#they kiss right in front of Robin and only stop once she starts dry-heaving

[artiststarme]

Steve tries to mock how Eddie speaks when he DMs and starts speaking like a Shakespearean peasant. The kids start defending Eddie, Nancy and Jonathan just look on like disappointed parents, and Robin just rolls her eyes before joining Steve in his quest of annoying them all. 

Meanwhile, Eddie has his eyes squarely on Steve’s lips as he enunciates each medieval word. He’s never wanted to kiss him quite so much as he does right then. Instead of being insulted like he probably should be, Eddie falls in love with this buffoon right then and there. 

It makes things interesting because they aren’t even dating at that point. But it makes Eddie blush and stutter in every one of their interactions until finally Steve breaks and kisses Eddie.

[writer-and-artist27]

Cake Day

Inspired by a memory I still hold dear to my heart, where the departed Di Thuy lent me her baking tools just to make a tiramisu layer cake for Daddy’s 58th birthday three years ago. Di Thuy, I still love you. I hope the Buddha is taking good care of you in Nirvana.

Otherwise, this is dedicated to a friend who deserves better. @partialdignity, this is for you. It may be a few weeks early, but it's still June and I wanted to be prepared. I’ll just drop AmaLee’s cover of God Knows from Haruhi Suzumiya for an extra tone-setter. Please enjoy the fluff. :)

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“350 degrees in the oven for the cake, now I just need to brew the coffee, but what else am I forgetting…?”

It wasn’t every day the usual kitchen staff weren’t populating their places in the Novum Chaldea Dining Hall. In fact, it was even rarer to find one of the only Chaldean Masters occupying its walls instead, running back and forth to pull out ingredients left and right while muttering to herself.

Robin Hood watched the entire scene from a corner of the room with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow because if he knew any better, intervention would probably be necessary in the next few moments. Vy was a workaholic even when she wasn’t trying to be, after all. Still, it didn’t stop him from watching with the slightest bit of curiosity outside of his usual job. Vy was probably one of the most radiant people you could ever meet, Servant or not. Whenever she was working with someone in mind, she just shined in a way not a lot of other people could do in the same capacity. With the pink apron covering the front of her dress, the faded blue hair tie keeping her ponytail in place, and the tiny flecks of chocolate dusting her fingers as she worked, it was all rather endearing.

“Big Robin, you don’t have to watch, y’know,” Vy called out all of sudden without glancing over her shoulder, and Robin paused. “If you wanted to help, you could come closer.”

Robin ignored the urge to roll his eyes, instead taking the chance to come closer as his little sparrow asked. “Call my reason worry and leave it at that,” he said vaguely, whistling innocently once Vy was tossing him a look of disbelief. “What are you making, little sparrow?”

Vy proceeded to shrug her shoulders while kneeling to one of the lower cabinets in the kitchen, muttering a small, “Heave ho,” while grabbing what looked like a dark bottle of some kind of… alcohol? “Tiramisu,” she said once the bottle was nestled safely in her arms, a warm smile growing on her face once she stood up and turned to meet Robin’s eyes. “Coffee cake, if that makes more sense. Some of the others have been drinking more black coffee lately, and since we’re going to enter the Indian Lostbelt soon, I was thinking of giving everyone something sweet to munch on, so…”

“Ah.” Thinking of Rem, huh? And defying what that Vitch fox lady did to you both with that poisoned cake. It was all very much Vy.

With a small smile, Robin glanced over the kitchen counters. Cake mix, instant coffee powder, heavy cream, eggs, vegetable oil, cocoa powder, cream cheese — that meant the bottle in Vy’s hands was coffee liquor. He was probably worried over nothing. Still, he asked, “All by yourself?”

“Hey, I can do it!” Vy said louder, looking a bit offended at his inquiry. Whoops. “I’ve done this recipe plenty of times for Daddy’s birthday before I came here!”

“Riiiiight,” Robin replied, but he still dispelled the No Face May King to walk into the kitchen and grab an apron of his own. If he couldn’t stop her from completing her current task, then he could at least divert some of her efforts to save energy. “Still think I can take you up on that offer to help, little sparrow?”

