#let me just lament out loud for a sec

[prettymediocrewizard]

cursing my tiny brain that I'm not a merch artist. I want merch but I'm just a simple story artist with limited time for sketching to feed myself... I'm so hungry

[frenchfrywrites]

If you just say it

MINORS DNI

Warnings: afab gn dom reader, sub trans man Mammon, scissoring/tribbing, multiple orgasms, premature orgasm, squirting

terms used: pussy, cunt, clit, tits, chest

happy bday to the great mammon 😇

By the time the horror movie ends your hand feels numb with how tightly Mammon is holding onto it. He lets out a sigh of relief as the credits roll, and finally loosens his grip when Satan flicks on the lights. The brothers all get up (despite Belphie, who Beel has flung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes) and say their goodnights to you as they leave the room. 

Mammon and you stay put until you’re the only ones left. You yawn, moving to leave, and he follows your lead, keeping your hands locked together. Without a word you begin guiding him through the house of Lamentation, Mammon looking around fearfully at the dark shadows that loom after you as the two of you pass through the hallways.

Pausing at his room, you look at him expectantly. Mammon laughs nervously- he’s loud, strained, and goes on for too long- at your gaze, “uh,” he clears his throat, his voice a bit horse with how he’d screamed during the movie. “D’ya think I could, um, hang with ya for a bit? For no reason, it’s just kinda early and all ain’t it?” it’s not, “I don’t wanna be bored until I’m tired. And plus, I’ll bet yer so scared from the movie,” you’re not. 

Clearly, he's scared and he won't say it. This isn’t a surprise, but you're more than open to the sound of him coming back to your room. So you nod, heading to your room with Mammon following after you like a lost puppy.

He makes himself at home upon entering your room, flicking on the lights, shucking off his clothes, and hopping into your bed, tugging the covers up as he waits for you. 

You go about your nightly routine, maybe a bit slower than usual, to make Mammon wait. Eventually though you slip under the covers with him and go to turn off the lights. 

“Wait,” he gasps, his eyes wide and fearful. You cock a brow, waiting for whatever excuse he has planned. “Can ya leave ‘em on for a sec… I just wanna see yer face for a bit longer,” you’d maybe believe him if he didn’t look downright horrified. 

“Mammon,” you offer him a comforting smile, “I know you’re scared from the movie.” Mammon’s mouth drops at your bluntness, 

“No- no I ain’t,” you purse your lips and his cheeks flush. He pouts, “I’m not scared,” he insists, but he doesn’t sound convincing. 

“C’mon, just admit it,” your tone is playful as you lean into his personal space. It’s funny that a demon so powerful would be so scared of a little human movie, so who can blame you for wanting to tease him a bit. Mammon whines softly,

“I’m not- I wasn’t scared,” you tut, running your fingers down his arm and relishing the goosebumps that raise in their wake. 

“I know you are baby,” you press a gentle kiss to his lips, and when you pull away Mammon looks adorably bashful. "If you just say it, maybe I'll reward you for being honest," whether he admits it or not it's clear he’s scared and is looking to you for comfort; you'd be more than happy to distract him. 

"I-" his eyes flirt around the room, avoiding looking at you. You kiss his jaw next, awaiting him to admit it. 

"Don't you want a reward, baby?" You ask, kissing his neck then nipping gently. Mammon clings to you,

"I-" he scrunches his eyes shut, "I'm really really scared," he finally whispers. You immediately kiss his skin to show how pleased you are, but saying those four words seems to have opened the floodgates. Mammon continues, "I've been scared since the openin' credits, when it started with a scream. All the blood n’ body parts n’ jumpscares. That movie was so terrifyin', I can't believe some of y'all were laughin'," he rambles softly; you're certainly not going to stop him from getting it all out. "I don't want ya t'turn off the lights cause-" his voice cracks, fear lacing his tone, "cause I dunno what's out there n' it's really freakin’ me out." 

You feel kind of bad, pushing Mammon to think and talk about his fear.

As an apology you kiss his lips lovingly, "don't worry Mams, I wouldn't let anything get you," you promise, finding his hand. His eyes hesitantly flutter open as you take it in yours and kiss it gently, looking at him as you do. "We'll leave the lights on," you promise, squeezing his hand. "Is there anything else that I can do to make you feel better?" 

Mammon's flush deepens, "can ya," he's whispering so softly that if you weren't inches away from him like you are now he'd be unintelligible. "Can ya keep touchin’ n' kissin’ me?" he asks, in a way that makes your heart melt and your blood rush. 

"Of course baby," you respond, excited to do just that. 

You let your hand wander over his chest, feeling his nipples harden under your fingers. Mammon arches into your touch, loving the distraction and attention. He leans in for a kiss, moaning against your lips when you reach under his tank top and take one of his tits into your hand, squeezing it gently. 

You slip your tongue into his mouth, playing with his chest until he’s letting out muffled whines and whimpers against your lips. His hands cling to your sleep shirt, fisting the fabric as he gets your leg between his, grinding himself against your thigh. You can feel his clit bulging his underwear as he rubs himself against you.

“Please,” he begs, pulling away from your kisses to give you puppy eyes, “want ya t’touch my pussy, please,” you groan at how desperate he sounds.

“C’mere,” you don’t give him a chance to move, and instead manhandle him onto your lap. Mammon wraps his arms around you, now humping himself as best as he can against your cunt.  

You slide his panties to the side, using his own wetness as a makeshift lube to rub his clit.

“Mmm- fuck yesss,” Mammon hisses, rutting his hips against your finger. His arms tighten around your neck, pulling you closer to him. He gets noisy quickly, moaning and babbling already, telling you how good it feels to have you touching his clit, whining about how he wants- needs more. You nearly spank his pussy with how demanding he’s being, but he’s been spooked enough tonight.

Instead, you continue to jerk off his clit, watching as he falls apart on top of you. 

Suddenly, Mammon is jerking and panting, like how he does when he’s-  “cum- cumming,” he warns, cutting off your train of thought as he lets out a high keen, reaching his climax. 

Your mouth drops as you watch him ride out his abrupt orgasm. “Wow,” is all you can say as he slumps, catching his breath. “Um,” you’re kinda speechless, for it’s been a while since he’s cum so quickly. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles breathlessly, flushed and embarrassed, “did my T yesterday, n’ I’ve been a lil’ horny like all day,” he admits. You huff a laugh,

“I see,” you start playing with his clit again, feeling it throb against your finger, “does that mean you can take a bit more?” you ask hopefully. Mammon nods eagerly, 

“Fuck yes, I wanna feel ya,” he tugs on your sleep pants. They’ve got a wet spot from where he’d been grinding and rutting himself against you. You know there’s an equally wet spot on your underwear from how aroused you are right now. (You also know that, given the chance, Mammon would eagerly bury himself between your legs and lick at that wet spot until you physically pulled him away.)

“Off,” you tell him, slapping his thigh, just enough to get him off quick, but not hard enough to sting. 

Mammon peels off his panties before laying on his back and watching as you strip yourself of your clothes. His tank top is in disarray from when you’d been playing with his chest, falling off his shoulders and displaying his tits to you. You get on your knees, taking a hold of one of his legs and tossing it over your shoulder. You then move to straddle him so your pussies press against one another.

He chokes back a moan, his head knocking back against the pillows at the feeling of your clits brushing against each other. Mammon reaches out to you, so you lean down letting him once again cling to you.

Once you’re sure that both of you are comfortable in your position, you do an experimental grind of your hips, rubbing your wet cunts together. Both of you let out a moan at the sensation.

With the help of Mammon’s earlier orgasm, and the way that you’re both so worked up, there’s no need for lube. You set a slow pace, partly because Mammon has already cum once tonight, partly because you want to draw this bit out for your own pleasure, and partly to tease him like you’ve been doing all night. 

His mouth opens- likely to beg you to speed up- but is cut off before he can begin due to a noise from the corner of your room. You wouldn’t have noticed it if it were not for the way that Mammon’s eyes bug and his head whips around to look. “There’s nothing there pup,” you assure him, kissing his leg, and continuing to grind your pussy against his. 

He’s quick to forget about whatever is in the shadows, once again letting you occupy his mind. 

“Faster, I want- need ya t’go faster,” there’s the begging you’ve been waiting on. You grind yourself roughly against him, “ah,” he squeals, jerking his hips under you, “sorry, sorry, ungh, please, please, faster, oh-” with that magic word falling from his lips, you quicken your pace.

Mammon’s mouth drops open, jerking himself back against your cunt at an erratic pace. He pants and whines, crying out your name at a particularly good thrust against his clit. You know he’s close, but this time you’re close too, so you eagerly work on getting the two of you off. 

“You gonna- hah- cum for me baby?” Mammon keens, nodding so fast you think he might get whiplash. Not even a second later he fulfills that promise, with your name on his lips. You feel an excess of wetness first, and then it takes you a second to process he's squirting. “Good boy, cum baby, fuck, I’m gonna cum too, ah,” your clits frot against one another, bringing you over the edge. 

You hold onto Mammon’s leg as you work yourself off. There’s going to be bruises tomorrow with how hard you’re holding onto him. He’s going to like that. 

As soon as the sensations are too much, you flop down on the bed next to him. Mammon rolls over and nuzzles himself next to you. The cooling wetness on your groin and thighs reminds you that the two of you should both get up and clean off and pee, but exhaustion overcomes you.

Instead, you gather him up in your arms and two of you lay cuddling for a bit, letting your breathing even out. “Are you still scared?” you finally ask softly. Mammon doesn’t answer.

Looking down you find he’s dead asleep. 

Hopefully he doesn’t have any nightmares, but even if he does, you’ll be there to comfort and distract him when he wakes up.

[douglass-fir]

Jungkook's mind runs a little wild at night, so he pads down the hall to Seokjin's room and peeks in the door.

Even half asleep, Seokjin is always ready for him, lifting the covers and scooting to make room for Jungkook, who tucks himself into the space beside him. 

Jungkook’s mind isn't nearly as sleepy as his body, so he’ll use the safe space of his hyung’s bed to air out his worries, his dreams.

Seokjin has always felt a sense of protection over him—19 is a lot, after all. The whole world is opening up while you still feel foreign in your own skin.

“Something keeping you up?” Seokjin will always ask.

“They’re being loud again,” Jungkook laments as he wiggles beneath the sheets. He feels warm.

“Ahhh, Tae and Jiminie…” Seokjin chuckles. “I thought I heard something.”

Jungkook groans. “They’re so gross.” 

Seokjin grins and pulls Jungkook closer. The room gets quiet, and he thinks Jungkook has nodded off as his breathing evens out.

But the silence is broken when he hears a whisper, muffled beneath the covers.

“Sometimes I’m a little jealous. Of them,” Jungkook admits.

Seokjin pulls back from sleep, heart picking up speed. “Jealous?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook responds. “It…must be nice to have someone you can just..share everything with. Like, your whole heart and stuff.”

Something about that sits heavily in Seokjin’s gut. 

Jungkook doesn’t often talk about romance or dating, but Seokjin can feel the concern shooting down his arms and into his fingertips as he squeezes Jungkook’s shoulder.

Who on earth could possibly be worthy of holding Jungkook’s whole heart? he thinks. Seokjin knows he doesn't have the right to worry; Jungkook needs to live his life as a grown adult.

But in his exhausted state, Seokjin's mind takes off. Would this person treat Jungkook well? Would they understand his quirks—the way he needs to release pent-up energy to stay focused? 

Jungkook is so tender and wears his heart on his sleeve. Would they be gentle with him? Would they give him space? Would they make sure he knows just how good he is, especially on days he’s hard on himself?

Who could possibly be good enough—strong enough for such a responsibility?

Seokjin knows how 'first loves' go. Messy, broken, imperfect. Painful. The thought of Jungkook being heartbroken feels like a weight around his throat. He's finding it hard to breathe as the words come out of his mouth...

“Hey, Jungkook-ah. Hey, turn around for a sec.”

“Hmm?” Jungkook rolls over and searches Seokjin's face, worry widening his eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, uh,” Seokjin stutters. “Just make me a promise, okay?” Seokjin says as he pushes the hair from the younger’s forehead.

“Mmn, sure, hyung.”

“Save a piece…for yourself," Seokjin says lowly. "One day, you’ll meet someone special and you’ll want to hand over your whole heart—all at once. Just…please promise me you’ll save a small piece for yourself.”

Jungkook seems unsure—nervous even. But he nods his head slowly and whispers, “Okay, hyung,” before pulling the sheets above his nose, hiding the lower half of his face and blinking slowly.

“Okay, Ongguah.” Seokjin ruffles his hair, a little uncertain. 

Jungkook’s anxious expression makes Seokjin instantly regret having posed such a ridiculous request. But he tries to shrug it off as Jungkook rolls over and reassumes his position as the little spoon.

“It's okay, hyung,” Jungkook whispers again as he squeezes Seokjin's arm. “I promise.”

Seokjin’s heart slows. He'd apologize to Jungkook for making him nervous in the morning. He forces his mind to slow down, and lets Jungkook’s warmth sink in before drifting to sleep.

Whatever happened, no matter who Jungkook chose to love, he'd always be there for him.

That's all he could do. 

Of course, Seokjin would eventually learn—through teary eyes and trembling hands—that the look on Jungkook’s face wasn’t one of nervousness, but of regret.

Regret because, for the first time, Jungkook had lied to his favorite hyung.

You see, Jungkook couldn’t possibly keep a promise to hold a piece of his heart for himself.

Not when his whole heart already belonged to Seokjin.

💜💜💜💜💜

twitter | ao3

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: i

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

chapter 2   ||   chapter 3 ||  chapter 4

ao3

word count: ~3k

You serve Hawks a lavender, oat milk latte. Not only is he hooked on your drinks, but he's also hooked on you as well.

a fluffy multi-chaptered piece i’ll release when i’m feeling it :’^) enjoy y’all. coffee shop au hell

||||||||||||||||||

You and Keigo met each other on the coldest, snowiest day of the year.

The temperature was near glacial. The air stung and bit like hell, wind kicking and spitting powdery snow as it fell in sheets from the grey sky.

The weather, horribly, prevented two of your coworkers from working the morning shift at the tea shop. Half of the trains were shut down across the city in addition to power outages. But, your cheap ass owner forced you to open. Alone. In a blizzard.

You were fairly certain that you wouldn’t be getting many customers.

Opening at the tea shop on a normal day was a hellish amount of work. As you unlocked the door and walked into your humble establishment of employment, you grimaced at the thought of all of the work you were to do.

After disrobing from your thick winter jacket, scarf, and mittens and throwing on your apron, it was time to begin. You made yourself a simple, oat milk latte and then started to get to work setting up for the day. 

It was hardly dawn. 

  Keigo was on early morning patrol. It wasn’t his favorite shift, oh, hardly, but he did enjoy watching the sunrise. And, while his wings were powerful, the snowstorm did force him to fly much lower in the grey haze of the day than he normally would. Stepping out of his apartment around just before 5:30 AM, Keigo almost moaned in anguish at the cold. He was infinitely glad he had worn a thermal bodysuit under his uniform.

His quirk afforded him much in terms of battle prowess, in addition to a few avian mutations. Most notably at that moment was his difficulty conserving heat. As Keigo stood on his balcony, frowning at the can of coffee in his hand, he made the prompt decision to fly to his area of patrol and grab a hot drink. The thought of downing something cold made his stomach turn.

Gracefully, Keigo turned and flew, letting himself be carried across town. The area he was patrolling was relatively quiet, mostly small businesses and lower-middle-class apartments. As he touched down, shivering and sleepy, he padded through the empty streets with his wings folded to his back.

  The wind was wild, wiping between buildings, making snowdrifts that blocked some of the doors of shops nearby. Part of you cursed, shaking your head. You desperately wanted to be warm, curled in bed with your cats, and watching cartoons.

You set up the shop, moving chairs and turning on machines. Though you were a tea shop, you sold more coffee than any sort. On a normal, fully-staffed day, you’d be in the back, crafting tea blends. But, that day was, in fact, a very abnormal day and it was about to get weirder.

  Keigo meandered around the streets, strangely at genuine ease. There were no civilians and very few stores open allowing him to walk freely, albeit coldly. Part of him wondered if he would even find a coffee shop.

But lo and behold, he did. 

Keigo opened the door, a cute bell ringing. The shop was themed warmly with yellow-toned wood counters and furnishings. There was a smattering of local art on the walls and jewel-toned accents. All in all, it was a cozy reprieve from the icy nature of outside. Keigo relished the heat.

It seemed only one person was working, you. 

  When you heard the bell sounding at the entrance of a customer, you piped up from behind the counter, “Just one sec!”

A kind laugh, “Take your time.”

You were struggling to reach a tea blend. It was high on the many shelves behind the counter. You clamored on top of the counter, rising on your knees to try and reach it. Your hands stretched to grip it with an arch of your back. You grinned in victory as you managed to grab it. You pulled back, miscalculating in your pride—

And then you were losing balance.

And then you were falling.

(How fucking cliche).

You would’ve hit the floor if it wasn’t for some unknown force, pushing you back onto the counter, steadying you. The sensation, new, perked you up, causing you to let out a high noise of surprise. You turned, your eyes going wide.

Several beautiful, scarlet feathers caught your fall.

Your eyes flickered up to your patron savior.

  Number two hero, Hawks, smiling at you and giving you a bit of cheshire grin, stifling a laugh.

You slowly descended from the counter, turning to face him at the register, “Well, I really have to say thank you. I nearly ate shit there.”

“All in a day's work,” Hawks winked at you. You beamed easily. Local heroes came and drank at the shop fairly regularly, but never anyone particularly famous, let alone the top ten. Never the incredibly stunning, wind-whipped bachelor hero that was Hawks.

“What can I get for you today?” You asked, going for a notepad.

Hawks eyes scanned the menu behind you. He hummed, pretty, amber eyes settling back on you, “Surprise me.”

Your eyes widened, but you nodded. You couldn’t stop smiling.

“Alright, let me ask a few questions, just to make your drink the best it can.” You told him. “First off, hot or iced?”

“Oh, definitely hot,” Hawks almost wiggled a feathered eyebrow at you and you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. 

“Okay, how much caffeine? Any allergies?” You asked, scribbling an idea down on the notepad. “Milk preference?”

“As much as you can legally supply me with, no preferred milk, and no allergies. Though, I do like things sweet,” Hawks was removing his gloves as he spoke. “Go crazy, give me the best thing you got, angel. Something that gives me the warm and fuzzies.”

Oh, that was a move. 

Hawks was notoriously (in the media) shamelessly flirtatious with fans and other heroes. It was always painted as something that was in good fun, never sexual, and just part of his brand. This was just common knowledge, but god you never expected it to be directed at you with a cute pet name.

  “On it,” You smiled back at him, face hot. You smoothed yourself down before beginning to craft his drink. 

It wasn’t often that you worked the front counter, and there was a good reason for it. Most of the time, you got too into making drinks, customizing them frivolously (often due to your quirk). Though you were skilled, it took a lot of time that people didn’t have for a coffee run.

But, on the day of a momentous snowstorm, you and Hawks had all the time in the world.

  Keigo was a bit stunned by you.  

You were cute, one. 

You were wearing a soft-looking turtleneck sweater, and high-waisted, wide-leg pants. They were fashionable but obviously aged. But it worked. A cute, embroidered apron was tied over you snuggly around your waist. It was adorned with buttons and pins, brightly colored.

 You spoke so frankly to him. You didn’t gawk at him for even a second, even when his feathers propped you up from falling. You blushed at his pet name but didn’t seem any more fazed than a bit of embarrassment. He liked it. It felt normal.

Keigo rested his hands on the counter, watching you flit about behind the counter. 

“I gotta ask, why are you open in this blizzard??” Keigo tilted his head as your gaze flickered to him. You were still smiling, just a bit, even hard at work. 

  You snorted, “Cheap boss who won’t close, and my coworkers are stranded without the trains running. I live close by and work hourly, so I might as well come in, ya’ know?”

