#though it could just end up being 'food tastes better after it's been quality tested by gege'

[neonganymede]

you are hereby cordially invited to the meat bun meeting.

Honestly, this seems like a private affair, so I'm happy enough to observe from afar ;w;

(Also I'm not actually convinced that Hua Cheng signed off on this invitation.....)

[miekasa]

Mie, I’m begging for some Jean college au bf hcs - im literally so down bad for this man and the way you write men is just 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻

Absolutely, not a problem 😌 I saved this ask as a draft a while ago when you sent it, sorry for just now getting to it. Anyway, I love Jean with my whole heart, best boy, best boyfriend <33

King of forehead kisses, and not even just because of his height in comparison to yours; he just likes it. He likes the feeling of pressing his lips against your skin, and making you feel safe.

Brings you tea or coffee however you like it every day without fail. If he can get it to you in the morning before work/school then he’ll do that, if not he’ll meet you some time in the middle of the day to drop it off. Your own personal courier just for drinks.

He… has a thing for long(er) nails. He loves the feeling of them against his skin, even if you’re not scratching to apply pressure—just you holding his hand them grazing his skin is enough for him.

That being said, he will pay for you to get your nails done. Actually, he’ll pay for… almost anything you want, but the nails benefit him as much as they do you so feel free to ball out.

He never blowdries his hair because he doesn’t... know how to do the back of it. You did it for him once and he hasn’t stopped thinking about it since, but he’s also too embarrassed to ask you to do/style it again.

On the subject of hair, he does do his best to style it and take care of it, but he’s a sucker whenever you play with it. Sometimes he feigns like you’re messing up all his hard work, but he’ll literally crane his head into your touch. He loves it. 

The first time he lays on top of you and you run your hands through his hair... top 10 most euphoric moments of his life. He tries to fight off the sleep threatening to take over him, but it’s futile. Give it 15 minutes at most before he’s knocked out like a baby. 

Dogs love him. Anytime you’re in a park or just taking a walk and there’s a dog around, it’ll come up to him and he looks adorable leaning down to pet it. He loves dogs, too! So he’s always happy to stop and pet them. He’d be a 10/10 dog dad. 

Has your name saved in his phone with two hearts at the end. Do not point it out.

Loves taking pictures together and if you guys are on a date, he’ll ask someone to get a picture for him. He just likes having them to look back on (and to send to his mom, later).

He doesn’t mind painting classes or videos or tutorials, but he hates paint by numbers kits. He claims that they have no sense of color theory and that it takes the originality and fun out of painting. Not to mention the quality of the paints isn’t great to begin with; all of which he takes very seriously.

It’s pretty cute actually, to see him get worked up over the paint kits. He claims that painting and drawing isn’t even something he takes “that seriously,” it’s just a hobby for him (one he’s insanely good at); but in moments like these, you can tell that he’s way more into art and art theory and history than he lets on. 

Huge movie guy, from animated movies to martial arts movies, Jean is usually willingly to give anything a watch at least once. When he’s high, he can go on about his favorite directors and art styles and movie details for hours if you don’t stop him. It’s super cute. Just don’t bring up Moana, because he’ll start crying. 

Arm around the shoulder kind of boyfriend for sure. It’s a casual way of keeping you near him and letting everyone know that you guys are together. Plus it allows for him to easily pull you into him for a quick forehead kiss when needed.

Listen. If you hug his arm, he’s on cloud nine. He tries to be nonchalant about it but he’s about three seconds away from his eyes rolling back in his head it feels that good to him. Bonus if you lean your head on his bicep a little—then he’s a goner.

He takes his bagels very seriously and believes that both you and him deserve nothing but the best quality bagels. He’ll grumble if a bakery gives you guys a less than favorable one and make a note that taking the long route to get to his favorite place is much more worth it.

Always makes you walk on the side furthest from the cars. If he notices you’re not, he’ll just shuffle behind you until he’s shouldering the street and you’re on the inside. 

He grew up on a kind of modern ranch situation; not exactly all the way in the countryside, but not isolate from the city, either. Because of this, he knows how to ride horses, take care of smaller farm animals, tend to plants, and yes he knows how to use a lasso. You wouldn’t know any of that though, because he never ever talks about it. The only way you find out is when he takes you to visit his mom’s house for the first time, and she asks him for a hand around the place. 

(He’s got a cowboy hat, too, but refuses to put it on. He got it when he was, like, nine, okay, leave him alone). 

When he thinks you look tired, he’ll wrap his arms around your shoulders to hug you. It’s usually followed up with a kiss to your head, and a promise that you guys will go home soon and get food on the way. 

He’s a really good cook. He just understands and flavors and pairings really well, so he doesn’t need a recipe to make something that tastes good; he just kind of knows what to add to get the balance he’s looking for. 

Naturally, he’ll cook for you. Especially if he finds out that you haven’t eaten all day/in a long time. He doesn’t care if it’s 11pm and it might seem excessive to make steak and potatoes with a side salad at this hour, he’s gonna do it to make sure you eat, and you are going to sit there and watch. 

He also bakes pretty well, though he isn’t as experimental with his baking as he is with his cooking. He usually sticks to what he knows, and it’s not cupcakes and brownies and cakes; he’s better at croissants, and cheesecakes, and canelés. 

Dating Jean means getting along with his friends. If you guys didn’t know each other before you started dating, be prepared to be ambushed by Connie and Sasha (after Jean stops hiding you away and gives them the green light lmfao). Neither of them waste time with the small talk and formalities; straight into mini golfing and beer pong. They make you feel welcome right away.

Sasha always teases that you’re too good for Jean, and that she might just steal you away for herself some day. Sasha is also Jean’s main confidant, so she really knows just how much he loves you, and yeah, she teases him for being lovesick, but really she’s happy for Jean. And proud of him for facing his feelings like this. 

Connie adores you, and you know he trusts you when he starts going to you for advice/help. Could be anything from schoolwork, to what color he should get his new shoes in. He’s also the one who, surprisingly, you have the sentimental talks with about your relationship with Jean. It’s easy to overlook, but Connie loves Jean, and he’s come to love you too; he just wants you both to be happy, so he’s there to listen when you need it. 

Jean waits outside of your classroom after you’ve had a test or presentation, usually with a drink or a snack, or the promise of taking you out as a treat. Always tells you he’s proud of you, and is there to comfort you if you think you didn’t do too well. 

He does not shut up about whatever major you’re in. It could be the same as his; it could be the complete opposite as his. He thinks it’s so sick that you’re doing it, you make it look cooler, you make it look better, and he’s certain you’re the smartest person in your program. 

He’s pretty serious about his studies, too, so he’s always down to study with you in the library whenever you’re both free. More often than not, he shows up after you, usually with food or extra chargers. He greets you with a kiss on the forehead, and asks you how you are while massaging your shoulders gently. If it’s been a while since you took a break, that’s the first item on the list, after that, he gets to work and stays with you until you’re ready to go, even if he doesn’t have as much work to do. 

He always sits across from you. This goes for when you’re in the library, or out to eat at a restaurant; Jean loves sitting across from you. He gets to see your face the best that way, and he adores looking into your eyes when you talk. 

He’s not... not a morning person. He’s not up at 6am ready to grind, but he wakes up before noon; let’s say 10am is his happy medium. That being said, if you wake up before him, regardless of the time, there’s a 9/10 chance he’ll lay on your back and tell you to hush so you guys can sleep for 10 more minutes. 

If you’re (close) friends with Eren, Mikasa, and Armin, Jean is... happy you’ve got people to rely on, but, “Of all people on the planet, you put your trust in Jaeger?” He acts so bitter (because he is), but deep down inside, he’s glad you have Eren to rely on if you need to. 

(Also, you have to humble him and remind him that he and Eren aren’t all that different. If you like him, why wouldn’t you get along with Eren, bye). 

Turns out though, that it’s not Eren who threatens to beat him up if he breaks your heart. It’s not even Mikasa, although, her threat goes without saying; it’s Armin he’s terrified of.

The last time Armin hated someone, it was this guy in your program, who happened to share a few mutual classes with him, too. Jean never knew the full story, just that he’s pretty sure that kid dropped out the following semester. 

If you have a job on campus, Jean usually doesn’t show up while you’re working (knowing how embarrassed he would be if you did that to him), unless you work the night shift and it’s dead. Connie, however, does show up; usually in some kind of crisis (“Please help me, I don’t know what the fuck APA formatting is and this is due tonight, please, please, please!!”). Your coworkers actually thought Connie was your boyfriend for a minute. That’s when Jean starts showing up more lmfao.

He makes it a point to go on a scheduled, night out, kind of date at least twice a month. He knows life gets busy with school and work and midterms, but he always makes sure you both set side a time to take a well-deserved break and be with each other. 

He’s the romantic type, so these dates are pretty swoon worthy, too. Drive-in movies, nice dinners, classy art exhibits, Jean plans it all. On that note, he really likes planning dates; he just doesn’t like talking about them with his friends beforehand. 

All in all, very romantic, very precious boyfriend. He’s always thinking about you, what you need, and how he can help you out. You’re one of his main priorities, and he just wants to treat you right. 

[xcrystalzero]

so, when are you taking me out?

characters included: kaeya, zhongli, diluc, childe, albedo, venti, xiao

summary: some modern au first date scenarios with the wonderful genshin boys!

Kaeya takes you barhopping. Quality time with you and alcohol in the same night? Can't get better than that. Of course, just sitting around at one place would be boring, so he makes a plan. At the beginning of the night, he presents you with a paper map, certain locations marked in red pen with lines connecting them. The places marked are all bars of pubs in the area that he recommends and wanted to take you too at some point in time, so why not all in one night? He asks if you think you can manage in that infuriatingly smooth voice of his and you huff, turning it into a challenge. Certain benchmarks on the path have little notes scribbled next to them.

"first person to find a person wearing purple gets their next drink free"

"rock, paper, scissors. winner picks the loser's next drink."

It looks like it took a lot of work to come up with, which is somewhat out of character for this normally lazy guy. What can he say though, when it comes to you, things are different.

Zhongli brings up the new art gallery that opened down the street. It seems interesting, he points out, at which point it's in your hands to ask him if he's free that weekend to go. Despite not knowing a single thing about the theme or pieces going in, he still seems to know a strange amount of history about the most random pieces, rattling off facts that leave you staring at him open-mouthed in confusion. Who is this guy? Eventually, someone hears him blabbering and comes over to talk to him about it. Turns out, the two of you attracted the literal owner of the gallery who draws Zhongli into conversation. It goes on for a little while and after being given basically a free pass by the owner to come back when they add new exhibits, you two take your leave. Surprisingly, Zhongli feels a little bad about spending the time he meant to spend with you talking to someone else, and insists on treating you to dinner. While you doubt the man even remembered his wallet, you're not going to reject such a sweet offer.

Diluc thinks there's nothing wrong with being traditional and takes you out to the classiest restaurant you've ever set foot in. He's frighteningly punctual, ringing your doorbell at 8 on the dot, dressed in a pressed collared shirt with a bouquet of roses in his hand. Despite his actions though, he seems strangely nervous, glancing towards you multiple times on the drive to the place with a faint blush on his cheeks, though he doesn't say anything. He has everything spot on, from pulling out your chair for you to carefully listening to your waiter's wine recommendations despite hating the stuff. About halfway through the date, you can't help but chuckle softly. Diluc Ragnvindr, man of actions over words with a loathing for unnecessary interactions, is making small talk with you. All it takes is your hand laying gently atop his own and those forced words stutter to a halt. Startled eyes turn to you and you can't help enjoy this flustered side of the usually stoic, composed man.

"Diluc darling, you know you can relax right?"

He doesn't, but you don't mind.

Childe wants someone who can match his energy, so to test you, he picks you up bright an early for a day at the amusement park. He warns you outright that theme park days with him are not like a leisurely family holiday wandering about and nibbling on cotton candy. No, he has a list of all of the scariest rides the park offers typed into his notes app and he is dead-set on hitting them all before the day is over. Sure, there can be a few breaks for overpriced theme park food and ice cream cones that melt all over your hands immediately, but that is not what he's here for. The day is basically him dragging you around the park at the speed of sound, jumping into the shortest lines you come across, even if the rides aren't on his list, "just because". By the end, you're both sitting on a park bench, completely wiped out, throats rubbed raw by all of your screaming, but content because every single item on the list has been crossed off. That being said, there's a few small rides you missed along the way in your hurry that you kind of wish you stopped at. You turn to Childe and realize that your cheeks hurt from smiling for too long. His eyes are alive as he turns them to you before grabbing your wrist and pulling you back onto your feet.

"There's still some time left, let's finish this!"

Albedo wishes you could just meet in the lab he works at, but he compromises on a local coffee shop. It's that sort of cute place that influencers are always looking for but only locals really know about. The date doesn't really seem like a date when it starts. Albedo does offer to buy you coffee, but then you two just kind of go back to work for a little while? Obviously, he's quite dedicated to his work so he has no problem just working on it for hours on end, but you're a busy bee as well and have things you need to get done by the end of the week. Eventually though, one of you will say something mildly conversational, and then the work is tossed immediately to the side. Albedo isn't the biggest fan of most people, or social interaction in general. but with you, it comes easily. You two sit there until the place closes, talking, and people-watching, and pretending that you're still being productive. He extends an invitation to you to come back to his place as the cafe closes and even though you still blush at the idea, you're pretty sure that it was an innocent suggestion. Maybe you'll take him up on it.

Venti drags you to his friend's friend's gig in the basement of some trendy hipster comic store. As far as you know, he doesn't know any of these people, but he makes conversation like they're his best friends. There isn't a bar, but there is a bowl of strange orange liquid that Venti brings you a cup of and that you discard after a single sip that tastes like battery acid. There's a group that you assume is the band standing in the center of the floor, the singer belting at the top of her lungs words you can't understand but it's okay because Venti is beside you with his infectious grin and his hands that reach out to grasp your own, pulling you into a weird swaying motion that you think might be dancing? It feels more like floating though, as you two make your way to the front of the crowd. Venti starts yelling requests to the band, some of which they actually fulfill which has the two of you singing along at the top of your lungs. Maybe you're being disruptive, and maybe people are staring at you like you're crazy, but you are young and happy and together and that's all that matters.

Xiao picks the safe option and asks you out to the movies. You kind of expect him to chose whatever new action flick just hit the market, but instead, he chooses a cute animated film about an inflatable robot doctor. It's unexpected but exceedingly cute so you're not complaining. He's a little quiet when you first meet up, barely exchanging pleasantries before he excuses himself to buy you two some popcorn. About halfway through the movie though, you're laughing softly at whatever is happening in the movie and you can just tell that he's looking over at you. So, you do the expected thing and reach over to gently pull his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers. You feel him stiffen for a moment before he relaxes, giving your hand the smallest squeeze back. And then he doesn't let go of you for the rest of the movie.

[softomi]

i like you so matcha

prompt: is it really a rivals to lovers if one likes the other?

pairing: osamu x reader

word count: 3.2k

general taglist: @graykageyama @tsumue @thesorebae @micasaessakusa @alouphen

Osamu wasn’t one to worry about competition; he had heard of the new café just a few stores down from his own restaurant and while he believed that the grand opening was nothing more than large interest, the hype reached his own workers. While he prides himself on providing a menu that is cost efficient and perfect for anyone; his workers seem to think that the new café combined low cost with high quality and aesthetics.

Again, Osamu wasn’t that interested in the new place until through the grapevine he heard they were selling onigiri. It wasn’t just any onigiri, apparently their take involved changing the color of the rice to add an artistic component. They were even going as far as shaping the onigiri into novelty orientations, one of his workers showcased the hello kitty onigiri.

Once more, Osamu tried to reason that it wasn’t interesting but he can’t help the sudden tick of his forehead when his brother walks right passed the windows of his restaurant only to emerge thirty minutes later with a to-go box of rainbow colored onigiri. It irked him even more when Atsumu had the audacity to sit at the counter and eat the onigiris with such happiness.

“Hey Samu, you think you could make some of these.” Osamu takes the box, promptly throwing it into the trash, eliciting a whine from Atsumu who declares that now he must wait another twenty minutes in line for more.

Osamu finds himself waiting in line with his brother. Atsumu cries that his stomach is hungry, but Osamu keeps his attention to how long the line is; it didn’t wrap around the block but it was fairly long enough to understand that the place was popular. The glow of the neon blue sign is just barely evident under the sun, but it must appear better under night conditions.

When he looks inside, he sees pristine white tables that balance with the brightly colored food; the chairs looked to have comfortable padding, some decorated with different colored pillows. There were mirrors displayed along the walls, one moon shaped, one stars, one of the sun, he takes it to understand that this was probably a theme of the café.

“We’re almost to the front!” Atsumu’s stomach growls the closer they get.

Osamu notices there’s decorative fairy lights along the window looking out into the street, the windowsill is large and he thinks it’s a good idea when he sees some customers using the space as a seating area. There’s a chalkboard used to display the menu behind the workers at the counter and even a small one at the cash register that lists the specials of the day.

Even as they find a seat, Osamu’s eyes are staring at the ceiling, how aesthetic, he thinks, there’s even a mirror above where they sat. He observes the customers, most are women but here and there are a few men; some with their lovers, some just here for the food. He can conclude that most of the hype of the place is from the aesthetic alone. It’s the perfect place for a photo opportunity with how decorated everything is.

“Order for Miya!”

Atsumu practically sprints to the counter and back. When Osamu tries to touch the food, Atsumu slaps his hand, “Wait! Let me take a picture!”

Osamu rolls his eyes; his brother has fallen into the trap that is the café. Atsumu takes five minutes to capture every angle that he can, even utilizing the ceiling mirror to get a picture of him and his brother with the food. Osamu takes note of Atsumu’s drink, clear plastic with a secure top; it allows you to see the different layers of the coffee but he knows once Atsumu mixes the drink it’ll turn green for the matcha flavor.

“Look!” Atsumu is shoving the cup in Osamu’s face, “There’s a design on the cup!” Atsumu’s eyes sparkle at the cute print of a Pokémon character, “That means I was one of the first hundred customers of the day.”

At this point, Osamu wants to applaud the aesthetic of the restaurant. Even taking the time to print on designs for customers as a novelty item to which they could boost about on social media, Osamu is impressed. But he reasons that the aesthetic of the place must hold to a high standard with the food.

So when he takes one of the onigiri’s, he’s ready to critique the flavor.

“Are you enjoying your meal?”

When Osamu looks up after taking a bite, the rice flows down the wrong pipe; he coughs loudly, wheezing at the way the salted salmon is a lump in his throat. Atsumu gives up his drink for his brother and Osamu nearly falls in love with the sweet taste of the matcha coffee.

“Are you alright?” Your hand is pressed on his shoulder, it moved from when you had been lightly hitting his back to help.

Osamu’s cough dies down as he watched you move to the counter; the workers listening intently to your words before nodding off.

“I’m sorry.” Osamu coughs for a last time as you approach the table.

Your hands are on your hips, a grin pressed neatly on your lips as you hold out a hand, “It’s my fault, I must have surprised you coming over all of a sudden. I’m the owner and you run Onigiri Miya don’t you?” Osamu feels sweat beat down the side of his face when he reaches out to grasp your hands, “I’m a big fan, you have great flavors, I can only hope that ours matches yours.”

Your attention turns to his twin, Atsumu gladly takes your attention, this gives Osamu time to collect himself. Osamu discoveries himself staring at you, you radiated a type of energy, one that he feels matches his own when it comes to running a business. The smile on your face makes him flush slightly and his palms remain sweaty from when he held your hand.

“It’s an honor to have a professional volleyball player eat at our establishment. We hope to see us on your social media page. One of my workers will bring over a free drink for the inconvenience.” Your head lowers in courtesy, waving to the men to continue their dining experience, “Oh and Mister Onigiri Miya, I’d love to bounce some ideas off you, I think we’d work great as partners for a few projects.”

Business partners was the last thing Osamu was going to agree to now that he had been up and close with the café; it’s been deemed a threat. It irked him when he saw you, a smile on your face as you wave to him early in the morning. His business seemed to always open and end with you, that’s how he discovered that even your hours of operation were the same as his.

It annoyed him when you visited, a large cup of matcha coffee in your hand as you offer it to him during the middle of lunch rush. It’s sweet when he drinks it, but he tries not to like it too much and he even tries to repress the craving for it on days when you don’t visit his shop. He even holds back the urge to visit the café when he really wants some matcha coffee.

He also finds it absolutely annoying how the parking spaces in front of his restaurant are always blocked by your customers. One time he stormed into your café, the workers were no stranger to his complaints. He’s automatically walking to your office in the back. When he can’t find you, he discovers you in a hidden kitchen meant for creative purposes.

“Oh, Miya Osamu. What can I do for you?” There’s rice on your cheek, your apron dirtied with minced ingredients, you wipe your hands on the ends of your apron to leave streaks of flour.

Osamu pushes aside the thought that he finds your hair pulled up cute, his hands on his waist as he puffs out his chest, “You need to do something about the parking situation! Your customers are parking in spots specifically meant for Onigiri Miya!”

You laugh, the back of your hand wiping against your cheek to remove the rice, “No problem! I’ll just put up signs on parking. Good?”

Osamu’s eyes twitch, the rice on your cheek is still stuck there and you can’t seem to find just where it is. He takes a step forward, fingers reaching out to graze the speck of rice and flick it off into another direction. You’re grinning.