The pout that was on Vy’s face immediately dissipated at his offer, sparkles seemingly flying off her figure as she then smiled up at him. “Are you up for helping with the coffee, Big Robin? I still have to whip the cream for the frosting.” A giggle left her lips as she took a step closer to him, liquor bottle still in her arms as she reached up with one hand to gently pat his cheek. “You can have frosting taste-testing rights!”

“You don’t have to give me those,” Robin pointed out, but he was laughing too, right before he could help himself. “Though, if you want…”

Vy tilted her head at him, ponytail flopping down onto her shoulder with the motion. “Hm?”

Robin smirked, taking the hand Vy had on his cheek in his before she could think of drawing back into her work mode. “I could use a different incentive.”

Vy blushed almost immediately at the attention, averting her gaze once he took a step forward in her direction with a squeeze of her hand. “Um,” she started tentatively, “am I thinking what you are thinking…?”

“I dunno, little sparrow,” Robin hummed, reaching over to take the liquor bottle out of Vy’s arms to put it on the nearest free counter. “You tell me.”

“Muuuu,” Vy pouted, shutting her eyes for a moment. Robin watched with interest as the pink on her cheeks darkened to a very pretty red. “J-Just let me ask you one thing before you do anything, Big Robin?”

Robin still took his chance to wrap an arm around Vy’s waist, pulling her closer to him as he grinned. “What’s up, little sparrow?”

“P-Pulling me in is still in the ‘anything’ category, Robin.” Vy weakly puffed her cheeks out in protest at him, only to find her breath stalling once his nose brushed hers. She averted her gaze before asking in a shier, unintentionally cuter voice, “D-Do you think… Do you think Rem would like tiramisu?”

Robin gave Vy his softest smile, butting the top of her nose with his — eliciting a cute giggle from her lips. “With her taste in black coffee, I’m sure she’ll love it, little sparrow. Just be careful of the sugar if I were you.”

“D-Dunno if we have to worry about the sugar, but…” Vy ducked her head, but even past the few strands of loose brown hair, Robin could see the nervous smile playing with her lips. So pink and soft… “I-I see… That’s good…”

Robin smiled and opted to kiss Vy’s head instead. He already knew throwing off her concentration more than this wouldn’t turn out well. Affection could be left for another time.

“R-Robin?”

“Just don’t push yourself, little sparrow. That’s all I ask.”

“O-Okay…”

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“What are you doing, Vy?”

“Frosting drawing, Arjuna-san,” Vy said distractedly, closing one eye to focus on the piping bag in front of her. The cake that made up her canvas continued to retain its clean white color from the heavy-cream-frosting crumb coat she applied earlier, so the chocolate-dyed frosting in her hands would definitely serve as the final touches for her newest pastry. “But hello and what’s up?”

“I… I don’t know how to respond to that,” Arjuna added, quietly looming over Vy’s shoulder to watch with interest. “But what is this cake?”

“As I told Big Robin,” Vy gestured to the other Archer with a shrug of her other shoulder, gently applying pressure to the bag in her hands to pipe out the first frosting flower, “It’s a tiramisu cake.”

“Tira… misu?” Arjuna echoed cluelessly.

“Coffee cake, as the little sparrow would say,” Robin added from his place washing dishes in the kitchen, a chuckle leaving him with the statement. “It’s for a certain other Master that we have to worry about.” Under his breath, Vy could distinctly hear him mutter, “Workaholics.”

“Love you too, Big Robin!” Vy blurted out petulantly over the next frosting flower, relishing the clatter noises of tupperware echoing from the sink. To Arjuna, she hummed, “But yep. Coffee cake!”

“I… see,” Arjuna said. Vy still took a step to the side, not stopping her current work all the while, so that he could come a bit closer. “But are the decorations necessary?”

“I mean,” Vy gently piped out another flower, letting the peak sit on the cake’s clean white surface for about a second before letting her arms fall a bit to raise her head and meet the other Archer’s eyes. “I feel like they do?”