Hawks laughed, something warm and full, so juxtaposed to the storm of flurries outside. 

It was odd, talking to the number two fucking hero so casually, but it felt good. There was a sense of awe and idleness, but it dimmed. There were no flashy heroics, just one person wanting a drink and the other making it.

Your quirk activated on its own as you stared at the syrups. Your quirk’s tell was so small and normal, no one ever caught it. A heavy dilation of the eyes was not something most people were tuned into. Yet there you were, submerged in sensation. Touch, sight, smell, taste, even sound, all blending together. They elicited something deeper in you, creating something abstract you could make tangible.

To make a feeling into a physical reality was a gift, but it came with drawbacks of course.

You poured a few syrups into the bottom of the cup, carefully selecting them.

“I can’t imagine how cold it is up in the sky,” You mused to yourself just before steaming some oat milk. 

“Oh, you have no idea, ” Hawks lamented to you with a groan. “I feel like I’m gonna lose a few toes whenever I work in this weather.”

“Just toes? I’d be worried about a whole foot,” You grinned back at him as you poured more things into the cup, stirring every few moments. 

The feeling in your mind was so tangible to you, and you could perfectly translate it to reality. Something warm, to beat away the frost of the world beyond the tea shop. 

You sprinkled the top with a few dashes of cinnamon, setting it on the counter in front of him. 

  Keigo looked down at the drink you made him, raising an eyebrow. He went to take a sip, but you stopped him, “I’d give that a few minutes if you don’t want to burn your tongue, tailfeathers.”

  Hawks nearly fucking squawked as he set down the drink, giving you a look of false anger, “ Tailfeathers? That’s not a kind name to call me. I don’t even have those.”

Keigo huffed, pouting at you. 

  “You call me, a stranger barista, angel, I call you tailfeathers. Easy trade.” You shrugged at him, tapping into the register system. “I’m not charging you until you try it.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to upcharge if I don’t like it?” Hawks continued to pout, jokingly so, pulling out a wad of bills that was undoubtedly much more than any drink would cost. 

Your eyes widened, leaving you sputtering, “Oh, never— it’s on the house if it bangs as much as I think it will.”

Hawks laughed, out loud, bending back a bit. You watched his pretty red wings shudder and reflect the warm light of the coffee house. Keigo collected himself, over-dramatically straightening himself. 

You watched with anticipation as he took his sip.

  Keigo was a man of poor taste. Sure, dropping an unholy amount of money on frivolities was one of his small pleasures, after so much of the ascetic bullshit that the Commission put him through, it only seemed fair. But, caffeine was a necessity with his fucked up schedule and he’d be damned waiting in a line or making it at home. Canned coffee was saccharine and speedy and that’s all he fucking wanted. 

But, when the first drops of that stupid oat milk latte hit his tongue, Keigo was beyond enamored. 

Yeah, he wanted coffee to feel warm in this storm, but he didn’t expect to feel warm. With just one gulp, he could feel the heat, like the flames of a steady hearth, drift around his body. 

He brought the cup down from his lips, looking at you with awe. 

You had the smuggest grin spread across your face, arms crossed over your chest.

“Thoughts?” God, you were so cheeky. He loved it. You were so subtly bold.

“This,” Keigo took another greedy swig, wiping his mouth on the back of his ungloved hand, “is the best coffee I’ve ever had in my damn life.”

Your smile just got wider. 

“Glad I could meet your tastes, tailfeathers. No charge,” You gave him a cheeky little wink. You swore you saw his face get redder, but you dismissed it a moment later.

“Oh no, nu-uh,” Keigo pushed the bills towards you. “Take it as a tip then. Seriously. How did you make this?”

You stared down at the bills and Hawks’s hand. His hands weren’t particularly large, but they were scarred plenty. Veins and bone were accented by the dryness of his skin. 

You looked back up at him, still not taking the money, “Can you keep a secret? It’s a big one, especially considering you’re a hero.”

Hawks tilted his head, “If you say you used your quirk to mess with this drink, I don’t know if I’m legally able to keep it a secret.”

“Nah, nah. I didn’t ‘mess with your drink’,” You shook your head, nodding down to it. “Do you know what synesthesia is?”

(He did, surely. But he just wanted to listen to you talk more.)

“Enlighten me?” Hawks ask, stooping to rest his elbows on the counter, chin cradled in his hands.

  For being a man who could kill you in a split second, Hawks was remarkably cute. You understood his sex appeal long before he entered the shop. His hair looked unnaturally fluffy, wind-ruffled, and honey blonde. His eyes had a few cute bird-like markings ringing the sweet, amber irises. He had a delicate but defined jaw. 

He raised a sculpted, feathered eyebrow at you. 

(He’d caught you staring).

You cleared your throat, laughing it off easily (though you were mentally kicking yourself), “Synesthesia, broadly, is like senses overlapping in your brain. Like... The common example is seeing colors when you hear a month of the year.”

“Now, what does this have to do with my lovely drink?” Hawks batted his eyelashes at you. You could tell he was definitely flirting with you, but you brushed it off the best you could. 

He’s a hot guy you made coffee for. Happens all the time. 

“Well, you had me a little bit, I did use my quirk, but it doesn’t mess with your drink physically at all. Not even close,” You laugh. “My quirk allows me to conceptualize abstract ideas into tangible ideas.”

“That really makes it sound like you used your quirk to make my drink,” Keigo watched your eyes dilate as he spoke.

You blinked, and they went back to normal.

“No, no. It’s like for your drink,” Both of your eyes looked towards the steaming cup. “I took your request for ‘warm and fuzzies’ to heart.”

Keigo blinked at you. 

Your pupils expanded again, “I figured ‘ you know, this guy has to fly around in the cold all day, right? Probably is freezing and far away from home ’— and there was my inspiration.

“I used my quirk to conceptualize... the idea of being warm and safe into a tangible concept. A nice, easy coffee drink. Four shots of espresso, oat milk, homemade lavender honey syrup, two of my own, specially made tea extracts, and a bit of cinnamon for good measure.”

Hawks blinked at you, “Your quirk gives you the... blueprints, to turn ideas, literal feelings, into reality and these blueprints just work?” 

You nodded and shrugged, “Most of the time. The less I’m focused on it, the more likely it is that the feeling won’t be able to manifest. I just get more exact with my construction with the fewer stimuli.”

“Drawback?” Hawks quirked an eyebrow, already having a good idea as to it.

You gestured lazily to the empty coffee shop, “I get overstimulated easily, quirk activated or not. Makes a lot of shit hard, but I like my quirk. I mean, it’s nothing like having a crazy strong pair of wings, but it services me well.”

“Did you really ‘manifest’ ‘warm and fuzzies’ into a drink, or did you make it a bit deeper than that?” Keigo sipped again, relishing how it warmed him all over once more. The taste that was dancing over his palette seemed a little more complex than what they were saying. 

“To be frank and to have a bit of an ego, yeah, I went for my go-to feeling when making drinks for myself,” You averted your eyes from him. “A good drink should feel like you’re getting hugged from the inside out, you know? Comforted. It’s hard enough to get that tangibly without a quirk. I just try to help where I can.”

  Keigo blinked at you.

You had turned suddenly, shy, eyes anxiously darting and a hand tugging at the sleeve of your sweater. A cute flush was spreading over your cheekbones when you finally looked at him again, “Kinda corny, right?”

Despite the fact that Keigo’s heart was fucking pounding, he shook his head, voice steady and sure, “Nah, I think it’s cool. You’re doing a lot more than just making coffee for folks.”

Your face got even redder as you rubbed the back of your head,

“I usually work in the back, so I don’t tend to make a lot of coffee for people. I make the tea blends that we sell. I don’t always use my quirk, but sometimes I do.”

Keigo watched you nervously pull at your apron, giving him an oddly desperate deadpan, “Please don’t turn me in.”

That made Keigo bust out laughing again. 

You couldn’t help but stare at him in shock, and then join him. You covered your mouth at first, but finally, just let yourself laugh with him. All it seemed like that there was in the world was you, Keigo, the lavender latte, and the snowdrifts outside.

  Hawks’s pager beeped, almost instantly pulling him from his laughing fit. He glanced at it, giving a dull grimace, “Duty calls, it seems.”

“You’d think villains would take snow days?” You told him as he re-gloved his hands. 

“It would really make my job easier,” He chuckled. Hawks pushed the forgotten money on the counter. “That’s all for you, ya hear me? Keep it or I will actually turn you in.”

Oh, you were feeling bold. 

Before Hawks could pull his hand away, you placed your own on his, stopping his movement.

“Only,” You somehow, one-handed, managed to pull a bit of receipt paper from its machine. Still one-handed you grabbed a pen and scribbled onto the paper. You pushed it towards Keigo. “If you take this very conveniently small piece of paper that totally doesn’t have my name and number on it. Just in case you’d like another lavender latte like that.”

  Oh, Keigo was floored.

He had rapid fucking fans. They were feral. He’d had fans drop their entire life stories on him, gush to him, stalk him— one time, a fan dropped to their knees and licked his boots. And he’d certainly received many phone numbers in his day, so many, but never like this. 

This felt a little different.

“Well, I was gonna say, I might need some contact to know when you work next. Just so I can grab one of your lovely drinks,” Hawks winked at you, all smitten.  He walked backwards towards the door, still meeting your eyes

“Feel free to.” You were just as starry-eyed as he was. “I have a lot to show you!”

And with that, Hawks whisked himself out of the door, fast as ever.

And you both simmered, full of intangible feelings. 

[tsuumu]

good intentions.

kuroo x reader

your long-term boyfriend is perfect. i mean perfect. he excels at basically everything he does. well, except one thing. at least he has good intentions, right?

based off of a request found here.

word count:

tags/tw: y/n & kuroo are uni students, lots of playful insulting, kuroo is perfect, well not really, y/n is a mess, y/n is me doing any kind of work, domestic x1000, kuroo cooking is so cute.

You know those people who just seem to have it all?

No, not literally, but it’s so sickeningly easy for them that they might as well be arms reach of anything they want.

Usually we tend to dislike people like that, mainly because... well, we’re not them (much to our abysmal dismay, too). They end up taking a spotlight of jealousy in our lives and we find ourselves constantly thinking: Man, i’d love to kick their asses, but would alternatively jump at the oppertunity to switch lives with them ‘Freaky Friday’ style.

These people are the embodiment of admiration.

Young. Good looking. Fit. Successful. Socially conscious. Killer smiles. Can always hold a drink. Never seem to embarrass themselves even a little, but on the off chance they do, everyone adores them more and sees it as a cute little incident or quirk of theirs.

Just thinking about it makes you want to build yourself a bunker, deep underground, just to sulk in for a decade or so, lamenting angrily at the dusty walls.

Yes. You know the truth is that there will always be someone better than you at simply existing, but that doesn’t stop that simmering of content from rising within. Realistically speaking, you’d avoid these people like your life depended on it because they’re so... detestable.

So who would have known that you —of all people— would end up falling in love with one?

Well, you did. As much as they repel you, you find that they weirdly attract you too.

That’s right.

The man who stole that pretty little heart of yours, who’d caught your attention indefinitely with his cut-throat prowess and charisma. He’d approached you one fine evening at some bar you’d never been to before, ordered you your favorite drink because he’d seen you order it twofold previously (vodka cranberry, heavy on the juice) and chatted you up the way you’d always wished a guy would.

The appalling epitome of cliche.

The whole encounter practically ran like he’d planned it before-hand. It’s almost infuriating, how easily he swept you off of those tipsy feet of yours.

Something bumps lightly over your head as a shadowy figure passes by. You groan lightly in response.

“Hey, cut it out!”

Somehow, you’ve found yourself on the floor, crossed-legged, pen in your mouth and both your hands. One is furiously scrawling something down, the other flicking the cap off to highlight. It’s an understatement to note that you look like a bit of a mess, brows scruched up in an untidy pile in the middle of your forehead, dead-focused on the first draft of your thesis that was due weeks ago.

Yeah, you were one of those people.

A mocking string of apologetic noises come from the figure in front of you as he chucks his keys onto the kitchen counter.

Kuroo Tetsurou. That’s your A-list Boyfriend.

A-list of what? Of life, for god’s sake.

If it were him that’d been assigned a task with this ridiculous deadline, he’d probably have handed it before it was fucking given to him in the first place! Not only is he academically adept to the point of pure indignancy (on your part, of course, you’re too prone to jealousy for your own good), but his organisation is nothing short of freakishly unnatural.

He says he’s minimalistic, you say he’s an alien.

If someone had told you that the man you loved was actually some kind of secret government- made equipment to survey you, you wouldn’t bat an eyelid. He’s that good.

He chuckles at his own jeers, slipping a hand through the fridge handle. It unlatches with ease and he takes a cold can of beer out, pulling the tab back and allowing it to hiss open satisfyingly. Your eyes flicker upwards, gnawing at your knuckle, you’re not only stressed out, but unbelievably embarrassed that you’re at it again. He’s seen you like this countless times, after promising to clean up your act and follow in his footsteps.

Following in his footsteps. Well, that’s how he described it. You were close to socking his arm.

“Shut up.”

Tetsurou tilts his head back, drinking to his heart’s content before catching your eye. You’re correct. He has seen this before, so he knows not to take your off-handed comments to heart. Instead, he’s rather bemused.

“Your scruched up nose.” He begins, setting the can down to the side, crossing one leg over the other. “That’s your classic concentrating face.”

You’re not even listening if you’re honest. You’re trying to understand what this section of the task even means after re-reading it for the fifteeth time. The responses you give are made absently.

“Hm.”

“You look like a cat that’s been forced to wait to eat. That little glare. It’s cute, kitty.”

Your head jerks up questioningly. Did he call you cute?

His head tilts.

“Oh, you’ve relaxed your face now. It’s gone back to being ugly.”

You scowl and throw the highlighting pen at him.

“Go away! I’m almost done!”

Your fingers move to your lower back, pressing on your spine in hopes it’ll crack and relieve some of the tension in your body. Kuroo retrieves the pen, sweeping the can up with his spare hand. He plods over, craning his neck down to study whatever it is that you have on your lap.

“It’s too dark in here to see that properly.”

“I’m fine!”

“Well—“ He leans back to switch the overhead lights on. “—now you’re finer.”

You turn to him, pausing for a moment.

“Oh, thanks.”

It’s like you fall into this crazed state when you’re overworked. Frantic. Snappy. Cowering in the dark like some sort of parody Dracula— that is, if Dracula were three weeks late on his university assignment worth a disgustingly high percentage of his final grading. If Kuroo came too close, or said something a little too sly, you’d probably bite him. He knows this too, opting to keep quiet from now on. Instead, he sits leisurely on the floor, just behind you, placing his hands against your propped up body and gently pressing his thumbs into the blades of your back.

“Drop it a sec, yeah?”

Your body’s stiff, but you can tell he’s shocked at just how stiff it is. For a moment, you’re caught off guard, before rolling your shoulders back forcefully.

“Can’t... gotta finish—“ and you gesture wildly at everything around you. That answer was to be expected. You weren’t as academically driven, sure, but you weren’t one to give in easily. Or fail, for that matter.

Tetsurou plants a gentle kiss onto the nape of your neck, mumbling into the ridge of your spine.

“That—“ he copies your movements. “Can wait. I know you think it can’t, but it can. And you’re going to stop now.”

Your eyes lower a little, vision blurring.

“But—“

“Nope.”

You twist yourself to look at him, giving him another sour look.

“I’m serious!”

“So am I.” It rolls off the tongue so easily for him. He’s utterly calm. But then again, he’s not the one that needs to be on bloody ‘X-Games’ mode.

He’s never the one. Damn it.

You lift yourself up a little by placing your palms under you, wincing at the twinges of pain it induces. You’d made friends with the floor for a little too long, butt totally numb.

“Fine.” You resign, suddenly falling back onto him. “I’ll email my professor for the tenth time this week and wait as he rips me apart. Shall I?” Kuroo tuts, snaking an arm around your upper-body, the other brushing at your baby-hairs so he’s able to see your face a little clearer.

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“Uh— yes he would. Would you like front row seats to my untimely demise?”

“You’re so dramatic.”

For the first time through that entire day, you smile, even if it’s just a little. And to him, he’s managed to fish you out of that downward spiral you’ve been plunging into. Job well done on his part. He softly runs a his palm down your side.

“Your professor covers mine when she’s busy.” He states matter-of-factly. “Let me email him. It’s not ludicrous to say that i’m your boyfriend and you’re a little troubled at the moment.”

You’re slumped over, at the moment, chin buried into your chest.

“Troubled sounds like i’ve lost my mind.”

“Well not like that—“ The eager boy begins sifting out your laptop from under the seemingly endless piles of paper. “Let’s think of a better excuse.” Your body doesn’t move an inch, fiddling with the cap of the pen lid. You throw it by accident and it bounces too far to reach comfortably. Shit.

“Mmm.” He buries his nose into the crown of your head. “Shall I tell him you got into a car accident?”

“What? Tetsu, that’s stupidly unbelievable. I don’t even drive.”

“I guess... maybe not a car.” His fingers teasingly splay over your stomach, body bent intrusively over yours. They move against the softness of your flesh, dipping down slightly.

You suck in a breath.

“I’m sure I can do something for you that’ll keep you from walking for quite some time.” Tetsurou hums deeply, and it feels like he’s talking directly into your brain.

Your fingers fumble for the pen he just gave back, before hitting him square on the forehead with it. It ricochets back perfectly onto your chest with a loud snap.

“Ow!”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Geez.”

“I don’t need excuses. I’ll just come back to it later.”

“Oh— yeah. That too.”

With a heave, you sit up, rubbing the side of your head as the blood rushes back.

“I’m kinda hungry.” You’d been so distracted with this work that even simple, human needs took a backseat.

This is why Kuroo doesn’t like it. At times like this, you’d barely eat, sleep, breathe. Seriously. Sometimes you’d hold your breath for absurdly long periods of time whilst reading, only to hack and gasp and apologise because you were so into it.

That’s... extreme. And he does not approve in the slightest.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm...” Your eyes sparkle hopefully. “Did you get me something to eat?”

Tetsurou scratches his neck timidly.

“Well, not exactly.”

Immediately, your face drops and he protests wildly.

“Don’t look at me like that!”

Well— well— you couldn’t help but be disappointed! You were starving and tired and ready to email your professor a string of rather unpleasant curse words instead of another half-assed excuse. Your fingernails had been worn down considerably from all the abrasive biting you’d done, aching and red.

Being a full-time student was covert self-destruction. You heavily relied on your boyfriend to bring in food because you didn’t have the time to do so yourself. This had been discussed and agreed upon prior though, since along with Tetsu’s many formidable talents, a balanced work to school life was yet another.

He ambles back to the kitchen area, gesturing to the island smack bang in the middle.

“That doesn’t mean I came empty-handed.”

Oh. You hadn’t noticed it before, but he’d come home with groceries. Um. Groceries?

“What’s that?”

“Stuff I picked up on the way back.”

“Like, ingredients?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

The both of you are quiet for a moment, and you’re eyeing the bag like it’s appeared out of nowhere with something potentially life-threatening inside it. Yes, that sounds stupid. But the truth is... you guys never really got groceries. Not actual groceries with actual ingredients. Because that is a strong indicator that they’d have to be cooked.

And god, neither of you knew how to do that.

You’re a student who’s barely stepped into adulthood, not Gordan Ramsay.

Okay. You sound ridiculous. Cooking isn’t that complex. It’s actually quite simple if your heart’s in it.

“I figured i’d be able to do something with these.” Kuroo pats the bags and they crinkle a tad.

Of fucking course he’d ‘be able to do something’ with them.

He’s Kuroo-Genius-Tetsurou!

CEO of doing things with other things and it actually working out. Building cabinates, lock-picking, gardening, guitar, skateboarding, poker. Since you’ve been together, these are a few of the varation of things he’s naturally picked up.

You? You’re a more do-it-once-it-fails-and-never-do-it-again type.

In your mind there’s literally no doubt he’d ace cooking and list it under the other fifty(billion) things he’s also capable of, just so he can mention it off-handedly to other people at parties or something.

