#my queue will keep chugging though

[deadgirlwalking91]

new update - 'thank you for the venom', chapter 2: 'fitting you with weapons in the form of words'

Chapter One

Chapter 2 Summary

Lute addresses the Exorcists with changes to the program.

...or at least, attempts to.

Can I just say a huuuuuuuuge thank you to those who read the first chapter of this silly little story? And another thank you to those who liked, reblogged and commented? You're all legends!!!

ao3 queue update - I'm number 24,363 in the queue, so more than halfway from where I started to an invite!

***

Chapter 2

The Common Room, Exorcist Training Centre, Heaven

There were precisely three times in Lute’s life that she could recall being so anxious she wanted to vomit.

The first time was minutes prior to her maiden voyage down into Hell. Her nerves had taken over to the point where, during Adam’s address before they descended through the portal to the realm below, she’d made sure to hide at the back of the crowd behind her sisters-in-arms. She’d hoped that the gateway to Hell would close before she had the chance to fly through, and she could stay behind in Heaven where she knew it was safe. Where she didn’t have to stress about being a disappointment if her performance wasn’t up to scratch.

As it turned out, Lute had no reason to worry. She had a natural talent for slaughter, and when she was armed with a sword, she was downright lethal. Once she stepped foot on the brimstone-covered streets of Hell, it was like a kill-switch had automatically been triggered somewhere deep inside her brain. No less than one hundred and sixty-seven Sinners were exterminated at her hands that year, earning her the highest individual amount for a rookie Exorcist ever recorded. She’d even been congratulated personally by Sera at the informal post-Extermination party that year, who didn’t usually attend such frivolous events, but she made a point of deliberately stopping past to seek out Lute and offer her praise.

“I’m going to keep my eye on you,” Sera had promised, her serene voice the only sound Lute could focus on despite the blaring music and drunken chanting vibrating through her ears. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see one of her fellow soldiers chugging expertly from a beer bong, golden ale dripping down her chin as other Exorcists and Adam egged her on.  “Continue the hard work, and you’ll do great things, soldier. I know it.”

The second time was a considerably less serious situation, yet an experience Lute found nothing short of mortifying: Vaggie had accidentally stumbled across her secret collection of romance novels one night when she was over visiting.

Romance wasn’t something that Lute had the patience for in her day-to-day life – in fact, she could think of nothing worse than having to share her time, her thoughts, her bed with somebody else. That would mean dropping her callous, tough-bitch façade and exposing the fact that she had feelings.

No. She had a reputation to uphold and as such, it was far easier to be alone and dedicate her focus to her work.

That didn’t mean that she couldn’t switch off at night and escape reality for an hour or two. Most nights, after meticulously cleaning her apartment and ensuring any outstanding work was completed, she’d curl up on her two-seater sofa under a blanket, hot chocolate in one hand and novel in another. She found an inexplicable comfort between the pages of those books, allowing them to stir emotions inside her that she would only allow to be felt when she was off-duty and alone. Some pages made her pulse quicken and pale cheeks flush as golden as the sun itself if they were particularly steamy. The more tender stories, however, stirred her softer side, making her stomach flutter and heart skip a beat.

She’d even shed a tear once at a particularly moving epilogue, though she’d rather tear her own arm off than ever admit it out load.

So, when Vaggie had opened Lute’s wardrobe that chilly evening to borrow a hoodie and noticed the box of poorly-hidden books – most of the covers depicting couples in various stages of undress, locked in compromising positions – Lute wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. It was the one guilty pleasure that she had for herself, and she couldn’t bear the thought of what would happen if her secret was exposed to her sisters. Her whole ‘tough bitch’ persona would be shattered, and then what?

“I swear to God, if you breathe a fucking word of this to anybody, Vaggie I will beat the living shit out of you.”  

“Relax,” Vaggie had laughed, studying the cover of one book through tears of mirth. “I won’t tell the girls that deep down, their Lieutenant is secretly a sucker for happily-ever-afters with a side of throbbing co-”

Lute seized her opportunity to tackle Vaggie to the ground and wrestle the tattered paperback from her friend’s hands, taking good measure to ‘accidentally’ whack her with it once or twice. Though she never stopped teasing Lute about her guilty pleasure, Vaggie stayed true to her word: she never told a soul about Lute’s dirty little secret, to which she was incredibly thankful for.

Those scenarios though, as nerve-wrecking and embarrassing as they were, paled in comparison to how Lute felt in this present moment: standing in front of her hundreds of peers, feeling the Commander’s eyes boring into her back, basically burning two holes directly through her shoulder blades. She knew he was daring her to fuck up, and there was no chance she was going to give him that satisfaction.

“Exorcists. Recently, there have been some concerns raised regarding the future of Extermination Day.”

Light murmurs started to ripple through the crowd of women, which didn’t help the bubbling feeling threatening to rise Lute’s abdomen. She flexed and clenched her left wrist in a feeble attempt to distract herself from her own nerves.

She was used to this. Whispering was fine. Nothing to worry about, totally normal, in fact. Besides, this happened all the time during Adam’s speeches – though usually, her sisters-in-arms were laughing at one of his inane jokes.

Reel them back in, Lieutenant.

“Be quiet.” Lute commanded sternly, and to her relief, the whispers died down almost instantly.  “After extensive analysis, we have concluded that – ”

“We? Ladies, just so you’re aware, I’ve had absolutely nothing to do with the bomb your lieutenant is about to drop on you.” Adam strode over next to where Lute was standing and bent down to mockingly rest his elbow on her right shoulder, his mask twisted into a smug grin. “If you think she’s a bitch now – and, you’re totally right, she absolutely is - you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Lute exhaled sharply, trying not to let her frustration take over, and shrugged Adam’s arm off her shoulder with slightly more force than needed. Adam knew he had her cornered – if she reacted to his taunts, she’d be just as childish as he was. If she ignored him, she wouldn’t give him the rise that he was hoping to get out of her, but consequently she’d probably give off the impression that she was tolerating his attitude. Neither of those options were preferable – unfortunately, the lesser of two evils was to push through.