“You don’t sound confident about that,” Arjuna pointed out with a pointed index finger. Still, his gaze wandered back to the cake and the incomplete flower heart Vy was making, quirking an eyebrow at the shape. “This may be a bit much.”

“…That’ll depend on Rem, I think,” Vy admitted finally, turning back to the cake to hold her frosting bag. “But it’s the only thing I could think of after she went out farming for materials and made bánh xèo that one morning.” Vy couldn’t help the wry smile that formed on her lips as she piped out another flower, nudging the peak once it started to wilt a little from the warmth of her hands. Frosting did have to be kept cold. “With everything we’ve seen, I don’t think I can ever stop thanking her, anyways.” Vy took a chance to glance at Arjuna. “Same thing to you, Arjuna-san.”

Arjuna blinked owlishly at her, black eyes widening from the surprise. “I do not recall doing anything to warrant your gratitude, Vy.”

“To the contrary, Archer!” Vy smiled up at him while tilting her head. “You help Rem and me a lot with the fighting, actually. And considering how you’re still with us after the Singularities and three Lostbelts, I just have to keep thanking you for your continued presence, don’t I?”

Arjuna’s jaw fell slack. Over Vy’s shoulder, she could hear the sound of water stop running as Robin put away the last dish in the drying rack.

Vy beamed, warmth filling her voice as she finished with, “You make Rem happy, Arjuna-san. And considering there’s only so much I can do for a friend, I think I can at least say thank you to a friend’s special other just for bringing them joy in my place, right?”

Arjuna’s cheeks started to take on a dark flush at that point, a hand coming up to cover his gaping mouth as he continued to stare at her wordlessly.

Oops. Guess I was too honest. To tune out the apparent shock in the air, Vy turned back to her cake, piping out another chocolate frosting flower to finish the first half of the heart before saying, “With that much cheese in the air, do you want to help with frosting?”

“…Cheese?”

“I know, I know I said a lot of cheesy things, so let’s put it behind us and finish this cake! Rem’s coffee break is coming up soon, Arjuna-san!”

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Rem, as expected, was found in her room, working over a tablet as Nursery Rhyme kicked her legs up against the bedsides while resting her head against Rem’s shoulder. The cup of black coffee in her free hand was enough of a clue to her current mental state.

Chị Rem, I hope this is a good enough gift for you. My beloved friend.

It didn’t stop Vy from smiling once Rem raised her head to meet her eyes, and she chanced a glance at Arjuna and Robin lingering in the hallway behind her before raising the tiramisu in the air.

“Happy early birthday, Chị Rem,” Vy hummed, balancing the cake plate carefully as she walked forward with a small skip in her step, matching the timing it took for Rem’s eyes to widen at the offering. “I bring tiramisu cake! For once, the cake is not a lie because there’s no poison!”

It was another day with friends, and Vy wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[lovebeyondmeasure]

Cormoran/Robin, roommate AU + in vino veritas AU

This AU is a continuation of the Bookshop AU + Neighbors AU prompt, now with love confessions, because I deliver, babes.

Robin’s staying in his spare room, and it’s fine. It’s totally fine that his shower smells like her shampoo, and that she likes to sing along to the radio while she cooks, and that she doesn’t mind him yelling at the footy while she reads on the other end of the couch. (And if he can hear her crying sometimes, late at night, that’s fine, too. It’s not his business. It’s not.)

He knows that eventually, Robin will let go of the simmering anger she’s carrying in her chest, and he’s right. And for all of a week, it seems like she’s taken Matthew back. Cormoran braced himself for the inevitable; after all, she stayed in his guest room, as a guest, for only a short time. That’s what a guest is. Someone who leaves after a while. But then Matthew gets a job offer on the continent, and accepts it…without even consulting Robin. She’s working her usual shift out front, while Cormoran squints at his expenses and worries, when she comes to the back to take a phone call, and he watches her crumple into herself silently.