“Thanks, did you want some coffee?” Your hand is already preparing a cup, pushing buttons on a machine as it spews out coffee, “I’m trying out some matcha and chocolate fusion drinks. I think I just figured out the perfect balance. Taste test?” You hold out the cup to him.

It’s sweet, just a perfect blend; absolutely beautiful. Osamu ends up taking the drink back to his restaurant, eyes staring at the cup with doodles of hearts and stars.

The next day, Osamu barges into your office stating that the music from your café is too loud, even though he’s three stores down, and none of his workers could hear anything but he’s insisted that the music is too distracting. He returns once more with a complimentary drink and a lighter mood than before.

“Isn’t he being too demanding?” One of your workers watches Osamu peer into the shop.

You’re smiling, already prepping the matcha drink, “I think it’s cute.”

“He’s acting like he’s part of the neighborhood watch committee.” Your worker stands straight up, “Good morning mister Miya, another complaint today?”

Osamu crosses his arms, lips in a thin line, “If you’re going to have your workers hand out flyers, I would prefer it if it wasn’t done in front of my restaurant.”

“Here’s your order.” The cup in your hand is stretched out to him.

“I didn’t.” Osamu frowns but his finger brush against yours when he reaches for the cup.

“I’ll be sure to tell them to stay closer to our café.” Despite him turning away, he flushes, “Have a great day Miya Osamu!” Your voice makes his ears go red.

The workers giggle when he turns around to thank you. It was painfully obvious that he had a crush on you. Excuses upon excuses as a way to step into your café and have brief moments with you. His eyes distracted by the cup, he runs into the door, giggles follow him as he leaves.

Osamu has himself crouched behind the counter, hands in his hair, hiding from the world. He remains a roadblock to his workers but they all move around him; he can’t possibly step back into your café after that embarrassing moment.

“It probably wasn’t that bad sir.” The worker has been waiting for five minutes trying to get one of the rice bags from behind Osamu.

Osamu digs his hands into his hair, “I basically face planted into the door.”

“Can I just get the rice please? We have orders.”

When Osamu stands to his feet, the wind gets knocked out of him. You wave from behind the counter and Osamu coughs as though he was busily trying to do something from under.

“Can I help you with something?”

You lean on your toes, it makes him want to delve just a little closer to you, “Yeah, there’s a car blocking one of our carry out spots, it has an Onigiri Miya sticker on the bumper so we thought maybe it was yours?”

Osamu facepalms, he had forgotten to move his car. He’s quick to round the counter, making his way to you until he feels it. He’s suddenly thrusted forward, unable to comprehend the wet floor sign before he’s tumbling right into you. Your hands steady his arms, Osamu’s find themselves clutching your waist. He was blushing madly, nose brushing against yours; customers and workers alike stare at the rather intimate hold.

“Are you alright?”

Osamu lets go but the step he takes back makes him slip, your arm stretches out to grasp him but it only sends you forward. Everyone gasps. Osamu lands on his ass, your body hovering over him and he’s blushing even harder now with your breath against his skin.

“I’m so sorry.” You pull away from him.

“It’s my fault.” Osamu dusts himself off, helping you to your feet, even holding your hand to try and balance the both of you, “Are you okay?”

Besides minor embarrassment, you grin to him, “Nothing I haven’t experienced before. Have you ever slipped and spilled rice in the middle of lunch rush, effectively getting grains of rice in everything?” Osamu laughs, “Truly one of my more embarrassing moments.”

He feels his heart suddenly more at ease, the restaurant goes back to their bustling conversations and the two of you walk out together. Osamu thinks to himself that the term rivals didn’t fit the category that he has you under in his head.

“It’s called love.” Atsumu draws the word out and Osamu smacks his arm, effectively making Atsumu bang his head against the table, “Dammit Samu! Stop doing that!”

“Stop being stupid then.”

Atsumu begins a snarky outcry of obscenities at his brother. He doesn’t mind it as he sees you walking past his restaurant. The sun makes it hard for you to notice him through the windows but he has a perfect view of you carrying boxes towards your café. Your steps halt as the top box begins to tilt, leaning the rest of the boxes in the same directions.

“I got you.” Osamu pushes the boxes, he takes the top half to balance in his hands, “I’ll help you.”

“Thanks.” You beam, “I see your brother is visiting.”

When Osamu looks at the window, Atsumu has his face pressed against the glass. His heavy breathing creating fog, “Samu!” It amuses you when Osamu knocks against the glass, sending Atsumu to jolt back, “Samu! Get me some onigiri from the café.”

“You’re literally in an Onigiri restaurant!” Osamu barks.

Your giggle pulls him along and as if cupid had struck him with fifty arrows, he follows you happily.

It came to no surprise for literally everyone when Osamu finally mustered up the courage to ask you out. In the after hours of work, he discovers you flipping chairs all by your lonesome; his hand knocks against the glass, it causes you to jump in surprise but it quickly fades when you see him motioning for the locked door.

“Where are all of your workers?” Osamu has begun to help turn the chairs onto the tables, something he’s accustomed to doing at his restaurant.

“I sent them home. I don’t like making them stay too late.”

Osamu thinks about how his workers are cleaning up at the moment; he follows you to the back, eyes trailing themselves over your body, he finds the way your hair is tied with ribbons to be cute and he wonders if you look just as cute with your hair down.

“Osamu?”

He blushes when you bring him back to reality, “Sorry, I was thinking about something.”

“I’m just finishing up some prep for tomorrow, you don’t have to stay.” Your hands dust flour onto the table, your fingers forming bagels for tomorrow’s breakfast rush.

Osamu stands next to you, he curiously takes a piece of dough, following your hand movements to form the bagel shape, “This is the first time I’ve formed bagels.”

“Really?” You glance at him, “You’re a natural, I’d definitely hire you as a chef.” Unexpectedly, Osamu feels your hand hold over his, “You just need to make sure it’s all uniform. I don’t think my customers would enjoy bagels that are one size five times bigger than another.”

It’s another two hours before you two finish forming and proofing the bagels for the next day. He waits outside the doors of your café, he can clearly see his workers are just about to leave too, they snicker seeing him waiting outside. He quickly motions for them to go away, when the door chimes, he pretends as though he was just about to scratch his head.

“Thanks for the help.” Your hair falls past your shoulders, Osamu wishes time would stop for a second so he could run his fingers through them. It’s just the two of you standing on the empty street, the lamps barely doing you justice, “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Wait.” Osamu tugs on your sleeve, “Do you want to have dinner with me? Or will you? I mean, you don’t have to but if you want to.”

“Are you asking me out?”

Osamu gulps, “Are willing to go out with me?”

He may have reached another level of joy when you clasp onto his arm, “Duh! You’re a little slow but you got there eventually.” 

Osamu lets you drag him along the sidewalk, opting for a place nearby rather than driving elsewhere. He can’t help the smile of content on his face watching you stuff your mouth with food. The meal is comfortable and nice; but the date is absolutely, blissfully, perfect. At the end of the night, he walks you to your car, hands dug deep into his pockets and he isn’t sure if he should shamelessly kiss you or do the awkward hug and goodbye.

“Are you thinking if you should kiss me or hug me?” You laugh when he looks at you bewildered.

“Are you reading my mind?”

You lean forward, a whisper on you, “It’s a secret superpower I have.” The both of you chuckle and before he can register it, you stand on your toes, pressing a quick kiss onto his cheek. You open the door to your car as he blushes profoundly, “Normally I don’t kiss on the first date, the one on the cheek is just a guilty pleasure, because you’re cute.”

Osamu knew from the beginning that the competition shouldn’t have been one to worry about. What he should have been worried about was how cute the owner was.

“Uh-oh, here comes leader of the neighborhood watch committee.” Your workers snicker seeing him strut into the café, “Good morning mister Miya.”

“I have a complaint.” Osamu crosses his arms, eyes staring at you. He leans forward, “I’d prefer it if you kept your hair down.” His fingers pull on the ribbon in your hair, your strands fall to your shoulders.

On your toes, your lips meet his from over the counter; there’s a hum in him, “We take complaints here very seriously.” You steal the ribbon from his fingers, “But you know I can’t be walking around with my hair down.”

“I have a solution.” He situates a hat that he’s made appear out of no where onto your head. He pushes strands of your hair behind your ears and fixes the hat’s strap to fit nicely onto your head, “Perfect.”

You roll your eyes to your boyfriend, “It says Onigiri Miya on the hat doesn’t it.”

Osamu happily claps his hands, “Product placement.”

“You’re so shameless!” You set the drink in front of him, “Cash or card?”

Osamu scoffs, “You’re making me pay now?”

“Yup.” You wink to him, “It’s what boyfriends do.”

“You boyfriend trapped me with free matcha coffee.” Osamu takes the drink, pressing a kiss on your lips quickly, “Put it on my tab.”

“You literally don’t have a tab, Samu!” He’s laughing as he runs away with the drink, turning around to blow you a kiss before running off to his restaurant to prepare for the lunch rush.

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Gender? In THIS Economy?

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Duke is questioning stuff and goes to Tim for advice. (feat. trans!Tim and nonbinary!Duke)

“Here you go. One Batburger with extra pickles, extra onions, and extra extra mayonnaise.” Duke drops the paper takeout bag unceremoniously into Tim’s lap. “Your taste buds need a tune-up, bro.”

Tim unwraps his burger and takes a bite. Batburger may be questionable when it comes to copyright laws, but damn if they don’t pile on the condiments better than any fast food restaurant in Gotham. “Sounds to me like you simply haven’t reached the sky-scraping level of enlightenment that I have, grasshopper.”

“Enlightenment would have been going to Red Robin and using your uniform to get a discount,” Duke says. He sits beside Tim on the rooftop’s edge, their legs dangling side by side a hundred feet above Gotham’s plunging gray streets. He digs into his own burger and makes a face. “Enlightenment would also be getting the Robin Nuggets next time. This tastes like dried leather.”

“I like it,” Tim says with a shrug. “It has personality.”

“So does raw sewage, but you don’t see me eating that.”

Tim concedes the point. His communicator buzzes in his belt. He checks the screen and discovers an alert from Cass composed entirely of clown emojis and red harlequin diamonds.

Duke notices. “Should we get that?”

Tim pockets the communicator. “Nah, Spoiler’s got it. We have time to relax.” And he’s not about to pass up quality time with the one little brother who doesn’t hate him. It’s hard enough as it is for Tim and Duke to find the time, what with them being on opposite sleeping schedules and work snatching their attention away with grabby, toddler-sized hands.

“Don’t get a lot of that during the day shift,” Duke says. “Every time an alarm goes off, it’s my business.”

Tim knocks him in the side with his elbow. “That’s what you get for turning to the light side instead of kicking it in the shadows with us. More employees to go around.” He sips his soda for a moment. “Why did you come out tonight, anyway? I thought you stayed in on weeknights.”

“Right. I actually wanted to talk to you about something.” Duke says it carefully, like he’s testing the waters. “I need advice.”

Tim has to admit that his chest puffs out a little at that. It’s not often people come to him for advice when Dick and Barbara are right there, all full of adult wisdom that Tim is too pitifully shrimpy to possess. “What’s up?”

“It’s kind of...personal.”

“Yes, Bruce does have special powder for suit-chafing. It’s in the cabinet under the first-aid supplies.”

“It’s not that,” Duke says, though he snorts in half-hearted laughter. He looks down at his hands like he’s dreading the words lodged in his throat. “What was it like, realizing you were a dude?”

One of Tim’s eyebrows shoots up. “Oh.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s an invasive question.”

“No, no, it’s fine. You just caught me off guard, is all.” It’s not like this is the first time someone has asked. Tim used to be uncomfortable talking about it, but he’s grown up since then. Talking about his trans journey is as normal as talking about what he did yesterday. He eats a fry. “What do you want to know?”

Duke searches Tim’s face for a sign that he’s lying, that he should back off. When he doesn’t find one, he asks, “How old were you when you figured it out?”

Tim thinks back. “Nine, I think? But even before that, it’s not like I ever really felt like a girl. I knew there was something wrong, but I didn’t know what. When I first heard about what being transgender meant, everything I’d been feeling until then clicked into place.”

“What was it like?” Duke asks, “growing up the way you did? Presenting as a girl when you knew you weren’t?”

Tim shrugs. “I don’t know. It was life at the time. I dealt with it.”

“Was it hard? Pretending to be something you weren’t?”

Tim doesn’t know what answer Duke is looking for, or why he’s so interested, but he won’t ask. “My parents always had this idea of me being the perfect daughter, all obedient and graceful and crap. I’m pretty sure their hope was to eventually marry me off to the highest bidder so they could reap the business benefits.”

“That sounds awful.”

Tim shrugs again. “I didn’t start feeling any different than I should have until around six or seven. I was always a tomboy. I liked doing boy stuff and playing sports, but my parents thought it was a phase I would grow out of. They’d make me wear dresses and go to fancy parties with them, all the while I just wanted to claw my skin off and go home.”

He remembers the nights he would lie awake in bed, imagining what it must be like to have been born someone else. Anyone else. To grow up as a little boy who was allowed to run around, to get dirty, to be himself instead of following some arbitrary guidelines someone else drew up the day he was born. He imagined what it would feel like to answer to a different name than the one he’d been given, which grated on his ears the longer time went on, like an itchy sweater he couldn’t shed. It was hell.

He gives Duke a sly grin. “But the upside of having absent parents is that there aren’t as many people watching you. No one cared if I went to school in the boy’s uniform instead of the girl’s. No one was there to stop me from cutting my hair short the way I wanted it.”

Duke's eyes widen. “You cut your own hair?”

“It went exactly the way you’re thinking. I had to go to the barber the next day and have them fix it because it was so uneven. But by the end of the day, it was the way I always imagined it. I was finally starting to look like the person I wanted to be.”

Duke stares intently at the remains of his burger as if the universe’s answers to an unspoken question were written in sesame seeds. “Did it get better after that? Did you feel...at peace?”

“‘Course not. The world wasn’t magically fixed just because I took a step in the right direction. My problems didn’t go away.” When he says that, Duke looks almost...disappointed? “But,” Tim adds, “it was better than it was before. I still had to act for my parents and the rest of the world, but I didn’t have to hide from myself anymore.”

“How did your parents react when they found out?”

Tim grimaces. “They...didn’t take it well.” He can still hear his father’s voice in his memories, bringing up therapy and camps and whatever places he could think of that would “fix” his little girl.

“But, after a while,” Tim continues, “it was clear that I wasn’t going to change my mind anytime soon. I guess they figured it would be easier to go along with it than fight me every step of the way. They still didn’t like it, but they tolerated it.”

Duke is quiet.

“Why do you ask?” Tim prods.

Duke’s expression doesn’t give anything away. It’s nights like this when Tim can see how perfectly Duke fits into this mental institution they call a family. For all that Duke thrives in the light, he keeps his cards just as close to his chest as the rest of them. He gives Tim a half-smile. “Just wondering.”

“Okay.”

They fall into weighted silence, the scales tipping on either side of their post, but never settling. Tim waits. He finishes his burger and busies himself with reorganizing the pouches in his belt, giving Duke the privacy to think.

“I don’t know,” Duke starts after several minutes, “if I’m a boy.” He looks at Tim. “I think I might be something else.”

“Okay,” Tim says calmly. “What do you feel like?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve always felt different, y’know? When I was a kid, it was because I was smarter than everyone in my class. And it was fine, because I knew what it was and how it worked and why it was a good thing, being the smart one. It made sense. Time went on, the other kids started catching up, but that mismatched feeling never went away. I never felt right in my skin.”

Duke’s face rises to the dark clouds, the Batsignal shining from the top of the police station like a holy beacon. “Then I met Batman. My powers started to come in and everything clicked into place, all at once. That was why I never felt like I fit in with everyone else, because I was different. I had powers. That must have been it.”

“But it wasn’t,” Tim guesses.

Duke shakes his head. “I thought it would be. I mean, what else could it have been, you know? It should have explained why I never felt at home in my identity. But time goes on, I learn how to use my powers, and it fixes some of it, but not everything. There’s still part of me that looks in the mirror and sees something off. Some detail out of place.”

“Do you feel like a girl?” Tim ventures to ask.

Duke folds over the corner of his straw wrapper again and again in tiny triangles. “Nah, I doubt it. I like some feminine things, but I don’t think I’m a girl. Or a guy. I think...I might be nonbinary?”

Tim does his best to channel Bruce’s “supportive dad” energy and smiles. “Okay. What pronouns do you want to use?”

“They/them, maybe? For a while?”

“Duly noted.” He puts a hand on Duke’s shoulder. “I really do appreciate you telling me.”

Duke rubs the back of their neck, their cheeks flushing. “It feels good to say out loud. Not just in my head.”

“Do you think you’re going to tell anyone else? You don’t have to if you’re not ready, but our whole family will support you.”

“Yeah.” Duke picks at their nails, nodding absently. “I know they will. I’m not worried about that.”

“Then what are you worried about?”

Duke takes a deep breath in, and Tim is reminded of a balloon close to bursting. “My parents aren’t dead. I’m going to get them back. And when I do...what are they going to think when they wake up after half a decade and find out that their son isn’t their son anymore? What if they don’t like the person they see?”

Tim can’t say that he hadn’t swum with the same thoughts years ago, back when the person who is Tim Drake was still on the drawing board. But there’s a difference between his situation and Duke’s. “Your parents love you, Duke. They’re not going to stop loving you just because you’ve grown up since they last saw you.”

“What if it’s too much? The superpowers and the crime-fighting and the new gender...it’s a lot to take in.”

“Well, sure,” Tim says. “It might take some time for them to get used to it, but this is who you are. They’re going to love it just as much as they love the rest of you.”

Duke smiles, and if their eyes are a little misty, Tim pretends not to notice.

“Besides,” he says. “If I were you, I’d just lead with the superpowers thing. Anything after that sounds perfectly acceptable.”

[nugnthopkns]

take the sadness out of saturday night

word count: 2.8k 

warnings: insinuated fem!reader, a couple of curse words, alcohol consumption, vaguely described feelings of inadequacy 

recommended listening: chinatown | bleachers featuring bruce springsteen

a/n: will i ever write anything more than 3k? probs not. also this baby is completely self indulgent but i don’t even care

All you want to do is sleep. Or drink an entire bottle of wine. Maybe both. 

Graduate school is a lot harder than you expected it to be. You obviously weren’t naïve enough to think it be as easy as your undergrad, but you didn’t think it would be like this. It’s competitive; with people doing whatever it takes to get ahead. You’ve almost had your thesis topic stolen twice. The workload is also incredibly different. Gone are the days of small tests and assignments: everything relies on your thesis paper being of the utmost quality. You feel like you’re drowning in the middle of the ocean.

Today was the worst in a succession of terrible days. On the way to campus you dropped your coffee but didn’t have enough time to get another one. The conditions didn’t get any better once you reached school. Your lunch got left behind on the kitchen island and your advisor didn’t show up for your meeting, putting you another two weeks behind schedule. To top it off, you left campus later than usual and caught in the horrendous Philadelphia traffic. By the time you reach your apartment complex you’re thoroughly exhausted and two seconds away from crying. 

How you can afford your current lodging is beyond you. Tuition is waived by the university, which certainly helps, but you’re mostly relying on loans. It will be a bitch to pay off in a few years, but you don’t have any other option. The building isn’t ridiculously flashy, with semi-outdated furnishing, but it’s in a central location that anyone in Philly would kill for. Every day you wake up grateful there isn’t an eviction notice on your door; though you’re very careful to pay rent on time. Only the small lamp in the entryway is on when you unlock the door, but you keep it that way. Kicking off your sneakers and haphazardly hanging up your jacket, you shuffle into the bedroom portion of the studio. The pyjamas tucked under the pillow are calling your name, and it feels so good to free yourself of business casual clothing. 

The next stop on your mad-dash around in order to plant yourself on the couch as quickly as possible is the bathroom. You scrub your face vigorously, knowing you’ll pay for it in a few days when a breakout appears, but you can’t find it within you to care. It feels so good to be clean and in control of a situation. The kitchen is where you meander to next, filling the largest glass you can find with rosé. A bag of candy is grabbed as well, and then you’re tucking yourself into the corner of the couch and piling on the blankets. You open Netflix and briefly debate what to watch before deciding on something you’ve seen a million times before that won’t require your full attention.

Half an hour into the film you get hungry, but with no ambition to cook for yourself. Take out it is. You place an order at your favourite sushi joint and lazily return your gaze to the T.V. The scene on the screen no longer appeals to you, so you dig around the cushions to find your phone. It’s been a while since you’ve called your mom and you know she’s been missing you; truth be told you miss her a resounding amount. Philadelphia is a long ways from home and you can’t afford to travel often. Not being near your pillar of support is definitely wearing on you. She picks up on the fifth ring. 

“Hello?”

A tear slips out at the sound of her voice. Yours catches in your throat slightly, and your response is garbled. “Mom,” it breaks at the end, and the tears quickly turn into a waterfall. 

“Oh honey,” she sighs, chest filling with pain at your apparent despair. “What’s the matter?”

You sob for a minute or two before it subsides enough for you to actually speak. Through hiccups and sniffles you detail your horrible week, and the one before that for good measure. Your mom stays silent, listening with intent, and the one sided conversation eventually turns into you fretting about how you feel inadequate in your academic community and how you can’t picture a future. Only once you’ve ran out of words does she speak, negating the argument put in place by your imposter syndrome and doing her best to inflate your ego. 

“You’ve earned your seat at the table Y/N,” she says with conviction. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you deserve to be there. You’re cut out for this; no one is more passionate about their work than you.”

