#mel writes ficlets

[fazedlight]

“You didn’t jump,” Kara said.

Lena glanced up from her lo mein container, chopsticks in hand. “Jump?” Lena asked curiously.

Kara nibbled her lip thoughtfully, staring down at her potstickers. The evening had been a quiet one - a welcomed change of pace, after a wonderful and chaotic afternoon at Alex and Kelly’s wedding. When all was said and done - after the couple had left for their honeymoon and the party had quieted, after Eliza had taken Esme home for a fun week making chocolate chip cookies with her grandmother - Kara and Lena had found themselves in Kara’s apartment, settling down in their pajamas with a dinner of Chinese takeout.

“For Kelly’s bouquet,” Kara said. “You didn’t jump.”

Lena shrugged, digging into her food with her chopsticks again. “It wasn’t heading towards me.”

“You could’ve used magic,” Kara suggested, thinking of how a certain other super had used her powers to yank the flowers midair.

“And start a duel with Nia?” Lena grinned. “Seemed unwise. Besides, she has a likely candidate.”

Kara smiled. 

“At least I was there,” Lena teased softly. “I didn’t see you in the crowd.”

Kara shrugged. “It’s a human tradition.” 

Lena tilted her head. “What did Krypton have?”

Kara grimaced. “Genetic testing. AI matching. Rules about guild marriages,” she said, “My uncle destroyed the AI, at least. But romance was secondary on Krypton.”

“What about now? On Argo?”

“Romantic love is… still an alien concept, on Argo,” Kara said thoughtfully, popping another potsticker in her mouth. “It existed in some of our stories. But our upbringing, our culture- we had to squash a lot of that down.”

“And now?”

“Now it’s like…” Kara’s voice had lowered to a murmur, and Lena noticed a pink tint rising in her cheeks. Kara cleared her throat, staring into her food. “Now it’s like they’re marrying a close friend,” she continued. “I wouldn’t say they have romance like Earth does.”

“Like marrying a friend,” Lena mulled.

Kara quietly picked at her food.

“And what about you?” Lena said, partially curious, partially… well. She knew Kara could hear how her heart had started pounding, as much as she wished she could hide it.

“Me?”

“You grew up there. But you’ve been here for so long. Where do you fall?”

Kara’s brow crinkled. “I think I…like all the little things,” she murmured. “Giving flowers and chocolate. Kissing. Holding hands.”

“But?”

“Not a but,” Kara said as she glanced up - still avoiding Lena’s eyes, but looking thoughtfully ahead. “It feels so alien to me, but in this wonderful way. Exhilarating. Strange. I feel like I have this chimeric type of romance in my head - not Earthian, not Kryptonian. Like romance is…”

Kara grew quiet, turning her head to her food again, staring silently as the blush on her cheeks seemed to deepen. 

Lena watched for a moment, taking in the unmoving kryptonian - the hint of tightness in her posture, the unusual muteness and stillness. “What is romance for you, Kara?” Lena whispered.

Kara slowly tilted her gaze up to meet Lena’s. “My perfect partner at a game night,” she confessed quietly. “Knowing someone so well that it feels like magic when we’re together.”

Lena let out the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

Kara nibbled nervously at her lip. “You- you don’t have to see it that way,” Kara said, her voice cracking. “It’s not- it doesn’t have to change anything. But I’ll understand if it’s too much…”

“I feel it too,” Lena whispered. “When I’m with you. It always feels like magic.”

“Really?” Kara said. “You could want- you-”

“I didn’t want to catch the bouquet unless it was for you,” Lena confessed. “I just- all I want is to be with you.”

Kara smiled wide, and Lena watched on as the tension seemed to melt away from the still-blushing kryptonian’s frame. “I love you, Lena.”

Lena smiled back. “I love you too.”

[lovesbiggerthanpride]

Pairing: AU!Joel Miller / Diner owner F!Reader

Note: This just came to me as I was eating brunch. Joel is an OTR driver, stopping for a meal, as he transports cargo. This is my first time writing Joel, so please be kind. And yes, I’m inspired by P’s portrayal of Joel.

_________

“Hi there, what can I get for you?”

The most soulful pair of brown eyes finally met yours, as you began to assist him. He definitely wasn’t a regular, because you recognized everyone who sat at these tables.

It felt as though he was in deep thought when you greeted him. Shoulders slumped, furrowed brow, very reserved, in stark contrast to the bustle of the other customers in the diner you called home.

Home also was this sleepy town, where families, college students driving cross-country, and hard-working OTR drivers passed through, temporarily pausing at the rest stops and your diner. A place to take a beat, get some shut-eye, have a good meal, before moving on. That was the norm and you were used to this.

But this one appeared to be different.

“Sorry… Hi. I’ll have a coffee, black. Biscuits and some bacon, please.”

“That’s it?”

A short “yup” came your way as the man handed you the menu. “Don’t need much.”

An easy order, no need to write anything down. You were going to make sure this new customer would receive the best biscuits and gravy on this side of the Mississippi.

As you observed, you had to admit he was one of the more handsome visitors lately, so there was incentive to impress, hoping he would return during a future trek.

With a smile, you answered, “Sounds good. It will be here before you know it.”

With a curt nod, the man spoke. “Thank you, ma’am.”

It had been a while since you heard such a formal title. You giggled, insisting the man call you by your first name.

The newcomer’s eyebrows raised, confused. “Ma’am, that’s not how I was raised.”

“I appreciate your manners, but here, everyone is a friend. First name basis now.” Leaning over, you whispered, “Owner’s request.”

Seeing that you weren’t budging, and he did not want to offend, a deep sigh arose.

“Alright, fine,” he relented, repeating your name slowly, in a tone that honestly made your insides tingle with desire. “Joel.”

“Nice to meet you.”

_______

Let me know if you’d like to read more of this. 💙

@moralesfish @heythere-mel @wildemaven idk who else would want to check this out lol

[gaeldricge]