“Thanks, Commander, for your input, but I’d like to get back to the matter at hand if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing, babe.” Adam waved a hand carelessly, indicating his boredom. “This is your gig, I’m just the supporting act, right?”

Lute ignored the jab as she felt the heat rising in her cheeks. The whispering had started again, and she knew she had to act quickly to get her sisters attention back to the matter at hand otherwise she’d lose their interest completely. She locked eyes with Vaggie at the front of the crowd, who gave her a quick thumbs up, the subtlest of reassuring smiles plastered across her otherwise expressionless mask. At least somebody was in her corner this morning. She wiped her now-sweating hands on the skirt of her training uniform and continued with the speech she’d rehearsed at least a hundred time over the past few days.

“Our Extermination Day kill count has been in steady decline over the past decade. As a result, Hell’s population continues to rise – we estimate growth of about twenty percent over the last three years alone. At this rate-”

Adam coughed loudly and pointedly. “Nerd.”

The whispers grew louder as they echoed off the walls of the room; the Exorcists now not bothering to hide the fact that they were talking amongst themselves. Their voices rang in Lute’s ears, drowning out her will to persevere with her speech. She tried to focus on her breathing to calm her stomach, but the thickness of the air around her only made her increasingly aware of just how damn suffocating her helmet was.

“What is going on with them?”

“I hope she punches him in the face!”

“That’s only because you’re mad he didn’t call you after-”

“ENOUGH!”

The chatter amongst the Exorcists stopped immediately at the unexpected sound of Lute’s raised voice, the identical eyes on their masks all widening in shock. Lute wasn’t known for losing her temper at her fellow Exorcists. Sure, on the battlefield she took no prisoners, and within the training compound she was strict, but she always known to uphold a professional demeanour in front of her peers.

Well, except for the time she threw a mug at her boss’ head. That was different, though. He deserved it.

“I don’t want another fucking interruption again this morning.” Lute growled, not bothering to disguise the anger in her tone. Professionalism be damned, she was going to get through this. “From anybody.” She looked pointedly at Adam, who held his hands up as if to say, ‘what did I do?’.

“We need to turn this decline around fast if we have any chance of improving our stats by next Extermination Day, or we risk further overpopulation in Hell. As of this morning, we’re taking a different approach with our training.  We’re going back to basics. None of you are wielding a single weapon or touching the simulator until we get the foundations right. Physical conditioning. Mental resilience. Hand-to-hand combat. When – and only when – I see significant improvement in those areas, you’ll pick up a weapon again.”

Great recovery, Lieutenant.

Lute pulled her helmet off her head, inhaling sharply and savouring those first few unrestricted breaths. Feeling the coolness of the air on her face refreshed her flustered state, grounding her once again. She set it down on a chair behind her and began to remove her gloves and boots.

“Going back to basics also means we’re not wearing these helmets during training for the time being. Or our boots, or gloves, or neck armour – you’ll never learn properly if you’re physically restricted. Moving forward, you’ll come to training in leggings, crop tops and trainers. We’ll reintroduce personal equipment once we build our skills back up. Get your helmets and armour off.”

The sound of metal clinking and armour hitting the floor echoed throughout the common room as her sisters removed their helmets and protective gear. Sensing she had a moment to herself, Lute ran her hands through her hair, separating the silvery strands that had been compressed together under the weight of her helmet. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back and massaged her scalp where the top of the helmet had irritated it, the sensation from the pressure eliciting a low ‘mmm’ from the back of her throat.

“Is that all it takes to make you moan? You’d be such a freak in the sheets, Lieutenant.” A low voice murmured in Lute’s ear, sending tiny shock waves that pulsated throughout her entire body, causing her eyes to flutter open.

He was so unexpectedly close to her; she could practically feel the smug satisfaction emanating off his body like a radiant heat. He’d deliberately sidled up next to her as he whispered so softy that only she could hear his voice, the silk of his robes just grazing the sensitive feathers of her right wing. Goosebumps spread up the back of Lute’s neck, the uneasy feeling that had been lying dormant in her stomach for several minutes now back with an unrelenting vengeance.

“Can you fucking not?” She snapped, ruffling her feathers in a futile attempt to create a barrier between them, trying to erase the closeness between them that she was now all too aware of. Not budging, he began to laugh – not just a small chuckle either, but a proper belly-laugh, his hands clutching at the front of his robes.

“Sorry babe, but that’s not usually a sound someone makes when they scratch their head. Coming from somebody as uptight as you though, it was basically pornographic.” He turned away from Lute towards the back of the room, reaching under his mask to wipe a tear away from the corner of his eye. “Look, you even made me cry. Funny shit.”

“Hilarious. Respectfully, Sir, go deep throat a cactus. How’s that for pornographic?”

 The last word of Lute’s sentence rang throughout the room as she slowly came to the realisation that the Exorcists had finished removing their gear some time ago and had been watching the back-and-forth between her and Adam for God knows how long.

Long enough for them to confirm what they were already suspicious of: that there was some kind of unspoken, private war raging between their Lieutenant and Commander.

“Right!” Lute barked, stepping away from Adam to create as much distance between them as possible. In her peripheral vision, his shoulders continued to shake with silent laughter.