Another hiccup slips past your lips as you respond. “Thanks Mom.”

You don’t have to see her to know she’s sporting a smile. “We’re so proud of you honey, and always will be. No matter what you decide to do. Hell, you could move to Peru to become an alpaca farmer and your dad and I would be the happiest parents on Earth.”

The comment is meant to make you laugh, citing the time you called her during your undergrad to inform her you were dropping out and moving to the Andes. It works. You can’t help it, and have to admit it feels good after days of negative feelings. She distracts you further, recounting a story about your youngest brother’s recent baseball game that ended with a trip to the hospital after an unfortunate sliding incident. You wince at the mention of the basemen’s cleat colliding with his ankle, and chuckle when she talks about Connor singing showtunes in the recovery room. The story swapping continues, and it brings comfort. If you close your eyes you can envision yourself sitting on your mom’s bed, hiding your face in a pillow when anything embarrassing happens. 

A knock at your door ends your conversation, and the sadness slowly trickles back into your bones. “Mom, I’ve gotta go. The delivery person is here.”

“Okay sweetie. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Having lost track of time, you’re wildly unprepared to pay for your food. “One minute,” you yell in the direction of the front door, praying the person on the other side heard you. You root around your wallet for the appropriate amount of cash before sliding across the floor and unlocking the door handle. The person standing there is not in fact a food delivery service worker, but your neighbour from across the hall, holding what you presume to be your dinner. 

“Nolan?” 

To say you’re shocked is an understatement. Though you’d go as far to say the two of you are casual acquaintances, he’s never shown up unannounced on your doorstep. Most of your interactions take place in the elevator or hallway, and you’ve only been inside his apartment once when you left your keys in your advisor’s office. Being a professional hockey player means he typically isn’t around a lot, but you had learned from a friend he’s spending the season sidelined by an injury. He still hasn’t been around a lot from what you could tell. 

His low rumble catches you off guard for a millisecond but it doesn’t take long to adjust. “They, uh, sent it to the wrong door,” he mumbles, holding out the bag to illustrate his point. 

“Fuck,” you swear. “Sorry. How much do I owe you?” A ballpark figure is in your brain, but you aren’t above throwing in a few extra dollars for the inconvenience. No one wants to receive their neighbour’s food. 

Nolan shakes his head profusely and shoves his hands in his pockets when you try to slip the money into them. “It’s on the house,” he shrugs. “Think of it as an apology for being a shit neighbour these past couple of months.”

“You’re a great neighbour Nolan. I have no complaints.” He returns your smile but doesn’t speak. An awkward tension fills the air between you, almost as if each of you is waiting for the other to talk. 

“Well I’ll let you –”

“Would you like some company?”

The question stops you dead in your tracks. A look of bewilderment must appear on your face because Nolan starts blabbering. “It’s just that you looked upset when you came to the door, like you’ve been crying. I can also see the nearly empty bottle of wine on the counter and that’s never a good sign.” He pauses for a second to take a breath before blurting out a final sentence. “And there’s a game tonight and if I don’t distract myself from it I think I might die.” Ragged breathing punctuates the sudden stoppage, and when you look up to meet his eyes you feel a sense of desperation. 

Without saying anything you open the door wider and retreat into the unit, hoping he gets the hint. It takes him all of two seconds to follow you, quickly darting across the hall to lock his door. You’re at the fridge when he returns, and turn around to ask him what he’d like to drink. 

“It seems like an alcohol kind of night,” you chuckle. “What are you having?”

He looks at you sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. “Could I have a glass of that rosé?” 

You nod and gesture for him to pass you the bottle. “Never pegged you as a wine drinker,” you comment as you fill his cup. 

“Travis teases me relentlessly so I don’t keep it at the house anymore. Can only drink it in private.”

At the mention of his teammate’s name you understand. It’s exhausting to fit into someone’s mould of you. “Your secret is safe with me.”

The two of you migrate to the couch and once again become shrouded in silence. It’s comfortable this time, as you nurse your glasses and watch the skyline. Just having someone by your side is enough to quell the upset you’ve felt all day. You wonder why you hadn’t sought Nolan out sooner. It seems he’s been in a similar situation; having terrible days and feeling alone. Conversation only comes once he realizes both your drinks are empty. Nolan opens the fridge to find one more bottle of wine; a cheap, fruity one that’s meant to taste like a cooler. It’s strawberry flavoured, which equal parts thrills and disgusts him. He’s thrown back to his first high school party, when this was the only alcohol he could get his friends’ older sisters to buy him.

“I feel like I’m sixteen again,” he laughs, not bothering to fill his glass. Instead, he swigs from the bottle before reaching over the back of the couch and placing in your lap. You follow his lead, drinking directly from the vessel.

“Don’t judge me,” you huff. “I like the way it tastes.”

Nolan gazes sideways at you before dropping his voice to a near whisper. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

In a streak of boldness that came from god knows where, you place a hand on top of his. He doesn’t retract but doesn’t push forward either. You’re too scared to do anything else, and soon retract your hand and place it in your lap. “So,” you cough. “You need a distraction?”

☀☀☀☀

One comedy special turned into three, and it’s safe to say both you and Nolan are feeling exponentially better than when he knocked on your door. The alcohol flowed until you ran out, but neither of you are drunk. Perhaps tipsy; most definitely content. It’s so nice to enjoy someone’s company without the pressure of maintaining a perfect appearance. Nolan must feel it too, because he slowly begins to open up, talking about his career and ambitions for a life after hockey. You sit quietly, much like your mother had done hours before, as he describes his frustration with the migraines and how he yearns to bond with his teammates.

“I’m just so scared this is it, that I’m done,” he hiccups. 

You tentatively shuffle closer to him, looking for signs that he’s uncomfortable. Once you’re squished beside him, shoulder to shoulder, you take yet another page from your mother’s book. “If tonight is a good indicator of who you are, then you, Nolan Patrick, are going to be just fine. Seems to me that this is nothing but a bump in the road. You’re destined for greatness.”

He smiles, possibly the first completely real one he’s given you all night, and it reaches his eyes. “You really think that?”

“Absolutely. Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t believe it to be true. You see, in my line of work, truth is of the utmost importance.”

At Nolan’s incessant prodding you talk about school, your thesis, and what you hope to achieve. It doesn’t sting the way you thought it would, possibly because you’re speaking to someone who’s completely enamored with the topic. Academia clearly fascinates Nolan, though he makes it clear he has no interest in joining the community. The only way you can describe the feeling of explaining everything to him is refreshing; he asks insightful questions about your research and isn’t bogged down by the technicalities like so many of your fellow scholars. When you’ve exhausted all you can say and Nolan’s ‘poked’ holes in all of your theories, he gets a serious look and turns so your body is framed by his. 

In this position there’s no denying how attractive he is. Of course you’ve always found him easy to look at when you passed in the halls, but knowing him as intimately as you now do makes you realize how much you like him. “Come to a game with me?” he asks. 

Your rhythm is once again thrown off by the man in front of you. “A game?”

Nolan nods enthusiastically. “A game. I’ve been meaning to go to one for a while, but I can’t find the courage to go alone. The next home game is on Tuesday, but we can obviously go to another one when it fits your schedule. If you want to come, that is.”

He’s yet to be this excited about hockey all night, and who are you to deny your newfound friend something he wants so badly? “Tuesday’s perfect Nolan.” He pumps his fist in happiness and you giggle at his antics. 

“I’m so happy I could kiss you.” It slips out before he realizes, and the shock on his face lets you know it was an accident. 

“You can if you want.”

You’re surprised at your own boldness, but don’t have much time to read into what the statement could mean because Nolan’s leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The moment his lips touch yours it feels like a homecoming. He’s gentle but firm, letting you know he doesn’t want this to be a one time thing without saying anything at all. Nolan brings to you a sort of warmth that settles in your chest that makes you truly content with how life is going. You lose yourself in him, letting your heart steer the ship. He never waivers from you, only pulling back slightly to card his fingers through your hair. They settle at the nape of your neck and make shivers tingle your spine. You’re impossibly close, but you wish it would never end. After what feels like a millennia you break apart, chests heaving slightly from the lack of oxygen. 

You can’t find the words, but you know you never want to be without Nolan again. All the anguish you experienced earlier feels light years away after a few short hours of truly knowing him. It seems that he’s on the same page, because Nolan makes no effort to remove himself from the situation. In fact, he seems perfect content to never move again: arm comfortably around your shoulder as he places a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. 

“So is Tuesday a date now?” You squeak, voice small. You’re worried you’ve ruined the moment, but he cuts off your overthinking with a squeeze your bicep. 

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” he replies, and you know he means it. 

You can’t help yourself and slot your lips against his once again. “I’d like that a lot. There’s one condition though: I want to meet Gritty.”

Nolan’s laugh echoes off the walls and sounds like the sweetest melody you’ve ever heard. “Think I can manage to pencil you in to the schedule. It has a soft spot for me.”

As he reaches for the remote to put on highlights of the game that’s well over, you shuffle to rest your head comfortably in his lap. Your fingers find his and lazily combine. Nolan mumbles something you don’t quite catch, something about a play Travis made, but you hum in agreement anyways. He’s most likely right. Your eyes begin to droop, and as you fall asleep you forget why you were even sad in the first place. 

☀☀☀☀

taglist: @jamiedrysdales​ if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

[cluster-fandom]

Not the day for this

Atsumu, Oikawa, and Noya prank their S/O on a bad day

Warnings: Swearing, food/eating || hospital mention, knife mention, stitches mention, and getting a cut in Noya’s (nothing descriptive just the words themselves)

A/N: This is my first time writing for multiple characters! I enjoyed this a lot 

I was heavily inspired by @kybabi​ !! Go check them out if you haven’t before :)

Atsumu

• Today was not your day at all

• You had failed a test and got in an argument with your best friend

• So all you really wanted to do was come home to your boyfriend and relax

• Unfortunately Atsumu was not aware of how your day had been going

• You both liked to poke fun at each other and this time Atsumu had planned what he thought was an amazing prank

• He couldn’t wait for you to get home

You were driving home from university to your shared apartment with Atsumu. Between the frustration of scoring low a test you had studied so hard for and getting into a dumb fight with one of your best friends, you were ready to snap. The heat didn’t help anything either. At the very least you got to come home to Atsumu. The thought of being wrapped up in your boyfriends arms had kept you from lashing out at anyone that came in contact with you.

You two had been together for over a year and while he could be insufferable at times, you adored him. He was always making you laugh through his ridiculousness, and you were the same. But your favorite memories were when he looked at you with that lopsided grin and said that he loved you.

As you walked up to your front door you noticed it was slightly open.

‘Did Atsumu forget to close the door?’ You briefly wonder before going inside where it was cool.

“Ats-OH MY GOD!”

You were drenched in ice water and the bucket that had been sitting on the door clanked to the floor.

��HEY BABE I THOUGHT YOU COULD USE SOME COOLING OFF!” Atsumu grinned, finding his prank hilarious.

“FUCKING HELL ATSUMU THIS WAS NOT WHAT I NEEDED TODAY!” You yell as you shake your arms of water.

You shove past him towards the bathroom where you could get a towel and hairdryer.

“Wait wait wait! It was just a joke I’m sorry!” He’s fumbling over his words in confusion.

He follows you into the bathroom where you were shoving things out of the way to get your hairdryer out of the cabinet.

“Babe- I’m sorry I didn’t know you’d be mad!” He whines.

You ignore him as you try to (unsuccessfully) untangle the cord of your hairdryer.

“God-dammit-“ you mumble as you only end up getting it more tangled.

“Do you want me to hel-“

“NO ATSUMU IVE GOT IT!” You snap at him.

“Why are you so mad?” He’s genuinely confused. You’ve never been this mad at a prank before?? And this wasn’t even the worst one he’s done-

“I DONT KNOW MAYBE ITS BECAUSE IM DRENCHED AND FREEZING FUCKING COLD? JUST- LEAVE ME ALONE RIGHT NOW!” You’re just done with everything and Atsumu can clearly tell he’s not making anything better at the moment so he retreats to the living room.

After you’ve dried your hair and changed into some dry clothes you went to you and Atsumu’s shared bedroom.

You were scrolling on your phone when there was a knock at the door.

Atsumu cautiously stepped into the room.

“Y/N, can we talk?”

You sighed and set your phone aside.

When you nodded, Atsumu sat on the bed in front of you.

“I’m sorry I upset you. The prank wasn’t funny,” he looked at you with guilty eyes.

“I’m not mad about the prank. I’ve just had a really bad day and it all piled up and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have yelled, I’m sorry.”

You explained the events of your day and how you had wanted some quality time with him, and instead you had gotten an ice bath.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, I never wanted to make you feel so bad. Let me make it up to you?” He pleaded. He gave you his biggest puppy dog eyes. (🥺)

Your heart melted and of course you said yes.

He perked up immediately, rushing out of the room. He came back with an armful of snacks and settled in next to you. He switched on your favorite movie and pulled you onto his lap.

“I love you so, so much baby,” he whispered into your hair. He leaned down to press a kiss into your cheek.

“And I love you,” you whispered back.

Oikawa

• You knew that with dating Oikawa, people would be jealous

• But his fangirls could get really bad sometimes

• Today they had been following you around saying how you weren’t pretty enough, smart enough for him

• It had gotten to you a little bit

• So you were ready to be home with your boyfriend away from others eyes

• Oikawa had no clue of this though and had devised, in his mind, a brilliant prank to get a rise out of you once you got home

You were finally home to your apartment with Oikawa. He had been on his phone when you walked in and greeted you with his signature grin. After a tight hug, he said he needed to go grab something in the bedroom.

You settled down on the couch letting your body relax on the plush cushions.

*bzzt bzzt*

You looked to see that Oikawa had left his phone behind. You were about to go back to resting, until you registered the name of the sender.

You bolted upright and grabbed the phone, hoping you had read it wrong.

#1 Fangirl 😉

You and Oikawa had been together for a year and you trusted him with your entire being. But seeing that name made fear pool in your stomach.

You didn’t dare to unlock his phone, despite knowing his password, for fear of what you might find.

Your thoughts were running a mile a minute as you entered your bedroom where Oikawa was in the closet.

Was there someone else? He wouldn’t do that to you right? He seemed so happy with you. He had never said he wasn’t satisfied with anything at all. Nothing had changed recently, so was something going on the whole time? Were his fangirls right?

That last question scared you the most.

“Love?” You called out.

Oikawa had a devilish smirk on his face. He knew that you would have seen the texts by now. He had come up with the prank a few days ago and was excited for you to get smart with him and call out the obvious.

“Yes?” He called back, not looking to you.

“Who’s number one fangirl?” You said, voice shaking. You didn’t know when your vision had started going blurry.

At the sound of your shaky voice, your boyfriend whipped around, eyes wide.

“Oh Angel, it’s nobody, it was all a prank I swear,” he pulled you to his chest, “I asked Iwa-Chan to help me, that’s who’s actually sending the texts.”

“S-so you’re not cheating on me?” You hiccup slightly and Oikawa’s heart aches he wipes away a stray tear. He mentally slaps himself for making you insecure.

“Never. I would never leave you for some other girl who just wants me for my looks. You love me for who I am and I am so, so grateful to have you,” he holds you tighter to him.

Once you’ve collected yourself, you tell him about all the things that had been said to you and how it had made you doubt if you were good enough for him. He quietly listened to you talk, holding you the entire time until you were finished.

He gently lifted your face up to meet his eyes. You noticed how his jaw was clenched and his lips were pressed in a thin line.

“Y/N. I am so sorry that those people made you feel unworthy. I promise, you are more than I could have ever asked for. They won’t bother you again ok?” His voice was low, but still as gentle as ever. His eyes softened as he looked at you. He let his muscles relax and gave you a small smile.

Your heart felt full as you nodded.

“Okay, now why don’t we go to the couch and cuddle for a while. Let me show you how much I love you,” he gave your forehead a light kiss.

You smiled up at him.

“I love you Tōru.”

“I love you more, Angel.”

Nishinoya

• You were one inconvenience away from exploding

• You worked the customer service center at your malls department store (it hadn’t been your first choice but you needed money) and you had already had to deal with two Karens this morning

• The second one actually made your manager come down, who wasn’t happy about that

• So now you were at risk of losing your job

• Thankfully though you finally got to go on your lunch break

• You were excited because your boyfriend had time to spend it with you today

• You needed the pick me up and Noya’s naturally energetic personality never failed to do so

• Unfortunately, Nishinoya decided that today was the perfect day to execute his genius prank

You growled in annoyance as your keys got momentarily stuck in the lock to your apartment.

You had been yelled at three times today already. By two entitled middle aged women who wouldn’t listen to you no matter how many times you gave an explanation to them, and then by your manager who told you off for making him get involved with your “nonsense.”

You had been hanging on to your last shred of self control to not start screaming at your boss.

But you were home now and were more than ready to have a nice lunch with your boyfriend.

“Y/N! YOU’RE HOME!” You stumbled back as you were tackled in a hug.

“I made you lunch!” Noya grinned as he released you from his hold.

You giggled as he grabbed your hand to lead you to the kitchen.

Now, you loved Noya, but his cooking was, well, not edible sometimes. But he seemed to have gone pretty safe this time around.

There were two bowls of ramen with bread rolls on the side.

“Looks like someone was busy,” you tease. He rolls his eyes and motions for you to eat.

You were listening to Noya talk about his morning while you ate.

“And then I-“

“AH! HOT! HOT! HOT!” You were panting. The noodles were spicier than you could handle. You took a bite of the bread and nearly puked.

“Is- IS THAT MAYONNAISE?!?” You cough trying to get the awful tastes out your mouth. You rush to the fridge and down a glass of milk.

“Yū what the fuck?!” You say after catching your breath.

“What? I thought you said you wanted to expand your palette,” he’s wearing a smug grin.

You huff and get your things together to leave.

“Wait- don’t go!” He’s scrambling to catch up to you.

“I can’t do this today. I’ll see you after my shift,” you slam the door behind you as you leave.

You picked up a quick meal from the food court and find an empty table to eat at.

You had turned your phone off, not wanting to hear your notifications go off. The rest of your shift was uneventful thankfully, but you were still beyond irritated.

It was twenty minutes until the end of your shift when you turn your phone back on. You had about a dozen texts from Yū, which you were expecting, but you had a missed call from Tanaka from five minutes ago.

Confused, you called back.

“Hello?”

“Y/N! Uh, so you see, Noya he- well he was trying to make something up to you? Anyways, he called me over to your place and I was helping him cook and he may have accidentally, umm, cut his finger pretty bad.”

“What?! Tanaka where are you right now?” You were already gathering your things and writing a note to your boss explaining your leave.

“The hospital,” he replied.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” you rushed to your car.

You may have been driving way a little past the speed limit, but you were at the hospital in record time.

Thanks to the lady at the front desk, you found Yū quickly. You thanked Tanaka as he left the room, not wanting to stand around awkwardly.

“Yū! Are you okay? What were you even doing with a knife! Here let me see,” you grabbed his hand and looked it over.

His pointer and middle finger had been wrapped up in bandages, but the rest of his hand looked fine.

“They didn’t need stitches,” he said bashfully.

“Hmph you’re lucky,” you mumbled, “but why would you need to use a knife?” You searched his face. He looked away, hand rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“I was trying to make you a nice dinner. I wanted to make it up to you for lunch,” he was uncharacteristically quiet.

You gently turned his face towards you, giving him a quick kiss. His face turned bright red and he sputtered incoherently for a minute.

“I’m sorry for what I said. I was having a pretty bad morning and getting my tongue burnt off didn’t help. You’re still an amazing boyfriend though and I still love you,” you intertwined your hands with his and gave it a gentle squeeze. He smiled and leaned to touch his forehead to yours

“Does that mean we can have spicy ramen for dinner then?” He asked.

“Don’t push it.”

I hope you enjoyed! Any feedback is highly appreciated!

*I do not own Haikyuu!! or the characters only the story*

*Do not repost anywhere, all credits to me*

[ryik-the-writer]

CHAPTER 29: Instincts

A03

         Chapter 1: Pan meets a Wendy

·         Chapter 2: Scars (Felix’s Story)

·         Chapter 3: Day One

·         Chapter 4: Revenge and Fireflies

·         Chapter 5: Brighter than Stars

·         Chapter 6: filler: The Tigress

·         Chapter 7: Operation Spotless!

·         Chapter 8: Operation Spotless: Reporters Down

·         Chapter 9: A Dance with the Devil

·         Chapter 10: filler: Felix and the Pancake

·         Chapter 11: The Girl with Blue Eyes pt. 1

·         Chapter 12: The Girl with Blue Eyes pt. 2

·         Chapter 13: The Girl With Blue Eyes: Underground

·         Chapter 14. Recovery

·         Chapter 14.2 Recovery some more

·         Chapter 15: Trapped

       Chapter 16: Filth

       Chapter 17: Fairydust pt. 1

       Chapter 18: Fairydust pt. 2

       Chapter 19: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 3

       Chapter 20: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 2

       Chapter 21: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 3

       Chapter 22: Reflections pt. 1

       Chapter 23: Reflections pt. 2

       Chapter 24: Closing

       Chapter 25: Felix is helping Pan

       Chapter 26: Temporary Fix

       Chapter 27: The Search Begins

        Chapter 28: The Missing Pan

So this is what death feels like? It’s not terrible, just incredibly long.

Dehydration had long set in, so much so that even Pan’s eyes were dry.

Jones was refusing to give him food and water until he “revealed what he knew.”