A while ago my lovely friend @indigo-inferno prompted me to write a ficlet in which partner A falls asleep against partner B. When I started writing, I got a little distracted and ended up with this somewhat altered version of the prompt - hope you like it just as well!!! xxx

~~~

It was late when Grayson finally left the precinct to head home. Very late. She would only have a couple of hours to get some sleep, a shower and maybe something better to eat than the sugary pastries someone had brought to work and which had been fueling her up the past few hours.

The night air was brisk, and together with the short walk to her street, it helped to clear some cobwebs from her sleep-deprived mind. They were getting nowhere with their case, but with every step that took her closer to her home, her desire to get into her bed as quickly as possible grew. Her feet felt like lead, her shoulders ached, as did her stiff neck, and she could hear the cracking of her joints every other step. 

With a sigh of relief, she finally opened the front gate and closed the distance to the front door in almost no time. The house was dark and quiet as she got it, and yet all her senses stood on alert once the door opened. It was the smell that set her off. That sweet and powerful scent of the combination of lychee and white mint; the smell of Mel.

Grayson smiled. Her bones were still aching and her head was buzzing with the desire to sleep, but her heart skipped an excited beat when she noticed Mel’s pumps in the cupboard, next to her own spare leather boots. With swift motions, she had her boots off and the coat put on a hanger into the wardrobe. Without switching on any lights, she hurried up the stairs to the bedroom where she knew Mel must be waiting.

She was fast asleep when Grayson entered the room, the dull city lights illuminating her form slightly through the drawn curtains. Leaning against the door frame and taking in the scene, Grayson smiled tiredly and happy. 

“Mel?”

Mel stirred at the sound of her name and her eyes fluttered open. “You’re home,” she said sleepily.

“As are you,” Grayson replied, moving closer to the bed.

“Yes,” Mel rubbed her eyes. “I missed you. We haven’t had time together for how many days now?”

“Three.”

“Exactly.”

Grayson knelt onto the bed and reached out a hand to cup Mel’s cheek. She had missed her too.

“I have to go back early. There’s not much company I can offer you, I’m afraid.”

Mel shrugged the worry off. “That’s alright. That's why I came to your place.”

Grayson nodded, then frowned as a thought crossed her mind. “You shouldn’t have stayed here on your own though. Someone might have seen you enter, you’d have been a sitting target.”

“Shh,” Mel got onto her own knees and cupped Grayson’s face between her hands. “Nothing happened. I know you worry about me, but I’m safe. And you’re tired. Get out of these clothes and into bed.”

Grayson still frowned at her, too tired to find the words to argue back but still displeased about Mel’s carelessness.

“I want to feel your body next to mine again.” Mel whispered with a subtle hint of seductiveness and followed by a sweet and light kiss.

Grayson sighed, accepting that they would’ve to argue about the matter at another time.

“Alright,” she said and heaved herself off the bed again. “Be right back.”

A couple of minutes later, she crawled under the covers with a moan of pure delight. Mel slid close once she settled, the two of them facing each other.

“This feels good,” Grayson mumbled as she wrapped her arms around Mel’s smaller frame. 

Mel hummed in agreement, while her fingers slowly traced the lines on Grayson’s face. They both knew what she wanted to say; how Grayson worked too hard and that she should slow down for her own health. They both also knew that she probably wouldn’t heed the words, even though Grayson had to admit to herself that she had caught herself thinking about retirement more often recently. Neither of them spoke, however. It’d be futile, especially since Mel was just as much a workaholic as Grayson was, although her younger age was clearly of advantage.

“I dreamt about you last night,” Mel said instead.

“A good dream I hope?”

“Of course,” Mel smiled at her and Grayson returned it even as she felt her eyelids droop close. 

“Sleep,” Mel whispered again. 

Grayson shifted slightly, she had never been able to sleep on her side. Mel followed her movement and settled with her head on Grayson’s chest on top of the covers. One of Grayson’s hands moved to touch Mel’s head and weave its fingers through the long tresses of hair.

“I love you.” Grayson was already half asleep when Mel uttered the words, but her consciousness still took them in, relishing in the feeling of happiness they invoked within her.

Draping an arm around Mel, she pulled her close against her body. “Me too.” And with that sleep finally overtook Grayson completely.

[littlehypnone]

Please would you maybe write a ficlet about Phantom being cared for after he drops to be tinier than usual after a meltdown, if you have the time and brain space?

this one is a bit messy, sorry if some sentences don't make much sense

925 words, tiny phantom (they/them) having a meltdown, cg mama dew, happy sleepy ending

Everything was wrong, everything was just going wrong and Phantom was done.

He woke up too hot, the sheets were all tumbled up, his hair was so tangled it hurt when he tried to run a hand through it, his favorite bat plushie fell to the floor, there was light abusing his eyes from a space between two curtains. When he actually got up he couldn’t find the clothes he wanted and everything else was extremely uncomfortable. It was itchy and tight and it felt bad and he hated it.

Phantom got dressed in the best clothes he could find. A lesser evil, he thought. He padded to the kitchen. There was a mess in the sink, his mug amongst the dirty dishes and the countertop was sticky. He couldn't find his cocoa powder and all the rummaging through the shelves made his ears hurt, it was way too loud. It was barely ten o’clock in the morning and he was already about to cry.

Then the rest of the pack slowly piled into the commons, finding him curled around his plushie in a tight ball on the couch. Without his cocoa. Their footsteps were loud, their voices were loud, they turned on too bright lights and too loud and bright television.

Phantom’s last straw turned out to be Aether slipping in the kitchen—who left it so messy all over?—and dropping a metal pot onto the tiles. The noise made Phantom wail, clutching his shaking hands to his ears as he tenses impossibly more. Now the pack finally noticed the quintessence ghoul’s distress, but it was a bit too late, he was already having a meltdown.

Phantom was dropping, fast and sudden, tears that had been welling in their eyes for a few hours now finally spilling down their cheeks. They didn’t register being covered in a nicely smelling, fluffy blanket or the whole pack, apart from Dewdrop, leaving the room.

It got quiet. It finally got quiet.

It was around twenty minutes later that Phantom’s eyes cleared a bit and Dewdrop could do something, anything. He knew the quintessence ghoul went tiny, the whole pack knew them and had gone through enough of their meltdowns to know what to do. Or rather what to not do.

“Hey, baby,” Dewdrop said quietly, gently trying to get Phantom’s attention. They blinked slowly, big eyes looking at the fire ghoul and finally seeing him, too.

Phantom whined pathetically and wiggled their fingers—their little version of grabby hands. “You want me to hold you, batling?”

“Mmm… ma…”

“Gotcha,” the fire ghoul smiled and wrapped his arms around Phantom, dragging them into his lap. They didn’t settle, though, kept squirming and pulling on their clothes clumsily. “Bad clothes, hm? Let’s get you changed, then.”

Dewdrop picked Phantom up and settled them so they rested mostly against his hip, face hidden in the other’s neck. They went to the quintessence ghoul’s bedroom and Dew—still holding them—dug around for the soft comfy pj’s he knew Phantom preferred when little and after a meltdown.

Once found, Dewdrop laid them down on the bed, but that caused some more squirming, batting at the sheets and whining. “Not here, I guess. That’s alright, batling.”

He hauled them up once again and left to go for his own room, hoping that would satisfy the little ghoul. He’d go from room to room, try them all a thousand times, if that’s what it’d take to get Phantom to calm down and get comfortable.

There was no need to do all that this time, though. Phantom squealed happily and started up a little purr when they were placed in Dewdrop’s bed, still warm from the night. This time when they squirmed and wiggled in the sheets it was to get buried in them a bit, not to get out.

“There we go, happy little baby,” the fire ghoul chuckled, pleased with how Phantom was coming out of the meltdown. They’d stay tiny for the rest of the day, maybe even wake up small the next day, too, but they could be in that nice space, not the icky one. That was Dewdrop’s goal.

Dewdrop got them dressed in the comfortable pj’s, sending a text to the group chat at some point, and crawled into the bed himself. He pulled Phantom into his lap, cradled them in his arms, close to his chest, and started purring, knowing that would do wonders in soothing the little ghoul.

“Ma,” Phantom voiced their contentment before their own purr started back up. Dewdrop smiled, convinced he wasn’t going to escape being a mama now that Phantom picked it up too. The fire ghoul wouldn’t complain, though. He liked it, actually.

The door opening quietly interrupted his thought and Swiss peeked his head in, presenting a bottle he brought for Phantom. He gave it to Dewdrop with a sympathetic wink and left.

“Are you asleep, batling?” he asked, getting a yawn in return. “Not yet, gotcha. Got you some chocolate milk, baby.”

Dewdrop tapped the nipple of the bottle against Phantom’s mouth and slipped it in when the quintessence ghoul parted their lips. They sucked gently and started purring louder when the sweet milk hit their taste buds. “Good little ghoul, drink up.”

They didn’t finish the bottle, starting to doze off around the half of it. When drops of the milk started spilling from the corners of Phantom’s lips Dewdrop replaced the bottle with a soother and readjusting his hold on them once more, let Phantom get a well deserved rest.

[pyreneese]

Battle of the Blorbos Finale

Ahhhh we’re finally at the finale ^w^. The final 2. I’m thinking about writing a ficlet for the winner!

Whoooo this is it. Mel, who has single-handedly defeated titans like Jinx, Merlin and Zuko. Our gorgeous queen who can step on us. An amazingly written woman. Can she get one last victory?

Vs

Danny Phantom, who has single-handedly defeated other titans like Leo Valdez, Nico Di Angelo and Miguel O’ Hara. Everyone’s first crush, the myth, the legend. Can he defeat Mel?

Feel free to reblog with propaganda!

[galladrabbles]

Weekly Wrap U-Up

....coming in hot and sweaty today!

It's been a hot week here at @galladrabbles and maybe where you live too.

So we're sending a fiery "Thank you!" to everyone who participated with their writing and reblogging!

Another red hot "Thank you!" to Mel,@gardenerian, for the prompt.

Next up is the wonderful Paola, @mishervellous - you'll undoubtedly bring the heat with your prompt next week! Please submit it to us till tomorrow via ask.

Next week will be our prompt No. 80! Which is really crazy to think about....

... and let me just finish with a quick reminder about the rules: We'll not reblog longer ficlets for one prompt that have been cut into 100 word snippets. Of course you can write more than 100 word exactly for Galladrabbles each week. But we'll only reblog them if they're 100 word exactly with different takes on the prompt or a drabble series written in the snail pace of 100 words per week and prompt.

Throwing your favourite ice cream your way and a few kisses on top of it!

Enjoy your Sundays!

Till tomorrow, Vey

[nightmareinfloral]

welcome to the nest

hello there! i’m roy/floral and my pronouns are they/he/she.

carrd

-my ask box and pms are always open so feel free to shoot me a question, give a ficlet request, or just say hello :)

-#reading guide is for various comic reading lists I’ve reblogged or made. #nightmare writes is my writing tag!

-DNI: terfs, batcest/incest shippers, tom taylor stans

dick grayson reading guide

thaddeus thawne reading guide

gaia reading guide

joey wilson reading guide

trevor hawkins reading guide

cessily kincaid reading guide

jay and mel guthrie reading guide

[lullabyes22-blog]

WIP Tag Game

WIP Tag game ✍️

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have wips. (You can make your own post or reblog this one!) I have deemed that this isn’t just for writing either. Sketch titles? Comics? DnD campaigns? If you have an unfinished project, it counts!!  