“We’re moving into Hall One, ladies. Today’s the day I start whipping you bitches into shape. If I hear any complaints, you get burpees. If I see any slacking off or fucking around, you get burpees. Clear?”

“Yes, Lieutenant!” the crowd chimed in unison, before filing out of the room, their chatter filling the awkward silence that had hung in the air moments ago. Without a second glance back at Adam, she collected her discarded uniform and strode after her peers.

As Lute made her way into the training hall, she couldn’t help but notice the feeling in her stomach had shifted. The anxiety from just under her chest had finally dissipated, leaving behind an unfamiliar, burning feeling deep in her abdomen that she couldn’t quite place.

Shaking her head, she chalked it down to relief at finally getting through the morning address and shifted her focus to the task at hand.

It was time to start training her girls.

***

Stay tuned for the next chapter! I'm not naming the chapters for this story, but if I could name the next one.. it would be 'Dangertits'.

[chirp-a-chirp]

Court of Darkness: Devour & Delight

Fandom: Court of Darkness (Couples: Roy X MC, MC named Carla; Sherry X Rio)

Characters: Roy and Sherry Invidia; Rio Voleri; King Klaus; brief references to Toa and Fenn

Description: Roy prepares for his wedding; Rio is newly engaged. MC and Sherry listen in as both events lead to unintended drunken fun.

Description Pt 2: The second part of this fanfic (Roy’s wedding + wedding night) upcoming in future spicer post!

Word Count: ~1350K

Tags: Fluff; humor; crack; innuendos galore; boozy fun; horrible singing; established relationship

…

“Roy, Fenn said you needed to loosen up!”

“I am perfectly “loose”, as they say, my friend.”

Rio’s jovial laugh booms through the open window. Sherry and Carla sit in the royal gardens within the Invidian Castle courtyard, their table conveniently placed so they can hear their betrotheds from the second-story window. The table is partially obscured by a series of towering rose bushes. It is a few days before Roy’s wedding, with Rio and Roy conversing in Roy’s bedroom. Several unopened wine bottles sit on a nearby desk.

“Mate, you’re as dependable as they come, but so prim and proper. You don’t have to drink if you wish!”

“I would rather congratulate you on your and Sherry’s engagement. Besides, I am the picture of looseness and flexibility when it matters. Carla can attest to this.” While Carla and Sherry cannot see Roy’s face, they can easily envision the subtle smirk he wears.

“Excellent! Thought even you, gallant as you are, might be nervous.”

“My goodness, no. I cannot wait for Carla and I to be joined. It cannot happen soon enough.”

“You’re cozy as ever! Fenn said I might need to loosen up though—get some experience for Sherry’s sake, prior to me getting married. Any idea what he meant?”

There is a deafening silence at THAT question, followed by an embarrassed murmur from Roy Carla desperately wishes she could hear.

“Should we go save my brother?” Sherry’s eyes twinkle as she elegantly eyes a tea-biscuit. She keeps her voice low so Roy and Rio do not discover their location.

“Roy has to learn you’re not just his little sister anymore, but a woman. A newly engaged woman clearly in love.” Carla places her hand on top of Sherry’s. “He’s beyond happy for you and Rio. He’ll adjust.”

“Oh I know that! He’s been endlessly caring and supportive of Rio’s and my courtship. It’s just…”

“The way Rio expresses himself puts certain images in Roy’s head.” As if on queue, Rio and Roy’s voices float from the window.

“Roy, those are beautiful Pegasus figurines. Are they your favorite thing to ride?”

“They were, once upon a time. Now my preferences have changed, thanks to Carla.”

“Aw, do you and Carla ride together?”

“…in a manner of speaking, yes. Quite invigorating.” The mischief in Roy’s tone is readily apparent…except to Rio. Sherry giggles prettily. “That cheeky brother of mine!” Carla’s face transforms to a shade of red matching her tea.

“Do you think Sherry would enjoy riding like you do?” Another silence lingers before Roy chokes out a reply. “Perhaps I DO need wine.”

Carla covers her mouth from bursting out in hysterics. “Serves you right, Roy!” She glances at Sherry, her mouth quirking upwards. “Well? Do you enjoy riding with Rio?”

“Rio is a fast learner. So am I.” Sherry nibbles her biscuit, warmth coloring her cheeks. “Very sweet and tasty. Rio and the biscuit.” The princes continue their conversation.

“What if Sherry asks? Should I…give it to her?”

“I beg your pardon Rio?!”

“Wine. Does Sherry drink wine? If so, I’ll gladly give her a glass later.” Rio gestures to the wine bottles on the desk.

“GIVE ME THE WINE BOTTLE. I DO NOT REQUIRE A GLASS.” Roy looks as if he wants to elegantly chug the entire bottle. He is overjoyed at Rio and his sister entrusting their hearts to one another. However, he does NOT want to envision particular aspects of their relationship. Roy quickly regains his composure and pours himself and Rio a glass each. “My apologies. Do not know what overcame me. She does enjoy the occasional glass.”

“I swear, if it were anyone but Rio, I’d say they were trying to intentionally rile Roy up.” Sherry snickers at Carla’s comment. “But on to more important discussions Sherry—how did Rio propose?!”

Time roles by as Sherry details Rio’s proposal—he baked a cake with a ring inside, with Sherry nearly eating the ring! They talk as the sun sets, drinking tea and eating scones and biscuits. The discussion is so enthralling that neither pays much attention to Rio and Roy until—

🎵 “My lips devour

Our bond empowers

To love and all she brings!” 🎵

“What is that screeching? Are…are there dogs howling nearby?!”

Sherry points to the open window, where Rio is sticking his head out, singing very off-key.