Pan would, of course, tell him to fuck himself. Nevermind that he had no idea what the fuck he was talking about.

Maybe it was journalistic instincts or his own, but Pan wanted to know what Jones was going on about, why he thought kidnapping him would give him what he wanted.

He had been waiting for the man to finally spill, but Jones seemed to be as clever as he was.

Pan would die a slow painful death with an unknown secret. He could only hope it tore Jones to pieces.

But it was harder for him to focus on disemboweling Jones when his own demise were front and center.

It was odd how unafraid he was. Annoyed and pained, yes, but not necessarily scared.

He remembered wanting to die on plenty of occasions: when he was a snot-nosed little punk in Scotland and his father used to wail on him, when he found out Belle was in love with his fucking brother of all people. When he’d be on a high after writing an amazing story that ruined someone’s life. Even in between the better moments of his life, when he was investigating with Felix or having drinks with Tink and Lily, when he just couldn’t find peace.

When he was with Wendy and he felt so grounded he couldn’t take it.

Shit. He swore he wouldn’t think about her. Wouldn’t think about any of the people he gave a shit about.

Yeah, now that he was on death’s door, he could finally admit to himself that he kind of gave a shit about something.

His pride and his ambition had stood in the way for so long, he had plenty of time to realize when those walls had come down.

Wendy fucking Darling.

She’d gotten under his skin, into his veins. He’d become desperate for her presence, for her validation.

For her smile.

“She’s really beautiful you know,” Jones had gloated to him last night as he drunk from that damned flask of his. “Really something. I might just get a taste of her myself.”

A weak snarl was all Pan was able to muster, but his brain was burning with all the things he was going to do to him the second he had these fucking cuffs off.

Maybe that’s part of the reason he was still hanging on. He wanted Jones’s blood to soak his lips, give him the hydration he had denied him for days now.

Or maybe he truly had gone soft and he wanted to see her and everyone else again.

All the people who hated him and cared for him…he was going to be lost to them now.

It was true then: Peter Pan didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to be forgotten about.

And he wanted to see her again.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 “What are we doing?” Wendy laughed as Killian drug her up the boat.

Jones hid his smile well. “You shall soon see, Miss Darling.”

Wendy shrugged and followed, charmed that he still referred her to something so gentle. He’d been courting her for three days now, and each time they were together she found herself a bit more star struck.

Killian was so far advanced in the world than she. He had seen things, been places she’d only seen on maps, lived as a person she was far from being.

But Wendy ate up his stories, usually told over brunch or a nice picnic.

Tonight however would be the first time they’d have dinner, and have it on his vast ship she’d been admiring from the dock for some time now.

She was grateful for his company just as much as she was for the distraction from her current dilemmas.

Pan still had yet to return or make his location known. They were both set to return to the Mirror in a few days with their suspension ending, and she only hoped he thought to come back by then.

She could honestly care less at this point, she had decided, squashing the guilt she felt. Pan had made his decision, had chosen to push her so far away he could never find her again. She wouldn’t be the one to try to make amends if he returned.

The “if” part was what was keeping her from falling asleep at night. If he’d been more ceremonial in his departure, she might be more relaxed. But he just vanished. No note, no hints. Not even a plan for his cat. He pretty much left the poor thing to starve.

Wendy still checked in on the creature, but had slowly made the transition to her own apartment. Sometimes at night, when she was getting out of the tub or combing her hair, she’d look down her window at his building and spare the thought that he was coming back soon.

But it was just a flutter of a thought, and she would return to the present. Story ideas for when she returned to work, making peace with Tink, and Jones.

Wendy would be the first to admit she was naïve when it came to dating. Her first and only beau, Edward, had been more boring than a sack of flour and their breakup had been a celebration for her.

What she had with Pan was more of a fight to the death speckled with quick moments of peace. It was stimulating but painful all at once.

Whatever she was building with Jones excited her. It wasn’t the back and forth screaming match she had with Pan. It was tamer, and felt unabashedly like romance.

“You know, the last time my view was obstructed I solved a nearly decade’s old mystery in this town,” Wendy deadpanned as she felt a railing under her hand. They were going up something. And they were on the docks judging by the scent of salt in the air.

Killian’s chuckle rumbled through her back. “I’ve heard a great many about your adventures in town. You’ll have to tell me all about them.”

Wendy felt around until she found his hand, and he paused.

“I haven’t finished learning about you,” Wendy pointed out, her heart speeding up.

She felt Killian’s warm breath on the edge of her ear. “I have to keep some of my secrets, love.”

Wendy swallowed hard. Damn. Now it was more than the darkness that made her heart swell.

Thankfully though, that part soon passed and Killian removed the blindfold.

Her eyes adjusted quickly to the setting sun, and then the sight before her made her gasp.

 A well-set table decorated the deck of Killian’s ship, complete with a bucket of ice and what looked like champagne.

She could smell garlic in the air, not doubt encased in whatever was under the metal dishes on the table.

Killian had passed her and began lighting the elongated candles on the table.

“What is all this?” Wendy laughed.

“An anniversary dinner of sorts,” Jones winked.

“We’ve barely been acquainted a full week,” Wendy pointed out, following him when he motioned for her to sit in one of the chairs that he had pulled out.

“Then we have something to celebrate,”

Wendy watched him, amused as he popped open the champagne and poured them each a glass. He raised his, tipping it towards her.

“To five days of a beautiful relationship,”

Wendy scoffed. She could toast to that, and she did, tapping her glass to his.

She took a slow sip of the bubbly drink, stilling her flinch at the strong alcohol. She’d never had anything stronger than a glass of wine at her college graduation and she knew her tolerance would be very low.

He drained his glass quickly but made no attempt to refill his or hers.

“And now,” he bowed, lifting the lid off their plates.

Wendy witnessed a well-crafted dish of crispy fish surrounded by colorful vegetables in a sort of white broth.

She glanced up at Killian and noticed the slight hesitation in his eyes.

Oh my gods, she thought, he’s nervous about his food!

Wendy picked up her fork, getting a bite of everything on the utensil. The vegetables were a bit salty for her preference, but the fish melted on her tongue.

She chuckled. Of course someone who lived on a ship would know how to cook a good fish.

She smiled as to ease Killian’s mind.

“Delicious.”

He glowed at the compliment and comfortably began to eat his own dish.

Wendy continued to examine him, wishing more than anything that she could figure out his game. Jones didn’t make her uncomfortable, not really, but he did make her question his motive and his interest in her.

“You’re quite distracted for someone eating some of the highest quality crawfish on this side of Maine,” Jones joked when he noticed her inquisitive expression.

He’d been taking small circles around her, disguising his intentions. Tonight was the final test, one last go before he decided—not if—but how he would eliminate her.

He was starting to doubt that she knew anything at all.

“I was just thinking about you,” Wendy said boldly.

Jones stopped chewing, the slightest tension curling his fingers.

“Aye?” he said, keeping his demeanor.

“I was thinking of me as well,” she admitted. “How I know so little of you yet came onto your ship—lovely craftsmenship, by the way.”

“Thank you,” he nodded, easing a bit. Wendy was young, and hopefully easily distractible.

“I feel like I should be afraid of you,” she continued, not feeling the least bit foolish about the reveal of such a personal thought. She’d fought off maniacs and barely escaped with her life; she wasn’t afraid to admit if she was scared or not.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know you, and for all I know you poisoned the very food I just ate, or you plan on knocking me cold and dumping me into the harbor.”

One out of two, not bad, he thought.

Still, he to keep the game going, had to pull her out of that state of uneasiness if he wanted to win.

“Allow me to put you more at ease,” he offered. He stood and made his way across the deck where he had set up an old vinyl player.

Wendy gasped when he turned on a gentle tune, looking up at him with stars in her eyes when he came back to her and held out his hand.

“Care for a dance, Miss Darling?”

Wendy’s stomach twisted, the memory of Pan twirling her around the club downtown causing a periscope of emotions to crash over her.

She took Jones’s hand and squeezed it, praying the memory would leave her.

As Jones guided her down the deck and positioned his hands like a true gentlemen, she decided she could leave it indeed.

“Now,” he said as they moved. “Allow me to ease your mind. Ask me a question, anything you like, but I want to ask you one in return.”

“I’m a journalist, Mr. Jones, I’m fairly good at asking questions.”

 “Then make them count,” he grinned.

She accepted his challenge, licking her lips as she laid out in her mind exactly what she wanted to know.

“Do you live on this ship?”

“Oh yes,” he said. “Now it’s my turn.”

“Hey now,” she chastised.

Jones chuckled. She really was a delight.

“It was an antique I restored for one of my clients,” he said. She didn’t need to know that said client had been disemboweled by him on the very deck they were dancing on.

“He practically gave it to me when I finished.”

“You’re a carpenter then. A traveler as well?”

“One question at a time, Miss Darling,”

“Not a question. More like an observation.” she corrected.

He smiled. Witty as well.

“Tell me, how did such a well-established lady like yourself end up in Maine of all places?”

Wendy scoffed, the life she had before Storybrooke seeming so long ago.

“An internship. It was really an excuse to leave home and see a bit of the world, but I decided to try to make it a career. It’s been…”

Jones’s smile faded when Wendy’s tenseness caused them to stop. As if sensing her distress, the vinyl player abruptly stopped its song.

“Are you alright,” Jones inquired.

Wendy gulped, memories of that devil woman Cruella and that sick bastard Jekyll crawling through her brain.

“It hasn’t been easy being here,” she said.

It hasn’t been easy being with Pan, she wanted to say.

“That lad, the one who abandoned you” Jones pushed. “Does he have anything to do with that?”

Of course, Jones knew the answer to that, having had said lad in his company for several days now.

“More than you could ever know.”

Jones tilted his head. It was really tragic, watching such a vibrant creature fade over such a wretched little creature.

He cupped her cheek and turned her to him, rubbing his thumb over her soft skin.

“Let him go, love,” he said. “He’s not worth it.”

Wendy Darling was innocent, both in spirit and in the crimes he had stacked against her. It didn’t stop what he had to do, but he would prefer that her last memories were pleasant.

But Wendy was plagued by the pandemic that was Pan. She told him in her message to him that she had to let him go, there was no room anymore to wait on him.

Yet he was still in her mind. She wanted to let him go, needed to.

She looked into Jones’s smiling eyes, this enigma of a man who had wondered into her life. Maybe it was fate’s way of telling her to move on, or perhaps just a coincidence.

Either way, she needed his help.

She cupped the hand on her face, keeping him where he was.

He didn’t move, perhaps sensing what she wanted to do, needed to do.

She leaned in, leaning up just enough so that their lips touched.

Kissing Killian was like tasting the rarest of liquor: it was addictive, intoxicating, dangerous. Wendy weaved her fingers into his hair, her other hand unsure quite where to venture next.

But Jones did. He led it to his chest, one of his hands cupping her waist with purpose, the other traveling to tangle in her locks.

He felt Wendy tensed under his touch and he pulled back.

“Please, not my hair,” she said, ashamed.

He nodded, uncertain and shocked when his heart lurched at her pained expressin. “Do you want to stop?:

Wendy wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. Was she really about to go through with this? Have relations with someone she’d only known a few days?

She thought about all the morals that had been lodged into her mind since girlhood. They seemed so faint now, a side effect, she thought, of being in the presence of someone as moralless like Pan.

Truth was she wanted to do it, wanted to fill that emptiness Pan had created in her.

“Where…is there…”

He nodded, knowing her mind and lead her to his sleeping quaters.

He sat her down on his bed, hands twitching by his side while the rest of him remained still.

This had to be her choice. He couldn’t continue unless she made the first move.

They stared at each for a moment, their heavy breathing subsiding as Wendy made up her mind.

She reached a hand out, inviting him.

A small smile curled on his lips. He took it and got down on one knew, hands guiding up her smooth knees.

Wendy leaned forward and began to remove his shirt as he lifted his arms up to let her.

The weight of her inexperience began to thrive as she gazed upon his lean, mature form. He had little knicks and scars on his arms and chest, tales of a life he . Just like her.

She felt so small compared to him, so young. She considered calling this whole thing off—she knew he’d respect it.

“Nervous, love?” he inquired.

He intertwined his fingers in the hand that had undressed him.

“Let me lead, Wendy,”

She allowed it. Allowed his hands and lips to seek her out.

He was gentle. He wanted to be.

Wendy wasn’t like the other women he’d bedded in the past. She had this air of sophistication he hadn’t known before, cutting deeply into the innocence she wore like a torn coat.

But her passion, bless her. She allowed the instinct to take over, to guide her hands and lips to places he wants them to be.

He’s struggling to contain himself, his own instinct telling him to conquer, but Wendy doesn’t deserve that.

It was part of the game, after all. Seduce the pretty girl woman, kill her and be done with it. One last round of euphoria before he moved on to the next target.

His kisses are heated, biting, but patient – she allows him to remove her clothes, carefully.

He moans when her soft, round lips mouth down his neck, and he wraps his arms around her waist, caressing her bareness possessively, greedily. He soon draws her mouth to his own once more.

“Wendy,” he breathes, almost trembling. Her name alone is so delicate.

She looks at him and he is so proud of the fire in her eyes.

“I…” she begins, stopping and laughing nervously.

He couldn’t stop his own from breaking free. He picks her up just enough to spread her on his sheets, ready for the next bit.

“Do you trust me?” he asks. It’s a line he’s used on his targets before as he’s reeled them in. The answer’s always the same. Of course they do, why wouldn’t they?

But something in Wendy’s expression changes. There’s no hesitation in her eyes, but an unwavering defiance that changes everything.

“No, Killian,” she said with a sad smile. “I don’t trust you at all.”

Indeed, those few words change everything.

When she leans up to kiss him, he doesn’t return the gesture right away.

Wendy Darling is indeed not like the other women he’s dealt with. She’s young, charismatic, and worst of all, far from a fool.

Her hand strokes his jaw, turning him back to her.

“But I still want you,” she says, her very being glowing. “Is that alright?”

The man between her legs accepts her in earnest, those predatory eyes fluttered shut as he pressed into her hand.

  Oh Wendy, run, he wants to say.

  “That it is, love,” he says instead, sealing her fate.

  Hours later Jones examined her in the fading moon light. The game had stopped. Maybe it had been over the second he asked Wendy her name.

She was breathing so tenderly, so calm despite the fact that she had just slept with someone who had been killing people longer than she’d been alive.

Unperturbed that she and her little friend below were teetering on death’s door.

He rose and dressed quietly, slipping the sheet fully around her body, but he didn’t kiss her temple despite how he desperately wanted to.

He heads below, pausing to grab a bottle of water, an act that surprises even him.

He makes his way below deck slowly, the form of his captive becoming clearer the closer he gets. Within a moment he make out the lad’s deadly glare.

“You fucker,” he wheezes.

Jones smirks. “Oh, so you heard?”

Pan lurched forward, thwarted by his shackles but the malice in his eyes didn’t die.

“I’ll fucking kill you for this!”

Jones chuckled, pulling a barrel forward as he reveled in one-upping the pious lad.

His smirk faded though as he thought of Wendy.

He was due to report back to his contact tomorrow afternoon. He was expected to report two deaths and he hadn’t managed to kill off the one before him.

Now as he stared at the glaring youth and his thoughts stayed on the blonde goddess above his head, for the first in his like Killian Jones was having second thoughts…about everything.

“You don’t know anything, do you?” Jones tested. Of course Pan didn’t respond.

Jones sighed. He couldn’t just let him go. He had been noticed by now. Jones heard whispers in the street of his disappearance. He needed to be dealt with now.

Jones uncapped the bottle he brought with him. Pan struggled to keep his eyes from following the sloshing of the water.

His capture held it out to his cracked lips. “Take it.”

Pan turned his head. No matter how much he needed it, he wouldn’t give in.

Jones growled and grabbed Pan by his hair, forcing his head down. He squeezed the bottle and water spewed all over Pan’s face and hair, the lad struggling fruitlessly in his grip as he cough and wheezed.

Jones threw him back, glaring at him as he cursed and shook the water off.

“What the fuck do you want!” Pan yelled.

Jones stood and backhanded him. “Shut up. You’ll wake her.”

Blood oozed from Pan’s right nostril, moistening his lips.

“I’m going to break your fucking neck!”

“I’m afraid you won’t get the chance,” Jones sighed as he flicked stray water droplets off his hands. “You see, boy, I have to end you soon.”

Pan’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t fret, I’ll be quick, simple. I’ll grant you that.”

“It’s lasted for days,” Pan reminded him with a snarl.

Jones shrugged. “As for our lovely Miss Darling …”

Pan paused, dreading the words that would come from his mouth next.

“Tell me,” Jones said, his tone sincere. “Do you think she’d dig further if I let her alone? Do you think she’d try to find your murderer once your bloated corpse washes up on shore?”

Pan gritted his teeth. Hearing her passion had disturbed him. He had yet to picture her in such a way, let alone with his damn kidnapper.

Now she was above him more close to death than he was, and he couldn’t save her.

And then there was the question of would she try to avenge him.

He hoped not. He truly did.

Jones tilted his head as Pan’s mind raced. He almost felt sorry for the boy, having such a lovely creature so close to his closed-off heart.

He stood, his decision made.

“Good night, boy,” he sighed, closing the door on his returning remarks.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Wendy’s eyes opened, the earliest rays of a new day awakening her.

She hadn’t meant to spend the night here, didn’t expect she’d be welcome.

Yet her bed partner was sleeping comfortably beside her, one his arms draped loosely on her waist, and she did indeed feel welcomed.

Maybe she could stay here a bit longer and enjoy the smell of sea air and warmth.

But natured called, and she did have to at least check her phone.

Maybe Pan…

No, she wouldn’t think about him.

Let him go…

She sighed and regrettably removed herself from Jones’s hold, blushing when the sheets scraped her naked skin.

It was hard to believe. She’d been beaten and traumatized but the idea of giving up her womanhood was what was having the most profound effect on her.

She wasn’t a virgin anymore. It was the last thing she’d managed to hold on to from before Storybrooke before all its insanity got its hooks into her.

Now, with her short hair and circled eyes, she truly wasn’t the same girl who’d left London over two months ago.

She was new, darker.

Pan had given her her start; Jones had pushed her over the edge.

And, despite the morals swimming in her head, she was glad.

She was glad it had been her choice, that it was something she had had complete control of.

She smiled as she put on her underthings and dress, stalling her movements to prevent from making a noise. Perhaps Jones would be interested in hearing her revelation when he awoke?

Perhaps he also wouldn’t mind if she searched for substance in his kitchen? That crawfish from last night was long gone.

She located her bag and cellphone and quietly escaped the room, swiping through app notifications that had all but drained her battery.

She stopped in the hallway when she saw she had seven missed calls, three of which were from Tink.

She had a series of missed texts from her as well.

Wendy, please call me.

Wendy, it’s important.

I know I hurt you, but please I need you to call me.

Do you know what happened to Pan? Have you see him at all?

Wendy glanced around and found a random door. The room seemed to be an office of sorts, or a collection room judging by all the memorabilia, but quiet enough to make a phone call.

She called Tink, her stomach turning with apprehension. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who had noticed Pan’s absence then.

Tink answered after two rings.

“Wendy!” she said, her voice winded.

“Hey,” Wendy answered uncertainly. “What’s—”

“Where are you?” she cut in. “You – here – as soon as –”

“Tink?” Wendy said, moving around the room for a better signal. “You’re breaking up. What’s going on?”

“Wend—”

The line abruptly went quiet and Wendy cursed when she saw her phone had died.

She tossed her bag on Jones’s desk and untangled her charger from the rest of her belongings.

She squatted down to search under the desk, hoping to see a charging port, but there were too many boxes in the way.

She made a note to tease Jones’s about his hoarding as she pulled boxes out of the way, one of which was surprisingly lite and came out easily.

She stumbled a bit, tipping the box over and causing its contents to spill.

“Bloody hell,” she growled, her hands gathering the sheets of papers that had slipped out.

She shouldn’t have looked. Maybe it was journalist instincts that caused her to look down. It was defiantly trauma that made her bolt back when she saw the face on the paper.

Jekyll.

“No.”

No…no no…

It couldn’t be. How could Jones … why would he …

Her opposite hand fluttered around her, searching desperately for something to grab on to.

It brushed against something hard—a beeper? Hand’s shaking, she picked it up. She wasn’t sure what force was making her turn it on. She should be throwing it.

But it came to life and revealed its secrets.

WHY HAVEN’T YOU RESPONDED?

COMPRIMISED. BLUE EYES FOUND.

“Blue eyes,” Wendy pondered before the bluest pair of eyes she knew flashed across her mind. “Belle?”

PITY. YOU ARE NO LONGER OF ANY USED TO ME THEN.

GOODBYE.

That was it, and if Wendy had to guess Jekyll had had his brains blown out after receiving that message.

She dropped the beeper, wiping her hands frantically on her dress, not wanting any part of her on him.

She had been searching for Pan that night at the club. He had disappeared. She thought he abandoned her.

Jones had it. All this evidence that had been taken from…where? His secret lab under the hospital…

The car his corpse had been rotting in?

“I … I …”

Panic was setting in. The roots of her hair were standing straight up.

She could see Jekyll’s rotting corpse so clearly.

Pan had been there too. Talking to her. Keeping her from losing her mind.

She was searching for him in a sea of strangers. She felt so lost.

There had to be a logical explanation, right? Jones just picked up the beeper, found it somewhere …

She glanced at the overturned box again, full of Jekyll’s fucking face.

He didn’t pull them out of a dead man’s car, did he?