~~~

Aaaah! Thank you for the tag @goathag  🥰🥰🥰 I’m super happy you’re enjoying the Melco bits!

Atm, I have one WIP for fanfic, titled Forward But Never Forget/XOXO.

It’s a post ep-8 canon divergence wherein Zaun ends up a sovereign nation after a prolonged battle with Piltover. It goes into Silco’s and Jinx’s arcs as they try to evolve past their old selves and into something different (not fully healed, but definitely less toxic.) It also features a whole lot of blackmail, political intrigue, angst, action and dysfunctional relationships. I’m also deeply into rare!pairs in the Arcane verse, and this one explores Silco’s relationships with both Sevika and Mel Medarda as a subplot, with plenty of blood, manipulation and other bombshells along the way. 

Other ships include VixCaitlyn, MelxJayce, JaycexViktor (one-sided) and Jinx by her batty lonesome - up until she isn’t. 

For anyone curious, more deets on the story are up here!

This story was originally three different WIPs.

i - Chess Games - Silco and Mel form a wary alliance to safeguard both their nations’ interests, and end up in over their heads in a game of subterfuge and assassination with Noxus. Smut, mind-games and a bittersweet ending.

ii - Sweet Child of Mine - A series of flashbacks exploring Silco’s relationship with Jinx. It gets into the psychological nitty gritty of just why she embodies for him the essence of Zaun, and why he’s raised her to be the way she is (chaos, carnage and PTSD included.) Fluffy, but also grimdark in that special Arcane way.

iii - Blut - Vander and Silco pre-betrayal. A series of flashbacks delving into their early childhood and leading up to their violent falling out. Irrefutably the most angsty and trigger-loaded ficlet of the bunch, as it takes a look at life in the Undercity for two orphans - in all its ugliness and abuse. It also doesn’t shy from the fact that both Silco and Vander were deeply fucked up, and kind of assholes in their own special way.

I tag @itsme-tori @zaunitedrip and @the-blue-quetzalcoatl 

Share your WIPS and other general life projects<3

[scribeoffate]

Sciles + any of the winter prompts. (I cannot pick and idk if this makes it easier or harder. thank you in advance)

Writing letters to Santa--with or without kids involved

Set in my dad!Scott universe which is scira but has a strong qpr sciles thread <3

"There," Ally holds up her letter triumphantly.

Luca looks up, tongue poking out between his lips. He's barely halfway done with his own letter.

Scott watches them both fondly and gazes at Stiles, who is taking dictation from Mel and Claud.

"Can I read it?" Scott asks, and Ally shakes her head and folds the letter.

"Everyone knows you can't have a wish come true if you tell people what it is."

"Yeah," Stiles agrees as he finishes scribbling something Mel has told him.

Scott smiles and takes a sip of the hot chocolate beside him. He picks up the pen to write his own letter. Ally had insisted he write to Santa, too.

"You're always nice," she'd said, brown eyes as big as saucers, "you could get so many toys."

Dear Santa,

All I want for Christmas is for my family to have happy, peaceful lives. My entire family.

He ignores Ally's protests as he stuffs his letter in the envelope without letting anyone look.