“What do you mean, you took it?” she asks, and her voice is wooden, heavy. The voice on the other end of the line is jubilant. “I know it’s a great opportunity, Matthew, but I’m not moving to Amsterdam. Congratulations, though.”

When she hangs up, he’s at a loss. She wipes her face, plasters on a smile, and goes back out to run the shop. And that night, he goes to find her in the pub, and brings her back to his flat, because she’s not going back to the one across the street.

“He thought I would just…. follow him,” she says, laying on the couch at 3 am, full of white wine and that familiar bubbling bitterness. “That I would just drop my life and trail along like a good little wife. Thank god we pushed back the date. I don’t know what I would have done if we were already married.”

“So what are you going to do?” he asks, kicked back in his recliner, his prosthesis on the floor. 

“I’m going to sleep this off,” she says, flinging a bare left hand over her eyes, “then I’m gonna deal with this in the morning.”

“Are you…” Cormoran doesn’t know how to phrase it. He knows what it is to have your life so entangled with another person’s that it seems impossible to extricate yourself. 

“I’m not going back to him,” she says, her voice like stone. “Not ever. He thought my job with you was some place-holder that I’d be happy to drop the moment something better for him came along. He never understood how much I love our shop.”

Our shop. That sounds good to Cormoran. It sounds…. right.

In the morning, he makes Robin eggs and toast and tea, and offers her a proposal.

“I know you don’t have a plan,” he says, as she nibbles on her toast. “I don’t want to presume anything, but. Well, it wasn’t bad, having you here for a week. And you’re a much better cook than me.”

She smiles at this, and it gives him courage. 

“I don’t have to pay rent on this flat, since it’s part of the shop building. I just have to keep paying back my loan and paying the original owners their share of profits. So if you wanted to- that is- fuck it, do you want to move in here? You can keep the spare room, and you wouldn’t have to pay rent. If you want to. I don’t know if that’s weird, or-”

But now Robin is crying, and he takes that for assent, and now he has a flatmate. And he certainly doesn’t have feelings for her. Not even a little bit. Sure, she’s objectively attractive. And smart. And caring. And a great cook. But she’s not just his employee or his flatmate, she’s his friend, and he’s not going to fuck that up, not for anything. Not even for his foolish heart.

And it’s… good. Robin fetches her things from across the street, and suddenly his flat acquires things like matching bath towels and throw pillows. She begins re-decorating, packing up things that belong to the older couple to put up in storage, and the flat starts looking like it belongs in the 21st century. He hadn’t thought he cared about such things, but it’s nice. Homey. 

And they live together, and work together, and somehow it’s easy. It’s natural to switch out in the washroom in the mornings, and to run upstairs to fetch leftovers for lunch, and to talk about the shop over dinner. It’s not like it was with Charlotte; she doesn’t demand his time or attention constantly, and she likes his friends, when he finally brings her along to meet them. His friends, in turn, like her. 

She and Ilsa get on like a house on fire, and he regrets introducing them immediately. Nick nudges him with one elbow, watching the women laugh at their booth in the pub. “She’s sweet,” Nick says. “It’s good to see you happy.”

“She is,” Cormoran agrees, “but it’s not- we’re not-”

Nick nods, sipping his beer. “Of course not.”

And watching Robin’s face light up when they bring back the next round, the way she smiles at him, makes Cormoran feel off-balance in a way that has nothing to do with how many Doom Bars he’s got sloshing around inside him. 

She supports him as they stumble to the Tube station to take them back to his flat, and she’s tall and sturdy enough to do it, and her waist fits so nicely under his hand; once they’re seated, he lets his head lean down to rest on her shoulder, just because he can, and he wants to. She just smiles at him and twists her arm free, laying it across his shoulders and scratching gently at his scalp. He shudders, pressing closer, enjoying this perfect moment of closeness, wishing in his softly drunken haze that he didn’t have to move ever again. He doesn’t realize he’s said as much aloud until Robin stiffens up, tugging at him to tell him it’s their stop.