“Wendy?”

He heard him stop, seeing the mess around her.

She looked up at him and saw everything. The guilt of being caught, the secret of a man who had too many secrets.

And she knew right then that Jekyll wasn’t the only one.

It was like an arrow had gone straight through her skull, carrying a physical rage and boiling hurt that settled into one acidic fire.

She shot around, staring at the man who shot her, but only one thing—one person—had squirmed past the pain.

Pan hadn’t abandoned her…

And she needed him now.

She abandoned him.

“Where is he?”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Yeah, I don’t write sex scenes sorry ;p

Still, sorry for the, what, year-long wait? Yikes. Going through some stuff and I just haven’t felt like writing. Trying to get into again, so hold on tight!

[undertalethingems]

Bark at the Moon, Chapter 7: Predatory Instinct

<Previous / Next>

Or read on my Ao3>

Rating, Setting: Gen, Pre-canon

Chapter Warnings: None?

Chapter Summary: Sans is not a pet. All he has to do is wait for the right moment.

Sans waited.

It was his best quality.

It had let him survive before.

He waited. Watched.

The yellow flower was annoying. It wanted to control him. He didn't want to play its game though, so he just ignored it, and it was fun to make the flower mad. He couldn't do anything to hurt him, not really, so watching him seethe and throw little tantrums anytime things didn't go his way had become his main source of amusement. When the flower wasn't there, he slept. If he stayed awake, it hurt. He missed his brother a lot, and if he slept, he didn't have to think about that, or how long it'd been since he'd last seen him.

There was no point in trying to leave. He'd tried a few times, a few different ways, testing. Learning. If he tried to cut or bite the vines holding him, they'd just grow back. The flower came with if he cut across space, so that was no good, and he was too strong and sneaky to just kill. He had a special not-dying power anyway. Sans remembered that much.

So he'd wait until the flower got bored.

Got too comfortable.

He knew to look for weak points. Opportunities. To strike when the time was right.

The flower tried to get him to do what he wanted. He'd taunted him, tried to trick him into attacking, tried to provoke him. But he wouldn't even dignify him with a warning hiss most days. It wasn't the right time. There was no point in getting upset.

"Ugh, maybe I should just drop you in the middle of New Home and see what happens," the flower was saying. "But that's no fun if you won't attack. You really are useless, huh?"

Sans eyed the flower disdainfully, dull memories surfacing. The man had called them useless at the end. A waste of effort. Had said he should have destroyed them the moment he'd seen their souls. Sans had bit him then. He'd wanted to destroy the man's soul for saying something like that. The man was long gone now, but it was still a bad memory.

"Hey, no growling! Bad!" the flower scolded, slapping his snout with a vine. "Though, it's an improvement over what you used to say. I'm doing this world a favor by sparing everyone from your awful jokes."

Sans snorted, and shifted to lean more on one side. These vines were pretty uncomfortable, but he'd slept on worse. He was getting tired.

"You know though," the flower continued to muse, "it's been a really long time since I've seen your brother. I thought sure you going missing would get to him, but it's like he's missing too."

Something else stirred in Sans' memories. His brother... missing? Hadn't that happened before?

"You know what, I'm gonna check it out. You, stay."

Sans squinted at him as he disappeared into the earth. Not like he could go anywhere. He waited for a little while, then drifted off to sleep.

The flower came back a long time later. "Yep, he's gone! Everyone thinks he went on vacation, but I know for a fact he never takes vacations for any reason. What do you think of that, trashbag? Oh right, I don't think you can answer anymore! Hee hee!"

Sans amused himself by sending up a pair of bones right beside Flowey and making him jump.

"Hey! No! Bad! Bad dog... dragon... thing!" Flowey scolded, tightening the vines that restrained him until he couldn't breathe. Then, he let them loosen again. "You attack when I tell you to, or you're not getting burgers anymore!"

Oh, he did like those... but it was worth the risk. It was fun playing with his prey.

The flower scowled at him, and left. Sans settled in to nap some more. It really was a good way to pass the time while he waited--for a chance to strike, or the next meal. As long as the flower brought him food, he wasn't in too much of a hurry. After all, waiting was his best quality.

He didn't know how long it'd had been, but at some point the flower dragged in a big bag of--something. It smelled like food, but not as good as the burgers. Sans eyed it warily. After a lot of struggle and muffled swearing, the flower gave up and used his attacks to punch a hole in the bag before dumping a portion of its contents into a bowl. The meaty smell was stronger now--and burger or not, he was hungry. The flower noticed him eyeing it and grinned.

"Oh good, I was worried you'd turn your nose up at this, but you never were a picky eater. This stuff's way cheaper, and I can't stand farming Tem Village for gold anymore and it's not like you listened to me anyway. If it's good enough for the dogs, it's good enough for you. Maybe you'll get treats if you're good."

Ah, the flower was just trying to control him again. Well, food was food, and he'd keep biding his time. The flower didn't own all the burgers, he knew that much, and once he escaped he'd have those whenever he wanted. This stuff... he sniffed at it, then tried a bit. Really, it wasn't much different from the dry pelleted food he'd gotten from the man so long ago. It tasted better, if nothing else, so he shrugged to himself and dug in.

"Aaaanyway," the flower continued, "I still haven't figured out what happened to your brother. I know he can be sneaky, but this is getting ridiculous. If he IS on vacation, where did he even go!?"

Sans continued eating. The flower liked to talk, and it never took him long to keep doing so.

"No one seems to think he's dead, so at least there's that... But Snowdin's definitely on edge without you guys being the local fools, so I guess that's interesting. Maybe I'll arrange a brotherly reunion when I figure out where he is, so he can see what you've become," the flower goaded.

Sans snorted again. His brother was like him. The flower was dumb.

"Oh, I know you don't care, but I bet he would! Especially if I can figure out how to make you go into some berserk rage, like those human werewolf stories. THAT would be really fun. Hmm... now... how do I go about finding him?"

Sans finished his lunch and settled into the vines, getting as cozy as he could. Now that he'd eaten and the flower wasn't doing anything amusing, he was ready for a nap. The flower left him to it, more concerned with whatever silly plan he was trying to cook up.

A few days passed where the flower didn't do much but come by to feed him--though he quickly learned not to leave the bag of food in Sans' line of sight. Even if Sans wasn't able to move, that didn't mean things couldn't move to him. He rasped a laugh to himself--remembering the flower's outraged expression was still funny, and not getting the next few days' meals because he'd eaten them already was worth it. Anything that inconvenienced this jerk was well-deserved.

... Though... he was starting to forget exactly why. It was complicated, and he was tired of thinking about complicated things. It was enough to know he was bad, and needed to be defeated, but couldn't be defeated by attacking him. He just needed to wait for the right moment... however long that took. It had been a long time already. But he could wait.

He startled awake to the flower's shouting.

"Howdy trashbag!"

He hissed at him.

"Hey now, don't be like that! I've had my fun--I'm gonna let you go. Isn't that nice of me?”

He snorted. All this effort to keep him trapped, and he was just being let go? It was almost insulting.

"C'mon, it wasn't so bad here! You got to sleep all the time, eat a bunch, not work--pretty much everything you care about! But, you're pretty boring for a pet. So I'm gonna let you go home."

If this was really happening, his patience had paid off, even if he hadn't figured out how to make the flower pay. He pushed against the vines still holding him, and the flower tutted.

"Not so fast--you've gotta be careful! Everyone's gonna be scared of you, and they'll attack! And sure, you might be able to dodge one person... but a whole town... Well, let's just say your odds aren't good. So you have to stay hidden, okay? I know I was kinda mean to you sometimes, but I don't want you to get hurt."

He mulled over his words.

"So don't let yourself be seen or they'll hunt you down, okay? Alright, I'm letting you go..."

The vines loosened. He kept his eyes on the flower--was this a trick? What game was he playing? But the vines shrank away, and he felt like he was floating after being pressed to the ground for so long--and stiff. Very very stiff. Before he could even think about walking, he had to stretch and work the magic back into his extremities. Getting to his feet at last, he shook himself out and stared the flower down. A dozen bones burst from the ground and caged him in--

And then they--and he--were gone.

He stood in his living room again for the first time in--he didn't know. A long time. He called out, a friendly hoot to let his brother know he was back...

But nobody came.

He blinked, and called again before shuffling around and sniffing at the floor. Familiarity--home--family--filled his mind, and he breathed it in to flood himself with it. He'd forgotten how much he missed it, his brother most of all, and flopped down to roll and rub his bones against the carpet so he didn't smell like wet mud and vines anymore. But as he rolled, something else caught his eye. It was weirdly messy--there was a torn pillow, and a strip of carpet was missing. That wasn't right. Had... had his brother done that? Where was he?

He got up and continued to sniff around--oh, the fridge smelled good, he'd come back to that later--but none of the scents he found were fresh. Except for... a dog? Maybe? He couldn't tell. He huffed in frustration, waving his tail slowly before cutting up to his brother's room. Even here, the scent trail was old, and the floor was scattered with papers and books. His brother wouldn't leave things messy like this... He whined as a familiar ache entered his soul.

He'd done something like this before, right? His brother had gone...

He turned to walk through the door, and stepped out into the forest. His brother liked to be out here, maybe he could find a new trail to follow like last time. Last time...? Right, he had done this before. He'd gotten really lazy about remembering... He set off, plowing through the snow until he reached the main path. Nose to the ground, and--

A shriek rang through his skull, and a hefty ice attack thumped into the ground where he'd stood only moments ago. He fled the room and was back in his house before he'd even seen his attacker, and sat on the carpet panting. That flower had been right. People were afraid of him.

And now he was afraid of them too.

His brother was like him. Had he been attacked? Was that why he was missing? He got up to pace restlessly. No, his brother had to be okay--he was smart, he was strong. But what if he'd gone out and been caught? And if that had happened--oh, even if he'd gotten away, his spirit would be crushed.

This was bad, but he didn't know what to do. The flower might have set him free, but he was back in a world with problems and complications he didn't know how to fix. Uttering another low whine, he cut back to his brother's room and clambered onto his bed. It was as close to him as he could be--and still smelled of clean bones and linen. Maybe he'd go out looking for his brother later, but he didn't feel like it now, not so soon after he'd been attacked. He'd stay here, scavenge whatever was left in the fridge, and wait to see if his brother might come back.

After all, waiting was his best quality.

[nexttrickanvils]

Beware of Karen Ch. 2

Sorry this took so long, had other priorities but here is the long awaited chapter 2 of Beware of Karen.

Summary: After Guybrush and Stan fail to deal with the latter’s ex-wife, Elaine decides to throw her hat into the ring. It goes about as well as you expect. ---------

Elaine hummed to herself as she set the table. While Guybrush was admittedly the better cook of the two, she still wanted to surprise her Pikaroni with a nice romantic dinner. Preferably without a certain plaid wearing charlatan joining them.

While Elaine had nothing against Stan… well okay maybe she had a lot against Stan… but that wasn’t the point, she’d prefer if he hadn’t attempted to drag her and Guybrush in an ex-lover’s quarrel of all things.

But she trusted Guybrush’s wit and uncanny ability to find absurd but simple solutions to absurd problems.

Before long, she could hear footsteps on the deck, she quickly lit the candles and plated the food.

“Welcome back, sugarboots! I hope you’re...”

The door opened and in came Guybrush… and Stan.

“Hey honey! Ooh are those potstickers I smell?”

“...Guybrush… I thought you were going to help Stan with his ex-wife and thus he would not bother us.” Elaine said, gritting her teeth

Guybrush, to his credit, looked apologetic.

“Well I did try, I honestly did but well… let’s just say Stan wasn’t exaggerating about how awful Karen is. So I guess Stan will be staying with us until Karen leaves.”

Elaine groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. Guybrush sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“I know, I was really excited for all the quality time too but Elaine, you have no idea just how evil this woman is. I couldn’t just leave Stan to fend for himself against her, I’m a pirate not a monster!”

“...Really? And please do tell me, what makes her so terrible that Stan has to go in hiding with us?” Elaine asked, clearly unconvinced

“Well first: I could barely breathe around her stall, the perfume she was selling was that thick! She was also really pushy with the sales pitch like waaaaay worse than Stan. She also kept making all these mean comments about me being a terrible husband and how our marriage would fall apart if I didn’t buy her stuff. And she threatened to call the island authorities on Stan if he even thought of setting up shop near her! And he didn’t even do anything!”

Elaine raised an eyebrow, “Hm, I admit she does actually sound awful. But being pushy and rude are hardly the crimes of the century, sweetie.”

“Oh it goes beyond “pushy and rude.”” remarked Stan, mouth full of potstickers

“Karen thrives on “the hunt.” All she cares about is her next sale!"

"...Sounds like you." Elaine and Guybrush both remarked

"Oh no no no, my friends. I admit that Ol' Stan here may have exaggerated or cut some corners here and there. But hey sometimes that's what you gotta do when your clientele are a buncha rowdy swashbucklers!"

Stan continued, while grabbing another pot sticker, "Karen on the other hand… she has no respect for the art of sales, it's all a means to an end for her. And if anyone gets in the way of that precious end sale even if it’s only in her mind, she will destroy you! By the way, these are amazing, you could make a killing selling these.”

Once again, Elaine found herself not entirely convinced.  Stan stuffing himself with the food she made for herself and Guybrush didn’t help his case. But he also couldn’t really be considered a reliable narrator. And Guybrush, her dear Threepy, the love of her life… well he was quite prone to exaggeration.

Elaine sighed, well she wouldn’t be where she was now if she just sat and complained about a bad situation.

“Perhaps… I should speak to her…”

“NO!” Shouted both Guybrush and Stan

She just gave them a confident smile, “Oh don’t worry about me. I’m sure if I went without Stan, she won’t be as volatile. And besides, all my years as governor has given me quite the experience of negotiating with stubborn egotistic business owners. You remember that incident at the O'Malley's Galley last year, don’t you dear?”

Guybrush let out a small laugh and a blush, obviously remembering how Elaine dealt with the restaurant's owner after the man refused Guybrush's request to not serve the food on porcelain plates.

Elaine kissed Guybrush on the cheek, "I'll be fine dear. You just relax and I'll come back with the good news."

Then she looked over at Stan, "...And I suppose you just do what you can to entertain yourself."

And with that, Elaine made her way off the boat and into town. As she made her way, she kept rehearsing in her head how she'd calmly confront Karen.

However when Elaine arrived and started asking the other merchants about Karen, a feeling of dread began to form.

They were all smiles and sales until Elaine explained who she was looking for. They all suddenly dropped their grins and immediately apologized to Elaine for "wasting her time."

The most concerning interaction was from one merchant who told Elaine where Karen was then immediately begged her to not tell Karen that the two of them spoke.

Before long, Elaine found the woman of the hour making a sale.

"Trust me, dearie, this color and this scent are perfect for you! You'll be catching everyone's eye in no time!"

The female pirate grinned as she paid for her goods.

"Just remember, no refunds on used products."

"Yeah yeah yeah. Look out, Single's Night, Mama's coming!"

Elaine stepped aside to let the lady walk by then she took a deep breath and steeled herself.

"Excuse me? Are you Karen?"

"Hm?"

Elaine felt a shiver down her spine when Karen smiled at her.

“Well hello there, my dear! Whatever you need, I’ve got it.”

“Actually I’m not here to shop. You met my husband earlier? Guybrush Threepwood?”

“Ohhh! So he gave you the free sample? I knew you couldn’t resist! A woman of your taste would know fine class when you see it.”

Karen chuckled as she immediately looked through her inventory while Elaine was already finding her patience tested.

“Please just listen to me. I understand that your relationship with your ex-husband is… strained but it’s gotten to the point where he’s hiding on my and my husband’s ship trying to get away from you.”

“Hmph, Stan, being an absolute freeloader? You don’t say. Anyway…!”

To Elaine’s surprise, Karen grabbed her face.

“H-hey!”

“Hm, you look like a spring or autumn to me.”

Elaine quickly pushed her off though if that bothered Karen, she didn’t show it and went straight back to her sales pitch.

“Now your face is rather pale, you look like a ghost, dearie! Oh and you need to ditch that bandana, it clashes with your hair."

"Would you just LISTEN to me! I am not here to buy anything! Or to get make-up advice. Or whatever you think I'm here for! I need for you and Stan to reconcile whatever is going on with you two so my husband and I can be alone!"

With that, Karen just laughed.

"Oh you poor innocent sucker. There is no reconciling with that selfish mess of a man. But that's marriage for you, the minute the wifey has a problem, she's suddenly a nagging witch, am I right?"

Elaine's patience was growing thinner and thinner as she crossed her arms and glared at Karen.

"Fine. You two just can't get along, just fine. But at the very least just let Stan be. My husband and I have been looking forward to a nice romantic vacation and we can't exactly do that with Stan around.

Karen smirked and Elaine once again felt an icy chill.

"Oh really? And what do you think your "dear" husband and Stan are doing while they sent you to do their dirty work?"

"I volunteered…"

Karen continued, ignoring Elaine's correction, "They're probably just lazing about on the deck, pigging out on junk and guzzling grog. I was one of the lucky ones. I realized what a scam the whole marriage thing is and got out of there. I've still got my divorce lawyer's card, you know, when you realize that you don't need to settle with that blonde idiot."

Karen pulled out a card and placed it into Elaine's pocket. Without hesitation, Elaine grabbed Karen's wrist with an iron grip.

"HEY!!!"

“Now listen here, you can insult me all you want but my husband is a good man. He may have his moments but that goes for anyone. Do you know what we've faced off against together? Some of the fiercest pirates on the Seven Seas including the undead monster LeChuck. A real estate developer with delusions of grandeur who had the power to make mice out of men. A mad scientist obsessed with eternal life! Guybrush even conquered DEATH! And through all that, Guybrush has always been respectful, caring, and loving!”

Elaine let go of Karen's wrist but kept her steely glare on her.

"My husband may not be perfect but I cannot see myself with anyone else. Now I believe our business is done here."

Karen rubbed her wrist as she gave Elaine her own glare.

"Hmph, I suppose it is. But I am a forgiving sort. I'd be happy to help you once you figure things out."

Refusing to dignify Karen's response, Elaine simply turned around and walked away.

As Elaine stepped out of the marketplace, a shrill scream filled the air.

She looked toward the noise and saw the female pirate from earlier desperately trying to shake off two monkeys climbing all over her.

Elaine quickly came to the woman's rescue, shooing the monkeys away from her, giving the other pirate enough time… to dunk her head in the nearby fountain.

Whatever that did, it seemed to cause the monkeys to lose interest and run off.

"Oh thank Blackbeard's frilly underthings."

"Are… you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I will be."

"What in the world even happened?"

"Oh I'll tell ye what happened! I went to the bar to get ready for Single's Night and put on somea that goop that fast-talking she-devil sold me. Next thing I knew, the bar's monkey mascots were all over me."

"...And you're certain that it was the make-up that caused this?"

"DO I LOOK LIKE SOMEONE A MONKEY'D BE ATTRACTED TO TO YA!? They left me alone just fine then I put on that damn perfume and other stuff and they went crazy! "You'll be catching everyone's eyes in no time" apparently that includes mangy beasts!"

The other pirate stood up and emptied her bag of Karen's products. She then walked away, grumbling about her wasted money and time.

Maybe it was Guybrush's influence but Elaine couldn't help but pick up a couple of the fallen cosmetics.

Eventually Elaine made her way back to the Screaming Narwhal. Guybrush and Stan were on the deck though unlike Karen's prediction, Guybrush was practicing his banjo playing while Stan just read a book.

Guybrush immediately noticed Elaine walking onto the deck and smiled. At least Elaine had that.

"Plunderbunny! So um… how did it go?"

"...I apologize, you were both right. She's the absolute worst, how do we get rid of her?"

[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 | 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤

Rowaelin modern AU ▶ Masterlist

note: hi, this is my first multi chaptered fic so constructive criticism is always welcome. quick shout-out to @pansexualharrypotternerd for the invaluable help! Love you! 💖

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The only thing redeemable about a high school with a bunch of brats who had sticks shoved up their asses was recess. Half a day had passed and Aelin was already swarmed with homework, previous assignments still pending and she needed to prepare for the upcoming Maths test by the end of the week. Recess offered a much needed break.

It would go better if Lorcan stopped being such a hard ass though. "Please?" Aelin whined. "I will fail Math if you don't help me."

The bastard snorted. "You will fail Math either way because you refuse to listen to me when I teach." Lorcan was not wrong but Aelin shot him a glare anyway, picking at the miserable stuff they dared call food in this cafeteria. With the amount of fee the school charged, you would think they would serve quality food here but nope. It tasted worse than it looked which was saying something.

The two of them were the only ones at their usual table today. Fenrys had taken a leave because of catching the flu, Connall was sitting with his teammates today and Aedion and Lysandra were a no show, likely making out in some vacant classroom.

Lorcan had finished his lunch already and was waiting for her. Aelin chewed slowly, more like swallowed (the food was disgusting but she was hungry), eyes flitting from one table to another until they landed on a hooded figure sitting alone by the corner, the scowl on his face visible from a distance.

Rowan Whitethorn.

Lorcan followed her gaze to the corner, then said, "Whatever you are thinking, Ace, drop it. He is trouble."

He certainly looked like trouble with wicked looking tattoos covering half his face and his right ear pierced. The hood was pulled over his face, eyes trained on the empty tray of food. She had never seen him have lunch with someone else. Hell, she had never seen him talk with someone else. Most of the school was convinced Rowan communicated in grunts and nods, not words and that he was either a werewolf, a gang leader or included in some very shady business.