If there’s something to criticise about your boyfriend, he’s awful at shutting up about himself. He’ll go on forever, as if he’s showcasing his entire life to strangers in some desperate attempt to sell them his excessive excellence.

Is he arrogant? Maybe. But is he able to do it in a manner that’s utterly bewitching? Absolutely. He’s not gloating, you see, he’s ‘modestly sharing���. And you find yourself wanting to praise him, you want to hear about how much better he is than you.

Let’s be honest. Kuroo and modesty were not made to be placed in the same sentence, any humble talk of his is utter bullshit.

But everyone loves it all the same.

That’s what you mean about perfect people. They spark something in others. It’s almost hypnotic. And when you snap out of it, it’s like it’s been confirmed that you’re undoubtedly inferior. Post-Kuroo-Encounter depression. PKE. You having a devastating case of it.

Maybe you have a bit of a complex about this. Ugh.

He’s lucky he’s so damn loveable.

And that you’re so damn hungry.

“Okay.” You state.

Plus, you are a little curious to see what exactly will unfold with his newfound persuit in the culinary arts.

You haul ass to get up, audibly cursing, hopping around from foot to foot to get your blood-flow back in action. Eventually, you’ve nestled yourself onto a stool, hands propping your chin up, observing expectantly.

“What are you making, chef?”

“Uhh..” He’s rolling his sleeves up, eyes glued to the screen of his phone that’s placed facing upwards. “Chicken Alfredo.” Tetsu sounds a little uncertain but you’re staring into his head and you can almost hear the cogs turning. Really, it’s only a matter of time until the bastard works his Area 51-esque magic and concocts the dish.

He takes a little more time to familiarise himself with the recipe, before looking up, giving you a wicked grin.

“I’ve got this.”

You’re sure he does, smiling back.

Whilst he’s preparing god knows what, you peek into the grocery bag to see if there’s anything you can nibble on. You recieve another gentle smack to your head. Tetsu’s holding a packet of dry pasta.

He’s hit you with pasta.

“Nu-uh. I didn’t bring any kitty treats for you, be patient.”

“Stop hitting me like i’m a fly, or a cat!”

“Don’t be silly. I’d never hit a cat! They’re precious, adorable, i’d protect one with my life. And you—“ He hits you again. “—well, you’re you, baby.”

You snatch the packet forcefully and lob it at him again.

“You have a death wish, Kuroo-san.”

“Eesh. The formalities! I’m kidding!”

You cradle your cheek in your palm, sighing tiredly. The two of you usually ordered in, or got something you’d be able to set up pretty easily. Neither of you were particularly passionate about cooking, hence its absence in your routines. Yes, it’s excessively healthier than your current lifestyle, but you weren’t suffering. And even now, watching Tetsurou fill a pan with water, muscles firm against the shy of his shirt. You know he isn’t either.

Now that you’re looking, and looking some more, it’s pretty hot, seeing a guy cook.

“You know, you should make breakfast shirtless so I can tell my friends my hot boyfriend cooks me breakfast shirtless.”

He laughs.

“You’d enjoy that too much.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Yes. I can’t keep indulging you.”

He means that your desire for immediate gratification is your biggest weak-point. Kuroo’s recently been trying to teach you the art of patience. Abstinence. You don’t get it. Apparently perfect people believe in ‘self-control’ crap.

“Also, oil.” He adds.

“Oh, I suppose it’d hurt, right?”

“Mhm.”

Your boyfriend alternates from his phone to the actual practice in short cycles. To you, he looks like he’s on track, though you’re not quite sure what to be looking for in the first place. These things usually came ready and steaming on plates in restaurants. Even now, having to wait, it’s so difficult. But you’re enjoying the light conversation it brings, so it’s whatever.

Though, that lasting etch of confusion and concern on the boy’s face leaves you wondering if actually, this is proving slightly difficult for him.

“Is everything okay?” You pipe up.

He doesn’t answer at first.

“Think so.”

“Oh— i’ve never heard that from you before.” It’s usually straight confidence from this man.

“Shut up.”

From the stool, you slip, dragging your hand over the counter as you walk around to see it up close. You don’t really know what you’re expecting, but... it’s not this.

“Tetsu, that’s boiling a little violently, don’t you think?”

“...No?”

“Yeah. It is. That’s not a good sign.”

He bats you away.

“We can’t both stand here!”

“Why not?”

“Spaaace.” He whines. “And if we both stay crowded around it’ll—“

And it happens, exactly what you’d predicted.

You, of all people, had made an assumption your boyfriend hadn’t. Ain’t that crazy? The water rises up too high, boiling over and spilling absolutely everywhere. The gas flame heightens all of a sudden, curling up next to the fabric of a dish towel next to it. In a panic, you pull him back.

“What the fuck—“

There’s no time for you to think, your hands fumbling to close the stove, you hadn’t realised the water had seeped over it, causing you to cry out in pain in the process, hand burnt silly.

But you do it. Quickly too. And Kuroo’s utterly dazed, like he hadn’t even thought to react. Your immediate response post-injury is to suck on the wound, trying to suppress the pain with the soothing movements of your tongue. That doesn’t do much, so you flap it about like a mad man, that only instigates more irritation.

Tetsu snaps out of it when he hears your hissing, grabbing onto your wrist and pulling you to the sink forcefully, apologising profusely as he does.

Cold water hits you. It’s instant relief.

“God— i’m so sorry, (y/n)—“ He stumbles, still panicking, he seems to be experiencing everything five minutes too late. “I don’t know why that happened, I swear to God i’ve done that before but it just—“

You let out a giggle, and it shuts him up.

Another one slips. It gets louder and louder, harder to suppress until you’re full on belly laughing, hunched over. He stares at you, wordlessly surprised.

“T-Tetsu— you burnt water—“ You try and stifle your laugh but it only shakes your body more. His deep shame morphs into relief when he sees you’re okay. Tearfully making fun of him, but okay. He pulls you into a tight embrace, ignoring your remarks and still feeling unbelievably guilty.

It’s okay. You’re still chortling, holding him just as tight.

“Here, let me— let me bandage this.” In a cupboard somewhere, he pulls out a small wrap of fabric, proceeding to do just that. You watch happily enough, before turning to the boiled water that had completely stilled.

“Thanks. Let me do this.”

With considerable time and effort, you’re able to clean up the haphazard mess and start afresh, filling his place. Yeah, Kuroo is pretty humiliated, but he was more concerned about your wellbeing at the time than anything else. Seeing you unwavered was enough to make him feel like things were good.

It’s a miracle really, that you do end up filling two plates with delicious smelling pasta.

That lingering look of sorrow is still plastered all over the poor boy’s features, watching you with wide eyes.

“How did you manage that?”

You just shrug, licking a smidge of sauce off of your thumb.

“Dunno. Guess I have potential.” Your gaze moves up to his, pinching his cheek and blubbering jokingly. “Baby. What’s with the long face?”

“Feel bad.” Tetsu looks so glum. It’s adorable.

“Hm.”

The scrape of the plate against the counter is clear as bells as you urge him to eat.

“I should thank you, dumbass.” Admiring the bandage work, a grin settls upon you. This ordeal helps you to see that, actually, Tetsu wasn’t good at everything. In fact, for once, you were better.

And God. That’s— that’s different. You don’t want to be as cocky as him, but it feels nice for a change. He admires you.

“Got an excuse for that late assignment now.” You muse.

“Oh my god.”

You’re always going to be a handful.

“Ugh. Tetsu. Something good always come out of your actions. It’s sickening!”

“I hurt you, silly!”

“I’m feelin’ pretty good about it, regardless. Plus—“ You jump up, leaning over the counter to flick his forehead. “—i’m going to tell everybody this pretty little golden boy set our kitchen on fire because he tried to boil water.”

“Cruel. You’re cruel.”

“The cruelest.”

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Eight | Dating Start! (Part 2 of 3)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

"Can I see your hand for a moment?"

The question's immediate, guilt pushing you to blurt it out the second you step foot out of Snowdin. Even so, he doesn't rush in giving you an answer and, rather, looks at you like you've asked the most absurd question of the century. "C'mon, pal," he says, sneering. "Don't tell me you're still worked up about this?"

Beyond pissed he's brushed it off so easily while you're still stressing your years out over it, you huff and hold back the urge to glare at him. "Yes, I am. Now can you show it to me, please?"

"Alright."

Sans gives in with a grin and takes off his gloves. Then, he shows you the hand you'd hit to reveal there's a reddish mark visible on it despite him being made out of bones. "See what I mean? Your hand's got a bruise on it!" You frown at the sight and take his hand, using your thumb to rub at the injury. "Does it hurt? I figured you could still bruise… But just, not like this."

"I'll be fine," he says, pulling his hand back. "That's probably just frostbite or somethin'." He walks with you to the nearby river and sits down next to it, letting his legs drape over the edge and shoes barely graze the surface of the water. "It'll fade after a while."

"At least let me try to do something," you say, persistent. You sit next to him and look at his hand again, now resting on one of the many puddles surrounding the floor. True to his word, the mark starts to fade with the help of the lukewarm water, though only slightly and -- when compared to his other hand -- it's clear as day the mark that's left is a result of you swatting his hand away earlier. "Give me your hand."

"In marriage?"

You bite back a smile, caught off guard more than you would like to admit. "Are you that set on teasing me like this from now on?" you retort, maintaining a stern look throughout. "I thought you said you weren't interested in this kind of stuff?"

"Yeah, but flirting's different."

"So now you admit you're flirting with me?"

"You're not gonna give this a rest, aren't ya?"

"Not unless you show me your hand again."

"Fine." He chuckles, offering his hand out to you. "Go ahead."

You take his hand -- left bare now that he's not wearing gloves anymore -- and place it over your thigh as a makeshift table. Then, you take a first aid kit from your backpack and retrieve a few items from it. "Stay still," you say, facing his hand. "I'm not sure if human-made medicine works the same with monsters, but…" You disinfect the wound, rub some cooling gel over the burn mark, and stick a waterproof bandage on it after, all while ignoring how tense his hand gets until you're finished with the process. 

"Nervous?" you ask, grinning. "Your hand's all stiff now."

"I thought you said you would give your own teasin' a rest?"

"It's not teasing if it's the truth."

The conversation's ended on that when his phone starts to ring.

He stands up, reaches out for it and -- though he tries his best not to let it show -- it's made more than obvious he doesn't want you to see who the caller is by how awkward his body language gets. His irises jump from the phone and a nearby spot for him to possibly answer the call without any interruptions, to your face and the hand you healed up. A conflict seems to settle itself out in his mind when he decides to take the call right where he is, though still without revealing who the person is.

"Hello?"

The voice on the other side booms with a "Have you done it yet?", impatience present in their voice. It's a familiar sounding one, though you don't want to jump to conclusions yet with how bizarre the possibility is. 

"Tell them everything in detail, or I'll do it myself in front of a whole damn crowd," is another line you can hear from the person, how quiet Waterfall is allowing you to listen to them even as Sans tries to lower the volume some.

"I will," he mutters, a neutral tone masking the subtle, annoyed look on his face, completed with him rolling his irises. "Just gimme a sec, will ya? I'm kinda in the middle of somethin' right now."

The skeleton hangs up after that and lets out a quiet sigh. He seems troubled in more ways than one, something that increments when he makes eye contact with you. "You, uh... probably heard that with how loud he was, huh?" he asks, hangdog. "It's about time I told you more about myself, though. So it's only fair."

"What do you mean?" You frown, stand up, and take a step closer to his side; fighting back the urge to push any further is almost impossible to do, yet you try it either way. "And... Who was that?"

"You probably won't like the answer to that last question, but, well…" He scratches the back of his neck as he takes a breath. "He basically gave me a deadline for me to tell you all about who I am, and who I used to be."

"Who is he, then?"

"Your ex."

An instinct to retreat from the conversation arrives at the mention of that man, though you push through it. Running away from the subject wouldn't do you good anymore, especially now, taking into consideration how Jerry's apparently given up on trying to communicate with you through text, and instead chosen to place the burden on others rather than by approaching you directly. "Block him," you blurt out, anger nulling your subtlety and tact. "And if he's blackmailing you into this, I'll deal with him. Even if he wants you to confess about everything, he still needs to be way more upfront about it. Hiding behind threats and text messages won't do him any favours on my part or anyone else's."

He sits down with you again. The rippling and bubbling sounds of the waterfall clashing with the river help soothe the tension between you, aiding you both in finding the will to carry on with the conversation. It's likely a busy place like a city on a Monday or the shop back at Snowdin wouldn't've been adequate places for you to discuss this with him, so you bask under the calm and silence of Waterfall as you wait for him to decide on what to do. "I mean it," you say, facing him. "If he's threatening you, I'll talk with him. It's no use for you to tell me everything by force than through honesty -- like you've done so far. It… It feels more genuine, and I like it better that way."

You break your gaze away and carry it over to the river, casting it down to look at your reflection in the water. Your fingers brush with the surface as you continue to wait for him to speak up, and a ghostly warmth stays on your fingertips despite the anticipation of the water being cold, a brief sensation that fades when you pull your hand back. Your skin glows with the help of the echo flowers spread all around the area, and the near translucent water serves as natural lighting for the mellow darkness of your surroundings. Of all the places you'd been given a tour of since arriving at the Underground, Waterfall was by far the most breathtaking of them all.

"It's fine," he says, casual self returning. "I was gonna tell you along the way to Hotland, either way."

"Pinky promise you're not being forced by him?" you ask, looking at him once more and offering him your pinky.

His nose cavity flares as he lets out a laugh, though he still extends his pinky out and locks it with yours. "Pinky promise I'm not."

• • •

The mood leftover after the promise begins to vanish when Sans starts to talk about what Jerry called him for, and it takes a turn for the worse when the monster reaches the topic of Toriel and her relationship with Frisk.

"So she really let them go all alone?"

"Yeah, but after she tested to see if they were strong enough to. The kid wanted to explore beyond the Ruins, and so she let them go after that."

He's explained everything the man at the bus yelled at you for, though -- of course -- in a much calmer, detailed manner than him.

"She cared so much for them, that at the end of it all, she even asked them if they wanted to live with her at the Surface."

"Y- You mean as her child?" you ask, voice breaking with your shock. "Why would she even ask that? Did... Did Frisk never tell her they ran away?"

"Not until the Barrier broke," he replies, kicking a stray rock into the water. It makes the surface ripple further and -- once it reaches the bottom -- it starts to glow, resembling the rocks visible in the Underground's makeshift, starry sky. "They said they had somewhere else to be, and that's when they told her all about you and how they wanted to go back home."

"So if they were angry at me, I… I might've never seen them again?"

Anger mixes with your lament, troubling you to the point where you can't judge the situation rationally anymore -- or without being influenced by your emotions so heavily, at least.

"Are you… Are you really telling me she would have replaced me as a parent? I… I-"

"Whoa there," he intervenes, letting out a nervous laugh. "That's not what I meant by that. She didn't know until after she asked them that, so what I'm sayin' is-"

"She wanted to keep Frisk as her child, Serif. That's enough of a reason for me to feel angry about this." Your voice raises and a glare shows up on your face. He stands up in response to your change in mood and tries to ease you out of your anger by offering a hand out to you. "I… I'm more than relieved she looked after them for so long, but… But couldn't she ask them over why they fell down here? Why didn't she ask them if they had someone to look after them way before that, and why did she try to keep them in the Ruins rather than help them journey through the Underground safely?"

"Now that's a bit complicated for me to explain, but…" He sighs and looks up at you when you take his hand and let him help you stand up again. "At the end of the day, it's better if she tells you all about that herself. She understands why she did that better than I ever will, and she can tell you stuff I otherwise won't be able to tell you without her prior knowledge." Although he doesn't have a throat, he almost seems to gulp with the next pause he takes. "But, well… If you need more context as to why she was so attached to Frisk as a parent, she lost both her biological son and adoptive kid way back when."

Your eyes falter in their glare when he says that, though your own emotions still keep you from softening up in response to such a reveal. Respecting Toriel's privacy by not forcing Sans to tell you all about her seems like the most humane thing to do even more now, so you let your glare fade away and ease in with a smile, fueled by sympathy. "...Alright," you say, letting out a breath as you allow your body to free itself from tension. "I understand, and I'm… I'm sorry for prying into this. I didn't know."

Expecting more words from him, you're contradicted when he only chooses to smile back at you and nod. "Anythin' else ya wanna ask me about myself, though? Take a breather, and tell me when you're ready to talk some more."

"Thank you."

You take up his advice and take a moment to compose yourself. You start by looking for your medicine and taking the one you need to for the hour it is; then, you drink some water and take a look at yourself through the river's reflection to see your eyes are already on the verge of watering up again. Continuously feeling sad over the past is almost a trademark of yours now, so you want to shatter that custom by mustering up as much emotional strength as you possibly can.

When you're more confident with yourself, you put the medicine back and drink the rest of the water, storing the empty bottle away after. 

"You were a sentry for the Underground, weren't you?"

The skeleton either didn't hear you, or your question's caught him off guard, the latter you try to discard when you see he's busy helping a small bird cross the waterfall, it's wings too weak for it to battle against the wind caused by the strength of the rushing water. He walks back to the river after that, though once he makes it back with you, it's noticeable how he's chosen not to answer your question yet, judging by the way his irises divert from yours the second he tries to look at you in the eye. "...Yeah," he says, finally managing a reply. "I know we've talked about this before, but… Could you still promise me you won't freak out too much? Or at least, well... Not at the same level as that guy back at the bus? Not that I don't want you to feel upset, but I just don't want you to end up in the hospital again because of somethin' like this."

"Believe me, I won't," you say, voice and gaze both stern, albeit softened by his words. "That's the last thing I want. But… Could you still tell me more about you in that sense? I want to know more about what your job as a sentry implied -- to more detail, I mean."

"Go ahead," he says, nodding. "I'll try to answer with as much depth as I can."

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

That moment when you have to cut the chapter into 1 more part because you hadn't checked the word count, and part 2 was 5k words long. 👀

Also, quick fun fact: I almost wrote 'promise by the tiny claw' rather than 'pinky promise', because where I'm from we say 'lo prometo por la garrita', and my brain just failed to come up with the proper translation for pinky finger in English for a whole solid minute, lol. 

• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to [or removed from] it!)

@the-simp-express

@nektotersh

@disastrous-l0vebug

@therealchickenjoe

@mintyflakes025

@pandaquick

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

can't stop it all from changing

Penelope and Schneider, ODAAT. Also on AO3. 

Deleted scene fic from 4.02, immediately following the collapse of the couch. I miss their S3 levels of intense sincerity and I needed a conversation to happen in this episode that didn’t.

“Well, that settles it, then,” Schneider declared. “Your couch is dead. May it rest in peace.”

What was that? You okay? 

Penelope got the text while she was still on the floor, so she knew Schneider heard the couch collapse. The fact that he texted instead of running downstairs immediately was unlike him.

I’m fine, she sent back, dusting herself off. 

“I expected better from you, though,” Penelope told her couch once she was standing and could stare down at it with disappointment. 

What was she going to do now? 

What happened? Schneider asked, when no more information was forthcoming. I’ll be there in a sec.

No, you don’t have to do that! She sent back, knowing it was already too late. Damn it. After the argument they’d had earlier, he was definitely not gonna shut up about the couch now. 

She was lucky her Mami wasn’t here, Penelope thought. She couldn’t handle the prayers and the loud Spanish laments or the two of them ganging up on her. She would figure this out. 

What if she shoved some really sturdy boxes into the gap? And filled them with something heavy so they could hold the middle up?

No, that was dumb, Penelope. Who wanted to sit on a couch made of bricks? 

Maybe Schneider could reinforce the center of the couch with wooden boards and then it would be like it hadn’t broken in the first place. That would be better. 

Schneider let himself in as she was nodding along with that thought. 

“Oh. My. God.” She watched as her best friend--how was he almost as dramatic as her mom?--crossed himself in the face of her disastrous furniture.

