#like hello this is fucking traffic dumb ass that was no red light

[tired-biscuit]

Hear me out- Motorcyclist!Kiba 😩

please don’t do this to me, i have enough kiba brainrot as it is and imagining him being a biker is gonna make me slam my dumb little head against the wall cos like…….. the JACKET AND THE HELMET?? THE GLOVES?? HELLO?????

i actually saw a tiktok where the guy was asking for a girl’s number while he was on the bike, and he was brave but like so adorably nervous at the same time; like you could see it through the helmet and the body language and by the way how his hands were all over over the place and it was so cute!!

anyways, have this little thing i wrote down below!!

fem!reader // cw: none

i can picture him doing that, where you’re both exchanging glances that are not at all secretive while you’re both waiting side by side at a red light. it goes back and forth for a couple of seconds and it’s playful and fun; he’s clearly checking you out whilst you’re doing the same to his figure, since you can’t see his face.

he’s nice on the eyes. his shoulders are broad and he looks jacked as fuck in the black jacket. the pants make his ass look great even if he’s sitting down on the bike. you can see how his clothes tighten in all the right places when he finally gathers enough courage to lean over, applying steady weight to one foot, and gently taps your car window with one gloved hand.

when you roll it down, he flicks the visor of his helmet up, and before you know it, you’re met with these big, gorgeous brown eyes that just look so warm when they finally connect with your own.

the sight makes your lungs tighten. it’s like you’re staring at rich summer honey; words cannot possibly give his irises enough justice no matter how many adjectives you’d pick. if looks could kill and mend at the same time, it’d be this one.

they crinkle at the corners, his eyes. lighten up when you start to become obviously flustered because of the eye contact. he’s smiling underneath the helmet, the bastard.

“hi,” said bastard says, now.

“hi,” you feebly manage back. your throat feels so unbearably tight all of a sudden. must be the nerves, perhaps even the bashfulness. since when are you one to act so skittish?

silence lingers, the light continues to shine red.

goddammit, get it together!

“can i help you?” you ask cheekily, feeling proud and a little bit more like yourself, now that you’ve also initiated something and that it’s no longer just him putting himself out there.

“oh! yeah, umm… shit, i—” your small, and also very sudden, moment of bravery clearly throws him off. he wasn’t expecting it, so he breaks eye contact by blinking and shaking his head, and lets out a noise that reminds you of a boyish snicker. meanwhile, you burst into quiet laughter in response.

it’s completely lighthearted instead of mocking. you hope that he can tell the difference.

“take your time,” you utter whilst tapping your fingers against the steering wheel, the action just a tad bit complacent. jerking your chin forward, you decide to gesture towards the line of cars in front of you as you add, “it’s not like i’m going anywhere any time soon.”

“hah… yeah.” he rubs his hands over his thighs just to do something. “rush hour, am i right?”

“small talk about traffic,” you mumble, quirking a playful brow. “is that really the best you can do?”

“no. god no, i just— ugh…” he’s jittery as hell now as he tries to keep his cool at your teasing, however you’re pleasantly surprised to find out that his voice is still pretty much perfectly steady after he readjusts on the bike, takes a deep breath and says, “look, m’sorry if i’m being too forward with this, but i just couldn’t help but notice how pretty you are, and i… uh, i guess i wanted to ask you for your number. if that’s cool with ya, of course.”

you smile at the way he words it; at the way his eyes flicker all over your face during it. it’s cute, the way he acts. his mannerisms. how big he is. how goddamn corny that entire jumble of a sentence was, that it somehow even managed to end up endearing at the same time.

you have no clue what overcomes you in that exact moment, what coaxes you to keep flirting with this cute stranger who you don’t even know the name of, but all of a sudden you catch yourself saying, “i’ll give you my number if you take me for a ride on your bike.”

he’s visibly baffled by your answer, because now you can see his eyes widen and his pupils dilate as he says, “shit, like right now?”

“not now, dummy.” you laugh, shaking your head whilst you type in your number in your phone’s keypad and turn the screen towards him. “i’m running late for work right now, but… maybe we could arrange something in the future, yeah?”

“yeah. yeah, of course!” he stumbles on his words as he quickly unzips his pocket and pulls his own phone out. you watch him fumble a bit because of the gloves before he manages to snap a picture of your phone’s screen and glances at you again.

you look at each other for a second too long for it to be considered purely platonic right from the beginning, and it makes your heart start to race. for fuck’s sake, you don’t even know what this man’s face looks like, and yet you can already feel a crush developing somewhere deep within.

“well,” you utter. “you have my number now.”

“thanks.” his eyes crinkle at the corners once more. genuine. “you know, to be completely honest with ya, i didn’t think you’d actu—”

a honk that sounds out from a car that’s situated right behind him interrupts him mid-sentence and makes him jump in his seat. the light had turned green, and that makes people get awfully impatient awfully quick, despite the fact that there’s a proper movie scene from a cheesy romcom unfolding before their very eyes. suckers.

you watch as he hastily tucks his phone back into his pocket and slides into position on the motorcycle. the movement is smooth, expert. natural. he’s clearly no rookie.

he revs the engine twice before he casts you one last look and says, “i’ll text you, okay?”

a grin stretches over your lips. “is that a promise?”

you catch the small wink he gives you before he flicks the visor back into place. “make it a pinky one, sweetheart.”

and just like that, before you can even reply or fuss over the sweet pet name, he’s off. you watch him turn smaller and smaller on the road until it’s your cue to drive off as well. damn.

minutes pass as you listen to the radio and sing along to the songs you’re familiar with. by the time you finally arrive to work and start your shift, you’re feeling pleasantly giddy by the entire exchange. even your feet feel lighter with every step. love, if you could call it that, can be a silly thing at times.

that is until a sudden thought crosses your mind.

oh god, what if he’s ugly underneath the helmet?!

[between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place]

Hello there, i cant believe I almost missed this… or that its been a year since THAT FIC. Thank you so much for blessing us all with your presence in this fandom!!!!!!

My flavor: established relationship post blip aka Brooklyn boys.

My lyric: We've come so far, through the darkest days//The long night's over and I'm starting to believe//I'm not as broken as some made me out to be

(I’ve been obsessing over this lyrics from Running For So Long and them since forever!)

T, darling, thank you for being my cheerleader ever since that first fic and for always yelling with me about these dumb, lovely men 🥰🥰🥰

(so, I was truly planning on doing these prompts in the order I got them but then this whole thing basically came to me while I was falling asleep and one thing lead to another and ... yeah)

I bet you can never guess where this prompt took me.

I’m not as broken as some made me out to be, 2,8 k words, rated T

Read it on AO3 (or under the cut)

Nothing, nothing, a pedestrian crossing the street with a stubby-legged dog bouncing behind them, nothing.

He inhales through his nose, keeps his eye fixed to the scope and keeps counting down the minutes in his head.

A brush of static in his ear piece. With the flick of a switch meditative focus shifts to full battle-readiness.

Then at once a stream of garbled fragments come through, “... ambush … conceal … Barnes … left … watch—” 

His comms give an eardrum-piercing shriek and go stone dead. It’s like someone stuck his head in a vacuum. For a split-second Bucky thinks he’s the one who’s gone deaf, but then the noises of the outside world come flooding back in—distant traffic from the four-lane highway, drunken voices and music spilling out from the clubs two blocks over, a pair of cats howling in the next alley.

“Fuck.” He rips the useless piece of plastic from his ear and pushes up from his sniper’s perch, one hand finding the sheath on his thigh. The weight of the knife in his hand becomes a new anchor point.

Back pressed to the bolted door to the stairwell, Bucky scans the waves of sloping, red-tiled rooftops around him. He doesn’t catch any movement.

The first warning is the hairs on the back of his neck rising. 

A faint crackling buzz fills the air.

He curses soundlessly and wills his sight to penetrate the velvety blackness of the Mediterranean summer night. A bead of sweat stings his eyes. He wets his lips. 

The sharp metallic taste that sticks on the back of his tongue does bad things to his brain.

(a flash of electric blue, the sickening smell of burnt flesh, the cloud of vapor where there had just been a person)

He pinches the skin on his wrist with metal fingers. It pulls him back into the moment a little bit. He sticks his free hand in his pocket and closes his fingers around a flat, hard shape the size of a coin. He squeezes it until the edges digging into his palm threaten to break skin.

A soft whoosh and sudden gush of wind from his eight-o-clock signals another presence on the roof. Bucky’s head twists in the direction of the noise.

Four things happen in quick succession:

A familiar voice calls his name.

There’s a flurry of movement on the next rooftop over.

The crackling noise reaches a peak.

A blue-white pulse cuts through the air, lighting the scene like a camera flash.

At the center of it, two shapes stand like cardboard cut-outs against the black sky. One wields a wide-barreled weapon that radiates with that unearthly light; the other holds a metal disk.

Their target raises his alien weapon. 

Bucky dives toward the figure in red, white and blue.

The night explodes in a blinding light.

+

“That’s it Barnes. You’re done. I’m not gonna be the one to call your boyfriend and tell him a magic shotgun blew out your super soldier brain.”

“Fuck off, Wilson. I was saving your ass,” Bucky spits with adrenaline-fueled vitriol. 

He’s got a splitting headache and no patience for sanctimonious lessons about sticking to mission protocol instead of protecting careless assholes running around with a shield and a hero complex.

Sam just glares back at him, arms crossed over his chest. The wings still on his back add to the air of dignified authority, only lessened by the tired droop of his shoulders.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky can see Maximoff and Belova, perched cross-legged on the low brick wall, exchanging meaningful looks.

A slight figure in all black breaks away from the group of squabbling agents from at least five separate local and international agencies, and strides toward their little huddle.

“Stand down, boys.” Natasha flashes a semi-threatening smile at them. “We’re not done here yet.”

“What’s going on?” Sam asks, blinking away the signs of fatigue and squaring his shoulders as he turns to face her.

“Just some clean up.” Natasha rolls her eyes. “Seems we got all these idiots rounded up, but a couple of them apparently thought they could make a break for it by dumping the evidence in the harbor. Local law enforcement aren’t thrilled to have potentially radioactive alien tech polluting their waters, so we’ve been volunteered to help out.”

Her announcement is met by a chorus of groans.

+

Dawn breaks as they file into the quinjet. 

Bucky stays back while Wanda maneuvers the vibranium-enforced box containing one of the seized weapons into the cargo hold. A humorless security council official had been called in and begrudgingly authorized them to oversee its transport to S.W.O.R.D:s New York lab. 

That a bunch of Thanos-admiring wannabe-nazis managed to dig up buried experimental Hydra weapons of extraterrestrial origin, is in and of itself a non-ideal situation. These particular weapons happening to hit a bit too close to home was only icing on the cake.

Bucky grabs a water bottle from the cooler to rinse the foul, rubbery taste from his mouth. He picks a seat close to the cockpit, straps in, and lets his head drop back against the wall. 

His hands have bunched into fists, the plastic bottle crumpling between his fingers. He flattens them on top of his thighs.

The engines roar to life.

He closes his eyes and forces himself to unclench his jaw. The headache settles at the base of his skull.

+

“A souvenir?”

Bucky lifts his head as Natasha takes the empty seat beside him.

They’re coasting over the Atlantic with Yelena in the pilot’s chair.

He opens his hand and flips the gold-colored medallion between his fingers. He holds the keychain with the ring linked around his ring finger and runs his thumb over the inscribed coordinates for a place where the earth opens at your feet and the sky is tapestry strewn with small lights.

“A promise.”

“Hmm.” Natasha tilts her head like she’s considering his answer. A smile plays at the corner of her mouth. “Not exactly traditional. But at least you didn’t go off and get married in Vegas without inviting any of your friends.”

He doesn’t gape at her or betray his surprise in any other way, but has no doubt she can tell anyway. “Steve told you about … ?”

She raises her eyebrows in a way that says who do you take me for?

“Fair enough.” He clips the keychain back in its place in his pocket. “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

Green eyes glitter with barely concealed amusement. “Was it?”

He opts not to answer her.

The glitter hardens to gleaming stones. “Why are you here, James?”

