

“Where is everyone else?” You asked him after he greeted you.

“There is no one else. This is a private practice.”

“Oh,” you said. Then you looked at your best friend, “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m going to show you how to play baseball!”

“You liar!” You accused in annoyance. He knew you were extremely uncoordinated. The last time he tried to teach you baseball, you accidentally broke his mom’s kitchen window when you tried to pitch to him.

Jinwoo laughed, tossing his head back. “I’m joking, Y/n. The other guys will be here soon, but I wanted to show you something.”

He grabbed your hand and pulled you down the bleachers before you could protest. The two you didn’t stop until he was on the pitcher’s mound.

“What did you want to show me?” You inquired.

Jinwoo dropped his bag. Before you knew what was happening, he reached for your waist and pulled you close to him.

Your cheeks flushed at the contact and you grabbed his arms to steady yourself. “What are you doing?!” You hissed.

Jinwoo’s lips turned up. “You’re my good luck charm, right?”

“I-I am.” You had a hard time answering since your best friend was centimeters away from kissing you.

“Do you know why?”

You shook your head.

“It’s because you’re my best friend, and my favorite person. You’re my good luck charm because you make me want to work harder and win for you. I like it when I make you proud, and I want you to know how I feel about you. That I love you.”

He leaned in, and you closed your eyes to brace yourself. When his lips met yours, you were comforted by the soft feeling of his lips mixed with the firecracker feeling in your gut. You held onto his shoulders and kissed him back, standing on your tiptoes to get a better angle.

Jinwoo had confessed first, but you hoped you could convey your returned feelings through your kiss.

You wanted him to know that you loved him too.

“Finally!”

The two of you jumped away from each other as the entire baseball team ran up to the field.

You couldn’t look Jinwoo in the eye, as the team whooped and clapped their first baseman on the back.

“No girlfriends on the field!” Jinwoo’s coach bellowed.

Just before going back to the bleachers, you reached up to kiss Jinwoo on the cheek.

“Good luck,” you winked, leaving him flustered as left to watch the practice at a distance.

~the end~