Aelin lifted her shoulders in a shrug, then changed the topic. She did not need Lorcan to go all overprotective brother on her. "You are sure you can't help me?"

"And have to spend extra time with you? Gods, no!" He made a dramatic show of throwing his hands up in the air.

Aelin smacked his shoulder, grateful that Fenrys was not here to join in on the teasing today. She pouted, rising from her seat and apparently, done eating. "I hate you, Salvaterre."

He rolled his eyes, walking beside her with his own tray towards the trash bin. "You love me, admit it."

Aelin scoffed, even though she did love him, rude bastard and all. "Not a chance," she said.

She wasn't sure what happened next or how but she slipped on some wrapper, there was a loud scream (likely her own), strong arms stabling her—probably Lorcan—and her tray of half finished food went flying through the air, the contents spilling on someone's clothes and hair.

Aelin froze when she realised who she had spilled her food on. Rowan had a blank look on his face, lips pressed into a thin line. With the notorious reputation he had, Aelin could not have chosen a worse person to pick a fight with. It took her all of one moment to summon that insufferable swagger that drove others mad, chin lifted and shoulders squared back.

She did not need anyone to know how nervous she was. "I am sorry," she said.

"I am sure you are," he drawled, the deep voice heavily accented. The scowl on his face deepened when she looked again, letting her know she had made a remarkable first impression and quite possibly pissed off the one guy she should not have fucked with.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Lorcan step beside her. He said, "She said sorry already, it was an accident."

"And I said I am sure she is," he stressed.

If the situation were different and her heart wasn't pounding so hard inside her chest, Aelin would have taken a moment to appreciate the lovely voice, the rich accents or the muscular build. Being around fitness freaks like Aedion and Lorcan had her used to towering male hunks but god, it suited him. He was a real package.

Too bad manners weren't included in it because he walked away after sending her a scornful glare.

"What an ass," Lorcan grumbled. "Let's leave before you manage to set off another hulking brute." He was still cackling when they parted ways for their next class.

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This was ridiculous. English had always been Aelin's favourite class but now she was trying to find reasons to avoid it because she did not want to run into Rowan. He didn't scare her, of course, but she did not feel like subjecting herself to his insults and temper after the day she had had. She tried to convince herself that they had been in the same class for years now. If he had never bothered anyone before, he wouldn't start now but as luck would have it, she reached the classroom five minutes late to find two unoccupied seats - one beside Rowan and the other beside her ex-boyfriend Chaol who was trying his best to look like he didn't know she was staring at him.

With a sigh, Aelin made her way to the back, sitting down beside Rowan. She turned to him. "I am sorry, you know?"

He had ditched the stained hoodie in favour of a white uniform shirt that outlined his muscles in a flattering way. They were only supposed to wear uniforms on a special occasion, founders day or on inspection days but his shirt was especially tight, sticking to the sculpted chest beneath the fabric.

"If I wanted to hear excuses, I'd have asked." Gods, why were all hot guys assholes?

She frowned. "It was an accident!"

"You stumbled on thin air, managed to right yourself but spilled your food on me and ruined my shirt," he retorted.

Her temper snapped at it's leash. Aelin had to grit her teeth to keep herself from barking out an insult. Why would she ruin his clothes on purpose? Before she could ask as much, Gavriel called the attention of the class towards the front. Her Uncle made a point to look at her in warning as if he had knew she had been fighting someone she shouldn't be fighting minutes ago.

She sneaked a glance at Rowan again, whorls of black ink peeking out from beneath the collar of the white shirt. She would be angry too if someone embarrassed her in front of everyone.

In good spirit, she offered, "Why don't I make it up to you by buying coffee?"

He ignored her.

Aelin didn't know if she was being brave or stupid as she poked him. "I could wash your hoodie or buy you a new one! Please, Rowan?"

He ignored her again, eyes trained on the blackboard. She was about to poke him again when Gavriel called from the front, "Miss Galathynius, will you please pay attention instead of chatting Whitethorn up?"

Some of the students snickered when Aelin rolled her eyes, cheeks flushing with colour. Just like him to draw all attention towards her and embarass her in front of her classmates. In his defense, she did claim her revenge every time by refusing to address him as anything other than 'Uncle Kitty-Cat.' She had a sneaking suspicion he liked it.

Minutes later, Gavriel announced, "You will all be partnering up for the next project. It determines twenty five percent of your grade so work hard."

"Are we allowed to choose partners?" Kaltain asked from the front.

Her Uncle answered, "Partner up with the person sitting beside you."

There were a few audible groans and excited whispers before class was dismissed. She would be partnered up with the guy who was intent on ignoring her. She was about to offer to do the whole project by herself (because that was a much better option than working with Rowan when he hated her guts) when Rowan rose from his seat with lightning fast speed and made his way towards the teacher's desk.

She made it in time to hear his request: "I would like to work alone on the project, sir. I won't want to drag Miss Galathynius' grade down with mine." His tone held enough bite that Aelin knew he knew she was listening in.

Gavriel scoffed. "Non sense! Aelin will be more than happy to assist you, Rowan."

She smiled tightly in confirmation before Gavriel left, the class almost vacant now. Students were filtering out of the door but Rowan stood with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"I have cheer practice next but we should meet up after that," Aelin said. "We can go to the diner nearby?"

Rowan only grunted in confirmation, sent her one last scathing look and turned on his heel, walking out of the door with his usual annoyed expression etched onto his face. Aelin sighed. If Rowan refused to even utter a word, it was going to be a real treat working together on this project, her only consolation being that she hadn't been paired with Chaol. Though maybe that would have been a better option.

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[canaryatlaw]

okay, well today was nice and calm. As long as there isn’t anything specific (and some times when there still is) nobody wakes me up, so I just sleep till like noon/1 pm, and that’s a beautiful thing. so I slept till like 1, then played bts world on my phone for like 15 minutes and then got out of bed. When I got downstairs my mom had made chocolate chip pancakes and bacon (I have no idea when we became a family that buys bacon but I’m certainly not complaining) which of course she had saved some for me when I eventually wake up. So I ate the food, and it was good, and the rest of the day was pretty low key. I was trying to decide on what recipes I want to make for Christmas because I hadn’t really thought about it other than what cookies I wanted to do. So I figured all of that out with pinterest and such, and just kinda hung around the house with my uncle who came over, and he was telling me all the reasons he thinks Trump lost and I’m just sitting there like wow this man is truly spouting a measured political opinion for probably the first time in his life haha. he started off saying it was him refusing to wear a mask and doing rallies without masks that got people sick, and then kinda segwayed into him just being a massive dick of a person who alienated too many people and just pissed people off, and I’m like I mean yeah those are valid reasons! I wasn’t even going to touch anything related to race in that conversation, he’s got some bad opinions there which I think are mostly the result from growing up in the projects in Queens in the 1950-60s, but I’ve never bothered getting into it with him because I knew it would be pointless. oh well. we had pot roast for dinner that was good, and after that I wanted to try out this scone recipe, I happened upon a recipe called “Christmas Morning Scones” with the idea that when they bake, it smells like “Christmas” (which is a combination of vanilla bean, nutmeg, and rosemary apparently) and I thought it would be cool to have them on Christmas morning right when people wake up and while they open their presents, until we have our traditional Christmas morning breakfast, which is a ham, egg, and cheese bread pudding and it’s fucking phenomenal (I remember one year while my brothers and I were still allergic to milk [whatever that actually was] and she’d used half real cheese and half of the horrible soy cheese [this way before allergy averse food became popular and the quality was bad] but I guess she didn’t mix it very well because my first piece was fine but when I went for a second I could only taste the soy cheese, and the level of betrayal I felt in that moment was so intense haha, so lots of memories there). The idea is of course to make new traditions, ones that won’t always remind us that my dad won’t be there to take part of it….anyways, I wanted to test the scone recipe to make sure it was good. not difficult to make, it called for fresh rosemary and fresh nutmeg, but I used the dried ones we had and will get the real stuff for the actual one. Trying to mince dried rosemary is actually quite the task, because every time you go to cut it it flies everywhere haha which is not terribly convenient, but oh well. otherwise they were easy enough to make and came out really well, so I was pleased with that. after that I just sat at the tv where whatever hgtv thing was on while I compiled recipes and ingredient lists for my choices, the current plan is Christmas Eve doing crab puffs, parmesan roaster broccoli (though I might switch that out, we’ll see), and the candy cane chocolate cheesecake bars I love, then for Christmas day doing baked brie, mac and cheese, the scones, a creme brûlée pie  (which I am so excited about), and a walnut pear tart that is gluten free so mom can have it. and then in the days leading up to Christmas for cookies we’re doing gingersnaps, cranberry almond shortbread cookies, and Italian rainbow cookies (the actual best). so I’m gonna have a lot of time to enjoy cooking, lol. I have my last small group session tomorrow morning because we wanted to so a “brunch” session instead of always dinner, so I’m looking forward to that and seeing what we can do, so that should be good. and yeah, after a bit people started heading upstairs, I stayed down for a little while longer before heading up. the internet has been giving us issues and just like stopped working period for most of the night. it’s a little better now, but pages still take a while to load, which is annoying. apparently some dude is going to come fix it like Tuesday??? I really need it to work on Monday for work though…sigh. we’ll have to figure all that out. worst comes to worst I can always find a Starbucks and beg them to let me hang out and use their wifi for a bit (which is what I did last time and it worked very well) but hopefully it won’t get to that (cause I do have court and I don’t think the judges would love that). on a similar thought, out of nowhere my computer has rapidly been deteriorating on me, like all of a second like three things won’t work probably and then another three tomorrow, so I very badly need to get a new one, especially because the is all my connection to work at the moment (I should’ve brought my chromebook with me, I can always use Zoom on my phone but the rest of it doesn’t work so well on the phone. so hopefully that will be able to function enough to get some work done. and yeah, okay, I headed upstairs and showered and started getting ready for bed, I thought this would be fairly short which I often and am often wrong on the matter, but oh well. I’m sleepy now and I do have to wake up eventually for small group tomorrow, so I am going to end this here. Goodnight my friends. Hope you had an awesome Saturday. 

[mustardprecum]

Hi! If you’re taking harringrove prompts: fake dating. One of my fav tropes lol

This is a minor au where Billy and Max showed up from Cali, but there were no monsters and no confrontation at the Byers house. 

Billy had been completely silent since Steve started talking, his eyes were half lidded and sleepy looking, which Steve didn’t know how to read, so basically he just kept talking and talking in the hopes that there would be some positive sign.

“－so yeah, I have no fuckin’ clue why my mom thinks I’m gay, but she’s really excited. And it’s weird, and it’s worse because my dad is really excited? Which is weirder? I don’t know what’s happening. But I got a D on my last math test, and I panicked, and I don’t know why announcing that I had a boyfriend made it suddenly okay, but it did, and now my parents want to meet my boyfriend, but I don’t have a boyfriend. And now it’s going to be Friday, tonight you know? And I’m not going to have a boyfriend to bring to dinner, and they’re going to get mad at me and, and, and,” Steve choked on his own spit and started coughing.

Billy was in much the same position he’d been in when Steve approached him in the school parking lot. Leaning against his car, unlit cigarette lazily hanging between his lips.

The silence was deafening; Steve was deafened. Then, Billy smiled, it was way worse than the blank stare. How could someone look so incredibly, gleefully, mean with such a pretty smile?

“So you want me to be your boyfriend.”

“Yes!” Steve paused. “I mean, for tonight. For pretend.”

“Uh huh,” Billy finally lit his cigarette and saunted toward Steve. “What’s in it for me?”

“I mean, the fact that I have money is one of my few redeeming qualities,” Steve said. Dustin had said it once as a joke, it had hurt, but he thought Billy might appreciate the joke.

Billy snickered; Steve was a genius.

“So money, $200,” Billy ticked off his fingers ignoring Steve’s splutter. “What else?”

“What else, what the fuck, $200 isn’t enough?” Steve raked his hands through his hair. “What else could you want?”

“You drive my shitty stepsister to and from school.”

“Fine.” Steve didn’t point out the fact that after joining the gaggle of middle schoolers who followed him around, Max ended up getting rides from him most of the time anyway.

“If I ever use you for an excuse, you go with it no matter what.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, brain concocting several worst case scenarios that could happen. Begrudgingly, he nodded.

“Great,” Billy did that thing with his tongue that Steve didn’t know how to react to. He held his ground as Billy stepped up to him and offered his free hand. “You got a boyfriend.”

“Oh thank god,” Steve shook Billy’s hand. “Thanks man, you’re saving me.”

Billy hummed and dropped his cigarette. Then he yanked Steve closer and purred, “so what should we practice?”

“Practice?” Steve squeaked.

“Every movie I ever seen says they’re going to make us kiss at some point,” Billy’s eyes practically glittered.

“I’m pretty sure my parents aren’t that weird.” Steve tried to pull his hand back but Billy held fast. “Oh god, you’re going to be really weird about this, aren’t you.”

Billy threw his head back and laughed. Steve edged back a couple steps until Billy stopped and looked at him mirthfully. “Yes. I’ll be at your place in an hour.”

An hour later, Steve was listening to his parents in the kitchen. He was completely baffled by them. The moment Steve was assumed ‘gay’ all the fighting suddenly stopped. Suddenly his dad wanted to help in the kitchen. Suddenly his mom was following the directions on her pill bottles. SUDDENLY STEVE WAS ALLOWED TO GET A D ON A TEST.

He was reeling, with his face pressed to the window, listening for Billy’s loud ass car. Asking Billy had been a mistake, Steve knew that now. All he’d been thinking was that he was desperate and Billy was from California, and people were supposed to be cooler in California or something, right? Hence why Steve’s grandpa refused to vacation in San Francisco.

Steve yelped when he heard Billy’s camaro, and he heard his mom comment that he sounded ‘excited’.

Stupid Billy had taken off so fast, Steve hadn’t gotten to coach him on what to say, how to act, or how to dress. He hurried out the door as Billy got out of his car. He looked...nice, actually, in his red shirt that was buttoned up like a human, and jeans that were fitted but not nearly as tight as Steve knew Billy’s jeans could get.

Billy swagged up to him with a lazy smile. “Hey Princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” Steve wrinkled his nose. He never thought he’d miss the derisive ‘King Steve’.

“Boyfriends have pet names,” Billy leaned in and Steve let him out of sheer curiously until Billy kissed his cheek.

Steve’s cheek burned where Billy’s lips touched but he managed to keep his composure. “Boyfriends don’t use pet names that the other boyfriend hates,” he said in a bratty voice. Christ, Billy smelled nice, why did he always reek of cigarettes and hairspray if he could smell like this?

“This one does,” Billy brushed past Steve and smacked his butt. “Introduce me to your parents,” he said over Steve’s squawk.

Billy was going to ruin everything.

Billy was incredible with parents. It was unnerving, bringing him inside and introducing him, only for Billy to dial up the charm to 11. Pretty smiles, respectful behavior, appropriately bashful as he took Steve’s hand.

Before that night, Steve would have never expected his dad to get along with someone like Billy. But there they were, sitting at the patio table, chatting about baseball while Steve’s mom asked for his help bringing in the food.

“He’s gorgeous,” she whispered happily, pinching Steve’s cheek. “I always knew you inherited my taste.”

There was a joke about her taste in marrying his dad on the tip of Steve’s tongue. Instead he smiled and settled on, “I never thought I’d bring him over.”

“I’m glad it’s all out in the open,” she sighed dreamily. “Your father and I love you. You know that?”

“I love you too, mom,” Steve followed her back outside with a big summer salad. It was a nice day out.

Billy had come up with a story all his own about how they started dating. It was better than Steve’s so he went along with it. He kept his leg pressed against Steve’s while he spun lies around Steve’s parents.

“Do you parents know?” his dad asked.

“No,” Billy’s voice dropped. Steve looked at him, his face was solemn. “And they can’t. My father is...not open minded that way.”

Steve’s parents made the appropriate sympathetic noises, and Steve rested his hand over Billy’s. He’d heard some horror stories about Neil being an asshole from Max, it wasn’t until just then that he considered how Neil might have reacted to Billy being with a boy.

Billy took Steve’s hand and swiped his thumb over Steve’s knuckles. When he smiled, it was soft and sweet like cotton candy. “I was really happy when Steve said how supportive you both were.”

If there was any doubt before that, it was completely gone. Even his dad looked teary eyed.

At the end of the night, after so much fawning that it made Steve sick, he walked Billy back out to his car. “So,” he drawled proudly, “you were wrong.”

Billy raised an eyebrow.

“My parents aren’t creeps who made us kiss in front of them,” Steve clarified. Billy kept his eyebrow raised, which was annoying because it made Steve less victorious. “Anyway, so, see you at school?”

“Yep.” Billy pushed Steve up against his car and crowded against him. His eyes shifted all over Steve’s face, and his hand moved slowly as he grabbed Steve’s chin.

Were his parents watching and Steve hadn’t noticed? Was Billy just messing with him? Steve was very unprepared for Billy’s behavior the whole night. Most of their interaction was Billy heckling him at basketball practice and at parties.

Steve stayed relaxed, expecting a short little peck.

Billy kissed the way Steve expected, forcing Steve’s mouth open and practically kissing the life out of him. Steve was overwhelmed, he’d never had so much tongue and teeth in a first kiss but by the time Billy pulled away Steve was panting, blushing, his knees were shaking, and he felt like a swooning heroine.

“Christ,” he whispered as Billy pushed him harder against the camaro. They kissed again, this time with more participation from Steve.

He’d been single for a long time, hadn’t realized quite how much he missed making out with someone. Billy was really fucking good at it. His body felt so different from Nancy, so much broader than Steve’s, hard and so stronger that the camaro actually rocked when Billy ground against him.

“Stop fucking with my hair,” Billy muttered against his mouth. Steve may have had both hands tangled in the blond curls. He tugged for good measure and Billy bit his cheek.

Then Billy stepped back so suddenly that Steve almost dropped. He pushed his hair back, casual as though he wasn’t very visibly hard. Steve had his eyes on it as he adjusted himself.

That was confusing; Steve was confused.

“See you Monday, Princess,” Billy reached around Steve to open the drivers side door.

Pushing away any thoughts that were hard to process was something Steve could do. “Have a good weekend, uh, pookie?” He winced at Billy’s dumbfounded look.

Then Billy laughed, “abso-fuckin-lutely not.”

“Whatever.”

Billy left and Steve went back inside, unsure he actually had a boyfriend or not.

[shineonyoucrazyyandere]

Your writing is so amazing and your Jojo writing is one of my favorites! Thank you so much for writing such wonderful stories and headcannons!😊💕 If it is alright with you, may I request a yandere Josuke with an s/o who is already in a relationship? Thank you again! ☺️

Thank you!!

Didn’t do much yesterday (14th) since I had very little energy. But hopefully writing for Josuke will cover for it! 

Yandere! Josuke Higashikata (Part 4) w/ s/o whose already in a relationship

    His heart thumped in quick palpitations as he saw you with that person again. One day, he had seen you giggling with them and at the time he wanted to believe they told a really good joke. But he couldn’t delude himself into ignorance when he found you both leaning on each other on a park bench. It really should be him making you smile and laugh like they do.

    He didn’t feel heartbroken that someone had taken you for themselves, he felt desperate. He should be there drowning you in kisses in anyway you liked. 

    Actually if he erased their presence he could imagine it vividly. The shape of your body melding into his as he held you close. But why imagine it when he could make it happen? It would take hell of a lot of work to do so, but he’d do it.

    Luckily, you were both mutual friends so he was close to you often aside from the times you went out on a “date” with that person. He walked off already concocting a little strategy to do away with you having them in your life. He didn’t think they really needed you after all. 

   Thus he couldn’t help but approach you at lunchtime. 

 “Oh hi, Josuke did you need something?” You asked 

“I wanted to sit up here and have lunch with you” He said nonchalantly while looking around for your partner. They seemed to be nowhere around you at the moment. 

  “That’s fine with me, I don’t have anyone else to eat with right now” You shrugged 

  He hated to ask but it slipped through his lips anyway, “where’s (s/o name)?”

“Ah I think they’re helping some other students who failed a test in class this week to study during lunch and afterschool” Was your explaination.

 The pompadour bearing male nodded not really caring about their endeavors with helping other students. The fact it gave you and him extra time to be alone made Josuke internally burst with happiness. If that were the case maybe he could get you to come to his place. 

   He did chat you up a bit before asking about that however.

 A few of the things you described were just cute little things you and your friends did together. A little karaoke night that you kindly didn’t sing in since you weren’t all that comfortable, you all ended up ditching the session and went out for ice cream. 

  “What flavor?” He asked 

“(Fav flavor)” You answered “It tasted great from the place we got it from”

  You then moved on to things that he didn’t find himself trying not to smile at. The couple of dates with your s/o made him feel very off. He felt as if he couldn’t internally function with hearing what you and them did together. 

  “Sorry if I blabbered too much about that, I know not everyone likes to hear about another person’s relationship” You shrugged awkwardly

  “It’s fine…” Josuke replied stiffly “You just…really, like being with them huh?” He hesitated to put those words together. 

   “Yeah I guess so” You laughed a little 

 He held his breath softly at the sound of your cute laughter. It made him melt like butter right where he was sitting. Oh, he just needed to be alone with you so, so bad right now. 

  “Hey, uh if you got nothing going on after school with them or anything else would you mind coming over to my place to hang out?” 