That question catches him off guard more than her knowing about the engagement.

“What do you mean? We had the mission,” he attempts.

She doesn’t bother responding to his deflection.

“Where else would I be?” he asks, a bit more defensively than he means to.

That earns him another raised eyebrow and full, no-holds-barred sarcasm. “Oh, I don’t know—how about Brooklyn? You know, where Steve ‘I have a martyr-complex and can’t let anyone save the world without me’ Rogers is cozying up in your brownstone.”

Bucky sighs. The headache has traveled up to his temples. He pushes the heels of his hands against his eye sockets.

“Your boyfriend put you up to this?”

He takes some satisfaction in noting the way the word boyfriend makes her eyelid twitch ever-so-slightly before he pushes on. “I thought you would get it. This. It’s what we do. Making things right. Protecting people.” He pauses and meets her eyes. “Crossing off names.”

Natasha looks down at her hands. She shakes her head once from side to side.

“I’m done with that. That’s not why I’m here. I figured the whole ‘dying to save the world’ bit was grounds enough for me to get out.”

“Then why don’t you?”

Bucky follows her gaze to the row of seats on the other side of the cabin—where Sam is sleeping, mouth open, with Wanda’s head resting on his shoulder—and watches it soften into something almost unrecognizable.

When she turns back to him her smile is wry, but there’s a raw vulnerability there he can’t remember ever being afforded to see before. “It’s a bitch, loving people.”

She shakes her head again, grimacing like she’s thought of a joke. “You know, the first time Steve stayed back from a mission, I nearly had to chain him to the wall.”

A pain he knows as affection lances through the gaps in his ribs. “Punk,” Bucky mutters.

They sit in silence as the jet hurls them through the mid-Atlantic night; moving forward and back in time.

Natasha leans down and picks up two containers of high-energy, high-protein sludge from the cooler box. She hands him the chocolate flavored one. It tastes like the idea of chocolate and doesn’t really do anything to ease the gnawing hunger that’s starting to make itself known. He downs half of it in one go.

“What—” Bucky cuts himself off, not knowing if the question he’s thinking of is one he should be asking or even wants to know the answer to. 

Except, he thinks he needs to know.

“What was he like, during … when we were—” belatedly, Bucky realizes that we includes the man sleeping opposite them, who Natasha Romanoff a moment ago admitted to loving, and wants to bite his tongue off “—gone.”

She doesn’t say anything at first. He stares at an uneven weld in the floor.

“He … he never stopped. Never stopped working, never stopped hoping. Not really. But—” Natasha takes a deep breath, as if asking if he’s sure he wants her to continue.

“But?”

She touches two fingers to the back of his wrist. When he lifts his gaze, she looks him straight in the eyes, face impassive.

“But that’s also what broke him down, I think. Steve was a leader. He would talk to everybody else about moving on, moving forward, but the only thing he could bear to look at was the distant past. I think that hope was the only thing that kept him standing—and if he dared to name it, it too would crumble to dust in his hands. So he kept quiet and held on until his fingers were worn to the bone.

“Sometimes, I got to his place and there was a second before he opened the door when I wondered if—this time—he would be gone.”

The cloyingly sweet chocolate curdles in Bucky’s mouth and he has to will himself not to gag. You wanted to know.

He swallows down the bile and the things that want to claw their way out of his gut. “I didn’t—Was he … I know it was bad. But this, it’s the thing we don’t talk about.” Because he’d been afraid of asking, of knowing. Because he’d selfishly told himself he was sparing Steve the pain of carving up old wounds.

Natasha, because she is Natasha, doesn’t look at him with pity or spare him any blows. “He was always bad, when it came to you.”

That hurts in a different way, the ache of broken bones that never set right.

“I know we, what we are, isn’t exactly normal or …”

She laughs then, even if it’s quiet so as not to disturb the others. “James. Take a look around you. Normal’s not really in the cards for people like us.”

She looks across the cabin again. Her hand is still resting on top of his. He flips his own palm up and she laces their fingers together.

“We do the best with what we got and learn to accept that we can have the things that are given to us.”

+

It’s still night in Brooklyn.

The door to the apartment locks behind him with a soft click. The place is quiet, but the presence of another person is still palpable.

Bucky stands on their hallway carpet and lets out a long breath. His shoulders slump forward. The sense of relief that hits him is so sudden and powerful he could almost cry.

He unlaces his boots and walks on socked feet through the dark rooms. In the bathroom he discards the pieces of his uniform one by one and piles them on the floor. Then he flicks the lights on and looks into the mirror and waits for the Soldier to stare back at him.

The person in the mirror grimaces. His face is lined and streaked with dirt. His eyes are a dull gray under the harsh fluorescents. Tired—not lifeless like a machine, but the way only someone who’s alive can be tired.

He pulls out the elastic holding up his hair and lets it drape around his face, sweat-damp and limp, and still he sees only himself.

He washes in the sink, with the meticulous care of a ritual. Dirt and grime and blood stains pure-white porcelain and is rinsed away.

In the towel cupboard there’s clean underwear and that ridiculous, fluffy bathrobe he’ll never admit to wearing around the apartment whenever Steve is out.

The kitchen gets light from the street outside. There’s a dish of leftover creamy mac and cheese in the fridge and he devours it leaning against the kitchen counter. 

He leaves the dish in the sink, brushes his teeth, hangs up the robe on its peg.

He walks toward the bedroom with slowing steps, like he’s not really sure it’s actually there, that his oasis isn’t just a mirage in the desert.

He slinks in through the door and holds his breath until he sinks down on the edge of the mattress. Nothing stirs. Silvery moonlight pokes in through the slit in the curtains. Bucky sits with his hands on his knees and watches it trip over the cracks in the floorboards.

“Hey.” A scratchy whisper makes him turn around.

“Hey, you. I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

Even half-asleep, Steve demands to know how the mission went, and scolds himself for his absence.

Standard mission, Bucky tells him. It’s a white lie, he tells himself.

It’s a testament to how tired Steve really is—and to a level of trust Bucky can’t wrap his head around—how quickly he relents once he’s confirmed everyone is all right.

He lies down in their bed and Steve, sleep-drunk and sweet as anything, curls up to him. Without reservation.

Bucky cradles his jaw and traces the shape of him, the softness, the way he yields and melts under a tender touch—melts to fill cracks and smooth out jagged edges.

It’s the most precious thing he’s been given. And no, he doesn’t think that he deserves it, could ever deserve it—but he’s starting to think he could learn to accept it.

To have and to hold.

He thinks Steve’s fallen asleep when he opens his mouth and confesses to the darkness. “I think this was my last one. I think I’m done.”

The arms around him tighten their grip.

+

“Morning.” He slides out a chair and plants his elbows on the kitchen table.

“Morning, Buck,” Steve greets him over the shoulder from the counter where he’s putting together … something with oatmeal and yogurt and fruits. (Bucky’s the first to admit his own knowledge of 21st century cooking isn’t the most extensive.) "Sleep all right?"

Bucky grunts an affirmative. He could have done with another four hours, but what sleep he did get was calm and undisturbed by replays of yesterday’s mission.

He makes a grateful grab for the mug of steaming coffee Steve puts down in front of him. 

Steve lingers by the table, hands hanging by his sides. Bucky sacrifices the feeling in his tongue for a glorious mouthful of coffee and waits for him to speak.

“Did you mean what you said? About quitting,” Steve says quietly. He’s got his eyes cast down, tracing the pattern of the table cloth.

Bucky’s throat closes up unexpectedly. “Yeah,” he croaks out.

When Steve looks up at him, eyes shiny with hope, he wants to bang himself over the head for not getting here sooner. 

“Why now?” Steve asks. “What changed?”

“Had a talk with Romanoff. She’s got our number by the way.” He reaches out and touches a fingertip to the dog tags hanging over Steve’s t-shirt; his name resting in the only real home he's known in this lifetime.

Steve smiles. “Figures.” 

He folds his fingers around Bucky’s wrist and keeps his hand there, pressed to his chest. “Welcome home, Buck,” he whispers.

The way Bucky’s eyes prick must be a delayed reaction to the coffee scalding his throat. 

“Thanks for waiting, sweetheart.”

“Always.”

[poisoned-peppermint]

Part 3 of incorrect quotes because people liked the other ones

~~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: I think I just figured something out. I got to go.

Bad: Aren't you forgetting something?

Skeppy: Uuh...*hesitantly kisses Bad's forehead before running out.*

Bad: No, pay your bill! Dang it, who raised you? 

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Well, Skeppy and I finally did it!

The rest of the squad: *gasps, shocked expressions, etc.*

Bad: That's right... We kissed!

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: I love you.

Bad, not paying attention: What was that?

Skeppy: I said I’m selling you to the zOo-

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: You’re not jealous, are you?

Bad: No!

Skeppy: Good, ‘cause I consider my fake relationship with you a lot more meaningful. 

~~~~~~~~

*Bad and Skeppy are in Paris.*

Bad: I'm...moved. I...I don't know what it is I'm feeling right now. I feel...destiny?

Skeppy: But...

Bad: I don't know what it is. I feel like... I just never thought I'd see it with my own two eyes. And here it is. It's just there. It's right in front of me, and...

Skeppy: This is what you wanted to see? The bridge from Inception?

Bad: Yeah.

Skeppy: But the Eiffel Tower is behind us, babe.

Bad: Yeah, but this is the bridge FROM INCEPTION.

Skeppy: Okay, alright

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Sorry I’m late, I was doing things.

Skeppy: Hi, I’m ‘things’

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Are you sure Bad's even gay? They barely even looked at me.

~~~~~~~

Bad: Ugh, crushes are so dumb.

Skeppy: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid.

Bad: But you’re always acting stupid?

Skeppy: ...

Skeppy: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Can I have 2 straws with that milkshake?

Skeppy: Aww-

Bad: With 2 straws, I can drink it double as fast!

~~~~~~~

Bad: I’m going to defeat you with the power of friendship! ... And this knife I found

~~~~~~~

Bad: So... what would you do if you were in bed with me?

Skeppy: Depends. Is your bed comfortable?

Bad: Yes.

Skeppy: I'd sleep.

~~~~~~~~

Bad, to Skeppy: We had a date!

Bad: *aggressively points to Hello Kitty Coloring Book*

~~~~~~~~

Bad, at the slightest provocation: I came into this earth screaming and covered in someone else's blood and and I'm not afraid to leave the same way. 

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: That was so hot, Bad.

Bad: I literally called the person who just flirted with you a degenerate dog and told them I hope they get dragged through the streets.

Skeppy: I'm so in love with you

~~~~~~~~

Dream: Where's Sapnap, Skeppy, and Bad?

George: They're playing hide and seek.

Dream: Where?

George: I don't think you get how this game works.

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Good morning.

Bad: Good morning.

Sapnap: Good morning.

George: You all sound like robots, try spicing it up a bit.

Dream: MORNING MOTHERFUCKERS! 

~~~~~~~

Sapnap: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast?

George: Several traffic violations.

Dream: Three counts of resisting arrest.

Bad: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks.

Quackity: Also, that’s not our car.

~~~~~~~

Sapnap: Hi, could I ask how exactly does one accidentally set a lemon on fire??

Quackity: Microwave for 40 minutes. 😔

Bad: Why were you microwaving a lemon???

Quackity: I read boiling lemons helps cover up bad smells (I wanted to cover up the scent of burnt oranges) but I didn't own any pots.

Karl: Did you burn an orange too? How???

Quackity: Microwave for 40 minutes. 😔

~~~~~~

Tommy: Is stabbing someone immoral? Techno: Not if they consent to it. Wilbur: Depends who you’re stabbing. Phil: YES?!?

~~~~~~~

Tommy: *Screams*

Wilbur: *Screams louder to establish dominance*

Phil: Should we do something?

Techno: No, I want to see who wins.

~~~~~~~

Phil: Wake me up…

Techno: Before you go go!