“It appears Rio has had more than a single glass of wine.” Carla smiles despite the ringing to her ears.

“Oh, those are the words of a Saligian love song. One written by an Invidian and a Volerian together long ago!” Sherry steals a glance at her howling prince.

“Ummm…” Carla tries to find something positive to say about Rio’s singing. “He certainly sings with passion!”

“Speaking of passion Carla…” Sherry chortles.

🎵 “Her eyes delight

They’re quite the sight

To love and all she brings!” 🎵

Though hidden from view, Roy’s voice permeates through the air. The sound was…unique. Yes, that’s the word!

“Brother’s singing has all the elegance of a wet cat. You can say it. It’s not a secret, hehe!”

“If it WAS a secret, it certainly isn’t anymore.” Despite the pain to her ears, Carla is happy. She did not envision Roy ever letting his guard down enough to be tipsy in front of another besides her.

“Brother is talented and poised in so many areas. Singing, however, is not one of them. Roy once asked Toa to tutor him in singing in return for teaching Toa how to cultivate roses. Rio decided to learn alongside Roy as a sign of support.”

“And? What happened?”

“After a day, Toa said they had all the talent of drunken frost lizards. And that was an improvement.” As Sherry talks, a lizard crawls up the castle wall and onto Roy’s window. Roy motions tipsily to the lizard.

“Pray tell, I sing better than YOU, dear lizard!”

“That’s right! You tell’em Roy!”

At this juncture, Sherry and Carla decide to make their way in the Castle, following the sound of their intendeds’ slurred singing. The women open Roy’s bedroom door and poke their heads through a crack. A few palace maids discretely place rags in their ears as they pass by.

“You both have BEAUTIFUL singing voices,” Sherry beams. Rio laughs and Roy’s eyes widen.

“Ah, don’t bother lowering your voices,” Carla mock whispers to Sherry. “So this is what lies underneath their princely masks. Such grace!”

Carla expects Roy to become bashful at these teasing words. To her delight, he and Rio continue giddily singing. Roy tries to keep up with Rio, but laughter makes Roy lose his breath.

“Brother, it appears Rio can keep his liquor and song better than you!” Sherry is gleeful at seeing her beloved older brother in this state—drunk but having the time of his life. Roy tries to sing again, but his attempts prove futile as he misses one note after the next, until he is forced to stop all together.

“Sherry, you have to promise you’ll NEVER let Roy forget this!” Tears form in Carla’s eyes from laughing.

Roy nods and grins. “Oh, Sherry will never allow me to forget. But not before…” Roy lets out a roaring crescendo and sings “To love and all she brings!” He suddenly collapses on his bed and mumbles against the sheets. “Rio, invest in soundproof rooms. Believe me, it’s WELL worth it.”

“Oh good grief!” Carla cackles as Rio looks with heat at Sherry and nods seriously…before collapsing on the bed with Roy.

Sherry and Carla leave the room once they’ve ensured there’s plenty of water to drink. As they close the door, Carla wonders aloud where they procured the wine.

“My wine cellar!” King Klaus arrives. “Roy would not have fully enjoyed himself in public, so I suggested this option to Prince Rio.”

Roy lifts his head slightly at these words. He’d congratulate his father on his insight tomorrow—once the room stopped spinning. “Oh Creator,” Roy moans, “this will not be fun in the morning.”

Rio mumbles against a pillow. “Hey Roy—riding adventures can be soundproofed too, right?”

[zuuriell]

i felt like doing something so imma do this for the month! i’ll put all my answers below the cut because it’ll probably get quite long lol

1. Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (aka POTS)

2. well, it’s pretty complicated 😭 i’ve had some symptoms for probably like a year, but around late april/early may this year i couldn’t even shower or stand up too long from how bad it got. the uk healthcare system is absolute shit though, so even tho i’ve been a&e multiple times and tried to explain how much it’s all been affecting me, i still don’t get to see a cardiologist until february 2024 :( but we’ve ruled out other options of what it could be, and my mum’s cardiologist friend agreed when i said i thought i had POTS, and my GP agrees, and my potsie friends agree so i’m kinda like unofficially diagnosed as of now?

3. relating to the last point, i am not officially diagnosed yet because of the slow asf NHS so yeah :,) but i mean to figure out what i was experiencing was POTS, it did take me like 8 months? but probably around 10 for me to accept the fact that i most likely have it too 😭 an official diagnosis unless i can rack up the money to go private is probably gonna take me like another year at this rate, but hopefully it won’t be that long

4. i have to pick just one? LOL uhh probably the blood pooling! it’s so annoying because especially when im out and about, i can’t be with my legs in the air 24/7 so it’s always bound to happen. compression socks help but only to an extent, and it stops me from doing so muchhhh :( it means that queueing for things and standing for more than a couple minutes is so so much harder, and if i have too much blood pooling in one day then my can legs ache for DAYS after that. it’s so painful and annoying and just aaghhh i hate it

5. on a regular day: i wake up, chug water which i leave by my bed for the mornings, get out of bed slowly and walk downstairs to make breakfast. i chug electrolytes and go for a short dog walk, then come home to do schoolwork and my family make lunch/dinner so i don’t have to stand around too long. i’ll make sure i get any chores done that i can, and i’ll try to chill in the evening

on a bad day/flareup: i wake up a lot later, have my electrolytes with water and only get out of bed when i need to. i’ll do schoolwork from my bed (if i feel well enough to concentrate), and have salty snacks rather than proper meals, unless my family make me anything. i stretch from bed to combat deconditioning, and if i feel decent enough i can have a bath

6. i don’t have access to any specific medication unfortunately, so i currently just manage with painkillers when my chronic pain is extra bitchy + anti-nausea meds when i feel sicky