  “Sure, It has been a while since we did hang out together…I think we need  to have better friend quality time with each other ” You said

 ““Of course I missed you, ya know” He curtly smiled getting extremely close to you, much so he purposely put his right hand over yours. Just to get a little feel for your hands touching. 

    Awkwardly you laughed trying to back away a bit, you did notice his eyes were just slightly half lidded. Like he was in some happy kind of dream state. Maybe you should change your mind and just head home? But then you hadn’t really been around him much for the past week and a half which made you feel bad. He deserved a little attention as a friend after all.

   You’d be nice and just let his puppy eyed stare slide. 

 That was a success in the teen’s eyes at that moment. 

  It was hard to not have a dumb smile on his face when the two of you met up that afternoon to walk to his house.  

   You both sat on his couch and watched whatever you wanted. He was mostly fixated on the scent of the shampoo you were using. Really he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Neither could his hands as he sneakily put his arm over your shoulder. Eventually you just lied down on the other side of the couch to his disappointment.

   You were instinctually trying to avoid contact and he knew this well it was due to your relationship. But he wouldn’t give up, at least not in any indirect way,

   Said opportunity came when he heard ““ow” escape your lips

“Are you okay y/n?” He practically jumped at the sound of your small distress

“I think I might’ve pricked my finger on something by accident” You responded “I think I just need a small bandage and I’ll be okay”

““Mmm…how about you let me see it first?” The male inquired 

You held out your hand and pointed out your injured finger, while Josuke held it softly with his own. 

  Beyond your capable sight as a non stand user you didn’t see Crazy Diamond heal your small wound back to normalcy. 

  “I don’t think you have to worry about a bandage anymore” 

  While you were distracted by the fact it didn’t seem like you hurt yourself at all. Josuke used his stand to his advantage, wanting to try something out. Guiding Crazy Diamond carefully he made his stand just ever so slightly kiss the surface of your neck. An unexpected warmth came over his body as he could feel the sensation of your skin on his lips. 

     He got a little more experiemental and brushed the stand’s fingers over your arm lightly. A shiver went down your spine as you looked at him. Reflexively he dissipated Crazy Diamond after noticing your little jump as a reaction. 

  “Uh Josuke were you touching me just now?”

He put his hands up in the air “Nope my hands were over here the whole time” 

 “Weird…guess it was just my imagination then” You mumbled a bit rubbing your arm. 

   He was happy with what he got, but it still wasn’t nearly enough. 

“She was so cute and most of all, her skin was so soft” he muttered dreamily while laying in bed that night. He could do that and so much more if you were in his arms right now. 

 From that point forward he focused on doing something about your partner. He wasn’t even sure how he survived so long without doing anything before honestly. But this was a perfect time, he knew he needed you and they were very much getting in the way.

So, over a few days he got to know them and asked if they wanted to hang out on a Friday evening. Just himself and them of course without you anywhere near by. 

  “You wanted to go to the mall across town right” your s/o asked him 

“I’m cool with it, there’s window shopping after all” Josuke shrugged

““Right, right, and there’s the arcade too if we get bored” They added 

He nodded along lazily while walking with them. 

   About halfway there Josuke began asking questions about yours and their relationship. Some of it was insignificant such as how long you both had been going out. Even though he had already marked the first day on his calendar he had at home, the day he witnessed you both going out for the first time. 

  ““What’s your favorite food you ate with them?” Josuke threw the question out

““That’s a little weird to be asking don’t you think?” Your s/o asked 

“It is huh?” Josuke acted as if he didn’t know that 

 ““Alright, how about what’s your favorite arcade game to play?” 

 They went on about said game for a little while, the blue eyed male slightly drowning it out with his own thoughts. After that he stayed silent until they arrived at the mall together. 

   “Y/n and I got a high score on this game once…we’re down a few rankings now but I thought that was really neat” Your s/o casually mentions

 “Oh that’s pretty impressive that sounds like it was a lot of fun” Josuke answered as they both stood in front of the game.

 “It’s funny I usually come and play this game…you know sometimes when I don’t have much to do” The six foot tall teen continued casually. 

    “Though it was a little lonely without someone to play with” 

 Your s/o looked at him with slight concern forming on their features.

 ““How about we play, you know just for the hell of it?” Josuke asked.

He hummed as he went to one of the joysticks. As of late this game was malfunctioning but no one had gotten around to repairing it or shutting it down. Dangerous and neglectful really but he knew what he was doing.

   Watching them closely out of his peripheral vision he observed them  vigorously moving around the controls. He waited…and…then made something fly straight into their face. 

    They crumbled with blood slipping down their cheeks and body.

 While Josuke went in out of “concern” and propped them up with his arms. 

““I don’t understand what happened” they stumbled over their words shakily

  He slightly chuckled a little too cheery in his response.

““Well you know accidents happen it’s not like either of us knew this was going to happen” 

   The pompadour wearing teen then slowly began squeezing their wrist. 

“Just like that little accident you made in asking a certain person out huh?” 

 Your supposed s/o’s eyes were stunned. 

   “But I’m sure I can fix that no problem~” Josuke hummed.

…

       “I can’t seem to contact them no matter how hard I try” You groaned sitting on the edge of Josuke’s bed that afternoon.

    But it seemed like your friend in  behind you wasn’t really bothered by that at all. He simply slid closer to you and cuddled acting like it was completely normal.  

   “I’m sorry to hear that babe” Josuke softly whispered ““I can’t believe they won’t pick up the phone to hear a word you say”

 ““Wait. What?” You tensed ““Josuke, did you just call me-”

 His arms snaked around you before you could get up, he seemed awfully happy frighteningly enough. 

  ““I love you enough to say it…and I can call you so much more cutie since we can be together now”

   You stared at him like he was insane, ““but I’m with…”

““S/o name? No, no, they won’t ever come near you again” He mused

   ““I-I….I should really go” You tried to pull him off of you.

His hands only held tighter, “There’s no rush, come on…there’s nothing to be afraid of as long as you’re with me~” 

[pronoova]

15 Healthy Habits to Get Skinny Fast

Ever wondered what the nutrition secrets of athletes or celebrities are? Well now you don’t need to because below are 15 healthy habits to include into your get-in-shape regimen which will not only assist you to get skinny fast, but within the most healthiest way possible. For starters, change your attitude about food. Lastly, your goal to urge skinny should come second because it’s more important to enhance and maintain your overall health.  confine  mind  the subsequent  habits that have helped me  stay  track of  my very own  weight loss goals.

1. SAY “NO” TO A RIGID DIET

When most of the people start a diet, they typically eliminate foods or place certain foods as off-limits. you would like not to start a rigid diet for the purpose of depriving yourself of foods you're keen on. specialize in what you'll eat. I always say the key to the way to get skinny fast is accepting diets don’t work. you'll want to consult a nutrition expert and update your knowledge on foods laden with essential nutrients to assist correct years of poor diet.

If you retain labeling certain foods as off-limits, you finish up looking for them even more. ‘Not eliminating certain foods’ doesn't mean continuing to gorge on bad stuff, though. Regular consumption of meat-containing nutriment, as an example, can cause accumulation of LDL or bad cholesterol within the body. If you’re a coffee drinker or have an appetite, you would like not abruptly stop the caffeine or sugar intake. you'll make sugar an occasional treat, but not a diet staple. Eat (or drink) carefully, and confine mind other health tips, so read on.

 2. FIND HEALTHY ALTERNATIVES FOR FAVORITE FOODS

Healthy food substitutes are often easily obtained. All-natural food stores in your neighborhood may offer a good assortment of healthy options which will replace old favorites and inflammation-causing and cholesterol-laden ingredients in your meals.

If you can't resist eating a slice of cake every day, choose a light-weight, flavorful, or maybe a sugar-free option. Just a couple of cautions, though. you'll be ditching high-fat foods and choosing low-fat products, but some food manufacturers have added sugar to form their offerings more palatable, causing some effects when consumed an excessive amount of, like making the body go haywire.

Avoid the pesky insulin spike which will be triggered by the consumption of straightforward carbohydrates. rather than eating polished rice every day, choose rice, a posh carbohydrate that has more nutrients, and can keep you fuller longer. Healthy fats also are important. rather than regular mayonnaise, choose a healthier condiment like mustard. to assist control blood glucose and support your weight loss plan, switch to safflower oil or other healthy cooking oils.

Instead of regular hamburger, you'll choose extra lean. Choose natural spread over reduced-fat spread which will contain more sugar and additives. If you always buy milk, switch to part-skim milk. rather than buying instant oatmeal, get the steel-cut type. rather than flavored yogurt, choose plain yogurt and add fresh fruit or two with a touch honey. Your body will enjoy the friendly bacteria.

The list goes on, when considering food substitutions. address authoritative health sites for a comprehensive guide to healthy substitution. albeit you’re eating out, you'll find healthier versions of your favorite foods.

 3. DEVELOP A ROUTINE AND persist with IT

It is easy for many people to start a healthy eating plan, but follow-through is vital. you would like to convince yourself that you simply can lead an authentically healthy life, and it starts with a firm resolve to urge healthy & stay healthy. If you only tell yourself that you simply actually need to reduce and start eating carrots, greens, tofu, and rice, you would like to stay thereto a healthy eating plan. Online articles and videos may offer motivation and inspiration, but taking note of your body signals, realizing the advantages of healthy eating and feeling an entire lot better, depend upon you.

You can start developing an influence eating plan by knowing which foods offer you antioxidant protection, which of them can give brainpower boost, and which of them can energize. A high-performance nutrition plan may incorporate your old favorites, like mixing ice-cream as an example with a top-quality protein shake. the quantity of not-so-healthy stuff can gradually be reduced. Once your body gets familiar with healthier foods, you develop a taste for them and the likelihood is that, you'll not yearn for the unhealthy stuff.

Another routine you'll want to start out, after consulting together with your doctor, maybe a weight loss management program that’ll assist you attain a trimmer, healthier physique.

4. REDUCE STRESS

Keeping stress at a minimum can benefit your body in some ways. Stress, doctors say, inhibits the system. By beating stress, you retain illnesses corner. There are countless ways to scale back stress, like taking note of soothing music, yoga/meditation, getting a massage, or getting to the beach or another tranquil place. most of the people melt away stress by sleeping or hanging out with friends. Avoiding people that tend to empty your energy with their complaints and problems can also be an efficient thanks to reduce stress.

There are other natural ways to market relaxation, like twiddling with your pet, doing simple stretches, taking a stroll, and taking an opportunity from email, TV, cellphones, and other things that cause information overload.

When overwhelmed by numerous things to try to, hit the pause button. you'll break down an enormous task into small, manageable chunks, Being more conscious of stress triggers — be it money, co-workers or bosses, health issues, `toxic’ friends, and other factors — will assist you to manage them and reduce stress.

5. run through EMOTIONAL ISSUES CAUSED BY EMOTIONAL OBESITY

You may project a robust persona, but there could also be times once you don’t feel fine, otherwise you cannot seem to purge it all at once. you'll head home with feelings of inadequacy, loneliness, resentment, anger, or with feedback loops. rather than expending time on illusion or other non-productive stuff, you'll check out your own emotions and find how to repair what’s bothering you.

Problems linked to your interpersonal relationships that contribute to worry may prompt you to succeed in for comfort foods or overeat. this will cause weight gain. By learning the way to manage your emotional problems, you're in effect taking food issues and unhealthy weight gain out of the equation.

6. EAT CLEAN FOODS

Clean eating has far-reaching benefits. If you’ve long been eating convenience foods or foodstuff like burgers, all that food can end up to be your enemy. you'll begin to feel sick. Power eating is all about putting good food into our bodies. Think organic produce. Think pork from real pastured pigs with more omega-3s, and beef from grass-fed cows.

You can celebrate albeit you decide for all-natural or organic eats. Just mix them up a touch. rather than regular eggs, try free-range eggs with more micronutrients, cooked & serve with other healthy eats. Purchasing clean/wholesome foods could also be costly, but they really offer more bang for the buck.

 7. HAVE AN ACCOUNTABILITY SYSTEM

When you’ve begun a weight loss regimen, remember that you simply are in charge of your own actions. A fitness trainer, a nutritionist, or a naturopathic doctor may assist you. you'll prefer to be a fit & trim product of your healthy decisions, instead of thinking that you simply are destined to be fat.

Once you determine an orderly and healthy eating plan, you'll devise other ways to achieve it. you'll use a pairing when understanding, to assist you not only to lose the surplus pounds but keep them off.

Once during a while, you'll get lax and desire to indulge a touch. A weight-loss partner may remind you of your goals, but the choice to succeed in a healthy weight ultimately depends on you.

8. CONTROL YOUR PORTIONS

For most people, portion control could seem easier said than done. Veer faraway from super-sized meals and upsize offers. At buffets, it is often pretty challenging to resist filling your plate with different sorts of food, but believe how sick you’ll feel if you gorge. Let several minutes pass after eating, before going back (if ever). When buying food at the grocery, read labels.

Remember that portion control is one effective thanks to blast fat, so try to not ignore this tactic which will cause a trimmer figure.

9. TRACKING FOOD

You can track your nutritional intake, which isn't just a matter of counting calories, using several ways. you'll jot what you often ingest during a food diary. you'll also use online tools to log and track your food consumption. By tracking what you eat, you'll more easily get the proper balance of nutrients

 10. EXERCISE!

Much has been said about the myriad health benefits of exercising. Yet many of us, including those that want to urge skinny fast, need constant reminders about how incorporating regular exercise in their schedules won't only raise their metabolism and burn calories fast, but also improve their overall wellness. once you attain a particular level of fitness thanks to regular, vigorous activity, your mind also improves, and you are feeling more responsive & hooked into life. My favorite gadget to possess available is that the Fit bit (great gift idea!) because it can tell me how active I’ve been throughout the day. It tracks your steps, distance, and calories burned.

11. EAT EVERY FEW HOURS

Eating small meals frequently, which can be around five to 6 meals every day, can assist you control food cravings. It’s a time-tested technique employed by individuals concerned about their expanding waistlines. you'll make sure that each small meal you're taking has quality protein sort of a boiled egg. Complex carbohydrates like rice, a bit of fresh fruit or vegetable, also as nuts, are nutritious and filling options. eating small meals several times each day will help keep your blood glucose in check.

12. DETOXIFY YOUR BODY

Your body can better absorb the nutrients it needs if you’ve lightened up the toxic load. Expelling toxins from the body is often done by drinking many purified water and loading abreast of superfoods. Veggies like artichoke, cabbage, kale, carrots, and garlic help purge the liver of poisons.

Blueberries, beets, avocados, beans, seeds (like chia seeds), and nuts that contain important nutrients also help eliminate toxins from the body here also are detoxifying beverages, like tea, that aid in weight loss. crop on refined sugars, saturated fats, alcohol, and caffeine.

13. HYDRATE YOUR BODY

Staying hydrated keeps the body in good working condition. Drinking enough fluids, including purified water, protein shakes, tea, and freshly squeezed juices also help cleanse the body of poisons. Drinking many water also can suppress appetite and aid in weight management.

14. COOK reception 

If you cook reception, you've got the whip hand in ensuring that you simply and your relations will get sufficient nutrients. Cooking reception also removes the worry about hidden ingredients like gluten, which can trigger an immune reaction.

15. NEVER STOP TRYING

If you’ve tried everything and zip seems to be working to blast fat, seek professional help. albeit you’ve ruled out health issues, don’t stop trying to succeed in a healthy weight.

There are products, foods, techniques, and experts who can guide you towards getting a trimmer, healthier body. Seek help or devise an all-natural plan tailor-fitted for you, but don’t throw discipline & determination out the door

[stillthewordgirl]

CaptainCanary fic: With Eyes Wide Open (ch. 3 of ?)

In a world where Rip Hunter never formed the Legends, Leonard Snart is trying to mend his ways and work with Team Flash, though sometimes it's easier than others. Meanwhile, Sara Lance is gradually dealing with the blood lust left behind by the Pit and trying to get used to being a hero again herself. When they encounter each other one day in Central City, it seems like a match that just might be meant to be.

*

Note: This is an accidental pregnancy fic, one in which both contributors to said pregnancy decide to continue their relationship and do their best with it. If you don't like such things, be warned.

*

Ch. 3: OK. Now...the stuff pertinent to the overall plot starts hitting us.

Early pregnancy. Angst. Stress. Talk of options. You've been warned. Remember, however, that it IS me. ;) And there will be some resolution at the end of this chapter.

Many thanks to Pir8grl!

Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

*

About five weeks later

It starts with the coffee.

Sara just doesn’t want any one morning. That’s a bit unusual, but she’d slept well the night before, and she’s not so caffeine-addicted that she’ll get a headache by skipping a day. So, she does. Then another.

And another.

And then it seems there’s always something going on, and she just doesn’t start that particular morning tradition again. It’s not so drastic that Leonard notices, either—although Sara winds up spending so much of her time with him in Central City than they might as well be officially living together, neither of them is one for lazy mornings.

At least, not unless those lazy mornings are spent in bed. And not sleeping.

After an uncertain amount of time, she notices that on those mornings Leonard does make coffee—he has a single-cup maker—it just plain smells…off. Foul. Stomach-turning. She mentions it once and he gives it a sniff, shrugging and dumping it out and muttering something about cleaning the coffee maker. And Sara forgets again.

Then Sara sets foot in CC Jitters one morning on her way over to STAR Labs, and she nearly has to clap her hand over her mouth and run back out as the mingled strong scents of coffee, breakfast foods, and other things turn her stomach. But she’d promised Iris and Caitlin coffee this morning, and damn it, she’ll keep that promise.

“When the hell did Jitters change their house coffee blend?” she asks irritably as she walks into the Cortex, juggling the drink holder. “This one stinks to high heaven. Just…eww. I wanted to gag. Actually, I did.”

Caitlin gives her a surprised look, taking one of the cardboard travel cups. “I don’t think they have? I was there just yesterday with Harry and it seemed exactly the same.” She removes the top of the cup and takes a careful sip as Sara and Iris exchange amused glances over their friend’s gradually ever-increasingly “Harry” references. “Hm. Tastes the same too. How odd.”

Iris shrugs, giving her own cup a sniff. “Seems fine to me. Smells like coffee.” She lifts an eyebrow as Sara takes her own cup. “So you didn’t get any?”

“Yuck. No. Got a smoothie instead. The idea of drinking that…crap…upsets my stomach.” Sara turns away, taking a healthy slug of her drink as her friends exchange a glance. “I haven’t really wanted breakfast lately, but this sounded good.”

Then something about the quality of the silence captures her attention and she glances back at them. “What?”

Iris tends to be the blunter of the two, but she seems to be at a loss for words, and it’s the doctor, of course, who speaks up.

“Sara,” Caitlin says carefully, putting her coffee down and folding her hands on the desk. “Uh. I don’t know how to ask this any more tactfully, but…are you…you know...late?”

Sara frowns at her, taking another drink. “Excuse me?”

Caitlin turns a little pinker. “You know…your, ah, cycle? Because that sounds a little…”

She’s saved from explaining any more of the birds and the bees as Sara nearly sprays out a mouthful of strawberry smoothie. “What?!”

They’ve got to be kidding. Really. She has to be imagining this.

Iris has found her voice, though. “She’s asking if Snart knocked you up,” she says a touch acerbically, but there’s concern in her eyes. “Because that does sound suspicious.”

Sara chokes again, dabbing at a runaway dribble smoothie on her sweatshirt. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! We’ve been careful. Precautions have been taken. Cait…”

“Answer the question, Sara.” Caitlin’s voice is implacable now. Her doctor voice, used when dealing with a recalcitrant patient. “Is your period late? Tell me it’s not, and I’ll leave you be.”

Sara huffs at her, then thinks a moment. And as she’s silent, her eyes widen just a little, and she shakes her head back and forth slowly, as if denying the words she’s about to say.

“Yes…” she says slowly. “About…maybe a couple weeks?” Then she makes a visible effort to shrug off the worry. “But…Caitlin, things haven’t been…normal…that way, not since the Pit. It’s not unusual.  At all. It’s not…not that.”

At this point, Team Flash—and Leonard, as far as it goes—knows about the Pit. Caitlin bites her lip, but she also perseveres.

“Still. You don’t…can’t….know that. Please, Sara.”

Sara throws her hands in the air. “What is it you want me to do?”

That, it seems, Caitlin can deal with. She nods, implacable again. “Take a pregnancy test. Just…if it’s negative, we’ll let it go.”

She darts a look at Iris, who shrugs. “I have a couple unopened ones downstairs,” she adds, then rolls her eyes at Sara’s expression. “What? Barry and I…well, we’ve kind of started trying, and we’re here more than we’re at home, it sometimes seems.”

For a moment, it seems like Sara might fight that, too. But then she shrugs as well. “OK. Why not? Small price to pay for getting you off my back.”

It’s silent in the Cortex as Iris departs. Sara can’t quite bring herself to look at Caitlin, who seems to understand, puttering around checking computers and such and leaving her friend to her thoughts.

She hadn’t lied. They had taken precautions, although Sara hadn’t bothered with more than snagging a condom whenever necessary. (They’d stashed them all around the apartment.) Maybe they’re not the best of means, but…given that her cycle has been so erratic or nonexistent since the Pit and it seemed so unlikely that one who’d been honest-to-god dead could create life…well, she hadn’t worried much.

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.

Iris is back all too soon, handing Sara a drugstore bag and beating a hasty retreat to Caitlin’s side. Sara takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and heads to the restroom. The sooner this is done, the better.

But it isn’t. It really, really isn’t.