Later, when he and Stiles and Kira are going through them, he thinks he catches tears in more than one eye. Stiles squeezes his hand and Kira places a kiss on his cheek.

request a ficlet

[goddessofroyalty]

Ok 2 things, ones a delightful rant and the others an actual question~

So I’ve recently finished catching up with all your ZaunFam Omegaverse posts and I love them all (shoutout to that Mylo and Silco bonding mini fic~) but what really got me cackling was that question on if Jayce was the Omega and Viktor was the Alpha~ I just love the idea that Viktor’s like that nerdy guy at school who was looked down on (not physically bullied as his family would destroy you~) for being physically weak though really smart, that then comes back years later extremely successful with a hot piece of eye candy on his arm (Jayce~) and everyone is just flabbergasted!~ Even more sweet/funny if you add the fact that Jayce has never considered himself conventionally attractive by Piltover standards (Makes me wonder how the ‘Golden Boy’ thing would change with that reality~) and doesn’t get what the fuss is about~

Also even better if Jayce’s pregnancy goes extremely smoothly, like through the whole 9 month to birth is a relative breeze (as much as a pregnancy can be~) and Silco’s just seething in the corner cause even though he’s happy to have a healthy grandchild he’d have liked Jayce to suffer like he did~ Oh the pettiness~

And now with my actual question~ I noticed that most of the post about ZaunFamily revolve around Silco/Vander’s relationship or raising of the kids/Zaun’s independence OR Jayce/Viktor’s relationship and generally terrorising Jayce to some capacity~ Which is all great btw~

So I’m wondering if you’ve thought of any interesting titbits or stories about the rest of the ZaunFam as people and their relationships?~

Omega!Jayce does really let you play with the whiplash of the Golden Boy - he goes from being seen as a bit plain to suddenly the most sought after omega in the city. But by that point Viktor already has won just by recognising Jayce's potential first (Mel also sits in that space of course but that's a separate verse/idea).

Unfortunately, it really give Viktor the vibe of the weird guy in highschool that comes back to the reunion with his arm-candy to upstage everyone. Which isn't what happens at all but... there are some in Zaun who think that. Especially seeing the whole 'wealthy family' thing.

When it's Viktor having it easier than Silco with his pregnancy Silco's envy is a bit more tempered because that's his son and he's seen Viktor have to deal with physical limitations his whole life. When it's the privileged (by comparison) Jayce he's more likely to get the kind of toxic mentality of you're supposed to suffer for your children. Even if healthy grandchild is definitively something he's happy with.

About the titbits or stories about the rest of the ZaunFam as people and relationships the answer is yes just they tend to either be

really tight moments (like 10 lines MAX) that I forget to write down (or are scribbled down somewhere really unhelpful and easily lost) because I'm waiting for them to find a home in another idea (often happens) - the Mylo & Silco bonding ficlet is a good example of that; the "she's not really my sister" exchange and the "what the siblings are good at" exchange both just sitting in my head for a bit and then when I got the "Silco in his full Act 2 style outfit with Mylo’s head in his lap" idea they combined to make that ficlet.

half-baked ideas that I'm waiting to either combine with something else or just generally continue fermenting into something complete - the example above also kind of sits here but the sick!Powder one is probably the better example, I knew I wanted to do something with both them caring for her it just suddenly gained A Form while sitting in that conference hall.

It's the reason why generally if you poke me about something I'll tend to spit out 5 rambly ideas pretty quick. They've been floating in the head void waiting for the right home. Or if you notice in a prompt I seem to have added another really strong theme/image - that idea fit nicely with the prompt so it finished it for me.

[lurking-latinist]

For the "yet another writing ask" list: 10, 19, 30, 36, 40

10. Favorite tropes.

already answered! But I also like platonic fake marriage, people thinking a character is dead and then they aren't, and anything that messes with characters' minds/perceptions/mental states.

19. Snippet from a WIP: Found one that isn't for an exchange!

“Is it always like that for you?” she asks. “A surprise regeneration, I mean. So sudden and disorganized and—ugh.”

30. Fic that almost happened.

already answered, but here's another: I really wanted to write a sequel to my first-ever fic, the Mel and Six first meeting one, when I realized I had not even remotely gotten to the part where she finds out he's an alien or sees the TARDIS or anything. I even had a title: "Tact and Finesse." But I think it's been long enough that, even if I do write a Mel's-first-TARDIS-trip story, it won't feel continuous with "All the Time in the World."

36. How do I come up with fic titles?

I text Moki and Jan and they come up with them. XD Seriously, though, group brainstorming is excellent. When I'm very lucky, the fic was inspired by a prompt or quote or song that provides a good title. Sometimes I can mine a character playlist for a relevant line, although my #1 source of titles is probably Shakespeare ("to all our nights and days to come," "ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate," "were it not that I have bad dreams," "That Which We Call"), or possibly folk music ("and will not let me sleep," "they'll turn me in your arms, lady," "whistle and I'll come to you," "like a bird on the wing," "True Love and Time (goes on forever)," interestingly not "From 'A Complete Guide to Scottish Music'" but that's only because quoting from "Macrimmon's Lament" isn't really original anymore) with the poems of Andrew Marvell ("and opposition of the stars," "the mind, that ocean where each kind / does straight its own resemblance find") as a contender as well.

When I use a quote as a title I like to choose something long enough to be confusing (i.e. not just "Nights and Days") but short enough to be incomprehensible out of context. I'm not sure this is actually a good decision but it's what I do.

If it's a short piece like a prompt fill or random ficlet, unless I feel a carefully considered title is needed to give the right mood/context to a drabble, I generally just pick something that vaguely refers to what happens in the fic, often a single word.

I used to title all my Seven/Romana fics after some kind of literary device, but I gave up after forcing "Antanaclasis" onto a drabble that it didn't really fit.

40. Write a 9-word fic.

"It doesn't work with the brake off?" said Romana.

[fazedlight]

Awakening (Kara character study, small part supercorp softness)

“But why can’t I be matched to Tali, mom? She’s my best friend!”

Alura turned to Kara, her jaw tensed with frustration with the stubborn child. “Kara, you know better than this. Stable matching can only be achieved if there is a true bijection between disjoint sets-”

“We don’t even have a true bijection because the population is constantly changing, we don’t sort according to all possible preferences, we don’t even have-” “It is not in our nature, Kara,” Alura said, with a dangerous tone in her voice. “We are not Daxamites.”

“But-” 

“The answer is no.”

---

Kara is thirteen Earth years the first time she’s called “dyke.” She doesn’t know what it means. She had only been to school for a couple of weeks. Before that, the only substantial English she had spoken was the couple months with Eliza, Jeremiah, Alex, and Kal. 

Clark, not Kal. Saying “Kal” would put her baby cousin- her older cousin- her cousin in danger.

Alex’s face flushes, and her eyes almost burn with anger, as she shoves Jake Howell against a locker. Kara could do it easily herself, but showing her newfound strength to humans would put her in danger too, somehow. Kara doesn’t think asshole is a nice word, given how Alex growled it. But she suspects dyke isn’t a nice word either.