Wilbur: When September ends…

Tommy: WAKE ME UP INSIDE-

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Techno isn’t answering their phone

Phil: I’ll call

Tommy: Wilbur and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

Techno: Hello?

~~~~~~~

Cop: You’re receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle.

Phil: Shit.

Techno: Wait, three?

Cop: Yeah?

Wilbur: OH MY GOD TOMMY FELL OFF!!!

~~~~~~~

Tommy: ARE YOU-

Wilbur: Fucking.

Tommy: KIDDING ME?! YOU-

Wilbur:Fucking.

Tommy: IDIOT!

Techno: …What was that?

Wilbur: Phil banned Tommy from swearing, so I’m helping them out.

~~~~~~~

Wilbur: *tapping fingers on table*

Techno: *taps fingers back furiously*

Tommy: …What’s going on?

Phil: Morse code. They’re talking.

Wilbur: -.-- ..- .-. / - …. . / -.-. ..- - . … -

Techno: *slams hands on table* YOU TAKE THAT BACK! 

~~~~~~~

Tommy: I'm bored.

Techno: Wanna commit first degree murder?

Tommy: Sure!

Phil, hearing them: No- Stop, don't do that! Put that knife down! Put Wilbur down!!

~~~~~~~

Wilbur: Oh god, they texted you ‘hi.’’ punctuation only means one thing, Phil. They're mad at you.

Phil: No, it's Tommy. They're just being grammatically correct!

*meanwhile*

Tommy: And then I used a period so they'd know that I'm mad at them.

Techno: A period doesn't say 'I'm mad', it says 'you're dead to me'.

Tommy: I stand by my choice.

~~~~~~~

Wilbur: Phil, we're hungry!

Techno: Phil! What's for dinner?

Tommy: We're hungry, Phil!

Phil, frying a bottle of ketchup over the stove: *screams* 

~~~~~~~

Wilbur, writing in a letter: "I'm going to kick.. your... ass."

Wilbur: THERE. Now send it.

Tommy:: Dude, your handwriting is terrible, are you sure you want to-

Wilbur: JUST DO IT!

later

Phil: So what does it say?

Techno, reading the letter: They say they're going to "lick my...."

Phil:

Techno:

Phil: Gross- 

~~~~~~~

Quackity: Karl, what do IDK, LY, and TTYL mean?

Karl: I don’t know, love you, talk to you later

Quackity: Ok, I love you too, I’ll just ask Sapnap.

~~~~~~~

Quackity: I love you guys, you're the best thing that's happened to me.

Karl: We're the best thing that's ever happened to you?

Quackity: Yes!

Sapnap: I'm starting to feel a little sorry for you.

~~~~~~~

Quackity: Sapnap and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us

Karl: *Sighing* What did Sapnap do?

Quackity: They chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and...

Sapnap: Who wants a steering wheel?

~~~~~~~

Quackity: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.

Karl: Wasn't Sapnap with you?

Sapnap: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised. 

~~~~~~~~

Sapnap: Karl you can’t move in with Quackity. Karl: Why not? Sapnap: Well, um, how are you going to feel when they see you without any makeup? Karl: I’m not wearing makeup right now. Sapnap: Holy crap, you’re beautiful.

~~~~~~~

Sapnap: *is wearing silk pants* How does this look?

Quackity: Like its slips on and off really easily.

Sapnap:

Quackity: No, I didn't mean it like that-

Karl: We know what you meant. 

~~~~~~~

Quackity: I didn't drink that much last night.

Karl: You were flirting with Sapnap.

Quackity: So what? They're my Husband.

Karl: You asked if they were single.

Karl: And then you cried when they said they weren't.

~~~~~~~

Karl: Why doesn’t Sapnap find me sexy when I bite my lip?

Quackity: What do you look like when you bite your lip?

Karl: *bites lip*

Quackity: ...Have you considered biting your bottom lip instead? 

~~~~~~~

Bad: Are you trying to seduce me?

Skeppy: Why, are you seducible?

~~~~~~~

Bad: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine.

Skeppy: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again.

Bad: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns??

Skeppy: Is it working? 

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Relationships should be 50/50. Bad cooks us dinner while I sit on the kitchen counter looking pretty. 

~~~~~~~

Bad: I still have no idea how I’m attracted to you...

Skeppy: Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me, and no take backs, honey.

~~~~~~~

Bad: The first time I saw you, you stole my heart.

Skeppy: But I'm a kleptomaniac, so that doesn't mean anything. 

~~~~~~~

Bad: Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos-

Skeppy: I wrote you a poem.

Bad, already crying: You did?

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: This date is boring!

Bad: This isn't a date. I said I was going to the store.

Skeppy: Then why did you invite me?

Bad: I didn't, I specifically said "don't come with me" then you said " screw you Bad I'll do whatever I want!

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: When you said 'Magic in Bed', I wasn't expecting this...

Bad: *pulls out card from deck* Now, was this your card?

Skeppy: Holy moly- 

~~~~~~~

Bad: I owe you one.

Skeppy: That’s ok. You can just date me and we’ll call it even. 

~~~~~~~~

If this does as well as the others I’ll make another.

[jimlingss]

Jungle Park [5]

Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

➜ Words: 4.3k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Light Humour (?), Slice of Life, Workplace Romance!AU

➜ Summary: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

➜ Warnings: swearing and taxi passengers slut shaming and being general assholes.