He still wasn’t any better at that. But it almost made her smile, which was nice.

“Penelope. What on earth did you do to it?”

“Nothing! I sat down. It just happened.”

“Well, that settles it, then,” Schneider declared. “Your couch is dead. May it rest in peace.”

She turned away from him to look back at the collapsed mess in the center of her living room. “You’re sure you couldn’t...fix it? With tools?”

“Not even Jesus could fix this couch, Pen. And he built miracles and furniture. It’s time to replace it. But don’t worry--you don’t have to go through this alone. You have me.”

She grabbed hold of the first excuse that came to mind. “Aren’t you busy moving Avery into your place? And speaking of Avery, shouldn’t it be your girlfriend you go furniture shopping with?”

"Avery isn’t the one who needs furniture, Penelope. She’s still sorting through her house. The hard part is figuring out what to combine at my place and what to put into a multilevel storage unit.”

“Besides, this is important.” He grinned. “Important family business. If I don’t help you, there’s no way you’ll unclench long enough to actually bring a couch home.”

“Your lack of faith in me is starting to get annoying,” she shot back.

“I have enormous faith in you!” he argued. “But I also know your weaknesses. Clearly, this is one of them.”

Arms crossed, she stared him down. “If I’m really doing this, I’m going to need you to make sure I go through with it. Okay? Don’t let me talk myself out of it. Make sure I leave with a new sofa picked out.”

“Hey, I’m going to be there every step of the way.”

Penelope nodded, trying to feel comforted by his support.

“I mean literally, Pen. I’m looking up stores right now, and we’re going together. After all, I’ll be using your new sofa as much as you do.”

“No, you won’t.”

He ignored that. “Give me some time to read up, and we will head into a furniture store ready to find you the perfect couch. What good is having a best friend if you can’t take him couch shopping, anyway? ”

Did she have another choice?  “All right, Schneider, you win. I could go on my lunch break tomorrow if that works for you.”

“It’s fine by me. My schedule is wide open. After all, it’s not like I have a job or anything. I’ll just be at home, setting a stack of twenties on fire whenever I get bored.”

“Schneider...”

“No, no,” he waved away her guilty expression. “I know what you really think of me, now. The truth may be ugly, but at least it’s honest.”

“That’s not what I think of you, Schneider.”

He shrugged, but she knew the hurt under the sarcasm was real. Sarcasm was one of Schneider’s tells--he didn’t tend to slip into it unless he was defensive or hurting. 

Or both. 

“Hey, it isn’t. I swear.”

She huffed out a breath and stepped closer to him, grabbing both of his hands. “I think you’re amazing, okay? You may be obscenely rich, but you do good things with your money.”

“Well, dumb things too,” she added. “But also good things. I was just freaking out. I was trying to get you to shut up, and when it didn’t work...I got mean. I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing dumb about my bidet,” Schneider said.

“What is with you and that French toilet? Speaking of that, what happened to your Japanese toilet? Why do you need international toilets anyway?”

“American toilets are antiquated, Penelope! They’re stuck in the dark ages. Both individual health and lifetime maintenance costs are improved by a modern approach.”

“See, I think that’s weird,” she told him. “It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. And you know that already.”

Schneider would forgive her for being mean, Penelope thought, watching his face as she waited. He was still Schneider. 

But it hadn’t been that long since his relapse, and she needed to remember how recently he had picked himself back up. She needed to be more careful with his feelings. 

“You really think I’m amazing?”

Schneider from three years ago would have aimed the question at her with a grin, probably a flirtatious one. Now he was genuinely asking. His voice was small. 

She lifted their joined hands and squeezed. “I do. And I completely trust you to help me find a new couch. Even though I’m scared.”

“Okay.” Schneider smiled. “Cool. I can pick you up on your lunch hour then.”

Penelope nodded. “I’ll bring a change of clothes to work. It’s going to be uncomfortable enough, going to stare at overpriced furniture. I’m not doing that in my scrubs.”

“We’re gonna do much more than just stare,” he said. “We are going to touch, we are going to peruse...we might even go nuts and sit down!” Schneider gripped her hands for one last firm moment before he let go. “But it’s going to be okay, Pen. I promise.”

“If you say so.”

She looked over at the couch that had gotten her family--Schneider included--through so many moments, good and bad, and sighed. “I guess it’s time for this to go out to the curb.”

“You think somebody else is going to want it?”

“For parts, maybe. Could you take it downstairs?”

Schneider’s brow was furrowed, but he nodded. “Yeah, sure. No problem.”

“Thanks.” 

Penelope took a seat at her kitchen table, stared resolutely away from the living room, and imagined picking out a new couch.

She pretended she couldn’t feel a wave of anxiety coming on in response.

[forkanna]

WARNING: I did tell you that Rise and Ai will have some views on gender and sexuality that I don't agree with. Well here they come in the next few chapters. Please take everything my characters say with a grain of salt; these are simply very realistic reactions and opinions, even if less than ideal.

[AO3] [WATTPAD]

-----------------------------------------------------

Why could she suddenly hear "Purity" playing in the background again?

"You… huh?" Rise finally managed. She had no idea how long it had taken her to say that much, even though it was practically nothing and she had already said that.

"Maybe… ugh. Now I'm embarrassed."

"What- now you're embarrassed?"

"Yes! Because clearly, it did something for me and it didn't do anything for you, so I'm all alone in caring about this, and I feel so stupid!"

Frantically waving her hands, Rise scooted a little closer as she hissed, "Wait, wait, slow down for a sec! I never said it didn't mean anything to me!"

"You did!" she sniffled, trying to recover from her emotional outburst.

"No, I said it wasn't the end of the world, and it's not that big a deal! But I… I'm not going to pretend I didn't feel anything at all. I did. You just seemed really upset about it, so I was… trying to let you know everything's okay."

Ai was glancing over at her occasionally now, clearly unsure of what she should do. Her mouth opened and closed a few times indecisively. "Ugh. I'm ridiculous. This is ridiculous, I don't know why we can't just be normal friends. What is wrong with me?"

"Um… can I ask you a question?"

"Might as well."

"Is this… Class S yuri, or… did you really…?"

They both looked at each other in shock for a moment. Rise was positive that they both were feeling the same thing, as well: the same sensation one gets standing at the edge of a deep precipice, fighting down vertigo and the unhealthy urge to throw oneself down. She couldn't help tracing the contours of Ai's stunningly beautiful face with her eyes, her proud chin and soft lips…

"O-of course it's just a Class S phase. I've never had a close friend, and everything got mixed up. It's probably similar for you, so we just… we have to work on not getting carried away. Right?"

"R-right! Yes, I…" Rise tried to get ahold of herself. This was too silly; they barely knew each other, all things considered. Brand new friends, fresh out of the shrinkwrap. So what was the use in going so crazy about them misreading signals and sending the wrong ones? They could sort this out.

"Great! Glad we settled that." Ai cleared her throat. "And I'm sorry for trying to blame you for everything."

"Oh, it's okay, we were both a little… y-yeah." Rise chanced a nervous giggle. "Sorry I smacked you."

"Hey, it's not like I didn't deserve it. You were right. Do… you want to…?"

When she didn't finish the thought, Rise prompted, "What?"

"Aiya? We, um, could stop by Aiya for a couple of beef bowls. O-or something." She grimaced. "I already feel like we wasted enough time fighting because I'm an oversensitive asshole."

Rise smiled and moved close enough to put her arm around her. "You're fine. And look; we're fine, too. Nobody's dying!"

"Yeah," Ai laughed very quietly. Rise could swear her cheeks were rosier, but that could easily have been from all the crying.

"I would love to go with you to Aiya. Like, we're friends! We should totally start hanging out like normal friends and stuff. Like, you could even come with me if I'm meeting up with Yuki-chan or Naoto-kun sometime."

For whatever reason, that made Ai stop smiling. But she cleared her throat and shook her head hard. "No. It's fine."

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to… offend, I ju-"

"Wait, wait. I meant… it's fine for you to ask me. I should hang out with other friends besides just you. This is normal. I was… kind of…"

Why did she look so embarrassed? "Go ahead."

"I was talking to myself. Stupid. Trying to reassure myself that normal people hang out in large groups, and it's not you trying to ditch me. I'm sorry."

"Awwww, no need to be sorry." She cuddled her closer, and felt Ai stiffen briefly before letting out a sigh. She could hear it, her ear was so close… "We'll figure this crap out, buddy!"

"Buddy," she snorted. "Don't go too crazy, Risette."

"And you're not a fan." They both laughed and they embraced — really, truly embraced this time, no holding back, no letting the awkwardness hold them back. And it was good. Rise still felt her heart beating a little faster, but that was definitely the kind of thing that could be ignored. And she would — until such time as it went away. Even if it didn't, she could take it; she was tougher than she looked.

"Okay, let's go before I get grosser," Ai half-laughed, half-hiccuped as she drew back. Rise could see she had been crying again — and was already trying to wipe the tears away before she realised what she was doing. "Wh-what?"

"Just… trying to help." She pulled back and got a handkerchief out of her bag instead, handing it to her. "Sorry. Here, this is probably better."

Nodding, she started dabbing at her eyes with one hand while the other fished out her compact. The sound of lamentation as she saw her mascara was loud, but she still just nodded and put the compact away. "Well, I did promise myself I'm going to be less vain. Let's go to Aiya."

"You got it! And it's on me!"

"Wha- no way, I will fight you for that check!"

"BRING IT!"

                                                    ~ o ~

Everything was fine. Rise had been a little worried about how the evening would turn out, given how anxious they both were after their odd brush with lesbianism. No such issues. They were still just getting to know each other, and what better way to do that than over a steaming bowl of rice and beef?

Ai was a pretty interesting girl. She really didn't seem the type to like daifuku — Rise liked them, too, the sticky red bean paste and rice dough was so much fun to chew. But they were so very traditional, and Ai was a thoroughly modern girl who revelled in trends. Between that, her love of Korean dramas and old city pop, retro games, and hatred of aromatherapy, it was interesting how much they had in common even though a few things they definitely didn't. She loved uncovering this more well-rounded picture of the girl she wanted in her life more and more.

The week wore on, and Rise tried to track Ai down whenever she could to help cement their growing bond. They even hung out with the others a few times, and though Kanji and Yosuke kept getting nervous when she would snap at them for making some off-colour comment, generally everything went well. And by much the same token, Rise hung out with Ai's friends — or what passed for them. Kou and Daisuke had seemingly decided to give her another chance as manager. Yu had told her before that she basically just sat in the corner doing her nails, but she was doing much better at actually engaging with the team, by all accounts.

Thursday was different. Ai was gone again, and didn't respond to texts. Eventually, she did get a message back in the evening…

EBI: Sorry I just needed a day

RISE: What's wrong? RISE: Anything I can do? ;-;

EBI: No I'm…

RISE: Ai-chan?

EBI: Listen it's really dumb but my mom called. EBI: And I just needed a little time to get out of my head

RISE: Oh you ditched again? RISE: You're going to get in trouble you know…

EBI: Listen I know you're going to lecture me but just save it EBI: Oh too late you sent yours before I could send mine

RISE: I'm sorry, I just don't want you to fail and get held back

EBI: Yeah I know. EBI: Thanks. :heart:

RISE: You could have told me and I'd ditch with you

EBI: What? No. I wouldn't want you to miss class because of me

RISE: Are you ditching tomorrow?

EBI: …probably

RISE: Where are we going?

EBI: Come on I told you that's not necessary. This is my damage and my weird thing and I have to face it EBI: And sometimes I need to be alone.

RISE: OKAYYYY okay

EBI: Fine. I'm probably going into Shinjuku this time

RISE: I'm really sorry for pushing RISE: Wait what? RISE: ALL THE WAY TO SHINJUKU?!

EBI: Hey I said I needed space and Okina isn't cutting it EBI: And I promise I'll be fine

RISE: ...when and where? Straight to Yasoinaba Station?

EBI: Rise… EBI: Alright I guess I can't stop you

RISE: Really?

EBI: Pain in the ass EBI: Yeah fine… 8AM don't be late or I'll leave without you.

RISE: YAAAAAAAAAAY~ RISE: We're gonna have the best time just you wait!

EBI: Uh huh EBI: Lol you're amazing.

RISE: Huh? Why?

EBI: Nevermind EBI: See you tomorrow.

RISE: Can't wait Ebi-chaaaaaaaaaaan~

EBI: UGH

And that was that. The pop star curled up in her bed with her big plush Jack Frost, grinning into the stuffing as she contemplated what the next day could bring.

                                                    ~ o ~

"What the hell are you wearing?"

"SHH!" Rise hissed at her as she strolled up to Ai on the train platform. "I'm incognito!"

"Uh huh. Can you take those big sunglasses off? It makes you look like a cartoon character."

Rise pouted as she pulled her shades off. At least most of her hair was still stuffed up into an oversized cap; no trademark pigtails to tip off Shinjuku residents that a famous idol had gone truant for the day. "Don't make fun of me. I'm not used to skipping."

"Weak. But I guess it still looks okay, it's just very… Parisian?"

"Whatever. You look cute, though."

"Oh, this?" Ai said airily, swishing out her long bohemian skirt around her heeled boots. Also seemingly suited to colder weather, but her top was a light blue babydoll tee; somehow she pulled it off, even though it was so much less ornate. Her bag was also a little simpler than usual. "I just rolled out of bed and was this fabulous."

"Right," she giggled, bumping her with her hip. The formerly-grumpy girl finally cracked a smile. "This is cute, but you usually have super pricey Prada or Anello or whatever."

"Hm? Yeah, I like this kind of bag. It is Anello — well, Legato Largo. It's more functional."

"Totally." The train pulled in just then, and Rise stepped forward to board once the doors opened, following Ai's lead. "Where are we off to?"

"Shinjuku."

"Well, I know that," she laughed. "But I mean, did you have anything in particular in mind? I mean, it's kind of… a rough neighbourhood, a little."

"Not if you stay out of Kabukicho. And we will," she reassured Rise with a raised hand. "Believe me, I'm even less interested in being jumped than you are."

"Why do you think I'm 'interested' in being jumped?!"

Ai snorted as she held onto a strap and the train took off. "I didn't say you were! Just… because I'm- nevermind, I just meant I don't have a death wish."

It didn't take them long to get to the bustling streets of Tokyo, and switch train lines to run up to Shinjuku. The same way Rise had been relieved to get to Okina, she was even more full of life now that they were really in a thriving metropolis again. So many sights and sounds! Grinning, she turned and grabbed Ai's hands, dragging her forward.

"H-hey, slow down!"

"You're the one that wanted to come here!" she giggled. "So why so slow?"

"Okay, okay, GOD." Taking a deep breath, she brushed down the front of her clothes needlessly, even though they had barely been rumpled, if at all. "Wherever you want. But I do want to stop in somewhere eventually."

"Where?" No response. So instead of dwelling, Rise just sang out, "Okaaay, then let's goooo!"

                                                    ~ o ~

The day was everything she had secretly been hoping for. They dipped in and out of lots of shops, buying one or two things but mostly browsing. Took advantage of the big city to grab foods that weren't readily available in a small town like Inaba. Stopped to speak to some of the more colourful inhabitants. Rise knew vaguely that a lot of gay men hung out there, but she didn't expect to see so many in flamboyant colours, openly acting so, so… feminine. It was both bizarre and exciting. Were there really this many people in the world who bucked societal norms so openly?

All along the way, Ai was becoming more and more comfortable with her. She still sniped and snarked but there was a playfulness to it that surpassed her previous efforts. They further eroded their anxieties about the accidental lip-lock and started to hold hands and pull each other over to see something instead of being horribly shy all the while. Progress was progress.

Finally, a little after they had enjoyed steaming bowls of udon for lunch, Ai dragged her down an alley unexpectedly. Rise asked if this was where she was finally going to get them "jumped", but Ai only laughed that off.

"No, but seriously, where are we going?"

"You'll see… okay… here."

"'Crossroads'? Okay, cool. Is it a karaoke bar?"

"Not… quite. But I promise we won't be long."

The interior was dimly lit, and everything seemed tinted red. There was a sort of warm atmosphere, combined with a raciness because of the low mood lighting. Rise was fascinated; she had been to a few more upscale places because of her work, and some of the venues she had performed at had bars inside, but this was the first standalone public house she had entered. Mostly because she was a couple of years too young to really be doing that…

"Hey, sugar. You lose your way?"

While Rise was still goggling at how deep the voice was that had come out of the kimono-clad woman behind the bar, Ai was smiling and turning fully in her direction, hands clasped so politely in front of her. "Not yet. But you did help me find it once."

The woman squinted for a moment, then gasped and pressed a hand to her chest. "Little Ebi-chan? Is that you?!"

Rise half-expected them to run together like in a movie and embrace, but they didn't; Ai just smiled wider and plopped herself down on one of the bar stools. "It's me, Ai. In the flesh."

"Whooo! I see that, wow. Well heck, you got no business in here; you're no performer."

"No, definitely not," she admitted with a laugh. "And you helped me see that, Escargot-san."

"PFFFFF," she scoffed very loudly, waving one of those meaty hands. Rise couldn't help thinking that this bar definitely didn't need a bouncer because the hostess herself was so strong-looking! "You'll call me Lala or you'll get outta here. Now, I'm pretty sure I'm not gonna serve you two a drop, since your little friend there doesn't look any older than you. Want a lime-and-tonic?"

"Sure. One for both of us."

"Oh! I…" Rise cleared her throat. "Can I have a cherry, if you don't mind?"

"Sweetie, for you? Two cherries." Rise giggled a little, pleased at the concession. While she made the drinks, she asked, "What brings you back to the neighbourhood? Haven't seen you for a couple of years."

"Oh, I heard from Mother again." Even while Lala was sighing, she passed over Ai's drink, and she stared down into its sparkling depths. "Had to get out of my head. I tried bumming around Okina yesterday, but it's just too…"

"It's the sticks, honey. Of course that's not gonna be enough of a distraction. You need flashing lights, dancing, drinking- well… not drinking," she said firmly, pointing at her. "And I'd better not hear you started trying to sneak booze at any of the other places around here, neither. Everybody knows everybody in this neighb-"

"Okay, okay, wow," Ai cackled before taking a sip. "Mm. I promise not to try to scam drinks from other bartenders."

Lana nodded firmly, satisfied for the time being. Then she turned to Rise. "What's your story, sugar? In the same club as your gal pal?"

"Huh? Oh, I… no, I haven't joined her club; they already have a manager."

For some reason, Ai looked worried about this. Why? They both knew for certain that she had no interest in the basketball club — even just being their manager like Ai was. But her answer seemed to satisfy. "Really? Well hell, that's quite a performance you're putting on, queen! All that contouring, and those are fabulous!"

She had gestured to her chest. While Rise was blushing and looking down, Ai cleared her throat and hastily said, "N-no, Lala, she… don't you know her? This is Risette! You've probably, um, probably seen her v-videos, or heard her songs?"

"Oh, it's Risette, is it?" Lala chuckled, waggling her fingers like she were casting a magic spell or sprinkling glitter. "I used to have a thing for Cher — don't even say it, I know, I know. Walking cliché. But I'm sure you can guess how well that went over; I gave that up eventually, settled on this." She fluffed her violet-hued hair… which shifted. A wig?

"No, I mean she's really Risette. Rise Kujikawa? Like, we're going to school together." Nothing. "The Quelorie Magic ads?"

Now Lala was blinking and looking at her again. "Hmm, really? The hair's not right." Hoping to help clear this up and move things along, Rise took her cap off, letting her pigtails fall. They were messier, but she was still more comfortable with them that way than with her hair down. "Ahhh, there it is! Well I'll be- you two ain't kidding, are ya? This would be a pretty weird prank if you were."

"Nope, it's me," Rise laughed awkwardly. Still a little thrown off by some of their word choices — what contouring? What performance, and why were her boobs being complimented?!

"And no, we're not in the same clubs. In fact, I don't think she knows much about my club at all."