That night after dinner, Eliza sighs, and hugs Kara gently - and Kara resolves to never get called dyke again.

---

“She’s gorgeous, she’s smart, she smells nice. Hell, I want to date her.” Kara flushed with discomfort, as the words came unbidden from her lips. But Alex didn’t remark on the odd statement, and Kara shoved the thought away.

Just weeks later, awkwardness would turn to tension as Lucy growled. “You and Hank, why do you all lie?”

“When you are an alien,” Kara choked, “You’re willing to sacrifice anything, everything, betray your fundamental instincts - just to fit in.” Something tugged in Kara’s soul at that moment. That she had always tried to fit in, long before she became an alien. But there simply hadn’t been time to linger.

It was only weeks later, when Lucy was saying her goodbyes before leaving National City to rejoin the military, that Kara felt the uncomfortable spike again. “I do know what it’s like to hide,” Lucy confessed.

Kara tilted her head, questions like why? and what do you mean? floating through her mind. But she thought it would be kinder not to ask. “I hope someday, you can be all that you are.”

Lucy gave a small smile. “Me too.”

---

She hadn’t expected meeting Lena to feel like lightning in her veins. The younger Luthor was quick-witted, and beautiful, and playful. Kara felt herself flush with the gentle teasing during their first coffee, and found herself marveling at never quite having a friendship like this before. 

---

“So… so she’s gay?” Kara asked, the word heavy in her throat. “And are you saying, you’re gay too?”

Alex sighed and paced in front of Kara, her frustration just as apparent as her confusion. How can you not know if you’re gay?, Kara wondered, at the same time feeling strangely allergic to the conversation. Wouldn’t it be obvious? “What’s changed?” Kara asked.

---

Yeah, he was… immature. Irresponsible. But they connected - orphans of a lost planet, who spoke the same tongue, who had the same bewilderment in their first moments on an alien planet with newfound powers. And if being in his bed brought her pleasure, it was only proof of their connection, that a good relationship could come of it.

Sometimes there were those flashes - Mon-El had been confused by Alex’s coming out, not understanding the concept. The more the merrier would ring in Kara’s head, and she’d chase away the image of Lena’s face.

---

“I couldn’t have done it, Kara.”

Kara’s chest heaved as she gazed down at Lena, hearing Kal’s words flash through her mind. Lena clung to Kara’s arm as Kara hovered above the reservoir, and some corner of Kara’s mind knew that she should go land, that the danger was over. That Lena was safe. That the city was safe.

But she could only stare down at Lena, whose heart hammered in her chest, whose panting breaths from her climb had not yet slowed. I almost lost her, Kara thought, forlorn. I couldn’t lose her…

It was that moment that her world came crashing down, that realization made her feel like she was drowning. That romantic love wasn’t merely a combination of friendship and lust. That shared experience didn’t mean a shared connection. There was something that ran deeper.

She was in love with Lena, and she could no longer deny it.

---

It was a drunken movie night, after Lena’s breakup with James, when Kara heard I love you fall from Lena's lips.

“It was always you,” Lena confessed, her words slightly slurred from the alcohol as Kara finished pulling the covers over her. “I just wanted to be close to you.”

Kara stood back, feeling her heart pound as she watched Lena slip into slumber. I wish I had told you, Kara thought, her mind flashing to a moment long ago in a forest. I wish I had told you, before…

Kara spent a fitful night trying to sleep on her couch, and Lena’s eyes flashed with shame the next morning as she woke. But they left for Noonan’s, leaving the conversation behind.

---

It felt impossibly brief, that window of time after Kara had revealed her secret, where everything felt almost right with the world. Maybe someday, she and Lena could finish that conversation.

But she found herself in a kryptonite shell.

The universe ended soon after, and even magic couldn’t fix how they had broken. Until the day Kara finally found her hands in Lena’s, vowing together to take down her brother, and Kara felt again that hopeful wonder of what a future with Lena could hold.

And then she found herself in the Phantom Zone again, the words ringing in her head, I wish I had told you.

---

Sleep had eluded Kara in the weeks back from the Phantom Zone. So she was already wide awake at 2am, when she heard Lena’s heart begin to hammer. 

Kara tensed, rushing to her window and ears tuning in as she prepared to fight off an assassination attempt or catch Lena as she fell.

But as she shot into the sky, she nearly tumbled when she realized that Lena wasn’t in distress. The shaky breaths and small laughs caused Kara’s chest to tighten in anguish. She’s fine, Kara thought, feeling tears prick the edges of her vision. She’s fine. 

---

“Are you okay?” Lena said, when she finally found Kara in the Tower, sitting on a step. “Alex said she couldn’t find you - you were in the Fortress?”

Kara glanced up from the steps. “I just, um. I was reading in the Fortress, I fell asleep there.” It had the benefit of being true. The Fortress was far enough to drown the sound of Lena’s heart out.

Lena shuffled next to Kara, taking a seat. “I don’t remember seeing any beds there.”

“I float in my sleep,” Kara shrugged, staring at her hands as she let silence fall.

Lena shifted, uncomfortable with the quiet. “Are you okay?”

Yeah, Kara almost said, but something stopped her this time. Perhaps it was the poor sleep. Perhaps it was the litany of I wish I had told you that would replay in her mind.

How many more times am I going to do this?, Kara thought. How many more times am I going to carry that regret? “I love you,” Kara said finally, sensing Lena tense up next to her. “I know… I know that door is closed. But I love you. I should’ve told you so long ago.”

“You… you heard me last night,” Lena wondered softly. “So you went to the Fortress?”

Kara grimaced. “I stopped listening as soon as I realized,” Kara said, fighting a panic. Will she be angry? “I never meant to- to invade your privacy. I’ll be more careful.”

“The door isn’t closed,” Lena said. “If you don’t want it to be.”

Those words made Kara brave enough - or maybe just confused enough - to finally tilt her head up to meet Lena’s gaze. “But- last night-”

“I’ve been trying to get over you. Not very successfully,” Lena added, with a wry grin.

“Really?” Kara smiled.

“Really.” 

---

The matching laws had been long dismantled by the time a smiling Alura officiated their marital rites. Kryptonians didn’t have concepts like best man or matron of honor, but that didn’t stop the two women from inviting Alex and Kelly to stand at each of their sides as they said their vows.

Kara never imagined that it’d be a woman’s wrist she’d place her wedding bracelet on. Though she supposed she never imagined marrying on an asteroid of her father’s creation, or marrying for romantic love, or marrying someone her people would call Hero of Argo for the creation of a black rock.

She never imagined finally telling Lena her secret. She never imagined Lena’s forgiveness. She never imagined the feel of Lena’s lips pressed against her own, hands tugging at her robes, as she whispered zhao against Lena’s lips.

And she never imagined being the one to make Lena’s heart race.