It’s too hard to stay awake.   It’s...too—…...difficult…..   “Y/N?” You’re shaken awake by someone’s hand coming to gently squeeze your shoulder. Immediately, you jolt back to life, looking around to find yourself in the office. Right. “Are you alright?”   Sunyi comes back into focus and you realize Hyuk and Lisa are already looking at you, watching your face as if you have a spider on your forehead and they don’t want to scare it away. “What? Oh, sorry. I was...um...distracted for a second there. What did you say?”   You can tell she doesn’t quite believe you, but the lawyer doesn’t push it either. “A bunch of us are going to dinner tonight. We were wondering if you wanted to join us?”   “Dinner?” This is the moment you’ve been waiting for. It’s what you’ve always wanted. To finally be a part of the group, catch late night drinks or eat food, to actually befriend these people beyond the workplace setting. “I would love to….but...tonight?”   Of all nights. Why tonight?   “You can’t make it?”   “I...already have plans.” It hurts so bad — it’s like you’re a kid who’s been waiting for your birthday for months and on the day of, it turns out you can’t even attend your own party because of a dentist appointment.   “Aw.” Hyuk hangs his head and pouts, eyes flickering down the expanse of your body quicker than you can even register. “What a shame, thought I’d be able to finally get to know you.”   “I’m sorry. I should’ve known.”   Maybe it looks like you’re about to burst into tears, because then Sunyi smiles softly. “No, it’s okay. How could you have known? There’ll be plenty of other times. How about lunch tomorrow?”   “Lunch?” There’s a tone of hope and eagerness in your voice and you know you’re being pretty childish and pathetic, but you’re too exhausted to put on a more professional façade. “That works for me. I’ll clear up my schedule.”   “Alright.” Sunyi grins. “Tomorrow, a bunch of us can gather up for lunch.”   You smile, nodding your head. “Sounds good.”   A handful of people from the office begin to file out at five o’clock. You bid them a goodbye and goodnight. But someone else lingers behind and she seems to hesitate. “Hey, Y/N.” Lisa stands to the side and you wonder if anything’s wrong — ironic considering her next question is addressed to you. “Are you okay?”   “Yeah, I’m fine,” you reassure her with your lips upturned.   The receptionist nods. “Okay. Goodnight then.”   “Bye.” You watch as she catches up with the group, slightly touched that she shows concern for your well-being. Though, the question lingers in your head — ARE you okay? If you’re completely frank with yourself, you’re not sure.   On the way home, you accidentally fall asleep on the subway. Your head bobs up and down and ends up on the shoulder of a granny and you apologize profusely, nearly hurting your neck when you try to use your own shoulder as support. Then once you make it home, you fall on the couch to take a two hour nap. A symphony of blaring alarms is what you wake up to. After, you force yourself to get up, you wash your face, eat something quick, have a cup of coffee…   Then….   “Hello!” You twist around to face the backseat with a bright smile. “Where are you off to tonight?”   “The Kelpers Club on seventh avenue,” one of the three guys say and you nod, pulling off the curb and into the road.   “Oh, fuck!” The dude from the left seat startles you, but when you glance at the rear-view mirror, thankfully he’s not talking to you. He’s staring at the screen of his phone and his friends are glancing over. “Look what Tiffany just sent me.”   “Holy shit!” They reach over to punch the guy in the arm, laughing and grinning. They’re a rowdy and obnoxious bunch, but you try your best to keep focus on the road ahead of you. “Dude, you need to send me that. I could probably rub three or four out with that hot pic.”   They each have a water bottle with them, taking sips every so often and by the smell of their breaths that waft over to ruin your breathing space, you’re almost certain that it isn’t water they have in there. “Did you really tap that last night?”   “Yeah.” He smirks. “She keeps on texting me though. It’s so fucking annoying. Clingy bitch. It’s no wonder her boyfriend of four years cheated on her with her best friend. And she thinks we’re an exclusive item just cause I took her out once. What a joke. She’s desperate and a mess.”   Your left eye twitches and you run the yellow light that you normally would’ve slowed down at. The dude in the center laughs. “But c’mon, how is she? How does she take it?”   The other lets out a snort and rolls his shoulder. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you. She’s a freak. She wanted me to slap and spank her. The skank choked on me like five times and even took it in the ass.”   “Holy shit!” They’re in an uproar, piercing sound of their chortles deafening to your ears. They punch him again, saying things like he’s a lucky bastard and what they would give to be in that position. But what’s the absolutely last straw for you is— “You could probably get it in if you want. I bet she’d like taking two or three cocks at once too. Tiffany is a massive slut.”   They roar and howl like animals in heat and one of them opens their mouth to add a comment, but you floor the gas on an empty street and their bodies lurch forward. “Do you want me to change the radio?” you interrupt before anything else can be said and before your blood pressure spikes more than it has.   “No. It’s fine.” They catch themselves when you stop at a red light.   “Do you want me to turn on the heating or air conditioning?”   “We’re fine,” one of them grunts out in annoyance. You ignore him and slam off the air conditioning, rolling all the windows up to seal shut and hitting the heating button. It begins to blast, though you don’t mind if you get too warm. It’s much too rewarding to look at the rear-view mirror and see all three guys squished up against each other, extremely hot and uncomfortable, hair becoming wet with sweat. You hope their vodka gets too warm and stale to drink.   “I’m having trouble finding the destination,” you lie without blinking twice. You loop around and around the blocks, purposely driving over the manholes at full speed and enjoying how the car launches slightly at every bump and they hit their heads on the roof of the small vehicle.   “It’s the left!”   “Left or right?” You feign innocence and stupidity as if you don’t understand basic directions. “Which one?!”   “Left!” He shouts.   You twist your wrist roughly, swerving the steering wheel to the right. “Oops!”   “What the hell?!” They’re in disbelief and you kill fifteen minutes, going all over the blocks and taking wrong turns, somehow even ending in the suburban area. When you’re satisfied with messing with them, you pull up on the curb...in the middle of nowhere.   “Whelp, we’re here.” You turn around with a blazing smile and their jaws are dropped, brows furrowed, finding the situation completely absurd. “It’s just down the block.” More like down thirty blocks. “The traffic is too much to get close. Sorry ‘bout that.”   “There’s no traffic,” one of them says, but you ignore them and they pull out their wallets to split the fare. They get out one by one with deep scowls, slamming the car doors shut, hard enough to damage your precious taxi. Before closing the last door, one of them pops their head through and mutters something you hear loud and clear, “dumb bitch.”   You end up driving directly into a mud puddle, splashing them in the brown slush and making it look like they collectively shat in their pants. You cackle as you pull off into the street again.   They didn’t even tip you.   “Hello. Where are you off to tonight?”   “The airport, please.”   “Certainly.”   It’s not like you’re passionate about taxi driving. You specifically sought out the HR position to leave this behind, to actually chase after what you want. But here you are, crawling back to your old career and balancing between your day and night job.   Even though Hoseok declared a truce between the two of you, you still can’t get rid of the feeling that he might fire you one day. You wouldn’t know what to do if one day you’re seated on the other side of the conference table with Jimin and Hoseok across from you, delivering the news that you’re not needed anymore. You wouldn’t know what to do if you’re thrown off on the street without a job. You wouldn’t be able to pay your bills. You wouldn’t be able to pay for food.   More importantly, you would have to move back with your mom.   The nightmare haunts you.   And you still have the lease on the cab. It’s been sitting in your apartment parking spot — might as well use it, right? At the end of the night, you get another wad of cash that goes directly into your savings. Doing this is better than sitting at home and worrying about your future, mindlessly watching television and surfing the internet, walking around, and….sleeping.   A little bit of sleep sacrificed isn’t a big deal.   Your eight-hours of sleep is merely split up throughout the day — naps taken on the subway to and from the firm, a two hour slumber before taking the taxi night-shift, another four hours afterwards before heading to the office. Occasionally, you might doze off in your office too, but no one really notices when you turn your chair towards the window and it seems like you’re staring out at the cityline.   Thankfully, Hoseok hasn’t noticed either.   “Excuse me?” The girl in the backseat stirs awake from her drowsiness, looking out the window. “I think we’re here.”   “Oh, sorry. I was thinking about someone—......I mean something. I was thinking about something.” You scramble with a laugh, parking the car and getting out to help with the passenger’s luggage in the trunk. She doesn’t seem that upset with you, even smiling and thanking you for the ride, tipping you a decent five dollars.   Things aren’t too bad.   “Aren’t you driving too slow?” A middle age woman impatiently quacks in the backseat of your car, pushing herself up closer to you. “Can’t you go faster?”   “Uh...I’ll try my best.”   Really, things aren’t too horrible.   ….   It could be worse.   //   The only thing you’re looking forward to is lunch. When you wake up in the morning, you’re already buzzing with excitement. As pathetic as it is, you can’t remember the last time you shared a meal with other people. If things go well, then people in the office will really begin to get comfortable with you and maybe you’ll have a few workplace friends that will become your friends out of work too. You’re excited, and you hope it doesn’t show too much.   “Hey, ready for lunch today?” Sunyi has popped into your office first thing in the morning with a smile. “You didn’t forget, did you?”   “Of course I didn’t,” you laugh.   “Good. We’re going down the block to that italian restaurant. They have a really good lunch menu, cheesesteak and sandwiches and soups too.”   “That sounds great,” your cheeks are almost bursting with your smile. “Who’s coming along with us?”   “You and I obviously,” she jests in a light tone. “And also Seulgi, Namjoon, Hoseok and unfortunately, the leech freeloader Min Yoongi. Trust me, I didn’t want him to join, but he self invited himself like the asshole that he is. He invited himself and Hoseok. I knew I shouldn’t have talked about it with Seulgi when we were all in the elevator earlier...”   You stifle back a laugh. “That’s completely fine.”   “Alright, see you later then.” The woman sighs and checks her phone briefly. “Gotta get some work done before we run on out.”   Your head nods once and she’s on her way.   //   For the first hour, you focus on running through more applications and looking for a suitable paralegal. There still hasn’t been anyone hired to fill Sebin’s position, but there’s not too big of a rush. Hoseok would rather you take your time to go through and choose carefully, rather than picking someone right off the bat. Plus, he’s also told you that things are actually running fairly well with the three paralegals already on the team, smoother than he expected.   You make a few phone calls, setting up interview dates and times. But then someone stops by your office. “Hey,” Namjoon greets you and before you can ask if he needs any help, he beats you to the punch. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m helping Jimin with mediation. The client re-booked it at twelve thirty, so I don’t think I can go later.”   “No, it’s okay. Work takes priority anyways,” you wave him off and he smiles, promising he’ll make time some other day for lunch. Not another twenty minutes pass by before you find yet another person standing at your doorway, balancing a huge mountain of files. “Are you alright?”   “I don’t know,” Seulgi admits in all honesty and looks like she’s on the verge of tears. “I just remembered I forgot to submit the affidavits and orders yesterday that were given to me by Jungkook and I think Hoseok’s going to fire the both of us if it’s not in submission. I’m helping him and we both have to run down there and I don’t know how long it’s going to take or if it’s even possible at this point—”   “Seulgi,” you call her name calmly to reassure the girl. “It’s okay.”   “I’m so, so sorry. Can I ask for a rain check?”   “Of course you can. I’m always free.”   By eleven o’clock, a full hour before the designated time, there’s another person at your door. This time, it’s a shorter man with full cheeks and messy black hair. He rubs at his sleepy eyes, barely able to keep them open. But when he looks at you and you look at him, it’s like a telepathic message is sent. “Can’t make it?”   “Yeah,” Min Yoongi responds in a husky tone as if he just got up from a nap, but plans to take another.   “It’s okay.”   But is it? — Really. — Is this okay?   There’s nothing you can really do even if all your insides are crying. What? Should you just drop to the ground and start crying? You’re going to need at least five shots before you throw a temper tantrum at your workplace. Things get busy, life gets busy, people get busy. You’re more than understanding and it’s just lunch. There will be plenty more opportunities to come. So…   “It’s fine,” you reassure the lawyer in front of you who has her bottom lip quivering and her brows furrowed deep enough you’re certain that wrinkles will permanently mar her skin.   “I’m so, so sorry. I know you were looking forward to this. I just had no idea that my schedule was already booked up with a client. I….I could change it and we can still go out—”   “Don’t be ridiculous.” You laugh, thankful that she’s worried this much over it. At least it’s better than the times in High School where people invited you out and didn’t even show up because ‘it’s just a prank, bro’. Your hand goes to gently squeeze Sunyi’s shoulder, channeling your maternal voice that doesn’t really exist to soothe her. “We can do this some other day. I’m gonna be around for a long time, so there will be plenty more opportunities. Just focus on work since that’s what you’re here to do anyways. It’s really not that big of a deal.”   “Okay, thank you,” Sunyi breathes a long sigh of relief, happy that you didn’t take the unfortunate circumstances to heart. Little does she know just how disappointed you are.   Reminds you of that time your mom promised you to go to Disneyland and you ended up Chuck E. Cheese instead.   //   At twelve o’clock sharp, Hoseok appears at your door with his phone in hand. You stare at him, waiting for him to say something as he stares at the screen and his thumbs move, probably texting someone important. It’s an awkward thirty seconds that feel like a whole two minutes before he puts down the device and looks at you. He frowns and takes a peek out your door.   “Is there no one else?”   “No.” You scratch the back of your neck before putting your palms in your lap. “Everyone is busy.” It’s only you and him. You’re not sure how you feel about that; maybe partly tense and apprehensive while the other part doesn’t mind so much.   “Okay.” Hoseok shrugs nonchalantly, hands in his coat pockets. “There’s no point in going then.”   “Oh...yeah…” You stand up awkwardly, trying to shuffle past him. Your stomach makes a noise that doesn’t sound too healthy and you hope he can’t hear it. “I’ll uh...I’ll just grab something from the kitchen then.”   “Wait.” He stops you, grabbing your wrist before you can run off. When he realizes he’s touched you without permission, he lets go right away, mumbling some kind of apology before you tell him it’s fine.   “You didn’t bring anything with you?” He asks and you don’t answer. Jung Hoseok must read your expression like an open book because then he smiles slightly. “Okay, nevermind, let’s go.”   “Pardon?”   “Just the two of us,” he says and walks off, making you stumble behind him and try to match his wide, fast strides. The lawyer glances over his shoulder towards you. “You don’t mind right?”   “I...I don’t mind.” Except a one-on-one lunch with your boss is not what you envisioned.   Instead of the fancy italian cafe, you follow his lead into a hole-in-the-wall. It’s a warm and cozy atmosphere, with two or three other tables full. Interestingly enough, they serve comfort food and the menu is deprived of a variety of different cultures. You end making an order of porridge with a side of mac and cheese and he orders curry with cold noodles.   It’s served quickly and all at the same time, so you don’t hesitate to dig in.   The only problem is when silence settles down, you’re not sure what to say. You’re not even sure where to look. Glancing up and locking your eyes with his only makes it more excruciatingly awkward.   “You know, I already told you that you don’t have to tiptoe around me,” Hoseok mutters and takes a large bite, looking up at you with his arm propped up on the table, holding a spoon and completely amused as he gawks at you.   “What?”   “You’re always stiff and nervous around me. But I won’t bite your head off…….probably.”   “I’m not nervous,” you defend yourself even when it’s a massive lie.   Hoseok laughs and almost chokes on his food. “Yeah, you are. Your eyes keep shifting and I can see that you’re beginning to sweat. You know…” He leans closer like he’s about to exchange a secret. “...makes it seem like you did something wrong or you’re a criminal. Last I checked, I’m not a criminal attorney, so I’m not sure I can help you if you did something illegal.”   You take a spoonful of the porridge, letting the taste linger on your tongue for a second before you stuff your cheek to chew a bit and swallow it down. “The only illegal thing I’ve one is steal someone’s wifi and probably jaywalking.”   “Wait, I should record this confession for evidence,” he teases with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a massive grin. You wonder if the other people at this office know this side of him. “These are very serious crimes. How many times have you jaywalked and who’s wifi have you stolen?”   “Oh please.” You roll your eyes. “You act like you haven’t done anything ‘illegal’ either.”   He scoffs at how you use air quotations with your fingers, also slightly offended. “Just letting you know, I live a very morally upright life. I don’t break the law. I work for the law. In fact, I am the law.”   “Yeah, right.” You click your tongue in feigned annoyance, muffling back some laughter. “What about that time you were drunk and passed out in front of the library? Made me have to drag you back. That’s public intoxication.”   “I did what?”   Your eyes go wide. Right. He doesn’t remember. You might’ve gotten too carried away, too caught up when he’s sitting right across from you, and it’s only you and him. But there’s no going back now, you might as well mess with him. “Or that time you shoplifted an entire refrigerator. And that time you started a pimp business to pay off your loans. Those were the days, right, Hoseok?”   “No way.” He leans back and crosses his arms, trying to repress his laughter that threatens to spill over. “I would never. That’s something I can’t believe. You need to come up with more reasonable lies than that, Y/N.”   Your food is left abandoned when you’re trying hard not to break into hysterical laughter. “So you believe how you wanted to piss in a library book, but ended up passing out in front of the library instead?”   There’s a long held silence. “That…..I can believe.”   A cheeky grin is plastered on your face, making your jaw ache a bit and you take a few more bites before your pupils flicker up. “Thanks, by the way. Just thought I’d say that.”   “For what?” He eats, chewing and swallowing, taking a sip of his water in the process.   “This. I mean...you didn’t have to come along with me.”   “You make it sound like I’m going to treat you to this.” The lawyer points a fork towards you and narrows his eyes while the corner of his mouth twitches oh so slightly. “Is that your tactic? You think I’m going to pay for your meal?”   “No!” You can’t help your giggles. “That’s not what I’m trying to say!”   “I can see right through you.” He has a playful smile and eyes you. The glare is less sharp and pointed, lacking real animosity or frustration. It’s much cuter and the stark contrast from him outside and joking around to his professionalism in the office nearly gives you whiplash.   “I saw your photo on the firm’s website.” It’s a little out of nowhere, but the thought pops into your head as you stare at the man. “And no offence, but you look way better in real life. You’re not photogenic at all.”   “Is that an insult?” Jung Hoseok gasps theatrically and you wonder why he didn’t just major in drama and become a comedic actor. He seems to have a knack for it.   “It’s not!”   “Or are you trying to say I’m handsome?” He puts down his utensil and nods. “Oh, I see. You don’t want me to pay for your meal. Thinking big picture, huh? You’re trying to say I’m a lot more handsome in real life because you want a raise, don’t you?!”   “I never said that!” At this point, the two of you are so loud that a few patrons are looking over, but none of you notice. He twists your words so much, it’s ridiculous and you’re left baffled and laughing. Maybe it was right for him to be a lawyer after all.   “You think I wouldn’t see your strategy.” He scrapes his bowl, eating everything that’s left while mischievously shaking his head in feigned disapproval. “Trying to boost my ego for a raise. How low is that. But what’s even more unbelievable is that it’s working. Keep going.”   You laugh again, this time refusing to utter even one syllable or make a sound. Hoseok finishes eating in the meanwhile and you pierce the carrots on your plate, putting it on his clean one. He looks up at you with brows raised. “You hate carrots? I never thought you’d be a picky eater.”   “No, I don’t hate it,” you muse. “You like it, don’t you?”   If it’s possible, his brows raise even higher. “How did you know?”   You shrug, looking away from him. “Let’s just say, I really want that raise.”   “Pft.” He pierces the carrot with the fork, inhaling it all at once and chews thoughtfully. “You better not be stalking me.”   “I won’t need to if I get a little somethin’-somethin’.” You rub your fingers on one hand together, indicating a thick wad of cash and he grins, eating the carrot happily.   A few months ago, if someone told you that one day you’d be sitting across from Hoseok and actually conversing and even laughing like normal adults, you would’ve probably floored the gas pedal of your taxi to get away in fear of that person being absolutely insane.   You expected to have lunch with coworkers and perhaps establish friendships out of the workplace. You definitely didn’t think you’d end up rekindling some kind of ancient relationship with your boss. But you don’t mind at all. It’s just more than what you bargained for in the best way possible.