The way those words were emphasised threw Rise off even more. Conversely, Lala's eyebrows shot up, and she looked between them for a moment… before gasping. "OH! Ohhhh, well then, that's fine. Just found a famous friend when you moved to the boonies!"

"Y-yeah," she finally sighed in relief. If Rise didn't know any better, she would swear her friend was sweating now; maybe that shine on her temples was just a trick of the light. "It's pretty wild; I mean, she grew up there, but I don't think anybody expected her to go back after she made it big."

"Nope," Rise said distantly.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I, um… I probably shouldn't tell your whole life story."

"It's fine! So, um, Lala, you have a wonderful bar here. Crazy good atmosphere!"

The bartender was still smiling at her and chuckling as one of the curtains rustled that led to the restrooms, Rise assumed. She barely glanced over. "Well, thank you much. Real lovely soul for an idol; they usually end up kinda bitter." Then she did turn to the side properly. "Hey, you'd better stop stinking up my back room, gaijin."

"Whaaaaat?" called out the lively redhead in the yellow dress. Not that her bobbed hair could possibly have been that vivid shade of crimson naturally — though she was an American, so it was entirely possible. Rise had a hard time telling Westerners apart, but there was no way someone that gaudy couldn't be from the States. "Come on, Lala-san! I have to get on my perfume, where else will I?"

Her Japanese was just quirky enough, both in terms of word usage and her bizarre accent, that the others laughed. "You're a riot, sweetie. But congrats, I guess you're part of Ai's club for real now."

"YES!" The woman saluted, other hand on her hip. Then she laughed. "What club is that? The Love Club?"

"Close enough. Erica, this is… Ai-chan?" Ai nodded. That was funny; Rise could have sworn they were old friends of some kind, and she forgot her name? "Ai, this is Erica… An… Andeshi…"

"Anderson," she provided in her normal accent. "Boy, it's weird using English again after all that time Nihongo-ing!"

"Uhhhh, right," Ai laughed, clearly having no idea what she was hearing.

"Hey! I'm Risette, and I want to be the star of your heart!"

That single line made the woman's huge brown eyes shoot even wider. "Whoooaaaa! Holy Schnikes, your English is really good, like you sound like a Yankee and shit!"

Stammering, she managed, "Sorry! I do not… understand…" Then she switched back to her native tongue and hissed, "I just learned that part for a show and like, a handful of other phrases; I'm really sorry."

"Ohhhh, it's okay," she laughed with a huge grin. Something about this woman instantly set Rise at ease; like she was almost as used to doing that as Rise herself. "Why did you learn that?"

"You missed it, honey," Lala laughed. "Risette here's a big idol. And yes, I have seen you strutting your stuff on the news; you're killing it, girl."

"Oh, thanks," she laughed, having already forgotten about that thread of conversation. "But yeah, that was one of the phrases I had to learn for my New York City concert — even though that's the only one I performed overseas. I also learned, 'Everybody having fun tonight?' and 'I love you all!' and a few more."

Erica laughed and applauded, as if she were performing a particularly impressive trick. "Amazing! You might know only a small English but you sound very good!" As the others chuckled again, she turned back to Ai. "So what did she mean? Lala-chan. You and me in the Love Club."

"O-oh, um…" She glanced at Rise, who arched her eyebrows at her. "Ugh. Come on, I'll tell you back here."

While Rise blinked, Ai led the redhead over to a booth in the corner. They were both roughly the same height, though Erica was taller by a hair. Figuring there wasn't much point in watching them whisper to each other, she turned back to smile at the host of the bar.

"Ai-chan didn't tell you why she brought you here, did she?"

"Nope," Rise offered lightly as she tugged one of the cherries out of her glass. "Just that she wanted me to see this place. Maybe you were some kind of tutor? Helped her pass some class? I don't know."

Lala laughed heartily as she wiped down the bar. "Close enough. You know, I'm honestly kind of relieved."

"Huh?"

"Back when I knew this little squirt, she didn't know which way was up. And I could tell she was heading for a fall; she lucked out with her parents, but she was going to throw herself so hard into her new life that she would forget who she was. But it looks like that straightened out eventually."

"Uh… huh," she said dubiously, turning to look at Ebihara again. Now those two were hugging tightly. She would hug some complete stranger and not her? Though the longer she looked…

Erica's expression was taut and pained. It looked like a couple of things they had talked about were less than fun.

"You've got a pretty special friend, Risette. Just go easy on her."

"I will, Escargot-san," she said right away, turning back so she could bow properly.

"Woweeee, everybody's so formal today," she chuckled as she turned to head into the back. But just then, footsteps approached, so she paused in her action to wait and see what happened.

"…and don't you be worried," Erica was saying, her arm around Ai's shoulders. "I wish I could stay and help but I have to go back to Chicago. And I promise, it will get better. Look at me, over thirty years, and I am very happy! And strong, like a wrestler! And beautiful!"

"And humble," Ai laughed, and the others laughed with her. Then she reached up to rest a hand on Erica's upper arm. "But seriously, I could never thank you enough. It's so… nice knowing I'm not alone. Even if I would have to move to the USA to be less alone in a literal sense."

"Oh, you're alone. I'm in a class all by myself — Boss always says this. He even loves my feet because I am so special." When the others exchanged curious glances, she cleared her throat and said, "No! I mean, he takes care of them, with nice shoes! Sneakers?"

"Ohhhhh," Rise said, laughing a little too much to try to hide her confusion and discomfort. She felt like Yukiko. "I was about to say, that seems a little over the line if he's your boss!"

"Yes! Though I am sure he would love them if I gave him a chance. Look!" She slammed her leg up on the bar, and Lala was already rolling her eyes in mild exasperation. "See? Beautiful!"

While Rise was politely examining the pedicure shown off by Erica's strappy sandals, she caught sight of Ai out of the corner of her eye — and noticed she was blushing hard. So either she was a candidate to love Erica's feet instead of this Boss character, or she was being powerfully reminded of something embarrassing. Rise tried to recall a hazy memory, some story about Yukiko and Chie… she only wished she could remember what it was.

                                                    To Be Continued…

[sterling-starlight]

No Texting During Drama Club

Me: Alright! Week two of Vesuvian pride is all about the modern day AUs, I can do this!

*Eight pages later*

What happened? (Pen pals/online friends meeting in person for the first time. Not quite as adherent to the prompt, but I think it works well enough)

Unknown Sender

3:30 PM.  

“-heard u have a&p with prof valdemar. If you let me copy ur notes, I will owe u pizza for the rest of our lives.

-this is Julian, btw. from the theater club.

-in case u thought this was some, u know, random creep.”

You

3:35 PM

“-Fine. But only because no one deserves to be failed by Valdemar.  

-I’ll drop them off at the dressing room tomorrow. I like pineapple and olive pizza.”

Unknown Sender

3:37 PM

“-pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza, u monster!

-sigh. but I'll let it slide since you’re saving my ass.”

You

3:41 PM

“-Did you really just type out ‘sigh’?”

Unknown Sender

3:43 PM

“-….

-Yes.”

----------------

You

6:30 PM

“-So, hey. Congrats on getting to play Hamlet.”

Julian

6:34 PM

“-not the most original production we’ve done, but a role’s a role. seeing Lucio’s face when he realized he wasn’t the star was worth it.”

You

6:40 PM

“-Remind me who that is.

I’m seriously drawing a blank here.”

Julian

6:43 PM

“-blonde. rich. Insufferable. loud.

-he has that fancy prosthetic arm that somehow makes him better than everyone.”

You

6:50 PM

“-Oooooooooh. Him.

-He doesn’t really come to bother us production people unless he wants to bitch about costuming or the sets. Which is a lot.”

Julian

6:55 PM

“-i think I've heard you chew him out a few times. Ur the girl with the venterran accent, right?”

You

7:01 PM

“-Aye.

-Surprised you could even understand me. Not a lot of people can when I get PO’d.”

Julian

7:10 PM

“-i understood enough to know you called him a prick.  

-my mom and dad took me to venterre once. it was almost as pretty as you.”

You  

7:20

“-Wow.

-That was horrible and you should feel horrible.”

Julian

7:12

“-I have no shame, and never will, my dear.”  

-------------------------------------

Julian

3:00 AM

“-natalia

“-hey, natalia.”

“-tali”

Julian 3:05 AM

“-how did people in the middle ages first think to start using leeches?

“-like, did they stick leeches on themselves and realize that pain and blood loss and disease was the medicine?”

You

3:06 AM

“Jules, it is 3 in the goddamn morning. Go to bed.”

Julian

3:07 AM

“I work the graveyard shift at supermarket.  it’s my lunchtime.”

You

3:08 AM

“-Then fuckin eat your lunch and let normal people sleep before I cram it up your ass.”

Julian

3:10 AM

“- I can think of much more fun things we can do.”

You

3:15 AM

“-Fuck you, I’m going back to sleep.”

-----------------------

Jules

2:30 PM

“-So you really had a pet ram as a kid?”

You

2:31 PM

“-Technically, I still do. I just couldn’t bring him with me.

“-my flat allows large dogs, but won’t allow rams? It’s bullshit.”

Jules

2:32 PM

“-rams aren’t really normal pets tho.”

You

2:33 PM

“-Says the guy who has a pet crow.”

Jules

2:34 PM

“-malak is a raven, number 1.  

-number 2, he is an absolute delight. how dare you say otherwise?

You

2:40

“-Rufus is better.

“-Behold the glory”

Jules

2:50 PM

“-oh, so it’s a pet off then? Fine! May the cutest animal win!”

You

3:00 PM

“-Fine!”

Jules

3:05 PM

“-Have at you!”  

-------------------------------------

When Natalia’s phone rang, she was actually shocked to see Julian’s caller id flash on the screen.   They had never actually... talked on the phone before.  

The worst-case scenarios instantly popped into her head. Was he hurt? Did something happen? What if this was the hospital calling her to say he was in critical condition. Why would he put her as an emergency medical contact without telling her?!

Her phone buzzed again, more insistently, and she pressed the answer button with a trembling finger.  

“Hello?”

“Oh, hi~” The feminine voice from the other line was definitely not Julian, not even at his most dramatic falsetto. And she sounded too chipper to be the bearer of doom and death. Natalia let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding. “This is... Tali? Right?”

“It’s Natalia, actually. Who is this?”

“My name is Portia! I’m Ilya’s- oh, sorry. One sec,” Portia put a hand over the speaker, muffling the commotion on her side of the line. There was thumping, shuffling, and her shouting “You have her listed as ‘My Dearest Tali’, Ilya! Come on!”  

A voice that sounded somewhat like Julian’s shouted back something, but Natalia couldn’t hear it clearly.  There was a sound like static or rushing wind, before a door slammed and Portia let out a triumphant laugh. Portia’s voice fully came back on the line. “Sorry. But, yeah. I’m Ilya’s little sister. I would have liked to meet you in person, but my brother is completely hopeless.”  Someone thumped against the door, and Portia lowered the phone again. “You know I’m right!”  She yelled at the door.

Back to normal. “Aaaanyway. He’s been lamenting, and sighing, and wallowing over whether or not he should ask you out. So! You wanna go on a date with him?”  

Natalia opened and closed her mouth a few times, wordless sounds escaping. She was sure her face was burning pink. She could feel the heat spreading from her cheeks to her neck.  “Take your time. I can be in here all day.” Portia said casually. Natalia could almost picture her reclining back casually on whatever it was she was sitting on.  

“Ah- Ah,” Natalia finally managed to choke out. She took in a deep breath, and let it out in a slow whistle.  “...if he really wants tae.” She finally said.  

“Oh, he does. Trust me, I know him better than anyone.” Natalia could hear Portia’s smile through the phone. Distantly, a lock clicked and a door swung open. “She said yes, Ilyushka. You can thank me later.”

“That wasn’t- you’re missing the-!” Julian stammered. He took a breath and lifted the phone to his ear. “Listen, whatever Pasha said, you can just forget it. Really. It’s nothing.”

For a moment, Natalia found herself stunned by the sound of his voice. It wasn’t anything new to her. She had heard it from behind thick velvet curtains and up on catwalks. She had heard him bellow for lost love mournfully, monologue passionately, and condemn his enemies. But those were all characters. Hamlet, and Romeo, and Othello. None of them had been Julian Devorak. Not really.  

“Natalia?” His voice broke her out of her stupor, and sent a shiver down her spine. The way his tongue curled around the syllables of her name, like he had never spoken anything more sacred, sent her heart aflame in the best possible way.  

“Julian.” She spoke his name barely above whisper.  Natalia leaned against her desk for support, head spinning. When had- how did- why didn’t he- she- they-? She took in a breath through her nose, just as Julian heaved a resigned sigh.

“Good night, Tali.”  

“No, wait, Julian! Don’t-!” The dial tone droning in her ear was all she got.  And when she tried calling him, all she got was his voice mail.  

Try again. Voice mail.

Try again. Voice mail.  

You

8:00 PM

“-Julian, you asshole! Pick up your phone!”

*Last Read by Jules at 8:05 PM.  

--------------

Natalia Valeth was not a quitter.

She hadn’t given up when she left her home country to become a pharmacist. She hadn’t lost hope when she didn’t make the cut to be on the acting team. She didn’t back down even as Professor Valdemar verbally tore the first draft of her thesis to shreds. So, when she drove to the community theater the very next weekend, she was a woman on a mission.  

She was hours early for once, but not so early that the doors to the theater weren’t already unlocked. The only person who would wake up at the ass crack of dawn for theater was Julian, and that was exactly what Natalia was betting on.  She threw open the auditorium doors with a resounding bang that echoed resoundingly all throughout the room. Sitting on the edge of the stage was Julian, who looked up at her when she made her entrance. The script he had been looking over listlessly fell from his grip, scattering like leaves in the wind. In such a quiet room, Natalia could hear him curse as if she were right at his side.  She steeled herself and marched down the steps of the auditorium, stopping less than an arm’s length away from were Julian sat on his haunches collecting the papers.  

“We need tae talk. Face tae face this time.”  

“Do we?” Julian finally collected the script and rose to his full height. Despite having a good foot on Natalia, he had never looked smaller gunmetal gray eyes looking everywhere but at her. He turned his back on her to tap the pages crisply against the stage.  

“You bet yer ass we dae! Whit th’ hell urr ye thinking’s? Whit, did ye think ignoring this wid mak’ it go away?”  

“...Maybe a little.”

“Och! Yer impossible!” Natalia threw her hands up with the exclamation. “Did ye think Ah juist said ‘aye’ tae fuck wi’ ye? A’m waantin’ tae gang oan a date wi’ ye! Mibbie even twa! If we feel really crazy, we’ll mak’ it three.”

It might not have been the three magical worlds that would have been most dramatic. If this were a stage production, this would be the part where the lights would dim, and the spotlight would narrow over the two lovers, giving the illusion that they were the only two people in the world.   With the theater as empty as it was, they might as well have been.  

“Do you... Do you mean that?”

Such vulnerability didn't seem like Julian.  Julian could throw out innuendos as easily as breathing. Julian was overly dramatic in everything he did, even when he wasn’t in front of an adoring audience. But it was the Julian who wanted to be a doctor. It was the Julian who looked at all the pandemics of the past, and wondered why so many people had to die.  The Julian who was wound up so tightly like he was bracing himself for ejection like it would come as a physical blow.  

Sarcasm felt like it would just add fuel to the fire, so Natalia opted for compassion instead. When she brushed her hand against Julian’s cheek, he leaned into it like he needed her touch the same way needed air.

“I’m willin tae huv a go at this.” She said gently, like everything would shatter around them if she was too abrasive. “Ye in?”  

“Absolutely.” Julian placed a hand over hers and tilted his head enough to plant a shy, fleeting kiss to her palm.  

Maybe this would end in a romance for the ages. Maybe this would end in tragedy. Whatever happened, it was better than not pursing it at all.  

[ikesenlemonadestandstories]

Ghosts?

I present to you Kinesis: Chapter 17, please feel free to look for all previous and future chapters on my Master List and under the “Kinesis” tag :) Love you all!

Warnings: None

[Masamune]

Ghosts?

“Masamune, a letter.” My charge, Kojiro announced as he dropped the correspondence on my desk. 

“Thanks, if you give me a sec I’ll have it read and responded to?” I asked, not sure what the surveillance team was currently doing. 

“I can wait,” Kojiro responded quickly. “Everything in and around Gomphrena is quiet right now.”

I nodded and ripped the envelope open. For once the update lacked details beyond calling everyone to meet just outside of Solidago in the Alstroemeria Forest. Double-checking for hidden or extra information I turned the letter over in my hands. That was Hideyoshi’s meticulous handwriting which guaranteed the lack of instructions were intentional. 

We set off at dawn and with minimal stopping, we made it to the rendezvous point in less than three days. I mean, Alstroemeria made sense, it was in the center of the country and almost dead even between all four bases; I really couldn’t blame them for picking it, but did we really have to meet in a haunted forest? 

“Stop lamenting and get a move on.” Ieyasu groaned from beyond the tree line. “It’s not a haunted forest.”

“Like hell, it’s not haunted!” I shot back, rushing forward to catch up to the group. The last thing I wanted to do was walk through here by myself.

There was an innumerable number of trees, but I guess there would be. This was a forest. The foliage overhead was so vast it nearly blocked out the sun, only a soft stream of light could be seen through the leaves when the wind whirled in the sky above. Everywhere beyond the unmarked path was a carpet of blue, the ground a near explosion of brightly colored flowers; It was beautiful, like something out of a fantasy novel but that’s precisely why I didn’t trust the peaceful facade. 

“Would you relax? You’re literally vibrating, and I can’t find our entry point.” Ieyasu glared at me over his shoulder.

“I know you’re one with the earth and all, but how does this place not give you the heebie-jeebies?” I trotted closer to Ieyasu as he grumbled and gave me a look that was all business.

“If you don’t stop I’m going to leave you by yourself in this not haunted forest.” His face stern as he stopped walking. 

Just as he reached out to touch the bark of a tree off the path, a loud rustling and the crunch of dead leaves could be heard. Whatever was closeby was large and headed our way. Drawing my sword I whirled around to face the noise just in time to see (YN) push through the foliage.

“Gods! Do you always just whip that thing out?” They screeched as everyone’s posture relaxed. “I tried to make enough noise, I really didn’t want to get skewered.”

“Noise was the right idea. At least he saw you before swinging like a sword crazed idiot.” Ieyasu bemoaned, switching topics quickly. “Are you here to take us back to camp?”

“No, I’ve been patrolling the borders. I guess Kenshin made quite the scene when they left Delphinium, and they may have been followed.” (YN) rolled their eyes and tapped the long wooden stick they carried on the ground. 

“Uh, whatcha got there?” I asked, “You figure out your secretly a wizard?” 

I felt a swift wack from both sides, looking around to see that not only had Ieyasu flung mud at me but (YN) had hit me with their stick. 

“No, for the love of- it’s Kennyo’s. What is wrong with you? A wizard? Really?” They laughed out loud “He wouldn’t let me leave camp without it.”

“Speaking of camp. Again. Can you tell us how to get there or can we leave?” Ieyasu mumbled beside me. 

“What’s the rush? I didn’t think you were scared of the forest?” I teased watching how Ieyasu’s eyes’ opened wide. 

Instead of answering, he dumped a fresh clump on clay right on my head. He was too easy to pick on. Though his change in demeanor had me curious, I wonder what had spooked him. 

“I have to finish my loop, but if you go down and past the brook over there, you’ll find the enchantments Kennyo placed.” (YN) gestured east in the direction we had just come from. “Once you get there put in the password and a clearing will come into view.”

“Thanks (YN)!” I shouted over my shoulder, running ahead of Ieyasu and our men towards the stream.

“Anytime, Masamune! Next time let’s try to do it without the swords!”

[copper-wasp]

Prompto x Reader: Kisses (Part 11/?)

Title: Glasses (Alt. Version)

Rating: T

Words: 1,733

Posted to AO3!

You perked up as soon as you saw Prompto coming towards you. You had already purchased his favorite boba, mango, and you had pushed it over to him as he plopped down on the bench next to you, setting his laptop on the table.