[gardenerian]

Oh oh! Ok! 5 times a Gallagher visits Ian in prison and one time a Gallagher visits Mickey! I'd also love a 5 times a Gallagher visits Mickey in prison and 1 time Mickey has to bail one of them out? I don't know. But that feels like I'm definitely asking too much here.

i'm gonna stop putting things in the tags if yall are gonna keep putting me to work 😤 i'm just kidding, this was a treat. i kinda combined the requests, so we have: 5 times a gallagher visited ian or mickey + 1 time mickey bailed one of them out (with a TWIST!)

1.

lip can't quite sit still as he waits. the lights are too harsh in here, the seat beneath him too rigid. the air is stale - he chokes on it has he takes a ragged breath.

when they picked ian up from the psych unit those years ago - ian thin and shaking beneath his hands - he'd turned to fiona in the waiting room. i can't believe we're back here.

and now: he can't believe he's sitting on another stiff chair, quaking as he waits for his lost brother to be brought to him.

it's different this time, at least in those little ways. ian knows now. he knows what happened, and he knows what needs to happen next. it's a small comfort.

he'd rather have ian at home.

lip feels like he failed ian a little. like he should have fucking seen it. they all should have. but life has been so much lately, and ian slipped through the cracks, as he kind of always has.

and he's sorry. he's sorry that ian felt so lost, so desperate for something to cling to. something so much bigger than him. lip knows what it is to grieve a future, a self that he could have been. he hates to think of ian mourning here alone.

he didn't see ian in that indiana convenience store. he didn't see him swing that bat at debbie, or try shove the couch in front of the door. he didn't see ian, eyes wide and unseeing, plotting his own arrest in the bottom of a church.

he's not sure he would have been able to stand it.

lip has seen ian fight himself. he's seen ian refuse to care for himself and then slowly learn to force himself to try. lip has watched, heart in his throat, as ian put himself together.

and now he's here. now they're here.

as desperately as lip wants, needs, to see ian - to touch him, to feel his little brother safe and real and there - he's afraid to. he's afraid to see ian's face, pale and haunted. he's fucking terrified to see what ian might be after just a few days here.

the buzzer sounds and there he is.

and something is different.

ian is upright and shining. he beams as he walks over to lip, tugging him forward. and it's - it's ian holding lip, ian whispering hey man, ian running a hand over the back of lip's head.

something is different this time. lip relaxes into the idea. even here, something is right.

2.

mickey should have known that as soon as ian made him put every single gallagher on his visitors list, they'd start showing up almost instantly.

ian was right to ask. he wanted his family to be able to come in case something happened - to talk to mickey in case they couldn't get to ian.

but god damn it.

he should have known that it would only be a matter of days before carl gallagher was waiting for him at a fucking picnic table in the yard.

mickey watches him as he makes his way over. he's sitting up straight - fucking military school, ian had told him - eyes darting around the yard. his jaw is set, but his hands are clenched on the table in front of him.

"the fuck you doin' here?" mickey says by way of greeting, and carl jumps at the sound.

"jesus," he snaps. "you're still a dick, huh?"

"you betcha," mickey snorts, slapping carl lightly on the shoulder as he sits.

they sit in silence for a moment, each staring at a life that could have been. carl at the yellow jumpsuit, mickey at the rigid military posture that has largely drifted away from ian.

"what're you doin' here, kid," mickey sighs, "and why ain't you here for ian, huh?"

carl looks away from mickey then, biting his lip and staring down at his hands. mickey kicks his foot under the table.

"i don't want - " he huffs, then stops, pounding his fist lightly on the table. "i always thought it'd be me in here."

mickey doesn't say anything. they all thought that at some point. he raises an eyebrow, waiting for carl to continue.

"ian shouldn't be here," he says. mickey nods, hums in agreement. that's why he came back. ian gallagher doesn't belong here. but - here they are.

"i'm trying to go to west point," carl tells him, finally looking up at him.

mickey stills. oh. another wayward gallagher, turning to the goddamn military for some kind of direction. some kind of purpose. he wants to shake carl, tell him to find something else. but that's not his job.

"and i just," carl continues, "i just feel kinda shitty, i guess. ian just lost shit and i don't wanna..."

"you don't wanna rub it in?"

carl shrugs. mickey nods, settling in his seat a bit. he gets it now, why carl came to him first - he's scared. he wants to be sure ian will be okay when carl tells him his news.

"look, man," mickey says, kicking at carl's foot again. "i'm not gonna pretend to understand why you gallaghers keep insisting on handing your asses over to uncle sam. that doesn't make any fucking sense."

carl opens his mouth to argue, but mickey just holds up a hand. "i don't think ian's gonna care if you wanna do this. he'll probably worry about you, but he'll do that no matter what you do. and he'll be proud of ya."

he knows that's true. ian will be so thrilled that carl's not going to land himself here with them that he'll go full golden retriever. and even if carl did find himself in trouble - ian would be his support. just like he's been mickey's.

carl swallows thickly. "so - he's okay?"

mickey remembers a scared kid in his living room, almost swallowed up by a cave of suitcases. he remembers him sitting close in the backseat of some borrowed car, staring at ian as he slept on mickey's shoulder.

"yeah, kid." it's a promise he's glad to make. "he's okay."

3.

debbie stares down at the table for a full minute before looking up at ian.

he knew something was wrong when she hadn't returned his hug. she just stood limply while ian held her, running his hands over her red hair as he pulled away.

when she finally looks at him, her eyes are wide and wet.

"jesus," ian breathes. "what's going on debs, you alright? did something happen?"

he'd just called home last night, getting passed between lip and liam. neither of them mentioned any real problem. but what if something happened after that? what if debbie had some emergency she hadn't told them about?

ian holds his breath as debbie wipes her eyes with shaking hands. he hates this. he fucking hates this. sitting in here while his family stumbles along without his help. he feels a surge of guilt over it all - leaving them while he serves his time.

"sorry," she says, laughing a little. "i just wanted to see you."

"i'm glad you're here," he tells her. means it with his whole chest. he hasn't seen his little sister since they dropped him off, and he's happy to sit and hold her hand.

"fiona's gone," she whispers.

ian nods. he knows her departure had confused them - probably hurt a little, too. but as another gallagher who snuck away when no one was looking, he understands. sometimes you just can't say goodbye. not if you really need to go.

"yeah," he says, squeezing debbie's hand. he tries to see if the freckle patterns on her fingers look anything like his - they're lighter on her hands, but he's always liked that he wasn't the only one with speckled skin. he smiles when she squeezes back.

"you know about the money she left?" when ian nods, she continues. "i don't understand why she picked me."

"have you asked her?"

debbie shakes her head. "i don't know if i wanna know. not sure i can live up to it. i can't be her."

"debs, look at me." she does, chin wobbling. "no one is asking you to be fiona. no one wants that for you. the whole reason she felt okay to go is that we don't need her like that anymore, yeah?"

"i still need her."