[brattywriters-anonymous]

A Rose In Harlem

OC x Erik story

Based on Teyana Taylor’s VII & KTSE

WARNINGS: Cursing, slow burn, Hate at first sight.

Winter, 2013.

A brisk December day approaches Syeda (Syd for short) in her small Uptown studio apartment that she’s dishing out way too much money for. She rubs her eyes in disdain that the sun is up again, she only just gotten to bed three hours ago, working on her lookbook for her fashion line the entire night prior. Syeda worked hard, and played hard. She not only lived the montra, she loved it. She rose out of her bed and stumbled to her bathroom, conveniently tripping over a pile of the clothes that she wore the day before.

She flipped the switch, the fluorescent light flickered its usual three times before turning on completely as her slender framed mug came into full view.  Her view spanned over her caramel skin complexion. Her face lightly covered with faint freckles over her cheeks, her full lips, and the scar under her right cheekbone that her dog gave her when she was nine. She huffed at the faint mark, the loc of frizzy and curly hair that covered her face moved up and down as she did so. She grabbed her red bandana designed iPhone  from the dresser that was adjacent from the other side of the bathroom door and clicked through her Apple Music until she stopped at her Harlem4L playlist, she decided to start her day by blasting Cam’ron x Lil Wayne “Suck it or Not” She dance/strutted back into the bathroom, grabbed her large tooth comb from the counter and began to lip sync, “Ma, I been huggin’ the block/ That’s right. Hustlin’ rocks./ I know I been puffin’ a lot/ But a nigga wanna know baby girl you gon suck it or not?” Her free arm moving along to every other syllable of every bar as if she was Cam himself, rapping at the Apollo Theatre. She chuckled at herself and moved along to the shower, throwing on her shower cap. She was turning on the hot water..or so she thought. The hot water was out again and Mr. Van Den Berg, Syd’s elderly landlord and the tenant in the loft downstairs, said that the plumber came last month and fixed the issue. She groaned and practically threw on her camel colored Uggs before she stomped out the door.

She swung the door open and immediately walked to her left toward the stairway without looking and bumped into someone. She didn’t even take a second to look back, she just said, “My bad.” and made a beeline for Mr. V’s door. He opened the door before Syd’s petite hand could form a fist to knock on it. “Miss mooie bloem, good morning. Heard your dainty footsteps, I knew you were coming down here, how may I help?” She heard the sarcasm in his tone when he mentioned her footsteps. She rolled her eyes, “Mr. V, the hot water is out again, I can’t shower in cold water, It’s December, you gon’ have me out here with the flu or somethin’!”  He shook his head no and grabbed his cordless phone in the same instant to contact the building’s pumber. Syd pressed the power button on her phone to check the time, 9:47am, “Yo Mr. V, I need him here in the next hour. I have a meeting to go to and I can’t be late!” Mr. Van Den Berg nodded his head and stated that Yasin would be there by 10:15. Syd stomped up the stairs she heard a male’s baritone say, “Yeah, your lil ass neighbor bumped into me, didn’t even look back to see if I was okay or anything, cuh!” That accent, he definitely wasn’t from New York, let alone from the east coast. She twisted her doorknob and mumbled, “Well maybe you need to look where you going, CUH.”

--

Syeda had been pacing back and forth in her cramped kitchen for what seemed like hours, She tapped the home button on her phone. 11:01am Fuck. She thought in her mind. She heard two taps on her front door, she swung it open, and went off, “Do you not think that anyone has a fuckin’ life. You’re over thirty fuckin’ minutes late and I was supposed to be gone by now! ARE YOU DUMB?” This brutha stood at least about 6’2”, about 280..maybe 290 lbs. Syeda couldn’t give a fuck less that she was maybe a quarter of his size. She stepped up to him, thinking her 5’1”, 133 lbs. would match up to him by being closer. She was so busy flying off the handle that she didn’t notice her neighbor across the hall, Ziggy (short for his last name, “Zigler”) and the mystery out of towner she ran into earlier were going downstairs, headed out. By the time she got done yelling, they were at the bottom of the staircase and she heard that voice again, “Aye cuh, Couldn’t be me. I would’ve taught her lil wild ass some manners.” Mystery man was faced toward the door and as soon as he finished his rude comment, he was gone. Syd decided to let that ride, since she figured she wouldn’t see him again, and turned her attention back to Yasin. He raised his eyebrow, and took one step past her into the apartment, still staring at her. “Traffic.” he simply stated then he walked straight back to the bathroom.

--

Syeda’s phone began to vibrate and go off, “BESTIE BIIIIIIIIIIIIHHHH” with too many twin and heart emojis to count ran across the screen. She sneered over at Yasin, he was still seated on her toilet seat reaching over the tub, fixing whatever. She looked above the call and saw 11:52. She sighed and accepted the facetime call. Yani, or Ayana when Syd is mad at her, looked directly into the front facing camera, “BITCH. Wher--I KNOW YOUR ASS STILL NOT AT HOME WITH A GOTDAMN SHOWER CAP ON! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE HERE IN LIKE, 10 MINUTES. WHAT THE FUCK!” Syd palmed her face slowly and sighed. “Yani, I knowwwwww. My damn hot water went out again!” She pointed her phone to show Yasin in the bathroom. “Oooooh, damn girl, I know it’s some other pipes that he can fix in that lonely ass apartment of yours.” Yani pointed at Syd’s lower extremities. Syd scoffed and rushed her off the phone, “I’LL BE AN HOUR LATE, BYE BITCH.” beep beep beep. 

The line went dead. For sure, Yasin heard what her obnoxious best friend said about her box, she threw her phone on the bed and tiptoed into the bathroom. Once she reached the doorway, Yasin turned around and slightly jumped. “Oh, I just finished up here, ma. I apologize, my Uncle was supposed to fully replace this pipe when he came here last month. He came in the week before he retired, I guess he got lazy and patched it up.” Syd crossed her arms as he stood up and flashed his million dollar smile, “It should be good now.” Syd is all about details. Being a fashion merch graduate, it’s in her nature. She scanned over his dark chocolate frame, the vain in his lower arm bulging out, the tattoos covering the areas above it. She skimmed up to his face. Well, his full lips. The bottom slightly larger than the top. Now formed into a slight grin. Her lip twisted to the right in reaction to it. She blinked her way out of her trance. “Okay.” She finally replied. Yasin smirked as he made strides to the front door, making his exit. He stopped at her doorway after opening the door. Syd trailed behind him and stopped in the foyer when he turned. “Hey, uhh..” He held his hand out to Syd. She searched over his extended arm to see the Arabic saying on his arm and read it aloud, “Silence is the interpreter of happiness.” She blinked, looking up at him. “Oh, I’m sorry?” He huffed, “Your name, Miss?” She grabbed his hand and shook, “Syd.” Yasin squinted at the young woman that was quite smaller than him with an attitude of a giant. “You know Arabic?” She nodded, “Moms was from Philly, she was raised Islamic. You?” he stroked his thick goatee and rebutted, “My family is Muslim, My mom was raised baptist but she transitioned when she met my pops, My uncles, brothers, cousins, grands.. They’re all Muslim.” “Alhamdulillah!” Syd chanted as she threw her hands up and chuckled. Yasin couldn’t help but laugh with her, her humor and contagious laugh was simply irresistible. “Well, Syd, I gotta go to my next client..but if you free for a late lunch later..maybe we can chop it up over a nice meal?” Syd stepped closer looking him in the eye, “I can let you know.” She handed him her phone to put his number in it. He started typing away when her phone vibrated twice, signaling that she gotten a message. Yasin paused, then finished typing, smiling the entire time. “Alright Miss Syd. Later.” He began his descent to the hallway door. Syd closed her front door, and ran to the shower.

--

Syeda ran down 125th Street to cross over St. Nicholas Ave to get to St. Nick Park. Stumbling past bystanders and bikers on the pavement with a thousand things in her hand with her hair blowing wherever the wind takes it, Syd finally makes it to the meeting spot that her and Yani agreed to host the meeting. She placed her things with her personal assistant, Myles, who is a big ball of fabulousness; Always dependable and has an incredible fashion sense. Yani looked at Syd as if she was a bat flying out of hell and quickly flattened Syd’s curly tresses back to frame her face. She was beginning to look like cousin It. Syd thanked her girl for the assist, “Do I look okay?” Yani assessed. Syd was in a rush, but she picked a black long sleeved crop turtleneck, high waisted light denim mom jeans, and leather knee high boots. She accompanied the outfit with her childhood gold personalized “Syd” necklace and “Syeda” one finger ring, along with her new Off-White yellow label belt. Yani nodded as she looked up to her face. Syd had no time to put on makeup, but she threw on a red ombre lip, lashes, and liner; black at the top, white at the bottom to accentuate her almond eyes. Yani smiled in agreeance. “Yes bitch. You look good!” Syd breathed a sigh of relief as Yani took a seat on the bottom step of “Sentra”, the exhibit from Harlem Studio Museum that she dubbed the perfect meeting spot for the occasion. 

The crowd of people that had been calmly chatting amongst themselves had gotten quiet and all eyes were on Syd. She cleared her throat, “Hello Everyone, My name is Syeda Mari. I am owner and the creative behind UPTXWN Clothing. As you all know by the flyer..” As she grabbed one from the ever dependable Myles. “..I have a lookbook that I am preparing to drop on Spring Fashion Week in February. As I know, Two months is such a short time to plot a production as big as I am asking for but just based on the turnout I have here, I know it can be done.” “You got this Syd!” Yani’s supportive mom voice sang out. Applause rang out. “But we gotta band together.. Network. Get this premiere party to be the talk of the town. I need my models on point, I need you all to show up to the shoots, leave that ego bullshit at the door. If I put you in it, I don’t care if it’s a water buffalo coat with silk drawls. Make it look like couture.” The hustler in Syd began to come out. She’s all about having fun and turning up, but when it’s time to work, Syd don’t play. Everyone knew it too, from old college professors at Columbia to ex boyfriends who relish at her success that she’s had since graduating. Syd is a go getter. She took a look at her audience from left to right and saw all familiar faces of former colleagues she worked with in her fashion showrunner days, and a couple more from around the way. She smiled at the great turnout and calmed her tone. “I need for the production crew to be on time as well, I book locations by the time. Not by the day. So please. Be on time.” She pointed to her photographer, Iyo. Iyo threw up his prayer hands and bowed. Signaling that he heard her and he don’t want no smoke. “I also need my MUAs to plan the looks. I plan the outfits, Gigi, please plan the faces to go with these bomb ass looks.” Gigi stood up, as colourful as she could be in her loud colored fur coat, “Of course Syd, We gotchu.” As her team nodded in agreeance. “Videography, Semaj..Andy..Lon, We need to set up a meeting after this to talk visuals.” Andy tilted his head upward to let Syd know that he heard her. 