7. salt sachets (the little ones you get at like mcdonald’s and stuff) to shove in my purse/pocket in case symptoms flare while i’m out, compression garments, electrolyte tablets, and a recliner bed so i can raise my legs more when resting

8. electrolyte drinks!! not the tablets though (i hate the taste of all the tablets except like 1 lol) - my fav is making electrolyte drinks from scratch! at the moment i really love iced lemon water with honey and salt. i also saw smth about this fancy coconut water drink to make so i may try that and it may become my favourite :0

9. salty crackers, salt and vinegar/ready salted crisps, mcdonalds fries (stfu i know these aren’t healthy but they’re my favs 😭), pretzels, nuts

+ my fav foods to dump a bunch of salt on: pasta, veggies and dips (SALTED CUCUMBER IS SO GOOD), pizza, chips, soup, risotto, probs almost anything i eat tbh

10. i’ve only got one pair but i love them so shoutout to my knee-length black compression socks <3

11. i don’t have any 🥲 i really wish i could have a cane or maybe even a rollator but my family make fun of me and i can’t afford one lolsies

12. i try to do some stretching in bed so that i can safely work against deconditioning, keeping very hydrated, trying to stay upstairs as much as possible so i don’t have to suffer my staircase, asking family to make food for me so i can save energy, taking pain meds when needed, having a cold bath (if possible), trying to keep preoccupied with work if i can, but if not i’ll watch movies on my ipad and stuff

fun fact: i wrote this on a flare LOL so oddly fitting and now i’ve already made myself a plan for the next few days!

13. the thing that’s helped me most is accepting that something is wrong and remembering to listen to my body. going through life pretending that i’m perfectly abled and don’t have anything wrong causes much more harm to me than letting myself rest a few days. it definitely isn’t easy though - i still find myself getting stressed over work deadlines don’t get me wrong, but i’d like to think i’m getting better at adapting to things and noticing when a flare is coming on so i can be prepared to take the time for my body to rest.

14. chairs are your best friends now. i steal the chairs/stools from the kitchen table whenever i’m doing chores standing up for more than 30 seconds. compression socks also help! OOH and if you’re using hot water/heated stuff and struggle with temperature dysreg, i usually grab myself a cup of ice to munch on or an icepack to hold on my chest so that i don’t overheat :)

15. i’m afraid i don’t have much input for this as i left school for health reasons 😭 but i suppose keeping hydrated, getting accommodations such as not too many stairs + being allowed to take more days off to rest for flares, compression gear where possible, staying high on sodium + electrolytes, and extended deadlines would be good!

16. i’m gonna sound so silly for this but i love rewatching my comfort stuff. i’ve got my fav youtubers + fav films/series all compiled in a list, and i spin a wheel to decide which one i’m gonna watch! other activities i enjoy though are reading, playing video games, doing goofy quizzes online, chatting with friends, and going on pinterest sprees!

17. leading on from the last prompt, my fav is a marvel movie - tbh all of them bring me so much comfort but my favs are avengers, black widow, loki and any of the thor films <3

18. my main support system is my wonderful boyfriend, kurtis @agere-tomhiddleston-imagines 💚💛 he’s helped me through so much and he’s so supportive of me no matter what, and i love him dearly for that (and how awesome he is in general ofc) <3 other than that, my parents are semi-supportive! they still get things wrong sometimes but overall they’ll help if i need things and they handle all the shitty healthcare workers for me so i truly appreciate them for that 😭🙏 ooh and definitely just the general online community of chronically ill people/potsies!! i love y’all so much 🫶

19. okay i don’t know if this counts because she was an orthodontist rather than a doctor/nurse, but when discussing me getting braces she asked about my medical history and i explained it all but said i haven’t been diagnosed so i understand if she can’t accommodate me. then she said to me, “hun.. just because you don’t have a piece of paper with a few words on it, doesn’t mean you aren’t ill. if you’ve got symptoms but no confirmed cause, you’ve still got the symptoms, and i’m not gonna ignore those unless you want me to” - the validation was so relieving after years of fighting for doctors to listen to me and believe me :,) ❤️

(i’ll update this throughout the month! <3)

[julem]

i think i need to take a break from tumblr until i finish deltarune ch.2 (or until the hype dies down) i'm terrified of spoilers

[piastrinorris]

busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

masterlist | prev. | next

Tags: Timewasters (series), modern!au, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love™, fluff, some angst, swearing and mentions of adult themes throughout, eventual adult content, alcohol content, penbury is a fanon surname

Word count: 9.2k

A/N: Thanks for being patient! I know this one took longer than the other two, but yeah. Back pain is no joke, and also, as you can see, this became somewhat of a monolith lol. This whole fic is my most favourite thing to write. I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3

Also, apologies for the horrific photoshop job I did trying to recreate a certain social media layout, lol.

The first few weeks of living with Ralph are certainly… An experience. You’re able to teach him how to cook basic freezer meals, how to use a hob and the importance of never taking your attention away from food when you’re preparing it. He’s got his favourite TV shows, especially now that you’ve trusted him with access to your streaming services, too - though you did have to make him a separate profile on your account when your current obsession had been drowned out in your Continue Watching queue by Ralph watching half an hour of whatever was showing up first, giving up and moving onto the next thing. He’s got a rapport as “that eccentric young man who lives in flat 912”, who befriends all the local outdoor cats and bows to everyone he makes eye contact with. Plus, with all the extra attention Ralph gives them while you’re not there, your plants have been thriving more than ever.