You hadn’t gotten a proper look at him, but once he sat down with sigh, you glanced over, having to do a double take when you saw he was wearing glasses. Tortoiseshell frames, cute rounded rectangles that fit his face perfectly, and you watched with rapt attention as Prompto raised his pointer finger to push them up his nose. You shook your head to clear away the glasses-induced fog, tapping the lid of his drink with the end of your pen.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you said, chewing on a tapioca pearl. “Rough day already? You know it’s only 10 am, right?” you joked, seeing him crack a smile at you.

“Yeah... I know,” he replied, opening the lid to his computer and jiggling his fingertips on the trackpad to wake it up. He took a big drag on the straw of his drink, mouth curving into a smile at the taste. “Thanks for that,” he remarked, looking at you full on for the first time.

You couldn’t get over him wearing glasses. You knew he wore contacts normally, but you’d just never even thought about what he looked like with glasses on instead.

You felt heat rush into your face, and you cleared your throat, trying to focus on the passage you were reading, highlighter poised over the printed text.

“You okay?” Prom asked, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah, I’m super entirely fine,” you replied with a grin. He matched yours, and the combination of his killer smile and those glasses of his was almost enough to knock you out cold with cuteness.

He groaned, pulling up the syllabus to one of his courses. “I never thought taking a photo class would require so much writing,” he lamented, resting his head on his hand.

“Well, they can’t let you have too much fun, right?” you replied, dragging a fluorescent pink line across your textbook. He snorted, popping the lens cover off his camera.

“Hey, look over here for a sec?” he said, but you didn’t budge.

“No way, Prom, find a more willing model,” you commented, turning the page.

“Ahhh come on, please? You’re my favorite model,” he whined, lining up the shot anyway.

You rolled your eyes, closing the book around your highlighter to keep your page. “Fine, but only if I get to take one of you next.”

“That’s a deal I’m willing to make,” he replied cheerfully.

You turned your head to look at him, letting him frame the shot. He gave you a couple directions, tilt your head this way, eyes over there, pull your hair out from behind your ear, and you followed them all. After a minute or so, you heard the click of the shutter, and Prom pulled the picture up on the screen on the back of the camera. “Looks good, don’t you think?” he asked, showing you the photo. You thought you looked like a potato, per usual, but Prompto seemed pleased, so you nodded, giving him a smile.

“My turn, right?” you reminded him, and he handed over the camera. “Okay, first close your laptop. Now put your elbow on the table and make a fist. Other elbow, silly,” you said with a laugh. Prompto moved to take off his glasses, but you stopped him.

“No, Prom, leave those on!” you said, lowering the camera to look at him.

“How come?”

“Because... you look really... cute with them on,” you said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear. He gave you a crooked smile and pushed the frames back up his nose.

“I dunno, I think I look like a nerd,” he replied.

“Oh, no way, Prom,” you said a little too enthusiastically, clearing your throat to try to distract from your red cheeks. “Okay, okay, now rest your cheek on your hand,” you quickly diverted, setting him up the way you wanted for the photo. “Hmm, I want to try something.... Don’t look at the camera until I say, okay? And even though it pains me to say it, don’t smile either,” you added, trying not to grin yourself.

“Okay, I got it,” he replied, looking longingly at his melting boba. You were being a little excessive, but you wanted to get the perfect shot of your blonde friend.

“Okay, on three. One... two...” you pulled the viewfinder up to your eye, manually focusing. “Three!” Prompto looked up as you had instructed, blue eyes bright and lovely in the morning sun. You frowned at the photo when you brought it up, but not because it was bad, rather because of how good the subject looked in it. Prompto was disturbingly cute, his freckles sticking out like confetti on his cheeks, shock of blonde hair stirred perfectly by the gentle breeze, the little glare on his lenses not detracting at all from his ocean-colored eyes, practically staring into your soul through the camera screen.

You turned it to show him when he scooted closer to you. He gave you a smile, pleased with the photo. “Maybe you should be the photography major,” he joked, placing the camera on the table.

“Nah, I’ll stick to my books and research papers,” you replied. Checking your watch, you had just about ten minutes to get to your next class, so you packed up your things. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Yeah, see you!” he replied, saluting you with his boba. He bit his lip to hide his smile after you had left. “Did she really...? Say I was cute?” he mumbled to himself, pulling up the picture he had taken of you. There was just a hint of a smile on your lips, eyes looking just past the camera, and he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to kiss those lips, and have your eyes trained only on him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Noctis looked concernedly at his friend over the pizza they were sharing.

“Prompto?” he asked, dropping his crust onto his plate.

“Yeah?” Prom replied, trying to wrangle the clump of cheese that was falling off of his slice.

“You’ve been wearing your glasses for like, a week straight. Did you run out of contacts or something?” Noctis asked, pulling another slice in his direction.

Prompto looked at him guiltily, shoving his pizza in his mouth. After a long moment of chewing, and seeing that Noct was still looking at him expectantly, he sighed. “Well... um, [Y/N] may have said that... she, uh, thinks I look cute with them on,” he explained sheepishly, not looking at him.

Noctis was trying not to be an ass, but the smirk on his face betrayed his intentions. “Oh, so the girl you’ve had a crush on for months says you look good, and you don’t ask her out, you just keep wearing your glasses?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” the blonde replied with a hopeless lilt.

“Just ask her out, she’s obviously into you,” Noct said, pulling all the cheese off of his slice to shove into his mouth.

“You forget that I’m a train wreck around girls.”

Noctis scoffed, "You are not. You just let your nerves get to you."

Prompto shrugged in response, opening and closing his mouth a few times, any rebuttal refusing to come.

"Well," Noctis continued, pausing to swallow a large bite of pizza, "If you won't ask her out, maybe I will. She's cute, and I can get some of those non-prescription glasses to wear...."

Prompto's head whipped around to glare at his friend. Noctis was refusing to look at him, just giving bedroom eyes to his slice, hoping this would give his friend the little push he needed.

"Don't even think about it," Prompto finally replied, angrily tearing another slice from the pie.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Would you... maybe want to go for a walk?” Prompto asked you the next afternoon, closing the book he was pretending to read.

You nodded with a relieved sigh. “I was hoping you’d distract me,” you replied, closing the lid on your laptop and sliding it into your backpack. “Where do you wanna go?”

Prom smiled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Maybe the park on 14th?”

“Sounds good!”

You started walking towards the park, but Prompto was getting a lot of attention on the way.

“Hey Prom, nice glasses!” Noctis yelled as he skated by on his longboard.

“Uh... th-thanks?!” he replied as his dark haired friend laughed.

A block later and the two of you ran into Gladio - you hadn’t spent much time with him, but he pulled you into a bear hug nonetheless, picking you about 6 inches off the ground in the process.

“Hey short stuff, look at how cute you look with those,” he teased, poking at the frame with his meaty fingertips.

“Hey, cut it out!” Prompto said, swatting his hand away, and you couldn’t stifle your laugh. Prom’s cheeks were a brilliant red, and you really wanted to reach out and touch them.

You kept walking, Prom’s face slowly regaining its normal color, when you spotted Ignis standing on a corner, furiously scribbling in a notebook.

“Hey, Iggy,” you greeted, peering over to try to get a glance at what he was writing. He snapped his book shut, not letting you see.

“Sorry, it’s a secret for now,” he said, tucking it into his backpack. He glanced over at Prompto, who gave a pathetic wave. “Hmm... Noctis was right, those are cute on you,” he added with a sly smile, adjusting his own glasses.

Prom gave a withering look, grabbing your hand and pulling you past Iggy. You gave him a wave goodbye as Prompto dragged you towards the park, pink sitting high on his cheekbones once again.

“Hey, Prom, stop! Hold on a minute,” you said, dragging your feet to get him to slow down as you entered the park.

He didn’t seem to want to look at you, but he was still holding your hand. You gave it a gentle squeeze, Prom finally tilting his head to catch your eye. “They were just joking, right?” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah... I know, I just-“ he paused, turning to face you. He took a deep breath, a little tinge of embarrassment in his ocean eyes. “Well, you said you liked how I looked with my glasses and I kind of haven’t taken them off since then and they’ve been on my case about me not asking you... um,” he paused, grabbing your other hand.

You smiled at him reassuringly, taking a step closer to him. “It’s okay, Prom. I think I know what you want to ask.” Now it was your turn to be nervous, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “I’d really like to go on a date with you,” you said quietly. “And you do look so cute with those glasses on.”

He gave you a winning smile, his embarrassment melting away, and you pressed yourself against him in an embrace. You tried to pull away, but he kept you close, giving you a serious look.

He nuzzled his nose against yours and your lips parted in surprise. He bit his bottom lip, and you felt his grip on your waist tighten. Your eyes fluttered shut when you felt his lips touch yours, giving you a sweet, soft kiss.

You laughed against his lips, “I think we’re supposed to go on the date first, Prom.”

“Ah, sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” he replied, biting his lip. He was silent for a few minutes, eyes flicking up and down from your own to your lips. "Would you mind if I did it again?" he asked with a shy smile, and you shook your head. He kissed you again, a little more heated this time, like he was memorizing the feel of your lips on his.

You playfully pushed him away, grabbing his hand again and lacing your fingers with his. “Well, come on, stud, you promised me a walk in the park,” you teased, pulling him along behind you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading!!

Find me on:

AO3: copper_wasp

Twitter: copper_wasp_

[nervousgaylaughter]

how'd we end up on a road we never took (chapter 1)

a kate and eva fake dating au

read on ao3

Kate is sick of her life. She’s sick of her homophobic parents. She’s sick of all the fake people at school. And she’s sick of Cairo and all her questions. It’s one thing to go to school and be interrogated about dating her best friend to go home and be lectured how she’s just in a phase. The duality of her two worlds is too much for her to handle, she knows it would all go away if she could just get a girlfriend. But her angry demeanor and unapproachable disposition has ruined her chances.

She can count all the girls she’s been able to deal with enough to actually like on one hand.

There was Bridget, her first real crush last year, who lead Kate on, but unlike Kate, was actually in love with her best friend Emma and started dating her, leaving Kate somewhat heartbroken. There were two good things that came from Bridget though: her gay awakening and her best friend Chess. Two unrelated things, but both important nonetheless.

There was Mallory from English who was so straight that it actually caused Kate to stop crushing on her. She was attracted to Mallory’s intelligence, she always had the best analysis for whatever they were reading, but ultimately dropped the idea when Mallory started dating the heartthrob of the school.

And there was Samantha, the bubbly girl she met at a week-long art exposition, who lived on the other side of the country. The girl felt like a breath of fresh air to Kate after being stuck in the same town for all of her life. She had a crush for a week, and then she left for home.

That’s it.

It’s not that Kate doesn’t find more than three girls attractive, it’s just that their personality is the overwhelmingly important factor for her. She feels like she’s already met everyone she’s gonna meet. The kids at Giles Corey High School have been in school together practically since Kindergarten. By the time she’s a junior in high school she accepts she’s never going to like any Tiger enough to date her.

Kate is getting dinner with Chess as she laments over her situation.

“There is a very good chance that all aspects of my life will improve if I had a girlfriend.”

“How do you figure that, Kate?” Chess asks with an amused grin.

“One, I’d have a girlfriend.” Kate says as if it were obvious, making Chess chuckle.

“Two, Cairo would stop insinuating that we’re dating.”

“Don’t let her get to you Kate, it’s not her fault she’s projecting onto you.”

“You know actually I think all our lives would improve if Cairo would finally admit she’s in love with Riley. She needs to get over the repressed lesbian bullshit already it’s been literally eight years.”

Next to them, one of the busgirls laughs at the anecdote as she’s cleaning one if the tables. Kate gives her some serious side-eye for eavesdropping.

Trying to get her friend to alleviate her death stare, Chess asks, “Are there any more points to your list?”

“Ah yes,” Kate perks up as the idea comes back to her mind, “Three, my parents would stop trying to tell me being gay is just a phase.”

Chess gives her friend the pity face to which Kate just rolls her eyes. Their conversation is interrupted by the waitress coming over.

“What can I get for you girls?” Kate and Chess come to Toni's Pizza after practice every Thursday so the waiter should be very familiar with the pair by now, but they go through this routine every time.

“We’ll have a large Hawaiian pizza with two root beers please,” Chess says with a smile. Kate thinks that pineapple on pizza is absolutely atrocious, but she told Bridget she liked it because it’s Bridget’s favorite and Kate was a useless baby gay. Bridget and Emma ordered it when they first introduced Chess to Kate and it’s far too late to correct herself now.

“Oh…” is all the waiter says as he goes to put in their order, clearly judging their order as he does every week. Same buddy, same, is all Kate thinks but instead she leans in towards Chess and says, “He acts like we haven’t ordered the same exact thing every Thursday for the past year.”

“Leave him alone Kate, it’s not his job to memorize the regulars’ orders.”

“It’d save a lot of time though.” The waiter returns with their root beers in bottles, and as much as Kate would never admit it, she likes her pop best like that. It makes her feel like an adult even though she’s too scared to drink alcohol. She takes a few sips and starts to blow into the bottle. She manages to get a steady sound out of it and starts playing a random rhythm.

“Do you have to do this every time?” Chess says to her friend staring her down as she continues to blow into the bottle.

“Obviously,” Kate says, but stops her incessant root beer music.

Just as Kate is about to continue telling her single life sorrows to Chess, the busgirl comes over.

“So I couldn’t help but overhear your story-“

“Yeah I noticed,” Kate says with a glare. The girl hesitates for a moment but continues, “Um, I think I have a solution.”

Kate really doesn’t want the unsolicited advice of a stranger, but she’s so desperate that she figures she could at least hear her out.

“So, my friend Eva, she’s a delivery girl, just broke up with her girlfriend and needs to save face at Homecoming so you two could totally just go together to get everyone off your back,” the busgirl looks extremely proud of her plan, and if she’s being perfectly honest, Kate’s not completely opposed to it.

Kate did recognize the name Eva though, since her family often ordered delivery from Toni's Kate would get their pizza (without pineapples) from the girl with the rainbow button on her jacket. Kate did notice that the girl was really attractive, and hoped the button meant more than just a rainbow, but wouldn’t let herself think about a complete stranger like that.

Friends all leave you eventually, Bridget did, so the less friends you have and the more people you distance yourself from the better.

Kate realizes that she’s been sitting thinking in silence for a little bit too long.

“Just until Homecoming?”

“Yeah. By then both if you will have made your point, ooh hang on gimme a sec,” the girl runs off and quickly returns with a piece of paper. “Write down your number. I’ll call her after she gets out of cheer practice and explain everything to her.”

“Eva is a cheerleader too?” Chess asks genuinely as Kate scribbles down her phone number.

“Mhm she’s the highest ranked flyer in the state. Are you guys cheerleaders?” Kate resists the urge to sarcastically grab the draw string bags that both her and Chess have on their chairs that say “Tigers Cheerleading” and lets Chess respond.

“Yup we go to Giles Corey.”

“Oh sorry,” the girl says, “I didn’t mean it like that it's just we go to West High and well, you know your team is kinda ass but I’ve seen you guys cheer and you’re good.” Kate may already know that they’re the worst team ever, but only she’s allowed to trash the Tigers.

“Great thanks for the idea,” Kate abruptly hands the paper to the girl, “bye,” she says with a little, somewhat patronizing, shooing motion.

Though the busgirl might already annoy the shit out of Kate, she wonders what Eva is like. If she goes through with this insane plan with someone she just barely knows what will she feel like by the end? What if Eva grows on me, Kate wonders but stops herself. She won’t let it get that far. They can pretend to be dating but she doesn’t need another friendship outside of that. If Eva somehow agrees to her friend’s plan, Kate won’t let them get close because that’s just how you get hurt.

“Earth to Kate… hello?” Chess waves her hand in front of Kate’s face. “Oh my God you’re actually considering this aren’t you?” Chess says.

“I mean-” Chess cuts her off with an amused laugh, “At first I thought 'Kate would never do something like this', but now I’m seeing how gay and desperate you are.”

“Think about it Chess, it’d be so nice for Cairo to stop teasing us all practice for once.”

“I tune her out, don’t you?”

“How can I she’s so incessantly loud. Also my parents would finally get off my back if they thought I was dating someone.”

“Do they still say you can’t be gay because you’ve never been in any relationship?”

“Yeah,” Kate says sadly as she puts her arms and head down on the table.

“That’s a big oof buddy.”

“I know. I’m just going wait and see if Eva even texts me before I do or say anything.”

Chess nods as the waiter brings their pizza. The rest of the dinner goes by relatively quickly, except for when Kate has to resist gagging to swallow the pineapple, and soon enough Chess is dropping off Kate at her house.

“You know you’re gonna have to get your license someday. I’m not gonna be here to drive you around forever,” Chess says to the shorter girl.

“Why would you remind me of that?” Kate says as she gets out of the car.

“Sorry bud, I don’t wanna leave you either but we have to accept that I’m going to college at some point,” Chess says through her window.

“I don’t have to accept it if I don’t think about it.”

“Hey look at me,” Kate was staring at the ground, but slowly looks up to Chess, “You’re my best friend. We’re always gonna be us no matter what, ok?” Chess holds out her arm with her half of their matching bracelets. Kate puts her own arm on top of Chess's so their bracelets align as they smile at each other and Kate backs away from the car.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Chess says as she pulls out of the driveway.

Kate just nods as she makes her way to her front door. She know no matter what Chess thinks right now, the truth is that they’ll grow apart. It happened when her oldest sister got married, when her older brother got a job overseas, and when Bridget went away to school. Why would this time be any different?

Kate forgets about her Eva situation as she gets ready for bed and attempts to read her book, but is too preoccupied mourning the loss of Chess even though it hasn’t happened yet. That is until she’s lying in the darkness and her phone lights up.

That’s it.

It’s not that Kate doesn’t find more than three girls attractive, it’s just that their personality is the overwhelmingly important factor for her. She feels like she’s already met everyone she’s gonna meet. The kids at Giles Corey High School have been in school together practically since Kindergarten. By the time she’s a junior in high school she accepts she’s never going to like any Tiger enough to date her.

Kate is getting dinner with Chess as she laments over her situation.

“There is a very good chance that all aspects of my life will improve if I had a girlfriend.”

“How do you figure that, Kate?” Chess asks with an amused grin.

“One, I’d have a girlfriend.” Kate says as if it were obvious, making Chess chuckle.

“Two, Cairo would stop insinuating that we’re dating.”

“Don’t let her get to you Kate, it’s not her fault she’s projecting onto you.”

“You know actually I think all our lives would improve if Cairo would finally admit she’s in love with Riley. She needs to get over the repressed lesbian bullshit already it’s been literally eight years.”

Next to them, one of the busgirls laughs at the anecdote as she’s cleaning one if the tables. Kate gives her some serious side-eye for eavesdropping.

Trying to get her friend to alleviate her death stare, Chess asks, “Are there any more points to your list?”

“Ah yes,” Kate perks up as the idea comes back to her mind, “Three, my parents would stop trying to tell me being gay is just a phase.”

Chess gives her friend the pity face to which Kate just rolls her eyes. Their conversation is interrupted by the waitress coming over.

“What can I get for you girls?” Kate and Chess come to Toni's Pizza after practice every Thursday so the waiter should be very familiar with the pair by now, but they go through this routine every time.

“We’ll have a large Hawaiian pizza with two root beers please,” Chess says with a smile. Kate thinks that pineapple on pizza is absolutely atrocious, but she told Bridget she liked it because it’s Bridget’s favorite and Kate was a useless baby gay. Bridget and Emma ordered it when they first introduced Chess to Kate and it’s far too late to correct herself now.

“Oh…” is all the waiter says as he goes to put in their order, clearly judging their order as he does every week. Same buddy, same, is all Kate thinks but instead she leans in towards Chess and says, “He acts like we haven’t ordered the same exact thing every Thursday for the past year.”

“Leave him alone Kate, it’s not his job to memorize the regulars’ orders.”