“It’s positive,” she says numbly a few minutes later, staring down at that unobtrusive little stick, having stumbled out of the bathroom only moments before. “That can’t be…”

She looks up, taking in Caitlin and Iris, who are both staring at the test too. “It has to be false. Right? That happens?”

But Caitlin clears her throat and reaches out, gently testing the test from her. “False negatives aren’t uncommon this early,” she says quietly. “False positives…that’s not likely.”

“But…I mean, it’s not like we just ignored it. We were careful. And…” Sara lets her voice trails off as she stares at her friends.

This is real, she thinks suddenly. And she’s just starting to put her life back together, just gotten to a point where she’s truly glad to be alive again, and…

Sara takes a step back. Then another.

“I can’t do it,” she says, hearing a note of hysteria in her voice as Caitlin and Iris watch her. “I just can’t. I’m still dealing with…with everything from the Pit, and…” She scrubs a hand over her face, trying to remember what they know, what she’s left out of the story.

“I was an assassin,” she says, words dropping into the silence of the Cortex like stones. “I killed people. A lot of people. I can’t be a mom. That’s just…that’s not right.”

Caitlin, bless her, steps forward after only a moment. Trying to help, because that’s what she does.

“Well,” she says carefully, taking another step and putting a hand on Sara’s shoulder. “You have options. This is early. You know we’ll help, with whatever you want to do.”

Sara drags in another deep breath, but then Iris, always the speaker of the things people don’t want to hear—it must be the journalist in her—joins them.

“Are you going to tell Snart?” she asks gently.

Sara blinks at her. She’s barely begun to digest this herself, let alone think about what it might mean to her lover. “What? No!”

Iris takes a deep breath. “You certainly don’t have to,” she allows. “But if…if you care about him at all, you might want to.” She pauses. “He might surprise you.”

It’s too much. Too soon. All at once.

Sara shakes her head violently. “I can’t believe he’d want…not after his childhood…” She pictures the look on Leonard’s face, the shock, the realization…

And then it all coalesces. She really thinks she does love Leonard, but after all they’ve been through, there’s only one person she really wants to see right now.

“I need to go back to Star,” she says abruptly, turning away. “I need to see Laurel.”

Iris circles her, stopping in front of her on her way out the door. “But…Sara, what about Snart?” She sighs. “OK, I’m maybe not his greatest fan, but…you care about him. You’ve really seemed happy with him.” She bites her lip. “I mean…maybe don’t just vanish on him?”

She’s right, but… Sara shakes her head. “I can’t talk to him yet. I just…I just can’t…” she says helplessly. “Iris…tell him there was an emergency? And that…that I’ll be back. Probably. I just…I need to…think…”

Her friend pauses, then takes a deep breath, reaching out and giving her arms a quick squeeze.

“OK,” she says quietly. “OK. Sara, do what you need to. We’ll get word to him.” She glances over her shoulder at Caitlin. “Just…let us know if you need us.”

That’s all Sara can manage to agree to before she runs out of the room.

*

The drive to Star City seems to take a lot less time than it actually does. Sara finds herself simply staring ahead as she drives the motorcycle, keeping her mind empty, trying not to think about…well, anything, really.

It’s a Saturday, which means Laurel is at home, and thank god, she’s alone. There’s no way Sara could deal with Ollie, or her father, or even Felicity at this point. She hammers at the door, nearly falling in when Laurel opens it, wrapping her arms around herself as she stumbles in and crosses the familiar apartment, Laurel closing the door behind her, voice rising in question.

The couch is soft, comfort more than show—that didn’t use to be Laurel’s style, but it is now. Sara subsides onto it, glad to be stationary. Surely, things should feel even more…different?

“Sara,” her sister says sharply, turning, crossing toward her. “What’s wrong?”

Ugh.

Sara takes a deep breath, then lets it out. She looks up toward Laurel’s worried face, then squeezes her eyes shut. Then opens them, and rips off the bandage, as it were.

“Laurel. I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

Then her sister blinks, taking in her own breath.

And another.

And then she sits down, wrapping an arm around Sara’s shoulders, holding her tight.

“The crook?” she asks carefully, not looking at her sister just yet.

Leonard doesn’t deserve that tone, and Sara bristles, just a little. “Leonard,�� she says, a little sharply. “Former crook. And…yes.” The tears rise, even though she’s not quite sure why. “I just…I don’t know what to do…”

Laurel holds her tighter. “OK,” she says. “OK. Take a deep breath.” A pause. “Now another. And tell me. When you’re ready.”

That’s really the best thing her sister could possibly say. Sara obeys, for once in her life, dragging in a few deep breaths before glancing over at Laurel’s profile.

“I didn’t think I could...after the Pit,” she says. “I mean...I...it took months for some physical things to get back to approaching normal.”

Laurel nods, after a moment. “That makes sense,” she says. “But…they did? More or less?”

Sara glances away, then back. “Yeah. More or less. And it’s not like…we didn’t take precautions.” She snorts, humor rising despite herself. “Yay for condom value packs.”

Laurel gives her a stern look, through there’s also humor lingering at the corners of it. “Hey! TMI.” She rubs a hand over Sara’s shoulders. “They’re not 100 percent, you know,” she says carefully. “Nothing is.”

“Yeah. Apparently.” Sara sighs, allowing herself to lean against her sister. “But…I never thought…”

They’re both silent a long moment. Sara decides she’ll always owe Laurel for not pointing out how very foolish that “never thinking” was.

“Well,” Laurel says finally. “You’re…ah, not very far along.” She studies Sara’s face. “Do you…want to end it? You can. It’s pretty early. I’ll back you up, no matter what.”

Sara stares down at her hands. On some levels, she thinks, it’s the obvious choice. But…

“I know. But…I always wanted kids,” she says in a low tone. “I mean…once. What if this is my only chance? I mean…I wasn’t kidding when I said things are…very erratic. Still.”

Laurel thinks that over.

“I don’t know,” she says finally, squeezing Sara’s shoulders again. “I can’t answer that. I don’t know how the Pit...affects things. It’s not like there are studies out there on it.”

Sara’s still silent. Laurel takes another deep breath, then takes Sara’s shoulders in her hands, studying her face seriously.

“All right, then,” she says. “What if you do keep going with the pregnancy? What happens then?”

Sara stares at her. She hadn’t really expected that to be held up as an option, even though, somehow, in her heart, she couldn’t help thinking of it as one. Despite everything. Because…even despite everything…this might be her only chance. And, honestly, the idea of Leonard’s child…it’s not…totally unappealing.

But how would he feel about that?

So, she doesn’t say anything. But Laurel, perceptive, nods.

“Snart,” she says quietly. “Will he be a problem? Will he want to...to be involved?”

Sara’s not sure if she’s thinking Leonard will be a problem if he wants to be involved, or if he doesn’t. And she’s not up for arguing about it.

“He had a pretty messed-up childhood,” she admits. “I don’t know. But...I also know he pretty much raised his sister.” She takes a deep breath. “We’ve talked. A lot. I know…he’s trying to be the man his father wasn’t. Maybe...maybe he’d think of this as a second chance too.”

Huh. That’s the first time she’s truly articulated it like that…that she’s thinking of this as a second chance. Sara blinks, considering, but Laurel doesn’t seem fazed, simply squeezing her shoulders again.

“Do you want Snart to have any bearing on your decision?” she asks carefully. “You don’t have to. But I think you care for him, and...”

“And he is the father,” Sara says. “Yeah. I don’t…I don’t know.” She bites her lip, something occurring to her. “Oh, god, Dad’s going to want to kill him.”

That actually gets a gurgle of laughter out of Laurel. “Well, we won’t let him. It takes two and all that,” she says, studying Sara. “I mean…you love him, don’t you? Snart.”

It’s not really a question. And Sara has to nod.

“I do,” she says quietly. “I know it hasn’t been that long…but, yeah.” She sighs. “We’re so…the same. So…both trying to find our ways to something better. I think this is real. But…” She gives Laurel a helpless look. “I wasn’t planning on this. We weren’t planning on this.”

Laurel gives her a sympathetic smile.

“Well,” she says carefully. “You wanted a new challenge. This could be a pretty big one.”

Since Sara’s secretly been thinking about that, she can’t really complain. But she also can’t help feeling a bit guilty about it.

“It’s really not fair to the...the kid, though,” she says, looking down at her hands…and her still-flat stomach. “To make him or her an experiment for two damaged people trying to unfuck their shit.” She glances at Laurel. “And...who am I if I’m not a vigilante? I can’t really go out kicking ass when I’m pregnant. Can I? I don’t even know.”

Laurel gives her a sympathetic look. “Well. Who am I if I’m not Black Canary?” She puts a hand on her cane, which she’s used ever since her run-in with Damien Darhk. “I think I’m doing OK.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“I know.” Laurel pats her arm. “You’d have to figure that out. But, Sara…if you want to try…I’m here for you.”

Sara feels her eyes well up again. “And if I don’t continue the…the pregnancy?”

Laurel leans over and hugs her. “Then I’ll be with you then, too.”

*

Sara’s not there when Leonard gets back to the apartment that day, but he doesn’t think that much of it.

It’s not like they’re in each other’s pockets. He’s spent the day out doing some check-ins with more criminal contacts, and he knows that she’d been planning on spending some time at STAR Labs, training Snow and Iris in some basic self-defense and, in all likelihood, gossiping happily. He has no idea when she’ll get back, but it’s fine whenever she does, and it’s not something he’s even remotely worried about.

Until there’s a knock at the door

*

Iris takes a deep breath, shifting from foot to foot in the sort of nervous motion that isn’t really her. Snart’s actual living space isn’t a secret anymore—it’s more or less Sara’s apartment too—but it still seems odd to be here. He’s always seemed a, well, denizen of penthouses or safe houses, nothing in between, certainly not this ordinary apartment in a nice, but not fancy, building in center city.

It’s just so not…supervillain. Not that Snart’s really playing the villain at all anymore.

There’s a long pause before he answers the door, during which she’s pretty sure he’s considering her through the door’s peephole. And when the door finally starts to swing open, Iris takes a deep breath, organizing the words she needs to say.

She said she’d do anything to help Sara, and she’d meant it. She’d really prefer, though, not to be doing this.

Snart’s eyes are already narrowed as he regards her. “Is Sara OK?” he asks immediately, eyes fixed on hers. Worried? Maybe?

“Can I come in?” Iris responds quickly.

Those blue eyes widen, and he steps backward, a clear invitation that Iris swiftly takes as he pushes the door shut behind her. Iris sucks in a breath, glancing around quickly, then focuses on him again. She’s never seen Snart in short sleeves, but he is now, safe in the confines of his home…a gray T-shirt and jeans, showing scars on his forearms she’s never seen bared before. They don’t surprise her, but Iris jerks her gaze away immediately. She thinks he probably already feels exposed enough.

“What’s going on?” Snart asks, voice low and intense, and Iris can see his hands clench and loosen.

Iris takes another deep breath. “Sara,” she says quietly. “She wanted me to tell you. She had to go back to Star. Suddenly. An emergency.”

Snart’s eyes flicker. He glances to the side. Iris follows his gaze, realizing that his phone’s sitting on the table there. He’s obviously wondering why Sara hadn’t just called or texted him.

“Is everything OK?” he asks intently. “Her sister? Her father? I’ll go...”

Ah, hell. Iris shakes her head quickly, though she thinks the better of him for immediately saying that.

“No,” she tells him. “No, don’t do that. Just…let her…”

What can she say? Not much. And it’s obvious that Leonard realizes that. He stares at her, very clearly registering that Sara doesn’t want him to follow her, and that she didn’t want to talk to him herself. Iris stares back helplessly, feeling pretty rotten about this.

“I didn’t...,” Snart says, as if to himself, glancing away. “Things were fine...” Then he looks back at Iris as if considering something. “Ah. Her ex.”

Does he think Sara’s gone back to Nyssa? “No,” Iris tells him. “No, it’s not that. Just…” She sighs. “Just wait for her, OK? Please?”

Snart stares at her another moment. Then: “That supposes that she’s coming back,” he says quietly. “Is she?”

And Iris can’t bring herself to prevaricate. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I think so.”

He turns aside, then, staring into the apartment, but not like he’s not really seeing it. Iris wants to leave, but…

Her heart, so unexpectedly, is hurting for him. Maybe it’s because this is a far more vulnerable Leonard Snart than she’s ever seen before. Maybe because the tiny touches that say “Sara” are all over the apartment now if you know where to look. It’s a home, not just a place to stay, and they shared it. Seems like that’s something he’s probably never really had before.

And now Sara’s gone, and she can’t even tell him why, or even if she’s definitely coming back.

Snart doesn’t look back at her. But Iris can hear the strain in his voice when he speaks again.

“I’m sorry, Iris,” he says, nearly inaudibly. “But…please go.”

And what else can she do?

She goes.

*

Leonard decides that he’s not going to think about it. That goes against the grain, really, but he just…can’t.

For a few days, at least, he’s not going to think about how stupid he might have been, letting someone in, letting someone have the power to hurt him. Mick had had that power...and used it, by leaving, by lashing out before he’d left, angered and disgusted by Leonard’s need to change. And Lisa...she has it too, and he’s still not sure what’s going on there.

Sara had been the first new person he’d let into…into his heart…in a long, long time.

And she’s gone. Maybe not returning.

No. No, he just can’t think about that. Not yet.

Then, three days later, he comes home from a ramble around the city and a stop at the gym...and Sara is sitting there, curled up in a corner of the couch, watching him.

Leonard lets his bag fall to the floor with a thud. He takes a step toward her, then another, torn between relief, and fear, and maybe even a little anger that he won’t acknowledge—anger and hurt that she hadn’t felt like she could tell him what was going on with her.

But mostly, there’s relief.

“Are you OK?” he asks, staring at her. “Sara, are you all right?”

She gives him a weary smile and a shrug but doesn’t move from her spot on the couch, arms still wrapped around her legs, folded in on herself. Leonard's worry starts to rise again.

“Yes?” Sara says then, as if unsure. “Maybe? I...” She takes a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

Leonard lets the statement hang in the air for a moment, then lets out a humorless laugh. “Nothing good ever started with those words,” he mutters, but he walks over and takes a seat anyway, at the other end of the couch, giving her some space as he studies her.

She looks...tired. Tired and pale and drawn. Sick? Is she...

“I’m pregnant.”

The words fall into the silence like stones. Leonard stares at her, speechless for once in his life, trying to make them make sense.

Sara’s mouth twists. She glances away from him, shoulders hunching a little more.

“It’s yours,” she continues. “If you’re wondering. There hasn’t been anyone else in a long time.” She shrugs, still not looking at him. “I know we...ah, took precautions, but they apparently didn’t work. Somewhere along the line.”

Still, silence. Leonard knows he needs to say something, but he has no idea, no plans for this at all, no...

"What do you want to do?” he says finally, wondering if he should move toward her—or if he’s done rather enough at this point, thank you.

Sara’s eyes flicker back to his, gaze holding on, and there’s a measure of relief there, he thinks. Had she thought he’d flip out or something? Or unilaterally demand...what?

He couldn’t do either even if he wanted to. He can barely breathe.

Sara shrugs again. She relaxes her guarded posture just a little, watching him. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I keep...see-sawing.” She takes a deep breath. “And I decided I at least wanted to hear what you...how you felt...before I made any final decisions.”

It’s a stupid thing to say, but he says it anyway. “How I feel? About...?”

Sara rolls her eyes at him, looking a little more like herself. “The pregnancy, jerk. I mean...about...well...um, parenthood. With...me.”

Leonard stares at her. Once again, trying to line up the words to make sense.

She’s asking him?

*

Oh. Oh, maybe that was a mistake.

Sara bites her lip as Leonard’s eyes widen, stunned surprise clear in them. I broke him, she thinks, a bit hysterically. All he’s been through, and I finally broke him.

Of course, he doesn’t want to be involved. Not after Lewis, not after his own childhood. She’s being foolish, thinking about second chances and challenges. They’re a crook and an assassin, not anyone who should ever be…

But then her lover says, in a voice so low that she can barely hear it, “You’d...trust me with that?”

There’s something fragile in the words. Nothing quite like she’s ever heard out of Leonard before. Disbelief and...and wonder...and...

Oh, Sara thinks again.

Oh, she’d started to misinterpret that badly.

A laugh leaves her lips as more of a sob, and she shakes her head. “Leonard,” she tells him, “I think you want so badly not to be your father that I trust you more with parenthood than I trust myself.”

Leonard gives her a sidelong look—the one that says he’s thinking something he’s not going to say just yet.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he does say, quietly. And then, after another moment, he gets to his feet.

“I...I know you just got back,” he tells her, voice a little rough. “And I’m glad. I’m glad you came back. But I need...I’m gonna go for a walk. Get some air. Think about things. Won’t be too long.” A hesitation. “Will you stay here?”

He’s worried she’ll leave again. Sara fights back a rush of guilt and nods.

“Sure,” she says, settling back, relieved and almost contented to be back in this place that’s becoming home. And hoping it remains that way. “I’m not going anywhere.”

*

The air’s just a little chilly. Leonard hunches his shoulders in his jacket as he walks into the wind, but in truth he doesn’t mind it. His head’s spinning so much that the cold breeze feels good, like a blast of ice water, keeping him in the here and now.

He doesn’t have a set path in mind, just lets his feet pick while his mind is still awhirl.

A kid.

When he’d decided to turn over a new leaf, faced with the boredom in his old life and the feeling that he was just becoming another version of Lewis—albeit one that was much more competent—he hadn’t really had much of a plan. Just a frustrated sense of wrongness with the status quo and a need for something—anything—different.

And it was good. (For the most part. The regret and anger over Mick and his refusal to understand...it was still there.)

And then there was Sara.

And that was even better. And now...

A kid. Well, not yet. Just a few cells, right now. But him and Sara. Together.

It’s...unbelievable.

Oh, he gets the mechanics well enough. But a kid.

Maybe, a long, long time ago, a much younger Leonard Snart had thought a family of his own, in one way or another, was something the future might hold for him. Maybe he’d sworn that he’d be a much better father than his ever was.

But he’d gotten older. Gotten harder. He’d done a lot of bad things, and he no longer thought about really changing his fate. He just wanted to be remembered as better than Lewis Snart.

It was only recently that he’d started thinking, again, that maybe there was more than one way to be better.

“A kid,” he says out loud, slowing, saying the words to the Central City skyline. He’s just about at the waterfront, and it’s twilight, and his city is sparkling around him. Full of potential.

Leonard ambles over to the railing and leans on it, studying the view.

And then, quieter, he tries other words on for size. “A dad.”

It scares the crap out of him.

*

Leonard’s gone about an hour. Sara makes herself a cup of weak tea (the smell doesn’t turn her stomach like coffee does, and surely this little bit of caffeine can’t hurt) and settles back on the couch, reminding herself to breathe.

She’s come to a realization, herself, about what she thinks she wants. She’d decided when Leonard had looked at her with that expression in his eyes. But…that part, that’s not just up to her.

She jumps when she finally hears the door, trying to calm her suddenly racing heart, and looks over as Leonard lets himself in. He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it on a chair, then saunters over, taking a seat himself and finally looking at her again.

Sara can’t read his expression. She licks her lips nervously, wondering, preparing herself to leave, to figure out what’s next, by herself.

But then…then. He moves a little closer, reaching out to take her hands in what is, for Leonard, the height of romantic gestures. And he meets her eyes again, his own…resolute.

“OK,” he says, watching her intently. “What it comes down to…you’re the one who’ll have to deal with all the…work, now. So, I’ll back you up, whatever you want to do. Whatever.”

Sara blinks, registering that, but Leonard’s not done.

“And if that means...having the kid, I’m in,” he says, a thread of something almost nervous in his tone. “I mean, if you want me to be.” He studies Sara’s face, looking uncertain. “I get it if you want to…to run for the hills and not have it have anything to do with me. But I hope you don’t.”

Sara opens her mouth. Closes it, trying to parse out that declaration.

Leonard glances away, then back. “I don’t know how much good I’ll be to you or...it...him...her...but I’ll be damned if I’ll leave you to do this alone,” he mutters. “I figure two people muddling through, if they’re trying their best…gotta be better than one.”

A tiny smile actually tugs at the edge of his mouth as he glances at her. “And I figure you’ll kick my ass if I screw up too much. Might need that.”

That’s just so…Leonard…that Sara lets out another sound that just might be a chuckle. She’s not even sure herself.

She’s not sure of anything other than the sense of…relief, she thinks it’s relief…spreading through her.

Sara lowers her head, blinking furiously, wondering if this is the first sign of the rampant emotions she’s read might mark the early stages of pregnancy. Leonard shifts a little closer, and Sara looks up at him again, registering the concern on his face.

“Sara?” he asks carefully. “What…”

Sara launches herself at him, more or less. She buries her face in his shoulder, feeling his arms going around her, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. And this time, they spill over, and she thinks briefly that if she didn’t look a fright before, she certainly will now. But that’s OK.

It’s OK.

“I think I’m going to. Have the kid, I mean,” she whispers into his already sodden shirt. “I hope it’s not a mistake. But…I think it’s something I need to do. And hell yes, I want you with me. Please.”

One of Leonard’s hands goes up to stroke her hair. For a long moment, they both just sit there, taking it in, both with worries and fears, both with baggage and doubts.

But together.

Finally, Sara feels him move, just a little, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair and taking a deep breath, arms tightening around her again.

“Then,” he says, quietly, “I guess we’re gonna be parents.”