Another morning of waking up on the sofa. You reach blindly for the pain relief and water bottle you now keep close to you and chug them down before peeling yourself away. At least today is a day off. Except it isn’t really, as you’re reminded when you hear the shower going. You’re still a full-time Ralph-sitter. You decide to treat the pair of you to a full breakfast, something that your new housemate had considered “grotesque” as “grease is not a food group”, but you’d acclimated him to it eventually. As long as you cut him some bread soldiers to dip into the yolks of his eggs. That’s his favourite part.

You scroll through Spotify on your phone to see what playlist you’ll ask your Echo to play for you. It recommends, based on your recent listening (by which it obviously means the battle your algorithm faces trying to find common ground between your music taste and Ralph’s), an electro-swing playlist. Excited, you ask Alexa to play the playlist as it’s titled, and start bouncing along to it as you get everything out to start cooking.

Ralph emerges, hair still wet, with a smile on his face. “Good morning!” You understand and appreciate his efforts to try and blend in a little more aesthetically, but arguably the worst thing your friends have convinced Ralph is that he looks better with a bit of facial hair. Which, of course, is true, but that’s what makes it so terrible for you. “What is this?!”

You shrug, “Dunno, it said electro-swing and I figured that sounds like the perfect mix of both of us. You like it?”

Ralph nods, “I mean, it’s certainly not the classics, but I could definitely get used to this!” He starts moving his feet in very deliberate ways, and you smirk at him.

“Did you ever learn how to swing dance, by any chance?”

“Guilty!” he lilts, rolling his eyes up. No matter how much he may try to look like a 21st century man, he’s still unmistakably Ralph. “Yes, Mother got Victoria and I enrolled in a school to get us out of the house. Father wanted me to join some new-fangled group, the Scouts?” You’d think you’d be used to all the culture shocks by now, but hearing that Ralph could have been one of the first ever Scouts still knocks the wind out of you a little. Ralph, completely unaware, continues rambling, “Yes, but it was all… Swimming and climbing and… Outdoor survival,” he shudders. “So, Mother sent me away with Victoria to her dance classes.”

“Were you any good? Or did you enjoy it, at least?” you ask.

Ralph smiles as his head bobs with excitement, “I was rather exemplary, yes! Ms Lillian often paired Victoria and I together, knowing we could practise at home as well, though when we got to a… Certain age, Victoria decided she would rather have other male partners.” You can tell from the sadness in Ralph’s tone what he’s about to say next. “And, well, she was on such good terms with the other girls in the group that… Well, none of them wanted to be paired with little brother Ralph, so the teacher was my partner. ‘Little brother’, I ask you, only by twelve minutes!” he starts to mutter under his breath.

An urge swells within you to find Homeless Pete, insist he find a way to fix that time machine up as soon as possible, and travel back to that time just to shove every one of those rich little brats. Instead, you focus that energy on comforting Ralph, reaching your arms around his shoulders in a quick hug. “I’m sorry, mate. Though, I don’t suppose you remember those moves you learned?”

His eyes light up. “I certainly do! Did you want to learn how to? The teacher did say I was quite the natural, I could teach you if you wanted!”

You grin, “I’d love nothing more.”

You spend the best part of an hour learning how to do things like the Charleston Step, the bow tie and the one that Ralph calls one turns, two turns, which you can tell is his favourite based on the smile he gets when it’s his turn to get twirled around.

Eventually, you heave with exhaustion. “Well, that’s worked up the old appetite, though I dunno how I’m gonna cook when I can barely feel my legs!”

Ralph giggles, “Oh, please, that was nothing! Ms Lillian would have you in tatters.” You give him a death stare and he stops laughing immediately. “Would you like me to get us something from the baker’s? I could get you some of those doughed nuts that you enjoy.”

“For the last time, Ralph, doughnuts don’t actually contain nuts and you can have some yourself, too!” you groan as you start replacing everything you’d taken out of the fridge.

Ralph tuts, shaking his head. “I have no interest in your nuts, thank you.” That’s one to send to Scott and Connor later, you think to yourself as you open up your phone and add to the note “Ralph Quotes”. “Perhaps the nice old lady who calls me chap will be there,” he muses with a small smile, “I like her.”

“Hop to it, then, old sport,” you say in a mock-posh voice, earning you a glare from Ralph, which only makes you laugh as you make your own way to the shower.

When you’re out and dressed for the day - in the clothes Ralph had worn on his first night with you, but only because they’re your go-to comfort clothes anyway and you don’t exactly plan on leaving the flat - you go through your usual routine of checking the news app for the headlines, and then the trending topics on Twitter, just to see if there’s anything your friends will be talking about. 

You giggle at the fact that the name Ralph is trending, screenshotting it to send to the group chat later. Out of curiosity as to which Ralph the internet is obsessing over today, you tap it and scroll through. It’s mostly people in fandoms, making threads called ‘[series] as ralph tweets’. The “ralph tweets” in question seem to be of someone tweeting as though they think Twitter works in the same way as Google.

Your stomach drops as you realise some of them look a little too familiar. Almost as though you know a Ralph who’d be this far out of touch with the modern world. Almost as though you could track the very conversations that would lead to some of these to that particular Ralph.

You click through to the profile @RalphOnTwitter and scroll all the way down to see exactly when he must have gotten an account:

You send a single message in the group chat: GROUP MEETING, MY FLAT, ASAP. ALL MUST ATTEND.

Your friends all arrive relatively quickly after that. You simply herd them all onto the sofa one by one until the last of them has arrived, but just as you’re about to lay into them, the man of the hour arrives, having fumbled with the lock for a good minute with his arms full of baked goods.