She gets him up to their flat, silent all the way, and Cormoran is so focused on putting his prosthesis firmly on the ground that he doesn’t notice. The next morning, groggy and hungover, he doesn’t even remember his murmured admission. Robin remembers, though. And she can’t stop thinking about it. She’s just about convinced herself that he was enjoying the head scratching, not her closeness, when she begins to see their interactions in the new light of this one moment. The way he treats her with respect for her intelligence and contributions. The way he smiles at her while she’s cooking them dinner. The way he calls the bookshop “ours.”

Maybe, she thinks. Maybe… he feels something too. But she’s just out of a long relationship, and so is he, and it’s the worst timing, and more than that, they’re flatmates, and he’s her boss, and it’s all so… complicated. 

But still, Robin wonders. And then it’s nearly All Hallows’ Eve, and she’s up on a ladder hanging decorations. She’s convinced Cormoran to sign up the shop for the trick-or-treating event that goes from shop to shop, and he sighed and gave her what she wanted. She’s nearly got the cobwebs hung from the doorway between the children’s room and the classic when the ladder slides beneath her, and she’s just begun to scream when Cormoran catches her from behind. 

Clutched up against his heaving chest, Robin’s head is spinning, but she can feel the way he presses his face into her hair and breathes deeply, the sigh of relief he lets out. She’s got her hands wrapped tight around his one arm, and her life has just flashed before her eyes, and she doesn’t even think. She twists around in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck to return the embrace, nearly sobbing. They haven’t been this close since the night she brought him home sloppy drunk, and she’s been wondering for so long, and she’s drunk on the rush of adrenaline pounding in her veins. 

“You scared the shit out of me,” he says, and she can feel the way his voice rumbles in his chest. 

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” she says in response. 

His grip loosens, and she can see him shaking his head, eyes wide as saucers. “You’re just being nice because I saved your life,” he tries to joke, but she shakes her head.

“You are,” she insists, but the adrenaline is draining as fast as it came, and he’s not- he doesn’t-

He reaches out to tuck her hair back behind her ear, and she turns into his hand, seeking this one last touch, this one sign of affection. His hand stays on her face, and she looks up at him, hoping-

The bell on the door jingles, a customer entering, and they spring apart as though they’ve done something wrong. Robin thinks that that’s the end of it, and hopes fervently that things between them aren’t ruined forever. 

He doesn’t come up for dinner that night. Robin stares at her chicken and potatoes, wondering if she ought to leave him alone. But he’s just downstairs in the office, staring at columns of numbers on a screen and not seeing them, and when he touches his shoulder he jumps. 

“I brought your dinner down,” she offers, setting the plate on his desk. He nods, jerkily, silent, and Robin doesn’t know what to say. “I… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, earlier,” she tries. “I didn’t mean to.”

“If you did what?” he asks, and his voice is raspy, his throat dry.

“If I said something wrong, or did something…” she trails off, twisting the hem of her top between her fingers. 

“You think-” he says, turning his chair to face her fully. “You think I’m mad at you?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “It’s all so- I mean, I don’t want to mess up things-you’ve been so good to me, and I don’t know what for, and I’m just- I’m so lucky, and I don’t want to make you feel like-”

“Jesus, Robin,” he says, hauling himself to his feet on the edge of the desk. “Shut up, would you,” and his hand’s slipping behind her ear, and he’s- jesus, he’s kissing her, and it’s everything- it’s- she melts into the kiss, letting it blaze up and consume her. 

He leans his forehead against hers, and it’s like the world is standing absolutely still. 

Robin starts laughing. 

“What?” Cormoran asks, expecting a shove, a slap, maybe a kind letdown.

“I was so afraid that you- and you-” she laughs. 

“You’re impossible,” he growls, and she laughs up at him, so fully alive with surprised happiness that he’s hopeless not to love her in that moment, and he kisses her again. And again. And again.

And things are complicated. They’re not perfect. But there are moments like these, and that’s more than enough to make it worth it.

[ send me two tropes and a pairing, and I’ll tell you how I’d mash them up ]