"i know what you mean. sometimes i do, too. but we're okay. you're okay."

his sister scoffs wetly, and he gets it. how okay could it be if they're having this conversation in prison? "well," he amends, "we're about as okay as we usually get."

debbie pulls her hand away, rubbing it over her face as she smiles. "i just don't know what to do with that money."

"give yourself a little time," he soothes. "it's only been a few days. just keep looking out for each other. that's what fiona wanted when she left the money."

"i wish you were home," debbie says, grabbing at his hand again. ian's heart shatters in his chest. "this would make more sense with you there."

"maybe," he murmurs, "but i'll be there soon enough. and until then, you know where to find me if you need me."

4. ["visit" in this one lol]

birthdays in prison are just like any other day. no one wakes you up with a song, no one brings out a cake after dinner, no one claps as you blow out the candles.

ian wasn't used to this, having grown up expecting at least some special attention on his birthday. he'd spent his prison birthday moping a little, missing his family and their inability to not throw a party every goddamn day.

he perked up when mickey fucked him senseless that night, of course.

but mickey's always been used to his birthday just passing him by. ian marked the day when he could, slipping him a joint and a hostess cupcake at their meetups. when they lived together that summer, he'd made mickey a stack of banana pancakes and blew him under the table.

it's quiet this year. ian stares at him all day, leaning over to kiss him whenever he can. he brings mickey some candy from the commissary and writes him a sappy card on a piece of notebook paper.

he expects that to be it. and he's happy.

so when a corrections officer comes by and tosses mickey an envelope, he's a little confused. he hasn't talked to any of his siblings in months - he's not sure they even know he's here.

his mouth drops open when he tears the envelope open to learn that fiona gallagher sent him a fucking birthday card.

"ian," he calls as he reads the scribbled message, "did you tell your sister about my birthday?"

ian, who'd been sitting in his top bunk and clearly working very hard to stop himself from leaning over to read the card, finally swings himself down.

"what? oh - yeah. i guess i mentioned it was coming up on our last phone call."

"did you tell her to do this?"

he hands over the card, which has that goddamn mouse on the front. oh boy, it's your birthday! it reads. the inside taunts him. hooray for you!

yeah, hooray for him. he'll send the fucking thank you note from prison.

hope you're doing alright in there, fiona wrote. keep your head up, thinking of you. thanks for everything. give ian my love!

"course i didn't," ian snorts. "i was just letting her know. didn't think she'd go out to hallmark or anything. s'nice though. that she thought of you."

"sure," mickey says, snatching the card back. thanks for everything. no one thanked him before. and when it was over, none of them cared if his head was up. but then - he never thought he'd be here again. sitting pressed up against ian on his birthday.

maybe everyone's changed a little. maybe she is out there, thinking of him. thanking him.

"it is nice," he agrees, and leans in for a kiss.

5.

"i've got some good news," ian announces as he sits.

"what," lip snorts, "you got an extra helping of mystery meat for lunch? mick let you have his jello?"

ian pointedly ignores him, turning his attention to liam, who sits across from him with wide eyes.

"the good news," he says, "is that i have a parole hearing coming up. might be gettin' outta here sooner than we thought."

lip stands, throwing his hands up in celebration. "holy shit," he breathes, coming around the side of the table to hug him. ian squeezes his brother tight before releasing him. he loves giving lip a happy surprise; he doesn't get enough of them.

"that's fucking great, ian," lip laughs. he elbows liam, who's still watching ian quietly. "isn't that great, liam?"

"great," he says. ian's face falls. does liam not want him home?

"what's wrong, bud?" lip asks him, frowning.

liam heaves a sigh, looking ever older than his ten years. "i'm glad if you're coming home," he says seriously. "but only if you're gonna stay there."

ian quirks his head. of course he's staying at home. where else would he be?

"you go away a lot," liam murmurs, looking down at the table. "just wanna make sure you're sticking around."

fuck. ian glances at lip, who looks back apologetically. maybe ian has been in and out a little since liam really started growing up - running away, staying at mickey's, then caleb's, trevor's, and now on to prison.

all of the gallaghers have been blinking lights in liam's life from time to time, but ian never really thought liam minded his own absence so much.

ian rubs a hand over his face. liam stares up at him, looking a little guilty. ian reaches across the table and runs his hand over liam's head.

"hey," he says, every bit as serious as liam was with him. "i'm sorry i haven't always been around. it was never about you. but hey - that's part of why i'm here, right? to remember what happens when i'm far from you guys. i'm never letting it happen again, okay?"

"okay," liam agrees, and ian wants to cry. liam so freely accepts his word; maybe he'd just needed to hear it. "it's just - fiona..."

"i know, buddy," ian whispers. "she loves you, though. we all do, so much."

lip nods, throwing an arm over liam's shoulder and bringing him close. and at last - liam smiles.

"i hope you'll never wear yellow again, ian. it's not your color."

+1 ✨plot twist✨

mickey storms up to the front desk, slamming his open palms against the counter.

"where're you keepin' her?"

the woman behind the desk looks up, alarmed. "sir?"

"franny gallagher," he growls. jesus christ, these people. they call him on his day off, tell him they've got his niece, and now they have the audacity to act like they don't know what he's talking about?

"right," the woman breathes. "we couldn't get ahold of franny's mother, and you and your husband were next on the list. one moment."

she stands, walking over to an open office behind her and popping her head in. mickey can't hear what she's saying, and he's about to pitch a fit.

he didn't get any details on the phone - only that there was a problem and franny was now waiting to get picked up.

the woman comes back, some dude in a suit following behind her. next to him, dragging her feet, is franny.

"you good, fran?" mickey asks, and she runs to him, tucking herself under his arm.

the suit hands mickey a folded letter. "for franny's mother," he sighs. "details of what happened today. i hope you'll talk to your niece about fighting at school."

"oh yeah?" he grins down at franny, who blushes and hides her face in his arm.

"mr. milkovich," the suit says, "i hope you and your family will take this seriously. please have ms. gallagher call me so we can discuss franny's behavior today."

"yeah, yeah," mickey groans, "see ya."

he hoists franny on his hip and heads for the door. franny rests her head on his shoulder, and when they're nearly at the car, she speaks up.

"james said that redheads are gross and ugly and and we don't have any souls."

mickey snorts; he says that to ian every day. but that's different - who the fuck is this kid?

"well, i think you know that's not true, fran."

"i know it's not," she whines, voice thick with tears, "but he was being a jerk."

mickey sighs. this is the part where he's supposed to tell franny that fighting isn't the answer, that james won't learn that redheads do have souls if one of them punches him in the face.

ian's always been better at these talks than he is. he can't tell franny this, of course, but punching people in the face has historically worked out pretty well for him.

"look," he says, settling her into her seat. "let's get some ice cream, yeah? we'll talk about how smart and nice you are, and how good your very real soul is. then you won't need to punch him if he starts shit, okay? you can just remember what uncle mickey says."

franny nods wildly, and mickey snorts as he climbs into his own seat. he's almost reached his reasonable uncle quota for the day. as he pulls out of parking lot, he makes a mental note to call ian a soulless alien later to make up for it.