“Ah, good morning, all! It’s a good job you’re all here, it was that young woman serving today and she always gives me extra food even though I don’t ask for it or pay for it, I don’t know why -”

“It’s ‘cause she fancies you, mate,” Connor grins, causing Ralph’s ears to turn a vibrant shade of red.

“Can we please discuss Ralph’s love life another time?!” you interrupt. “I need to know which of you is responsible for giving him access to a Twitter account.”

You know Anna’s in the clear, you’d been helping her in the kitchen, but the other three look at each other shiftily. “Well, it was sort of all of us? We just thought it might be fun to teach him,” Grace explains. “It’s not often you meet someone who’s never heard of social media.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut. “Ralph,” you call out, eyes still closed, “what do you do when you need to know the answer to something?”

“I do what you taught me when you first gave me my phone,” Ralph answers, perplexed. “I tap the very last square, I type in my question and I wait for an answer. A lot of them are just people being rude, but eventually someone will be helpful.”

“Sounds about right,” you groan, rubbing your face.

“Wait, you mean, you still do that even after we put - you didn’t think to just move one to the -” Scott’s eyes widen. “Oh, god.”

“Why would it move?!” Ralph asks, taking a bite out of his favourite pastry and chewing anxiously.

Anna starts giggling as she scrolls through his account, “Aww, but it’s so funny! And it’s not hurting anyone, what’s the damage in it?”

The fact he’s not supposed to be alive and yet he’s suddenly very much perceived, maybe? The fact he could accidentally tweet something that would give him away? The fact he could tweet something vastly inappropriate at any moment?

“Yeah, you could really capitalise on him while he’s here,” Connor smirks. “Get him on Instagram, too, get those brand deals coming.”

“Yeah! Ralph On Twitter’s face reveal, make it a whole thing,” Grace grins.

You sigh. “I dunno. It feels like a really bad idea.” You look at Ralph, who looks blankly back at you. “But… Maybe we could make something of you. As long as I’m your PR manager, obviously, and you don’t go talking directly to anyone.”

“I don’t think I know how,” Ralph shakes his head, “I thought it was the searching thing that you’d told me about.”

“Good. Never learn,” you point at him, “and give me your phone.” Your friends all cheer as they crowd around you, watching you download Instagram onto his phone, as well. You give him the handle @ralphoninsta “to keep the brand alive,” you explain as you set up his profile.

“Now we need a good first photo,” Scott holds his fingers and thumbs up in a rectangle shape to frame Ralph in his own field of vision. “Let’s get him into some good lighting.”

Sitting him in the best-lit corner of the flat, Scott insists on playing photographer, telling Ralph to sit and smile. However, Ralph does not seem to do well in front of the camera. He sits bolt upright, every part of him looking stiff and uncomfortable, and his smile isn’t right. It’s far too forced, it shows all his teeth and yet somehow the smile itself stretches beyond them. “Maybe we should take him out and about, get some candid shots of him,” Anna suggests.

You groan, having just started on your second doughnut. “Fine! I’ll leave the house today, but I won’t be pleased about it!” You shake your half-eaten breakfast at your friends, who laugh. “And you guys better come eat these, too, Ralph wasn’t kidding about these freebies.” You hold out another doughnut and wave it in Ralph’s direction, “Sure I can’t tempt you with one?”

He leaps onto his feet and backs away from you, “How many times must I ask you to keep your doughed nuts out of my face, please!” As expected, Scott and Connor crease up in laughter.

“You’ll love ‘em when you try ‘em, Ralphie,” you grin, taking another bite of your own, but Ralph isn’t as amused by it all.

Once you’re all adequately full, you begrudgingly throw on a hoodie and go out with everyone else, trying to find the right lighting, the right backdrop. Even with everything, Ralph just doesn’t seem to pose very well. His posture becomes so much more awkward and his facial expressions just aren’t… Ralph.

When he starts to express his apathy for the whole thing, you think of one more thing that might help. Standing him in front of a brick wall, you position Scott and set his phone camera to video, earning you an, “Ahh, good shout.”

Scott starts recording as Ralph stands in place, looking over at all of you. “So, what is it I’m supposed to do, now? Do I have to pose again? How?”

You shrug, “I dunno, just… Be Ralph. Stand however you want. Look however you want. Just, keep it moving around, yeah?”

He may still look a little awkward but you’re able to get him to do plenty, at least. Getting him comfortable is easy enough, you start getting him talking about his new favourite TV programmes and he very vaguely - and mostly not entirely correctly - describes the plots of them, with all the excited sincerity of a lifelong fan. Grace also asks him about his favourite local cats he’s befriended whenever he’s been out and about, which he lists happily and extensively. 

When Scott feels as though he’s got some good angles, he stops recording and you all crowd around him to review the footage together. While you all have different opinions on which angles are best, you can all agree on one thing - Ralph certainly photographs far, far better candidly. You all eventually settle on pausing and screenshotting at two specific moments, though Ralph is still perplexed. “But I’m not posed for either of those pictures, doesn’t that make them bad? I mean, I’m not even looking in that second one!” He points to a shot where he’s looking down, itching his jaw.

“No, trust me, it’s fine, they’re great,” you insist, maybe a little too quickly. Nobody seems to have noticed, though. Thankfully.

“And in this one, the sun is in my eyes! I’m all squinty!” He frowns, swiping to the previous shot.

“That’s called a smoulder, babes, everyone loves a smoulder.” You watch in amusement as Ralph’s ears turn pink at Grace’s words. No matter how many times you’ve told him that Grace calls everyone by that name, it still gets Ralph all nervous to be referred to by it himself. “You’re a natural, when you’re not actually trying.”

“Is that a good thing?” Ralph asks, his eyes darting around the group to gauge everyone’s reactions.