“It’d save a lot of time though.” The waiter returns with their root beers in bottles, and as much as Kate would never admit it, she likes her pop best like that. It makes her feel like an adult even though she’s too scared to drink alcohol. She takes a few sips and starts to blow into the bottle. She manages to get a steady sound out of it and starts playing a random rhythm.

“Do you have to do this every time?” Chess says to her friend staring her down as she continues to blow into the bottle.

“Obviously,” Kate says, but stops her incessant root beer music.

Just as Kate is about to continue telling her single life sorrows to Chess, the busgirl comes over.

“So I couldn’t help but overhear your story-“

“Yeah I noticed,” Kate says with a glare. The girl hesitates for a moment but continues, “Um, I think I have a solution.”

Kate really doesn’t want the unsolicited advice of a stranger, but she’s so desperate that she figures she could at least hear her out.

“So, my friend Eva, she’s a delivery girl, just broke up with her girlfriend and needs to save face at Homecoming so you two could totally just go together to get everyone off your back,” the busgirl looks extremely proud of her plan, and if she’s being perfectly honest, Kate’s not completely opposed to it.

Kate did recognize the name Eva though, since her family often ordered delivery from Toni's Kate would get their pizza (without pineapples) from the girl with the rainbow button on her jacket. Kate did notice that the girl was really attractive, and hoped the button meant more than just a rainbow, but wouldn’t let herself think about a complete stranger like that.

Friends all leave you eventually, Bridget did, so the less friends you have and the more people you distance yourself from the better.

Kate realizes that she’s been sitting thinking in silence for a little bit too long.

“Just until Homecoming?”

“Yeah. By then both if you will have made your point, ooh hang on gimme a sec,” the girl runs off and quickly returns with a piece of paper. “Write down your number. I’ll call her after she gets out of cheer practice and explain everything to her.”

“Eva is a cheerleader too?” Chess asks genuinely as Kate scribbles down her phone number.

“Mhm she’s the highest ranked flyer in the state. Are you guys cheerleaders?” Kate resists the urge to sarcastically grab the draw string bags that both her and Chess have on their chairs that say “Tigers Cheerleading” and lets Chess respond.

“Yup we go to Giles Corey.”

“Oh sorry,” the girl says, “I didn’t mean it like that it's just we go to West High and well, you know your team is kinda ass but I’ve seen you guys cheer and you’re good.” Kate may already know that they’re the worst team ever, but only she’s allowed to trash the Tigers.

“Great thanks for the idea,” Kate abruptly hands the paper to the girl, “bye,” she says with a little, somewhat patronizing, shooing motion.

Though the busgirl might already annoy the shit out of Kate, she wonders what Eva is like. If she goes through with this insane plan with someone she just barely knows what will she feel like by the end? What if Eva grows on me, Kate wonders but stops herself. She won’t let it get that far. They can pretend to be dating but she doesn’t need another friendship outside of that. If Eva somehow agrees to her friend’s plan, Kate won’t let them get close because that’s just how you get hurt.

“Earth to Kate… hello?” Chess waves her hand in front of Kate’s face. “Oh my God you’re actually considering this aren’t you?” Chess says.

“I mean-” Chess cuts her off with an amused laugh, “At first I thought 'Kate would never do something like this', but now I’m seeing how gay and desperate you are.”

“Think about it Chess, it’d be so nice for Cairo to stop teasing us all practice for once.”

“I tune her out, don’t you?”

“How can I she’s so incessantly loud. Also my parents would finally get off my back if they thought I was dating someone.”

“Do they still say you can’t be gay because you’ve never been in any relationship?”

“Yeah,” Kate says sadly as she puts her arms and head down on the table.

“That’s a big oof buddy.”

“I know. I’m just going wait and see if Eva even texts me before I do or say anything.”

Chess nods as the waiter brings their pizza. The rest of the dinner goes by relatively quickly, except for when Kate has to resist gagging to swallow the pineapple, and soon enough Chess is dropping off Kate at her house.

“You know you’re gonna have to get your license someday. I’m not gonna be here to drive you around forever,” Chess says to the shorter girl.

“Why would you remind me of that?” Kate says as she gets out of the car.

“Sorry bud, I don’t wanna leave you either but we have to accept that I’m going to college at some point,” Chess says through her window.

“I don’t have to accept it if I don’t think about it.”

“Hey look at me,” Kate was staring at the ground, but slowly looks up to Chess, “You’re my best friend. We’re always gonna be us no matter what, ok?” Chess holds out her arm with her half of their matching bracelets. Kate puts her own arm on top of Chess's so their bracelets align as they smile at each other and Kate backs away from the car.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Chess says as she pulls out of the driveway.

Kate just nods as she makes her way to her front door. She know no matter what Chess thinks right now, the truth is that they’ll grow apart. It happened when her oldest sister got married, when her older brother got a job overseas, and when Bridget went away to school. Why would this time be any different?

Kate forgets about her Eva situation as she gets ready for bed and attempts to read her book, but is too preoccupied

[sarahinara]

come home to you; matt x mc

Summary: Carmen (MC) meets Matt’s dad for the first time.

Word Count: 1662

Warnings: None.

Author’s Note: you know when you think of a scene and think ‘oh that’s cute’ but then have to write a bunch to get there? this is that

Matt only looks half-apologetic as he lingers in the doorway of the bathroom, Carmen glaring at him through the mirror with an iron grip around her mascara wand.

“In my defence,” he raises both hands, “he only told me this morning that he was coming to the wrap party.”

Carmen never figured that Marco Rodriguez, critically-acclaimed actor and father to the love of her life, would be one of those types, but the simple mention of him unnerves her too much to dwell on it. Leading up to today, she’d had the pleasure of getting to lead another movie with Matt – so much so that she was almost dreading the day they wrapped. Now, she gives herself another once-over for a whole different reason, finger tapping frantically on the counter, and is teetering on the edge of just restarting it all when Matt closes the space between them. Warmth seeps through her dress as he wraps his arms around her, pressing a fleeting kiss on her shoulder.

“He’s going to love you.” The pure conviction in his voice, soft and gentle, briefly stops her train of thought in its tracks. His thumb rubs small circles on her skin as she steadies herself, the lump in her throat pointedly preventing her from any coherent sentence.

“I just –“ She works to find the words, like the tangled ball of nerves in her stomach could be explained. A few beats pass like that, his presence grounding while her fingernails dig deep into her palm.

“He means a lot to you,” she finally manages. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“Hey, listen to me,” Matt turns her around, cups her cheek to gaze into her eyes. “You are the most incredible person I’ve ever met. Nothing is going to change how I feel about you. And besides,” the corner of his lip tugs upwards. “He’s already told me how nervous he is to meet you.”

He lets out a little laugh at the look on her face. “How many women do you think I’ve fallen in love with, Carmen?”

The fear slowly seeps away and she flicks his shoulder, earning her a small noise of protest. “You could’ve led with that, you know.”

“And miss a chance to lament how great you are? Never.”

“Come on,” she grins, tugging on his hand to lead him out the door. Her heart flutters in her chest. “We’re going to be late to our own party.”

She still misses a step when she spots Marco across the room, barely three feet over the threshold of the venue. It’s hard not to notice him – a few inches shy of Matt with cropped dark hair – the way he moves, larger than life with confidence to spare, commands a certain presence about him. People cheer as they walk in, hand-in-arm, tipping drinks towards them. Carmen smiles out of habit, but then Marco laughs at something Teja said, his face scrunching up just so and Carmen is struck so acutely with déjà vu that she immediately glances back at Matt beside her.

He’s grinning madly, hand already raised high in the air. “Hey, dad!”

“There’s the man of the hour!” Marco’s face lights up when he sees him. He weaves his way through the crowd, opening his arms wide to pull his son into a hug. “It’s good to see you!”

Matt rolls his eyes, as if it’d offset how happy he looks. “You saw me a few days ago, at dinner.”

“That doesn’t change anything,” he waves a hand dismissively, which freezes mid-air when he finally sees Carmen. She smiles, gives a little wave, hopes desperately that he won’t find a timid wave from his son’s girlfriend weird. His hand drops so suddenly that she’s convinced she’s done something wrong before he makes towards her like he was going to hug her as well, but pulls back at the last second. There’s a moment when none of them knows what’s going on when Marco finally decides to envelop her hand with both of his own, beaming. “It is an absolute honour to meet you, Carmen.”

“You too,” she lets out some of the tension in her shoulders. “Matt’s told me a lot about you.”

“Oh, is that so?” He narrows his eyes overdramatically, but Carmen can see him shifting his weight between his feet. “All good things, I hope?”

“That, or he’s a better actor than I thought.” She nudges Matt playfully in the side.

“What can I say? The method works.”

“’The method,’” Marco curls his fingers into air quotes, the corners of his lips quirking upwards. “You used to always use that excuse when you were younger whenever I caught you doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing.”

“Breaking windows isn’t a part of method acting?”

“Wish I knew that excuse back when I was in middle school,” Carmen says.

They laugh, and Matt gives Carmen’s hand a reassuring squeeze. As if on cue, there’s a loud CRASH somewhere to the far end of the room, followed shortly by whoops of excitement from someone that sounds suspiciously like Crash. Heads turn like clockwork, and Carmen tiptoes in her heels to try and get a better view.

“I should go check that out.” Matt kisses her temple, only to pull back and see two pleading looks for him to stay. He pretends not to notice either of them. “Be back in a sec.”

Why would you do this, is what Carmen glares into the back of Matt’s head as he walks away. She turns back to Marco, who clears his throat. “So, you and Mateo are…?”

It takes everything in her to keep her expression, well, normal, as her heart starts pounding in her chest.

“Together, yeah.” She smiles easily at the notion, though she was sort of hoping for an ease into this conversation rather than diving head-first. “I’m a lucky girl.”

“With your talent? No, my son is the lucky one,” he grins broadly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I, naturally, watched Tender Nothings because of family obligations, and you impressed me through and through.”

“You flatter me.” Carmen’s face grows hot. She’ll never get used to the praise no matter who’s speaking it. Marco gapes once, twice, then turns towards his son.

“Mateo!” His father barks, Matt jerking in response. With his wide eyes and a rod-straight back, Carmen is momentarily enraptured by the image of Matt in the same position – just a decade or so younger – and stifles a giggle. “Clearly, you haven’t been complimenting Carmen enough; she thinks I’m flattering her!”

“That can be arranged.” He strides back over to them, looping an arm around her waist at the same time that he presses his lips to her cheek. It makes her feel warm all over and she smiles, just for him. Matt has a grin on his face, but not the heroic, cocky ones from his action movies. Instead, his eyes are twinkling under the warm lighting, gaze softening just by looking at her.

“You should have seen him while you guys were filming – all Carmen-this, Carmen-that,” Marco goes on. Matt pulls back to start frantically gesturing for him to stop. “I said ‘son, are you filming a movie or simply spending the whole day with her?’”

Matt awkwardly laughs, making a cutting motion with his hand. “That’s what happened, all right. That’s it.”

“One day, he called me up and said ‘I think I’m going to marry her, dad.’”

“In all fairness!” Matt says, a little too loudly, a little too fast. If Carmen’s face is even half as red as his is, then they’re both screwed. “That was after the thirty-six-hour shoot in Vancouver, when it rained, like, seven different times.”

His dad shrugs, unfazed. “Never let anyone else define your relationship, but,” he takes a step towards his son. “Don’t let a good thing slip between your fingers.”

Matt makes a small noise at the back of his throat. Marco laughs, clapping his shoulder.

“But onto new things! If you’ll excuse me, I have to go say hello to Thomas,” he pulls a petrified Matt into a hug, then does the same for Carmen. “I’ll catch up with you before the night is done. Until then,” Marco inclines his head, then makes his way to where Hunt is idly chatting with Teja.

A beat passes.

“Sorry about him, I didn’t realize he’d, uh,” Matt scratches the back of his neck. Realization dawns on Carmen and she lets her forehead slump on his shoulder, an arm immediately moving to wrap around her.

“Was he actually nervous or was he screwing with us?”

He groans. “You grow up watching a man act, you’d think you’d be able to tell by now.”

“If it’s of any consolation,” she fiddles with his collar, her voice lowering so much that he almost doesn’t hear her next sentence. “I wouldn’t object to marrying you.”

Carmen’s face is painfully hot now and she fixes her eyes on his chest, unable to stop the smile from creeping onto her face.

“Oh. Oh.” She can hear him beam before he grabs her hand, giddy. “Well, then. I guess I’ll keep that in mind.”

Matt leans down to kiss her and she lets out a little laugh at how enthusiastic it is. When he pulls back, his whole face is lit up; Carmen can’t help but kiss him again.

“While I would love to do this all night,” she punctuates her words with another press of her lips, “I think we have a movie to wrap up.”

“Oh, right. Yeah. The party. Absolutely.” He offers her his arm and her hand slips easily into the crook of his elbow. “After you.”

Their friends find them easily soon afterwards, congratulations spilling out of their lips. They run through toasts, the playful jabs. Carmen finds Marco’s gaze in the crowd and grins.

She can’t wait to speak to him again.

[slothquisitor]

For the prompt list: #94 ("Stay there") for... Mara & Cullen, any universe? :o

Thank you so much for the prompt! I had probably too much fun with this one, and this is something that has probably NEVER happened.....*whistles innocently* 

The Floor is Lava

Class Act - Mara’s POV, 600 words. 

Also on AO3.

Skyhold High School’s schedule for the last two weeks of school made absolutely no sense. Which is just another way of saying that the School Executive Council had been the one to vote and decide on it. The first week was finals week, and that meant only two classes a day and that the students were done by noon. The teachers, however, were still required to be there until contractual time.

The SEC had probably thought that the teachers needed the time to grade finals, and they probably did, but on that Friday afternoon the teachers were not grading finals. At least the ones down in the science wing weren’t because they were playing “The Floor is Lava”.

“No one’s ever going to believe that there was absolutely zero alcohol involved in this,” Varric said from a particularly comfortable looking perch atop a table.

Mara leaned against the brick wall from her tower of desks. “We’re teachers in May, our brains gave out a month ago, we don’t need the alcohol.”

She felt like she needed to sleep for a week straight to recover from this school year. She knew it was the end of the school year by the amount of post it note lists that were required to keep things from falling apart.

“This whole thing is a lawsuit waiting to happen,” Dorian drawled as he jumped from a chair to a filing cabinet.

“Pffffttt...everything is a lawsuit these days.” Sera rolled her eyes. “Leliana says I need to add in more things to my disclosure.”

“To be fair, you use a lot of sharp things in ceramics,” Cullen offered. He was sitting on a lone desk a ways down the hall, and Mara wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get to it since there was barely anything around him.

They were finally replacing the carpets in the classrooms, and they’d all been asked to clear their rooms of everything, which meant the hallways were a mess of desks and bookshelves and filing cabinets. Naturally, Sera had decided to make a game of it.

“Dorian cuts things open!” Sera protested.

“We dissect them, and I have to send home a special disclosure too, I’ll have you know,” Dorian said.

“It’s annoying!” Sera replied. “We need to keep moving, or Bull’ll eat all the popcorn in the faculty lounge!”

Cullen looked around where he was doubtfully. “And you said if you touch the ground, no popcorn?”

Sera grinned as she edged along a row of desks. “That’s right.”

Mara was pretty sure she could get the rolling chair near her over to Cullen. “Stay there.”

Dorian sighed. “This is ridiculous.”

Varric laughed. “You know what’s ridiculous? Me trying to keep up with the rest of you.”

Mara managed to kick the rolling chair to Cullen while she clung to a bookcase. “Got it?”

He jumped on, letting the momentum carry him up the hallway to the table Varric had been on. Mara leapt across a few more desks to meet up with him. Varric and Dorian were still lamenting the ridiculousness of the game while they followed Sera up the hall.

Cullen shook his head. “I have so much grading to do.”

Mara laughed. “Me too.”

He groaned. “We’re going to hate ourselves on Monday when we have to get grades in by nine.”

She shrugged. “Probably.” She pulled him closer and smiled up at him. His arm wrapped around her waist before his lips met hers, and for a moment they forgot they were not alone in the hallway.

Until the sound of someone blowing a very loud raspberry reached them.

“Oi! Quit making out and hurry up!” Sera yelled.

Mara broke away and began moving forward, but not before glancing back at him. “You heard her, Rutherford.”

Cullen offered her an exasperated smile. “Right behind you.”

Likes and reblogs are love!

[damijon-supersons]

Waltzing with a Wayne: A Super Sons Fic

Synopsis: Jon just wanted to have a Christmas party with Damian. But he gets way more than he signed up for when Damian invites him to the Wayne Foundation Holiday Gala. Jon feels out of place and he can’t get a single moment alone with Damian.

 Author’s notes: Hi HI! I wanted to do a damijon fic in time for Christmas, but I was fresh out of good ideas, and originally I had this way longer epic story planned with them on a mission on a mountain trying to save some captive children….but yeah that didn’t work out so well cuz my ideas ran out.

But then in a single day, I had this cool idea for a party and yeah, now it’s this fic! I hope you like it! Tell me what you think! And most of all, Happy Holidays and Happy New Year!

“Hey, Damian, we should have, like, a Christmas Party!”

“What for? Pennyworth makes a fine Christmas dinner on his own…”

“It’s different when it’s a party! It’ll be more fun with more people to hang out with!”

Jon winced. The memory of asking Damian to have a little Christmas party with him replayed in his head as he stared out into the sea of black suits and velvet gowns, lit with a subtle golden sheen from the ornate chandeliers fifty feet above on the ceiling.

“More people…” Jon muttered under his breath. This was definitely not what he’d had in mind.

The day before, he’d gotten a crisp, gold embroidered envelope with an invite to a special “Yuletide Gala” hosted by the Wayne Foundation. Now that he was at the event himself, he guessed that “yuletide” and “gala” meant “ridiculously-rich-people-party”.  It was being held at the Wayne Tower penthouse, all the way at the top floor of the 28-storey office block, which featured hanging gardens and a view of the city reserved for people with ‘Wayne’ as their last name, or people whose money belonged to Bruce Wayne. There seemed to be more than a hundred of Gotham’s wealthiest and most influential present, all in their best white ties, tuxedos, and evening gowns. Almost none of them were kids his age, and the few that were looked snobby with upturned noses and just shrunken versions of their parents’ clothes.

“Come along now, kiddo,” Clark prodded him gently from behind. “It won’t do for us to stay at the door.”

“Sorry, dad,” Jon replied sheepishly. “It’s just that…this place…it seems a bit much.” Jon gestured to the tall crystal double-doors, and the interior beyond it. The ballroom was covered with a rich crimson carpet and featured a magnificent and imposing grand staircase in the center, which supposedly led to “private lounges”—whatever those were—and the  outside rooftop garden park  that surrounded the entire storey . The roof was partly composed of thick glass panels that offered a view of the stars. There were several wall mounted fountains silently churning foamy water, and the southwest corner of the penthouse housed a violin quartet who played one generic fancy-sounding background music pieces, complete with sound equipment that looked more expensive than the violinists’ combined net worth.

Jon felt positively underdressed. He’d only worn a rented black coat and tie, and he didn’t even have proper dress shoes so he’d just worn his sneakers. His parents Lois and Clark, meanwhile, looked respectable, but nowhere near the level of posh that the other guests enjoyed.

“I know it looks intimidating, Jon,” Lois said as they were escorted by one of the ushers. “Going to your first high-society party always is. But this is old hat for me and your dad. I suppose being the Daily Planet’s best reporters has its perks.”

“And that has nothing to do with you and dad being best friends with Mister Wayne and Selina?” Jon asked with a smirk.

“Well…that, too,” Clark grinned.

“I thought parties were more…cheerful,” Jon lamented. “All everyone’s doing is standing and talking and laughing like they’re on a timer.”

“Well…this is only one way adults can host a party…” Clark began, but he was saved from having to explain the finer aspects of adulting when Alfred Pennyworth intercepted them, garbed in his head butler attire. The younger usher that had been escorting the Kents cowered more than bowed as he left them in Alfred’s care.