“And last but not least, my PR agent. My amazingly amazing best friend. Ayana. Girl. I need you to get the best of the best people at this show. I need you to pull this final product all together to help my baby UPTXWN come alive!” Yani wiped a fake tear from her face and ran to hug Syd. “Of course, you know it’s done.” Everyone roared in applause. Syd yelled over it, “Okay everyone thank you for coming out! Leave your email and phone information with Myles and I’ll see you all at the next shoot!” 

The audience began to separate into their own groups. Syd and Yani floated around to each one until they got to the last cluster. Yani had to get back to the office so she dismissed herself, “Girl, Martinez is on my ass about my time! I’ll meet them at the next shoot! BYE BITCH!” Syd sucked her teeth. Yani knew she hated extracurricular socializing. 

She made her way over to the group to see Ziggy, a renowned photographer. Even though he works for CNN, he liked fashion photography and was looking to expand his portfolio with the lookbook. Two men and a woman accompanied him. “Zig! Thank you for coming out! Or who I gotta thank at CNN?” She queried, completely joking. Ziggy sarcastically responded, “You can thank Anthony Bourdain for giving me the week off, but I’ll be in Berlin next Thursday.” “Oh, you know your landlord is going next week too? Maybe you two could finally get to know each other, trade war stories.” Syd made small talk with him for a while, discussing a couple of his many travels and he explained that his job is why he’s in the studio across the hall, because he’s rarely home anyway. 

Syd nodded in agreeance as she looked around to observe everyone else he was with. “I’m sorry everyone. Nice to meet you. I’m Syeda. Zig is my neighbor. And you all are?” The woman introduced herself first. She had a pecan tan tone and  a short tapered curly cut. She was 5’9”, thick stature yet barely had a midsection so she was athletic. “Nina.” They shook hands. “I heard you needed models, I’ve modeled for Stussy, American Apparel, Yeezy..Zig told me about your line. I love how you repping Harlem. I gotta be a part of this.” “Glad to have you join us Nina, thank you.” The guy next to her spoke, “Uh..Hello. Im Byron, friends call me B. I work in IT, I do editing on the side. If your videography team needs an editor, I’m available.” Syd nodded, “As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what they need. I’m meeting with them next week, I’ll text you the details.” B smiled and thanked her. Ziggy introduced the last person, “Oh Sy, (Zig was the ONLY person besides her parents to call her that) this is Erik. My cousin. Syd blinked and looked up to his 6’0” frame. She blinked and looked at his face length dreads. She blinked and noticed his mustache, goatee and his thick plump lips. She licked her lips and slightly opened her mouth and before she could speak and introduce herself, that annoying baritone that she heard hours ago rang back up. “Ohhhh.. You the biddy that ran into me. You know, I could’ve been hurt.” he said, putting his hand above his heart. He was completely being dramatic. Syd rolled her eyes in disgust. “You’re a big boy. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Erik stepped up to her, she noticed a slight gleam in his eyes, “Yeah, I am a big boy.” he grinned and sized her up. “Zig, get your cousin, before I really hurt him.” She squinted her eyes at her last three words. Erik didn’t move one inch away from her. He took her hand, kissed it, and returned with,  “Hurt me, baby.” She scoffed and her hand dashed across his face. “OUCH! MY NAIL!” Syd drew her hand back and noticed that the tip of her red coffin shaped nail was on the ground. Which would’ve been okay if her nails were painted red. They were black. Her finger was bleeding.

--

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[artificialqueens]

Katya (Trixya) pt 8/? - Skyline

AN: Hello AQ :) Worked on this for a few days so hope you guys dig it! Been trying to write longer chapters so I hope this is up to par! Also a note from the last part, my dumb ass typed “Abby” instead of “Courtney” for whatever-the-fuck reason so I apologize for that confusion. If you didn’t catch it, then good. lol. Alright! Enough of my blabbing, get to reading! And leave me some feedback, I love hearing from you guys <3 -Skyline

Summary: Lesbian Trixya AU based off the incredible movie Carol, set in New York during the 50’s. Katya, a mother struggling through a messy divorce meets young, inexperienced Trixie at a department store and they hit it off.

         Half way through the train ride, Trixie finally got her mascara soaked tears to stop. If only the same could be said for her brain. Why was she so upset? She had no right to be. Katya was just an acquaintance. An acquaintance, yet she felt more of a connection with her than she had with anyone in a long time. Her two years in New York hadn’t been the easiest. When she moved from Wisconsin, being away from her mother was harder than she ever thought it would be. Of course she was glad to get away from her miserable step father. She thought that would be a good enough justification to leave her family. She thought it would get her through.

         She lived the first few weeks depressed up until meeting Matt and his friends. She thought she’d finally felt some sort of contentment. She belonged somewhere in this crazy city. But when she first saw Katya, that’s when she finally felt it. A spark. A feeling that had been missing since she left home. She was forlorn because she hoped this wasn’t the end. It couldn’t be the end.

         She’d caught a cab outside of Penn Station, and sat in silence on the 10 minute drive to her apartment. The tinge from the street lights casted a yellowish glare in Trixie’s eyes every few seconds. She closed them tight, wishing for the end of this turned-to-crap night to come already.

         The Taxi pulled up to her apartments around 11:30pm. She knew her neighbor’s, one in particular, would chastise her for coming home so late. Hopefully Alyssa would be asleep by now, she prayed. She was ascending the last flight when a startling ring came from the joint phone in the middle of the three apartments on her floor. Great, she thought. If Alyssa wasn’t up, she sure would be now. She hopped quickly up the last two steps and grabbed the phone from the hook as rapidly as she could, as if the damage wasn’t already done. “Hello?”

         But before the person on the other line could answer, a grumpy Alyssa popped her head out from her apartment door, her usual long brown locks wrapped in curlers. “Do you know what time it is, Ms. Mattel?” Trixie looked over apologetically and pressed her hand to the receiving end of the phone. “I’m sorry! It just rang..” Alyssa rolled her giant eyes, shook her head dramatically and slammed her door shut. Thank god.

         Trixie turned her attention back to the call. “Hello?” There was a pause on the line. Trixie immediately knew who it was. Katya was on the other end. She was leaning on the counter in her kitchen, with the umpteenth cigarette of the night between her delicate red painted fingers. Tears still making there way down her raw cheeks.

         “I was horrible.. Earlier. Will you forgive me?” Katya’s words were just above a whisper, but her previous crying was evident in her voice. A small flutter in Trixie’s stomach occurred at the realization of Katya being the one phoning her. She almost hated herself for being so hopeful. Trixie was at a loss for words. She just rambled the first thing that jumped into her head. “Yes… I..I mean..” But her thoughts couldn’t be finished. Katya interrupted anyway.

         “Then will you.. would you let me come see you tomorrow? Evening?” Trixie’s heart fluttered this time. She wanted to rip the smile from her face. She felt so foolish. She was just crying 30 minutes ago from this woman, and now she had butterflies in her tummy because of her. Who else could do this to her? She didn’t know, because no one’s ever made her feel like this. She couldn’t help herself. “Alright. Yes.” There was a short pause but Trixie continued, knowing if she didn’t speak now, she’d loose her courage from not being face-to-face with the older blonde.

         “I wanna– know, I think. I mean I want to ask you things but I’m not sure that you want that.” Katya pulled the phone closer to her, desire expanded in her at the younger blonde’s words. Her voice slightly cracked from crying as she spoke. “Ask me things.. Please…” Out of nowhere a group of rowdy guys started up the stairs making the loudest ruckus. She held the phone to her chest to try and keep the noise out, until they passed her on their journey to their apartment a few flights up. She put the phone back to her ear trying to savor the last few seconds of the call. All she could hear was Katya’s steady breathing. She hangs up the phone.                                                         ……….

         The next day, Katya is rushing down the sidewalks of Manhattan trying to get to her Lawyer’s appointment on time. The traffic had been hell from Long Island, but at least she found a decent parking spot. She scurried up the steps into the large office lobby, her black mary janes clicking on the tiles below her. She smoothed a hand down her crisp black sheath dress and matching blazer, trying to look like she didn’t just sprint here from her car. She greeted her lawyers lovely secretary who took Katya’s red coat and hat from her and hung it in the coat closet.

         “There he is!” Her lawyer’s footsteps heard behind her made her turn and smile. He walked past her and opened his office door to escort her in.“Now will you talk to me?” She says with an almost playfulness to her voice, but she knows this is a serious matter. “ You know you didn’t have to come all the way down here today Katya—” He was cut off by her sharp voice.

         “Just give it to me straight, Max. What am I not to worry about until after the holiday?” She looked him dead in the eyes. He scrambled his way to his desk while speaking. “Paul Charles served some papers this morning, to my complete surprise— Why don’t you eh, sit.” He took a seat at his desk and gestured for Katya to do the same. She just stared at his hand and stayed glued to her stance. A smirk adorned her features. “Why is it people think you’ll take bad news better if you’re sitting down?” A sad smile spread on Max’s face as he settled in his chair. He looked down at the paperwork in front of him and began.

         “Roy has sought an injunction which denies you any access to Violet until the hearing.” Katya’s smirk instantly fades. She rips off her red gloves, those gloves, and slams them to the desk. “What?!” She angrily whispers. He continues robotically. “And I’m afraid Roy has changed his mind about joint custody, he wants sole custody of Violet.” She looks at him with complete disbelief.

         “But–We’ve already come to an agreement on custody. What’s this all about?” She finally comes around the front of the desk to sit in one of the chairs. She can feel the blood draining from her already pale face. “They’re filing papers on the 29th in district family court for the permanent custody petition.” As if the disbelief wasn’t already painted all over her face, disgust takes its place shortly after his words. “Can he do this? Is it right?”

         “I don’t know if it’s right, but it’s legal.” “On what grounds?” Her voice is raised at this point. Max takes his glasses off and places them on the desk. “Listen, let’s wait til after Christmas to—” Again he’s interrupted by the furious blonde. “Max! On. What. Grounds?” Her pained green eyes bore into his for tenth time today. He can’t hide it any longer.

          "They’re petitioning a judge to consider a morality clause.“ Katya can’t hide the surprise and anger in her voice. "A morality— What the hell does that mean?” A small sad laugh escapes his lips but its replaced with a serious expression almost instantly. “Alright. I won’t mince words with you.” He picks up a folder, no doubt holding the so called “morality clause” and flips through some papers. “Courtney Act.” He says sternly and she knows. She knows all too well. She takes a gulp of breath feeling her throat close up. “Also they’re suggesting similar associations with– well they’re alleging evidence of a pattern of behavior.” He says it almost disapprovingly but closes the folder and places it off to the side.

         “Evidence of a pattern? Courtney is Violets godmother! Court— He–” She pauses and rolls her eyes feeling a wave of emotional exhaustion come over her. She looks down to her hands and has a realization. “If he can’t have me, I can’t have Violet. That’s what—” Her thoughts trail off as she stands and turns to face away from Max. Stroking at her temples like she did last night when Roy was screaming in her kitchen. “I’m sorry but, they seem serious.”

         “When is the custody hearing?” She turns back to meet Max’s eyes. He shrugs.“ It’s hard to say with the holidays and the backlog—” “Your best guess Max!” He shrugs again more apologetically. “Not before March. Maybe middle of April?” She stares at him again, frozen in place. “Can I see her?” He closes his eyes in frustration and tries to explain the best he can. “Not– Let me put it this way. It wouldn’t be advisable under the—” “At school?! In an office?!” She desperately tries to find a loophole in this devastating situation. “The issue is not where necessarily..” “Surely a visit, supervised or–” He interrupts her this time.

         “There will be serious allegations, forcing contact before the hearing, you risk inviting further scrutiny concerning your conduct.” She looks at him with utter disgust. “MY conduct? Jesus Christ. I’m a mother for gods sake.” She sits on the edge of his desk and hangs her head, defeated. “A morality clause. Pft.” She whispers to herself. She continues.“I see.” “Do you?” She scowls at him. “No! There’s nothing moral about keeping my child away from me.”