[gaeldricge]

Here’s a deal: If you draw me some Grayson x Mel fanart, I will write a ficlet for you!  Now, where are you??

[dojolarusso]

so after i made this gifset, ____ and i got a little excited (especially over the above gif^) and started going back and forth with imagining smutty scenarios based off of it.... and then of course - i took it a step further and wrote a tiny little ficlet. so here it is - it's very small and i've not written anything like this before so go easy on meh.....

You're alone now. Daniel leans back in his chair, huffing out a breathe, exhausted. You bend down to whisper in his ear. "You okay, baby?"

Your hands snake their way from where they were lain against his hips, gliding up to reach his shoulders and start massaging him there. He groans. "I am now."

You smile as you plant a long, hard kiss just behind his ear, causing him to release a long, deep sigh that sends shivers of excitement all over your body. "Oh, yeah?"

"Mm-hm." He moans.

You quirk a brow, giving his now-relaxing shoulders one final squeeze before running your hands over them. You slide them over the collar of his shirt, nails lightly scratching the exposed skin on his neck as you go. They slide down his jacket and onto his plaid shirt: one of your favourites of his flannel collection on him. "What about now?"

"Hmm." Daniel's head is turning up towards yours now. His eyes fall from your eyes to your plump, waiting lips as your hands reach their final destination. The instant you feel his growing appreciation for your sweet crave-worthy touch, your lips connect with Daniel's, swallowing both of your gasps as your tongues begin a passionate dance.

Your eyebrow quirks when you feel his hands start to roam the expanse of your legs, and you think that maybe - it's probably time to head home. You pull away fast and suddenly, meeting Daniel's eye and whispering, "shall we?"

"Y- Yeah- yes." In a raspy voice, he manages to mutter out a reply, all the while attempting to adjust his pants. "I think it's time for bed, don't you?"

[ceruleanmusings]

settle the score

Direct followup to Place Your Bets because i need more cute, bantering, flirty Melisaac in my life and there should have been more downtime moments in Teen Wolf where they get to be actual teens. Though this is set in their college years, the thought still applies.

Tag: @princessofdarkness12​ @ocfairygodmother​ @mystic-scripture​ @thegoodmogadorian​ @foxesandmagic​ @lareiism​ @witchofinterest​ @zadien​ @sgtbuckyybarnes​ @ben-bcrnes​

Isaac was ready for her before she even attempted to tiptoe behind him.

He couldn’t help allowing his wolf hearing to kick in; he wanted to know where she was at any given moment. They didn’t have much time together, after all. Plus, being in Vermont where there was a decidedly nonexistent werewolf population running around, he didn’t have to look over his shoulder every time he attended class waiting for death to inconvenience him so he was admittedly a little rusty and needed the practice—though he had a sneaking suspicion selkies were something he’d need to keep his eye on if whispers around the lake dwellers were anything to be taken seriously. (He made a mental note to bring that up later).

Still, when Mel launched herself at him, colliding with his back, hooking her arms and legs around his neck and waist, he reacted accordingly: he nearly dropped her.

“Isaac!” she all but squealed in his ear, clinging tighter.

Chuckling, he curled his arms around her knees, hoisting her higher on his back. “Sheesh, if that’s all I have to do to make you sound like that...”

Her knees squeezed around his waist, pressing into him. “Dropping me on my head isn’t the best way to go.” Her words vibrated off his neck; she buried her face into the crook of it much like she did when they lay down together. Damn, it’d been too long. “Don’t be a sore loser.”

He scoffed. “I’m not. Only because you just barely managed to beat us...”

“Barely nothing! I got that last goal in fair and square! Your goalie left me a mile-wide space! Remind me to thank him. I’ll bake him some cookies.” He didn’t have to see her face to know she had a big grin adorning her lips, a teasing glint in her eye. He’d become attuned to hearing her facial expressions through the phone. It was a blessing and a curse. Not quite like seeing the same thing in person.

And he wanted to see her.

He knelt, allowing her to slide off his back. Turning, a beaming smile burst onto his face at the sight of her, at the slightly faded maroon sweatshirt hanging to her thighs, the long arms danging over her hands, the black socks up to her knees sticking out her trusty paint-splattered docs. Somehow she looked smaller beneath the sports building looming behind her. Licking his lips, his eyes roamed her from head to toe and he took a step forward, pinching the sleeve of the hoodie. “I’ve been looking for that,”

“Seriously?” Her eyebrow crinkled. “You should have known I had it. I couldn’t go off to college without taking you with me. And since I couldn’t take you with me, I went for the next best thing.” She brought the sleeves up to her face and inhaled, lifting up on the tips of her toes. “Still smells like you too. I always wear it after a game.”

He moved his hands down to where the hem of his old Beacon Hills lacrosse sweatshirt brushed against her skin. “Hmm. Does your campus have a rule against public indecency?” he asked, rubbing his thumbs against her legs, pressing his forehead against hers.

“As much as I would love to find that out the fun way, you owe me a date.” Pressing her finger into his chest, she pushed him away. He grasped her hand before she put too much space between them, lacing their fingers together beneath the large sleeve. “So let’s go! I’m starving.” She marched forwards, pulling him behind her. He fell into an easy pace behind her.

Isaac let out a long sigh. “You have to tell me where to go.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Hey, that wasn’t part of the bet.”

“I don’t know my way around here, Mels,” he pointed out, “you do.”

Isaac nearly collided with her when she stopped abruptly. “Nuh-uh, no way. I won the bet fair and square and you’re renee...reene...rine...you’re taking it back!” A pout briefly settled on her face and then her eyes lit up and she gave a little hop. He really missed her. “Ooh! Actually, I know the perfect bar we can go to.”

“You know I can’t get drunk, right?”

“I’m counting on it. I want you entirely sober for later,” she explain, her words and intentions so blunt, his brain shut down and he was left blinking at her. “But for now, we’re going to have another bet to settle this. It’s a barcade so they have a bunch of games we can play. Loser pays for dinner and we shall see, once and for all, who the real winner is. ...Even though my team kicked your team’s ass.”

“Okay.” Isaac rubbed his chin, pretending to think her offer over. “But what if I say that I let you win?”

She began to walk backwards, lifting her chin, looking him in the eye. He felt it all the way down to his toes. “Then you better prepare to get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness.”

He smirked. “I’ll get on my knees for a different reason; I’m sure either outcome will please you.” Their arms extended as she kept walking backwards; he caught up to her, lifting his arm to spin her around once like a ballerina before draping his arm around her shoulder, right above the large white letters of LAHEY on the back of the sweatshirt, pulling her into his side.

Honestly, he didn’t care where they went or what they did so long as he could shove as much time with her as possible in the next sixteen hours. He had to catch an early flight back to Vermont after being knocked out of the tournament. Besides, he had something important he wanted to ask her.