“Master Clark and Lady Lane,” Alfred bowed gracefully.

“Merry Christmas, Alfred,” Clark greeted as Lois gave the old butler a quick hug.

“And the same to you.” Alfred smiled and then gestured to the head table, which was distinctly larger than the others and enjoyed its very own debris field of paparazzi. “Master Wayne would like to have you at his table, if you please. I’ll escort Jon to where the other youths are.”

Jon appreciated how Alfred tactfully called them youths than “kids” or “children”. While he was still technically a child, being called that was extremely patronizing. Damian hated being patronized, and Jon could easily sympathize with the sentiment. It totally wasn’t because he was picking up Damian’s quirks. Probably.

“Finally, boyscout junior’s here!” Beast Boy cried out. Alfred dropped Jon off at a table where all the Teen Titans, plus Maya, were seated.

“I was beginning to fear you weren’t going to come,” Starfire said as she kissed Jon amiably on the cheek, much to his chagrin.

Jon greeted his friends in turn. All of them were dressed in their finest evening dresses, even Beast Boy, whose overall bearing was anything but formal. He explained that the Titans had these clothes in reserve for any celebratory after-villain-beatdown-and-town-saving parties of the formal sort and were supplied by Damian himself.

“So, uh,” Jon began as he looked around, “Where is Damian?”

“He’s off making nice to some of his dad’s business associates. He likes introducing himself as ‘Mr. Wayne’s heir’,” Kid Flash explained with barely suppressed laughter.

“Wow,” Jon winced. “Damian’s…on a really different level, huh? All I wanted was to give him my present…” he gestured sadly to the wrapped gift bag he was clutching with his right hand.

“Let me guess, little brother invited you here, and you thought it’s just gonna be us instead of this big gala?” Maya mused, and Jon nodded solemnly. “Well he’s not getting away with him leaving us out here to dry while he plays billionaire junior. Gimme a sec…” Maya smirked before disappearing into the crowd.

“She’s good,” Aqualad said after Maya had left. “Raven and I were trying to talk her into joining the Titans before you came along.”

“That’s awesome!” Jon beamed. “She’s really good in a fight and she can turn invisible and…” Jon frowned at the thought. “Hang on, how are people not noticing you guys being here? Especially you, Gar! You’re green!”

“I know! Don’t I look beautiful?” Beast Boy claimed with gusto, which made the rest of the Titans laugh.

“Don’t worry, Jon,” Raven assured him. “Although we’re here because Damian invited us, the guests and the paparazzi assume we’re here as honorary guests because we’ve saved Wayne Enterprise properties from destruction a few times before.”

“Oh,” Jon replied absently.

“Besides,” Kid Flash chimed in, “Heroes or not, we’re still just teenagers. These old farts won’t really care about us…unless we know anything about ‘taxable dividend payments under the new tax reform measure’.” Jon and the Titans burst out laughing because Kid Flash had used a faux upper-class tone with exaggerated vowels.

“Do you?” Starfire asked.

“No. But I’m good at eavesdropping while getting food from the buffet table,” Kid Flash admitted, prompting the Titans to laugh again.

“You’re welcome to stay with us here while waiting for Damian,” Raven said. Then she closed her eyes in a melodramatic way as if sensing something in the air, and said, “Speak of the devil…”

Maya had returned with her arm around Damian. The latter looked like he’d been unceremoniously dragged in from the other end of the enormous hall. Despite looking frazzled, he looked extremely…classy. Damian was sharply dressed, with a bespoke smoky gray tailcoat, formal trousers and shiny black leather shoes. His hair was stylishly parted at the side with just the right length of bangs framing his forehead to look unnaturally handsome. He flashed the group a smile that they were sure was carefully practiced in front of a mirror—or Alfred.

“Good evening, Titans,” Damian greeted. “I hope the party is to your liking.”

Like clockwork, the three boys –Beast Boy, Aqualad, and Kid Flash—straightened up and adopted hilariously posh accents without skipping a beat.

“Why thank you, your grace. The evening has been splendid,” began Aqualad.

“Verily so, good sir. The tea has been marvelous, and the company grand.” added Kid Flash.

“Cheerio, jolly good fellow! Hath thou beheld the Queen's undergarments?” asked Beast Boy with utmost seriousness.

The table positively erupted in laughter. Surprisingly, the loudest was Raven, and Starfire and Aqualad spent the better part of two minutes calming her down. This earned them reproachful looks from the other adults in the vicinity, who seemed to question why the Wayne heir would keep such loud company.

The corners of Damian’s lips curled as if he just barely contained a smile. “Right. Well, you’re clearly having the time of your life. Merry Christmas. Now, I still have a few people to…”

“Wait, Damian!” Jon pleaded. “C’mon, can’t you stay here? You invited us after all…”

Without even waiting for Jon to take his next breath, Damian put an arm around Jon’s shoulder and pulled him close. The sudden contact caught Jon unaware as he lost his balance and ended up leaning on Damian, with his cheek pressed up against Damian’s face. He felt his blood rush to his head at the speed of light. Damian’s skin was so soft and smooth, and he smelled of spring flowers and freshly mowed grass—a very fragrant and expensive cologne, he wagered.

“I know, Jon,” Damian began, seemingly oblivious to the steadily overheating boy he’d just squeezed against his cheek, “I want you guys to have a good time. But I really need to get on with these introductions, otherwise, my father’s other guests will think I’m snubbing them, which would imply he’s a bad father for not raising me to be respectful and etcetera and all that… I’ll rejoin you as soon as I’m done.”

Just then, Dick Grayson approached them and waved. “Hey, guys! Glad you could make it! Kori, you look stunning!”

“You say that to all your girls, Dick,” Starfire said with a plaintive smile and a piercingly honest glare.

Dick paused. Starfire had stated it as a fact, and not as a rhetorical thing that would be open for good-natured denial. Dick settled for awkward laughter.

“Right, haha…say, can I borrow Damian for a sec? I promised the director of Gotham Prep a handshake from the little Mr. Wayne here…”

Damian’s eye twitched at the height joke and let go of Jon. The younger boy failed to steady himself after the surprise one-armed hug, prompting Maya to catch him before he stumbled.

“Well, duty calls.” Damian bowed dramatically. “Oh, one more thing—don’t take any drink that Todd offers you. It’ll be spiked with enough alcohol to render you flammable.” With that, he left with Grayson. Beast Boy meanwhile, smartly shunted his half-full wine glass as far away from him as possible.

Once Damian was swallowed by the crowd, Maya waved a hand in front of Jon’s face. It took a few seconds for Jon to understand that he was supposed to nod.

“Now, that, was cruel,” Kid Flash said as he shook his head.

“Poor boy,” Aqualad agreed as he patted Jon on the shoulder. “Why don’t you go and get yourself some food, huh? The buffet table is over there.”

“R-right,” Jon said, still in a daze. “I’ll go do that, then.”

After Jon had left, the Teen Titans gave each other knowing looks.

“Man, even for Damian, that was a low blow,” Aqualad said gravely.

“Damian did that on purpose, no doubt about it,” Beast Boy whistled. “Does he know what he does to the poor kid?”

An awkward silence lingered among them, with Maya struggling to ask a hundred questions with her baffled expression.

Finally, Starfire spoke up.

“I am raising mine to thirty-five dollars.”

“That’s fair,” Kid flash said. “I’ll put it on the record then. Anyone else want to raise?”

“Whoa, wait, what’s this all about?” Maya asked with a raised brow.

“We all have this ongoing bet on when Jon’s gonna confess to Damian about this huge crush he has for him,” Raven offered with a small smile. “The boys are betting it’ll be six months, but Kori and I are betting it’ll be before the year ends.”

“Don’t worry, Maya, it’s just for fun!” Beast Boy scratched his head apologetically. “All of us guys have thirty bucks each on the pot.”

Maya flashed him a shrewd look. “It won’t be very fun for you, Beast Boy.”

“Why’s that?” Beast Boy’s face fell.

Maya fished out a twenty from her purse and handed it over to a very stunned Kid Flash.

“I’m just saying you better be ready to get cleaned out because I’ve known these boys for longer, and my money is on them getting together before the year ends.” The girls cheered.

“Well, boys, I think we’re in for a tough bet,” Aqualad sighed.

  Superman’s super-hearing had the uncanny ability to hear people’s heartbeats. Jon’s dad was so adept at using the skill, though, that he’d actually taken to memorizing the heartbeats of the people closest to him, such as Lois, Jon, and Batman, so that should they be in danger, he could instantly locate them. Jon himself hadn’t really gotten the hang of that memorized heartbeat thing, but he had been trying.

There was one heartbeat he had tried to memorize—it sounded calm and stoic, but solid and strong, the kind of rhythm you’d expect from a trained hunter that was ready to strike at any moment. Every thump, thump, thump reverberated in Jon’s ear, and he’d been familiarizing himself with its more subtle properties, like its timbre and frequency. It was only the heartbeat of the tiniest Wayne child, after all—the one that had been ever-present in Jon’s thoughts for what seemed like forever. And so, after a protracted amount of time straining his ears and scrunching up his face like he was having indigestion—and then finally asking Alfred—Jon found Damian alone on a garden balcony staring out at the cityscape below.

Without looking behind, Damian patted a spot on the marble terrace beside him, and Jon took it as an invitation. Damian propped his head up with his hands, and his elbows were leaning on the polished stone surface of the railing. The view from 28th storey of Wayne Tower boasted a spectacular kaleidoscope of Gotham lit by all manner of lights, and topped by a dark blue sky with innumerable glinting stars.

Jon was awestruck by the sight.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Damian asked.

“What?” Jon asked back in confusion.

“The city. The lights. That’s what my father always says.” Damian breathed a heavy sigh. His breath fogged up in the winter evening air. “It’s beautiful, but the lights hide the dark corners. There’s always something foul beneath the beauty, and it’s our job to clean it all up.”

“You sound awfully moody today,” Jon remarked. He gazed longingly at Damian’s languid face, but the latter didn’t return the eye contact.

“Just thinking,” Damian decided after a while. “The past few days, the Bat Family has been ramping up patrols. Just today, the police airwaves had zero crime alerts. Sure, it’s also Christmas, but imagine that—one day of no crime.”

“We need more days like that,” Jon said earnestly. “And we’ll definitely make it happen.”

 Damian turned to look at him. He was either smiling, or giving Jon a half-smirk. “Great minds do think alike.”

“And your mind is so great, is it?” Jon teased and punched Damian lightly on the shoulder.

“If I said it wasn’t, then you’d know I’m the evil clone and you’ll have my permission to laser my face off,” Damian offered as he playfully kicked Jon’s foot.

“That’s too bad— I like your face.” Jon said off-handedly. His face flushed three seconds after when he’d realized what his words sounded like, “Uh, I mean…uh, that sounded better in my head…”

Damian’s smile turned to honest laughter in a matter of seconds. Jon only realized it just then, but he’d never really heard Damian laugh in a good way. Before, it’d always been mocking, or teasing, or rueful…but now Damian sounded genuinely happy.

“You’re bad at this,” Damian chuckled.

“Bad at what?” Jon asked nervously, worried that he was doing something seriously wrong.

Damian said nothing, as he kept his smile. He seemed to be sizing Jon up. The quartet below seemed to be performing their best piece, judging by how quiet the audience went as they either sipped their wine to enjoy the music or else step onto the dance floor with their significant others. The violin quartet themselves played with renewed vigor, as if they were determined to redeem themselves after a lackluster night.

“’La vie en rose’,” Damian mused as he tilted his head toward the music below. “First sung by Edith Piaf in the original French. It’s a seminal nuptial ballad.”

“I…have absolutely no idea what half the things you said meant,” Jon chuckled in defeat.

“That, and with many other things,” Damian smirked. “That’s why I’m going to start teaching you.”

“Teaching me what?”

“Everything,” Damian answered confidently. “Starting with your basic ballroom waltz.” He suddenly grasped Jon’s hand in his own, and raised it. He put his other hand on Jon’s back. “Put your other hand on my shoulder,” he instructed.

“Damian, w—why are you doing this?” Jon asked frantically as he clumsily did as he was told. His cheeks were turning a rich shade of red.

Damian guided Jon’s feet so that they were spaced apart and looked him in the eye, the smile never leaving his face. “How many years have we been partners, now? The day will come when we’ll have to go to a party like this together. And we’ll have to dance, just like this. Now’s the best time to teach you.”

“But…with me? I’m a b—“

“You’re my partner—and the only one I’d do this with,” Damian replied firmly but gently.

“But I can’t dance!” Jon gasped as Damian led him through the footwork. His steps were awkward and he managed to step on Damian’s toes every other time.

“It’s easy if you calm down and follow my lead…”

“Damian, please…I don’t want to embarrass you in front of anyone…” Jon pleaded.

“Shhh…” Damian cooed as he placed a finger on Jon’s lips. He leaned in close so that he could whisper in Jon’s ear. “No one else is here. Just you and me. Focus on me. Right now, we’re the only ones in the world that matter. Now…one, two, three…one, two, three…”

It suddenly made so much sense to Jon. The soothing music and the flow of the dance, Damian’s silky voice and warm breath on his neck. With one, two, three, awkward steps, and again, and again, Jon’s world found a pattern that he could understand. His eyes never left Damian’s, and he found himself enjoying every rotation, the rhythmic cadence of the violins syncing with his steps and with his heartbeat. Even when he closed his eyes to bask in Damian’s closeness, and as his lips were met with a moist warm sensation—the heat of a trusted friend making a lifelong promise—the dance went on, and on, and on.

The stars bore witness to a young hero, who simply wore a rented suit and red sneakers, learning how to dance with his feet, his lips, and his heart. And down below among the throng of black coats, three teenage boys lost the rest of their week’s food allowance.

[castiel-left-his-mark-on-me]

I know a lot of people are upset that we didn’t get to see Dean carry Cas’s body into the house—and don’t get me wrong, I wanted to see it too; but can you imagine them actually trying to film that scene? It would’ve been impossible!

Attempt 1:

“Okay—just jump up here” Jensen says, squatting down some and holding out his arms.

“No way!” Misha yelps instantly, backing up a few paces.

“Why not?”

“You’re gonna drop me!”

“I won’t drop you!” Jensen scoffs, opening his arms wider now and motioning for Misha to move.

“Hell no! As soon as I jump, you’ll drop me.”

“I’ve carried you before, man. Did I drop you then?”

“That was for photos and shit—two seconds tops. This is a whole scene!” Misha argues, putting his hands on his hips.

“C’mon, guys! Are we doing this or what?” Phil calls out from somewhere behind the monitors.

“Yep!” Jensen answers quickly and then motions to Misha again—this time, with an urgent look on his face.

Misha rolls his eyes but eventually moves in closer, bracing one hand on Jensen’s shoulder before throwing his own body into the air.

Jensen grunts.

They both immediately tumble to the ground.

Attempt 2:

“Dude—why are your arms around my neck?”

“I don’t want to fall again!” Misha whines, looking warily towards the gravel as Jensen scoots along.

Jensen breathes out a strained laugh at that . “Yeah, but you’re supposed to be dead. This is kinda killing the illusion.”

“I don’t think so” Misha mutters, obviously choosing to be difficult now.

“Seriously, dude? I can’t carry dead-Cas inside, bridal-style!” Jensen huffs, shifting his arms a little to try and keep Misha’s weight in the air.

“Why not? You carrying me to my death bed is pretty much the same as you carrying me to the marriage bed … especially on this show.”

Jensen quickly drops Misha again.

Attempt 3:

Jensen is out of breath—and his back is hurting like a mother fucker, but he hunkers down to lift Misha up once more.

And this time—Misha slumps his body backwards and completely relaxes his muscles, which nearly breaks Jensen in two.

“Oof! God—damn!” Jensen grunts, trying desperately to step forward across the dirt and grass. “It’s like—ugh—carrying a—agh—a sack of wet leather!”

Misha slits one eye open and smirks at his costar. “You’re so sweet, Dean. This is why I fell for you in the first place.”

He’s prepared to be dropped this time, and he laughs as he rolls out of Jensen’s arms.

“What’s goin’ on, guys?” Phil yells out across the clearing.

“Nothin’!” Jensen wheezes, bending his body over his knees as he tries to catch his breath. “Just—just need a minute!”

A second later, Jared is bounding up to them. “Hey, y’all okay?”

Misha chuckles and goes over to pat Jensen on the back. “Yeah—someone just needs to spend more time lifting weights.”

Jensen immediately sneers up at the other man. “And someone else needs to lay off the pizza!”

“How about I be the one to carry him in?” Jared says suddenly—loud enough for Phil to hear it too.

“We could try that” Phil says, sounding frustrated and just eager to get this scene over with.

“What?” Misha yelps. “No way! No, no, no, no, no! No way Jared is carrying me!”

“Wha—why?” Jared asks, feigning some puppy dog innocence that is damn near Oscar worthy.

“You know exactly why!” Misha insists, taking several steps backwards to be out of the moose’s long reach. “Phil! You can’t be serious! Jared is just going to throw me in the lake if we do it this way!”

Jared’s face bursts into a giant grin, and his eyes sparkle like a Disney character whose wish just came true. “The lake! I didn’t even think of that!”

Misha groans loudly, and Jensen is laughing-- all while Phil is angrily rubbing his temples behind the monitor.

Attempt 4:

“Are we ready yet?”

“One more sec, Phil!” Misha answers, turning back to look at Jared and Jensen with a face of warning.

“How about we both carry him in?” Jared suggests, and it sounds genuine but Misha still isn’t falling for it.

“No! Not gonna happen! Then you’ll both just throw me into the lake!”

Jensen rolls his eyes but he can’t stop himself from smiling. “No we won’t, man. Seriously—we’re losing the light here. We need to get this done.”

“I know that! Don’t you think I know that? But this is my dead body we’re talking about and I need to make sure it’s respected!”

“We’ll respect it” Jared insists.

“Since when have you ever respected it?” Misha counters.

“Okay! Alright! Just… Jared, get back there—we’re gonna try this again the way it’s scripted, okay?”

Jared holds up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, but I’ll be over here if you need me.”

“We won’t need you” Misha warns, knowing Jared’s deviousness all too well and it’s starting to make him break out in hives.

Jared laughs but finally backs away, until he’s far off on the other side of the set.

Jensen then takes a deep breath. “Okay, man. Let’s go. Let’s do this.”

Misha nods, and they both seem determined now.

With a heave and some careful balancing, Misha is once again in Jensen’s arms and Jensen is once again, huffing his way to the front door of the cabin. He’s huffing a lot … he sounds like he’s in pain.

“You okay?” Misha whispers, trying not to look up or move his mouth much—because, he is dead after all.

“Fine” Jensen wheezes shortly, but he doesn’t sound very convincing.

“You sure?” Misha asks again.

“Shh!” Jensen snips, trying to concentrate.

Misha finally peeks up at him. “Your face is really red.”

Jensen doesn’t answer, he just strains to keep Misha in his grasp.

“And your veins are popping out of your neck.”

“I’m acting” Jensen finally grunts.

“Acting—constipated?” Misha asks.

“Shut up!”

“Ow—okay, now you’re pinching my ass!”

“Well, I need to hold onto something!”

“You need to hold onto my ass?”

“It’s got the most grip.”

“Okay … okay … now that just tickles!” Misha starts to laugh, squirming a little and it eventually  throws Jensen off balance.

“F—fu—fuck!” Jensen wobbles to one side and sends Misha rolling dramatically  onto the ground.

“I can help!” Jared yells out, sounding so excited, he might just burst.

“No … no, that’s alright, Jared” Phil cuts in, just as Misha is lifting himself from the dirt. “We’ve been talking and we think we’re just going to cut this scene. It’s uh … it’s not working out.”

With that, Misha throws his fist into the air victoriously, and Jensen drops exhaustively to the ground with the overwhelming relief—and Jared’s disappointed moans can be heard all the way on the other side of the lake; echoing out “Aw, man!”  and “Damnit” and lamenting all the glorious opportunity that he’s just lost.