         Katya sits in the office lobby for a while trying to get her bearings. She feels completely hopeless. Nothing can be done until after the holidays anyway. What can she do? She gets up and pulls her coat on. Sliding her black sunglasses on as she heads out of the offices and onto sidewalks of Manhattan. The hustle and bustle of the city is on high today, with the sidewalks crowded and the streets even worse. She starts to slow her walking, feeling her anxiety take over.

         She pulls a cigarette out of the case, but of course struggles to find her lighter anywhere in her black hole of a purse. People in a hurry start to push by and give her dirty looks. All of a sudden the voices, the people, the honking and everything becomes too much. She steps off to the side and walks toward an open shop door that will cover her from the wind. She shakily lights her cigarette and inhales to the utmost capacity her lungs can take.

         She lets the smoky air flow from her lips, while she looks at the store display in front of her. She see’s something in particular that catches her undivided attention. What a coincidence, she thinks to herself. And with that a decision is made for her.                                                          ……….

          Trixie’s in the record store, picking up a little something for a certain someone. Matt wouldn’t stop bothering her so she had him tag along to keep him quiet. He’s outside smoking a cigarette while she picks up the package. Oh how she loves that habit. Not. When it’s Katya though, it’s a different story. She makes it looks so elegant and beautiful. With Matt it just puts her off even more. She turns to see two women standing in the corner of the store. One of them is in a man’s suit and both are staring directly at her, a seedy smile on the girl with the suits face. Were these women what she would become? Was this what Katya was like? No. Katya wouldn’t stand and gawk at other women with a sleezy expression on her face. Katya was subtle and intelligent. And so beautiful…

         Her attention is snapped back to the worker handing her the “package” and sliding it into a bag. She smiles gratefully and walks briskly out the front entrance, not wanting to catch the attention of those women again. Her and Matt stroll down the quiet street, his bike is being trailed along beside him. “Find what you wanted?” He asks her happily. She looks up at him a small smile on her lips. “Yeah, just something for someone at the store.” He hums. “Huh. That’s nice of you.” They keep walking in silence until Matt continues. “You should stop by on Christmas. My mom’s kinda planning on it..” Trixie looks straight ahead a confused expression making its way to her face. “Christmas? It’s for families– I’d feel–I don’t know…” They turn the corner. “You are family Trix.” He says it so surely. Trixie dips into a new conversation, trying to avoid telling him she most definitely won’t be coming for Christmas.

         “I’ve been thinking of putting together a portfolio. Of my pictures, ya know? Start taking portraits even. Apply for jobs. Maybe even at a newspaper, Dan said someone—” She was cut off by Matt. “Have you been thinking anymore about Europe?” Her stare at him turns into one of disbelief and she continues walking, this time ahead of him, ignoring his question. “Trix?” She continues walking. “What?!” He says as if he didn’t realize he’d just interrupted her to talk about something she cares nothing about. She stops finally. She looks ahead a mad smirk on her face that changes to an expression of nothingness. She turns to look him dead on.

          "How many times have you been in love?“ A small laugh escapes Matt’s mouth before he realizes she’s serious. She glares at him still waiting for a response. He shrugs, a smile splayed on his features. "Never… Until you.” Trixie gets angered knowing he’s lying. “Don’t lie! You told me about those other two girls.” His smile fades and he becomes a little defensive. “Come on.. They were—” He leans in as if anyone is even around listening to them. “I had sex with them. It’s not the same thing.” Trixie becomes the defensive one this time.“ Meaning I’m different because– we haven’t gone all the way?”

         Matt looks irritated and closes the small distance between them. “Hey what’s this all about? I love you. That’s whats different.” Any other girl would swoon and praise their man for this kind of declaration. Not Trixie. He smiles, thinking he’s got her. It’s the total opposite. She just gazes at him the same expressionless face she had before. She then turns and starts to walk away again. He trails along after her trying to catch up, so they’re side by side.

         “Have you ever been in love with a boy?” Trixie asks nonchalantly. He looks at her perplexed. “No.” He almost scowls when answering her. “But you’ve heard of it.” She says with a more bored tone to her voice. He locks eyes with her, his exterior becoming more stern. “Of course. I mean, have I heard of people like that? Sure.” She’s angered by the way he addresses it. As if they weren’t humans too. “I don’t mean people like that! I mean two people who fall in love with each other. A boy and a boy, out of the blue.”

         “I don’t know any people like that. But I’ll tell you this. There’s always some reason for it. In the background.” They continue walking, crossing the street. “So you don’t think it could just— happen to somebody, to anybody?” “No I don’t!” His voice becomes defensive again. “What are you saying? Are you in love with a girl?” Trixie’s cheeks flame and she instantly denies it. “No!” She opens her mouth to try and say more but nothing comes. Matt continues.

         “Don’t you know I wanna spend my life with you? Come to France with me, let’s get married!” Trixie is so tired of hearing this. She gets more and more angered each time it’s brought up. She feels this is the breaking point. “Matt! I’m not ready for that! I can’t just make myself.” He looks at her flushed face, bewildered. “What then? Tell me?!” She turns to walk into her apartments, too frustrated to deal with this any longer. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” He watches her go, irritation more evident in his voice as he shouts after her. “Trixie!” She doesn’t look back and she opens the entrance door. She shouts an “I’m sorry” again behind her as the door slams shut.                                                          ………..

         Katya and Courtney met at a small restaurant in the city. She wasn’t positive when she was going to see Trixie so she decided to see if Courtney was up for a little afternoon drink at their favorite spot downtown. Of course she was, plus Katya had to inform her of all the falling apart her life seemed to be doing as of the past few days.

         “I found Violets hair brush underneath my pillow this morning.” The small smile on her face was only betrayed by the traces of sadness in her voice. She took a deep breath and continued. “Full of her hair. She does that you know. To let me know she’s been a good girl and brushed properly. Usually I clean it out but today— for some reason..” She trailed off the devastation clear in her voice now. She had to keep taking deep breaths in order to keep herself from crying. Courtney looked at her with empathy, but disgust concerning her monstrous husband.

         “How could he…How dare he. A morality what?” Courtney questioned, but the sadness was no longer clouding her aussie accent. Her voice was full of anger. Katya looked up and made a face at the mention of the so called morality clause. “Clause, he said.” She takes a dainty sip of her martini and follows with a puff of her cigarette. Courtney’s face turns from anger to regret and remorse. She feels somewhat responsible.

          "Oh Katya.“ She says lovingly and shakes her short blonde curls while animatedly talking. "If I am responsible in ANY way—” She opens her lips but is cut off by Katya who grabs her wrist from across the table. She has the most serious look on her face. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you ever.” She looks at Courtney with her don’t even try it look. She was solely responsible for her actions and she would deal with what would come on her own. No one else was responsible. No one.

            She pushes her empty glass towards Courtney who grabs the shaker and fills up both their drinks to the top. Courtney see’s the look in Katya’s eyes and knows she doesn’t want to press on the subject further. She takes the hint and drabbles on about a women she met a few weeks back.

          "Anyway. I got my eye on this redhead who owns a steakhouse outside of the city. I’m talking SERIOUS Rita Hayworth redhead!“ Katya wheezes and throws her curly blonde tresses behind her as her head falls back with laughter. She comes back to meet Courtney’s eyes, a giant smirk on her face. "You think you got what is takes to handle a redhead?” Courtney just sips her drink slyly and stares at Katya, whose smiles fades slightly. Courtney notices a small suitcase next to Katya on the ground and nods towards it.

         “You going somewhere?” She asks, a gentle tone to her words. Katya nods.“West, I thought. At least for a few weeks until the hearing.” She answers almost immediately. Katya’s tone turns almost sad again as she continues. “What else am I gonna do?” Courtney stares at her. She catches on.

    "Well I know you don’t like driving alone, so…..“ She stares at Katya who has an unreadable expression on her face and goes on.” She’s young.“ No response. Courtney continues. "Tell me you know what you’re doing?” Katya looks down. She starts to shake her head slowly. “I…. Don’t.” She looks back up at Courtney. A ghost of a smile appears on her red lips. “I never did.” The smile grows to a grin that finds its way to both of the girls faces.                                                         ……….

         Trixie’s cleaning the last of her dishes from dinner when she hears a knock at her door. She hasn’t heard from Katya since the night before, so it could be anyone at this point. She still smooths down her plaid pink skirt and runs a hand through her loosening hair just in case. She struts to the front door, heels clicking against the hardwood floors of her hallway. She opens the door to find a grinning Katya stood at her doorstep. She looks immaculate compared to the dingy halls of her apartments.

         “Your Landlady let me in.” She says after a beat, then looks down to her side and with her high-heeled clad foot pushes forward a suitcase that Trixie just noticed beside her. After she’s successfully pushed it into the apartment she looks up into Trixie’s eyes, her breathtaking smile still intact. “Merry Christmas.” Trixie looks dumbstruck. Katya bought something for her? She looks down at the gift and back up to Katya’s eyes, disbelief plastered all over her face.

         Katya notices and urges her to open it. Trixie drops straight down to her knees in front of the suitcase and begins to open each latch. Excitement and curiosity swirl inside her. She finally flips the last latch and slowly opens the case. Inside is the latest model Canon Camera, that only came out 2 weeks ago, and just about a dozen rolls of kodak film. Trixie slowly picks up the camera as shock fills her entire being. She’s in such disbelief she can barely bring herself to smile. When she finally does she gazes up at Katya and her smile grows instantly, though the shock is still evident in her voice. “Oh Katya.”

        She lets the older woman in and takes all her outdoor-wear and lays it on her bed. She turns on the record player in her room and leaves the door open so the apartment is filled with some background noise. When she comes back Katya’s in her kitchen, looking through some photos Trixie has taken and pinned up to the bare walls. There’s pictures of people at work, men in a barber shop, and so many others. Katya’s gaze finally comes to stop at the picture Trixie took of her at the Tree lot. The development is beautiful. Katya looks beautiful. Trixie comes to stand a few feet behind her seeing her admire the picture she took of her. Feeling completely vulnerable she feels the need to defend her work.

         “It’s not very good, I was rushed.” She’s anxiously fiddling with her shirt sleeve as she watches Katya eye her work. “I mean.. I can do better.” She adds. Katya’s gaze stays firmly on the picture, transfixed by it. “It’s perfect.” She says and it’s almost a whisper. If Trixie wasn’t right behind her she wouldn’t have heard her. Eventually Katya’s stare shifts to a different picture. One of Trixie as a child. She couldn’t be more than 4 or 5 in the photo. Katya’s hand involuntarily goes to the photo and she gently caresses the aging paper.

         “Is this you?” Trixie smiles from behind her and hums a small mhm as a response. Katya realizes her hand on the photo and drops it, her stomach dropping. She wipes away at an imaginary lint on her black dress and turns to walk into the living room. “Do you– have anything other than photo chemicals in the icebox?… I’m feeling—” Her thoughts trail off as she begins to feel a small panic come to rest against her chest. Trixie turns on her heel and opens the fridge. “Sure!” She grabs two beers and a bottle opener from the counter and begins to walk toward the living room. Before she enters she hears Katya take a big shaky breath as she sits on the arm of Trixie’s couch. She hears her breathing labor again and she sets down the beers on the kitchen table.

          She turns and slowly comes to stand in the archway between the two rooms, unsure if it’s her place to comfort her. She hears a small sob escape from Katya’s lips and her decision is made for her. She quickly makes her way to the other blonde and rests her hand on her right shoulder, gently stroking her back. Katya squeezes Trixie’s hand on her shoulder and leans into her touch, letting her tears finally fall. She tells her everything.                                                          …….

         Eventually they move to the roof of Trixie’s apartments, both needing some air after the heavy conversation. Both are wrapped in their coats, a beer in each girls hand. Katya can’t sit still and paces around the roof while Trixie sits on a wooden box, intently listening to the other women talk. Katya’s ramblings slowly come to a stop and Trixie thinks about the situation before responding. “Is there any point in, I don’t know, fighting it?"

         Katya takes in the city skyline in front of her and gently shakes her head. "The injunction? No.” She takes a sip of her beer and continues to ogle the beautiful lights in the distance. Trixie shakes her head in annoyance. How could anyone be so cruel? To take someone’s child away? “I feel useless. Like I can’t help you or offer anything.” Katya turns her attention to the younger blonde a stern expression taking over her delicate features. She raises her voice slightly as she speaks. “It has nothing to do with you.” Trixie looks down in defeat and leans against the brick chimney behind her. Katya see’s her sadness and continues.

         “I’m going away for a while.” Trixie looks up at her, confused. “When? Where?” Katya smirks and lets a half laugh escape her mouth and gazes back at the young blonde. She shrugs. “Wherever my car will take me. West…. Soon.” She looks down at her beer and opens her mouth to continue. She pauses but finally just spits it out. “And I thought, perhaps, you would like to come with me?” Trixie’s downcasted stare comes back up again to meet the older womans crystal green gaze. They stare at eachother almost expressionless for a few moments. Katya breaks the silence, eager for an answer. Any answer. “Would you?”

          Trixie just nods her head then breaks into a stunning smile. “Yes. Yes I would.” Both their smiles could light up the night in an instant. Trixie’s gaze turns upward. Katya’s eyes follow to see a few snowflakes flutter down from the black night sky above. Is this their sign?

[aaronmascoll]

Chapter 11 - Colt

When Colt left, somebody had been there. They were invisible, but saw them. He was sure of it. When he reached the forest, they ran away. He chased after them, following their footprints in the snow. After he jumped over a small stream, the footprints disappeared completely. Then he turned his attention upward toward the trees, looking for anything that wasn't natural. Colt looked but found his pursuit at a standstill. "Shit!" Colt cursed.

Colt stood there wondering where he should go. He thought about going back, but for some reason, he didn't want to run into Leila, so he decided to keep moving forward. After five minutes, Colt realized just how tired he was. He had been chasing whoever that was for a little over an hour. His legs were freezing from melting snow that clung to his legs, and his sweater wasn't providing much protection either. He sat next to a tree and decided to rest for a minute. "Done following me yet?" said a random voice.

Colt looked around, but found the source of the voice absent. "Up here, dumb ass!"

Colt looked up and found a blonde women sitting on top the highest branches of the tree he was sitting under. She wore a long black leather coat, a white V-neck tshirt, loose fitting black sweat pants, and no shoes. "Naw, I thought it didn't look right," Colt said standing up. "Just think about. Angry black man chases innocent white girl through a forest. Doesn't look too good for me."

The girl in the tree began to laugh. She laughed so hard, the branch she was sitting on broke and she fell thirty feet to a hard landing. Even after hitting the ground, which didn't seem like a soft landing to Colt, she still continued to laugh. "That's hilarious, " she said standing up. "Me? Innocent? You are funny."

When the blonde started walking, Colt followed her. "So, where are we going?" Colt asked.

"I'm going to get a fucking drink," she said with a hint of animosity. "Follow me...if you want."

"Aren't you the one from the thieves faction?"

"Fuck no!"

She moved fast, Colt was struggling to keep up with her. "Then what are you doing in the middle of nowhere?"

The girl stopped and got in Colt's face. "Why are you so interested in me?" She said curiously. Her breath hot against his face, and he could just barely feel her lips brushing against his.

"Ever hear the story about the scorpion and the frog?"

She smiled, turned around, and started walking again. "And which one am I?"

Colt trailed after her. "Obviously you're the frog."

"Bitch please! You can frog these nuts."

Colt spent the next few hours talking to this girl about absolutely nothing. They spent the entire time cracking jokes, telling funny stories, and making fun of each other. During their time together, Colt managed to learn that her name was Al. He also managed to learn that she was the a champion for Samael, The Dragon of Light.

When they made it out of the snow, and the forest, Colt saw his first town. It was a small town, there couldn't have more than a hundred people living in it. The buildings were small and made out of wood, there weren't any roads, and the people dressed as if they were at a renaissance fair. He tried to say hello to the people he passed, but nobody spoke spoke to him. They barely even looked at him.

When they passed the last building, and started traversing a farm, Colt decided to ask. "Why didn't any of them talk to me?"

"That's because you're a champion," Al responded.

"Wait, so they aren't like us?"

"What? Champions? In their fucking dreams!"

Colt followed Al as she jumped over a waist high stone wall. "So they're human? I just figured since this place was call The Realm of Champions-"

"That everyone would be a champion?"

"Yeah kind of."

In the distance Colt saw a large Iron wall that stretched clear across the horizon. "At one point, you would've been right. It is true that only champions are allowed here, but once they're here, any babies they pop out are her to stay. That's how this fucking place ended up with cities, towns, countries, kingdoms, and nations."

"But how do they know we're champions?"

"Fuck you're annoying! Look, we give off this aura. It's like your about to shit yourself, but you also kinda wanna suck my dick at the same time. For us, you probably wouldn't even notice it. But, if they've got some God level powers, then you can bet your ass you're going to feel that shit."

As the wall loomed before them, Colt saw that there was a gate he didn't notice before. Guards wearing red uniforms stood in front of the gates entrance. Two on either side, one off to the left sitting behind a table. Two of the guards carried muskets, and the others carried swords. "I got this," Al said as they approached the gate.

"That'll be two silvers each," the guard sitting behind the table said without looking at them, "If you want to enter Bagwell city."

"And I'm still waiting on that gold you owe me," Al said bending over the table. "You know, you could always just win it back in a game of dice. Or, I could have Riot make a little trip to your barracks tonight, after she gets released. What's it going to be?"

The guard sitting began to turn a color of green that Colt had never seen a person turn before. "That's today?"

"Yup, ten years in solitary confinement. She might get a little rough."

"Open the gate," The guard said reluctantly.

"Open the gate!" One of the guards next to the gate shouted.

As the gate opened, Al began to walk through it. "I'll tell Riot you said hi," She said with a final wave.

What was beyond the gate was much more like a city. The buildings were more or less like the ones in the town they had just passed, except smaller and more condensed. There were people of all ethnicities, speaking every language Colt could think of. He saw vendors selling their wares out of storefronts, barrels, and horse drawn carts. The streets were small and obviously made to be walked on, but that didn't stop people from driving their carts down one of them. Anyone walking in the opposite direction of the carts had to either squeeze around it, or hide in one of the many store fronts and wait for it to pass.

When they reached a larger street more suitable for carts and the like, Al started to talk to a Chinese man who was tying an empty cart to a pole off to the side of the road. He wore brown overalls, a straw hat, and nothing else Colt assumed. "If I give you three silver, will you take me and my friend to the pier?" She asked.

The Chinese man spat on the ground. "Six silvers! Horse tired, been working all day," he said with a thick Chinese accent.

"Five," Al responded.

The Chinese man nodded angrily. "Be right back," he said. He jogged away from the cart, and disappeared into a nearby alley. Colt and Al jumped into the back of the empty cart. "Shouldn't people treat us better?" Colt asked. "Since we're champions."

"You'd think, but no. Humans are just a bunch of jealous little bitches, that are all pissy because the gods chose us and not them. But the stronger the champion, the more respect they'll give you. For instance, the guy who's in charge of the warriors. His name is King Milhouse, I think. That mother fucker is so strong, he might even be a God."

"I've met a God, your God in fact, and I didn't feel any of that."

"That's because they're good at hiding how powerful they are. These fucking mortals would have a heart attack if they felt a God's true power."

"That's funny, the way you say it makes it sound like we're not mortal."

"That's because we're not."

The shock wasn't as bad as he thought it should be. "What do you mean?" Colt said confused.

"A champion's service is for as long as your God is alive. And the gods are fucking immortal, so why shouldn't we be?"

"So I'm-"

"Yes!" Al growled. "The moment you stepped foot in this place as a champion, you became immortal. But don't get that shit twisted, being immortal means you can live forever, that doesn't mean you can't be killed."

Colt didn't feel any different. Maybe I'm not immortal he thought. Maybe whatever magic made champions immortal didn't effect him. Either way, he would find out in a hundred years. He could live a hundred years and never age. "I need a drink," Colt said in a exhausted voice.

"Its like we're speaking the same fucking language! What the shit is taking this guy so long!?"

It was another five minutes before the Chinese man returned, pulling behind him not a horse, but an ostrich. "I thought he said it was a horse."

"Who gives a rat's ass! As long as the stupid thing get us to the bar, he can call it a goat for all I care."

After hooking up his ostrich, they were ready to set off, but a small girl came running out of the alley yelling. She handed him a something tied up in a white cloth, and ran away. "Wife feed you," the Chinese man said. "Says ride to pier too long. My name Linhu." Linhu handed Al the bag, yanked on the reins and pulled them out into the street.

They traveled down one road for fifteen minutes, turned left down a smaller one way street, and then right onto a much larger street. This street was much like a four lane street back on earth. But this one was more commercial than the others. There were larger stores, hotels, restaurants, even brothels.

Only carts and private passenger carriages traveled down this street. Colt seen carriages being pull by all sorts of animals. Horses, zebras, camels, bears, and a many more exotic animals. Once a blue carriage with white curtains sped by being pull by two very large orange lizards. Drivers shouted at each, signaled when they were turning, and threatened to kill each other. It was exactly like being on earth.

Sooner or later Colt was able to tell how rich a person was from how their carriage was decorated, how the driver was dressed, and what was pulling it. After an hour the cart driver turned left at an intersection, where a man in a blue uniform was directing traffic. They traveled down this road for another ten minutes before, pulling over. "Give horse break," Linhu said. He took the white cloth from where it sat next to Al and untied it. Inside were four sandwiches and two smaller bags. He handed Al and Colt each a sandwich, then took one for himself. He then fed the ostrich seeds, leaves, and bugs from one of the small bags.

Colt and Al ate their sandwiches as Linhu fed his ostrich. The suns began to set, and rain clouds began to form. "Rains coming," he said. He finished feeding the ostrich and climbed into the back of the cart. From a hidden compartment he produced two plastic panchos, he put on one and put the other on the ostrich along with small straw hat.

As the suns disappeared behind the rain clouds, Colt put up his hood in anticipation for the oncoming showers. He seen Al produce a hood from the back of her coat. Just as they were about set off again, an alarm went off, blaring from an unknown location. Every carriage and cart pulled over. "What's going on?" Colt asked.

"You'll see," Al said as she closed her eyes and lied down.

From the buildings next to them, three men ran out into the street and stopped. They wore all black, carried daggers, and looked terrified. After them, ten guards in red uniforms ran after them carrying muskets. They guards lifted their rifles and held them at eye level. A thunderous boom shook the sky as rain began to fall. One more person exited the build after the guards. He wore a gold chainmail shirt with a red tabbard over it, two golden spikes pauldrons, golden gauntlets, a golden bucket helmet with an expressionless mask, leather pants, and leather boots. In one hand he carried a silver shield with medusa's head engraved on it, and in the other he carried a bronze bronze flail with a spiked head.

The man in gold marched past the guards and stood before the three men in black. They raised their daggers and he raised his shield. A feint grayish light emitted from medusa's eyes as he lifted it. A look of dread came over each of their faces as the light hit them. All at once they dropped their weapons and fell to their knees. The man in gold began to spin his flail in a wide arc above his head. The sky began to shake, thunder boomed drowning out the blairing alarm. As the man in gold began to spin his flail faster, lightning raced through the clouds in bright flashes. His flail spun faster and faster with every flash of lightning. The head of his flail began to spark, then it too left a trail of white lightning as it spun.

When he dropped his shield, the three men came to their senses, one raised his hands to shield himself and the other two got up and tried run. But it was too late. The man in gold brought down his flail, as a lightning bolt fell from the sky, split into three separate arcs and hit each of the men in black. The ground shook, the clouds roared, and nobody did anything. The men in black were now nothing but charred body parts and a mixed pool of blood. Colt's entire body was trembling with fear as he looked at the man in gold in awe. The alarm suddenly stopped and people began to move again. "We go now!" Linhu said with fear.

"Who was that?" Colt asked no one in particular.

When he looked at Al, she was smiling at him. "That my friend, was a demigod."