Anna nods, “It shows promise, right, Scott? Scott’s big into his photography shit, he’s got a proper camera and everything, don’t you?”

Scott nods. “If you ever wanted to try and get more comfortable with it, we could definitely shoot together sometime.”

Ralph shuffles over to you to whisper in your ear, “What do guns have to do with -”

You interrupt him to quietly explain, “You shoot photos on a camera.”

“Ah. Thank you.” Addressing Scott, he smiles and claps, bouncing on the balls of his feet, “If I am still around, I should rather enjoy that!”

“Fuck, I forgot we’ve only got you on borrowed time,” Anna complains, before gasping and clapping her hands, addressing you. “This is your weekend off, right?!” You nod, and she squeals, holding her face in her hands. “So, we have to show Ralph what a good night out is, right?!”

Excited reactions from the entire group, except one, obviously, but the others seem too keen on planning tonight now to respond to any of his reactions. “So, do we just take him out, or out-out?” Connor asks.

You look over at Ralph’s face, trying not to laugh too loudly at him looking as though he’s been asked to solve quantum equations in his head. “You trying to figure out the difference there, mate?” you ask, and he nods. “Right, so going out usually means just to the local pub, pretty casual attire, you say you’re only going for a couple of beers but then it’s approaching midnight, the poor sod behind the bar is calling last orders and you’re five deep, trying to gather everyone for the walk home where you drop them all off one by one. Going out-out is dressing up, it’s going into the city itself, it’s going to bars and nightclubs and getting super overpriced cocktails until it’s 3am and you’re sat outside a McDonald’s waiting for a taxi home with whichever stragglers you’ve managed to hold onto by the end of the night.”

“Dressing up, you say?!” Ralph lights up at the idea, but you put a hand on his arm.

“Not in the suit and tie way, I’m afraid.” You frown, “I don’t actually know if we’ve got any out-out clothes for you at home, you know. I haven’t had a chance to get you to any shops where you can try nice clothes on yourself.”

With a collective gasp, Grace and Anna each loop an arm around each of Ralph’s, with Scott joining in their chorus of, “Shopping trip?!”

You groan, “Can I at least go back and get changed if you’re gonna keep making me leave the house?”

“I mean, you don’t have to come with us, if you want a break,” Anna suggests. “You trust us with Ralph, right?”

“So what, just the four of you will be going, then?” Connor asks, to the others’ groans. “Oh, come off it, what use would I be?!”

“Connor,” Anna starts. “How often are we ever likely to ask you for your opinion as a straight man again? You need to come with, for your people.”

Connor sighs in resignation, though he can’t fight his own smile. “Alright, fine, but you lot are buying all the coffees I’m gonna need to get through this.”

You slip Ralph your bank card, mutter to him that the others will teach him how to use it, and salute the others as they all make their way to the high street before turning on your heel and heading back to the sanctuary of an empty flat.

Straight away, it feels too empty. Too quiet. Sure, you’ve trusted Ralph to just pop across the road and back, but you’ve got way more alone time now. You ask your Echo to play your favourite playlist as you make a start on the chores you normally can’t do with Ralph around.

Though you expect that to take up until they return, you’re done before the hour is up. You let out a long exhale, tutting through it as you look around your little living space and wonder what on earth to do with yourself. You start watching the next episode of the show you’d been watching, but even that didn’t feel right without the constant interjections, feeling as though you have to explain who characters are, what plots have already happened and why certain scenes are especially important.

You text the group chat a few times, but only Connor ever responds, and as is on brand for him, it’s always a sarcastic comment about how Ralph is obviously going to show up in the most garish outfits known to man. You take comfort in Connor being the one to make those jokes, at least, as if anyone else were to, you might be more inclined to worry that Ralph’s own tastes might just be a little too eclectic for the South London nightlife. At least Connor will be there to talk him down into dressing somewhat appropriately.

You also ask Scott to send you the photos for Ralph’s Instagram profile, telling him you’re happy to edit them to pass the time before eventually getting them onto Ralph’s phone to upload them. He sends you the screenshots, along with the video itself. One little watch, you tell yourself. Then to editing.

An indeterminable amount of time later, you’re replaying a part where you’re constantly correcting Ralph on the actual plot of Gilmore Girls versus what he seems to have retained that it’s about, where you’ve reached the point of uncontrollable laughter and he’s laughing at your laughter. His smile is so pure when he’s genuinely happy, and yet it’s so rare to see it that way. Even without his manufactured pose, when he’s smiling amongst you and your friends it still feels stilted. You often wonder whether he misses the familiarity of home, whether you’re doing a good enough job at helping Ralph to fit in. But seeing that look on his face, it fills you with an overwhelming sense of relief. It’s the first time you’ve been able to really notice him looking comfortable. You take a screenshot of that moment, but not necessarily to add to Ralph’s profile. Maybe this one stays as a memento of Ralph’s time here, just for you.

When you get the text in the group chat letting you know that a) they’re finished, and b) everyone’s getting ready at Grace’s since her housemates are all out for the evening, you hurriedly edit those two photos Scott sent, empty your wardrobe of all your “out-out” clothes into a duffel bag, throw in whatever toiletries and cosmetics you can find and make your way over there.

Scott, Anna and Ralph are nowhere to be found, at first, but Grace assures you that they’re simply helping him “look the part”. You’re more worried about checking in with Ralph, seeing if he’s overwhelmed at all, and most importantly, making sure he hasn’t blown his cover.

Grace is more than happy to help you pick out your outfit for the night, while Connor’s input remains a constant and totally helpful series of grunts without even looking up from his phone. Grace helps you get your face and hair ready, too, though not without scolding Connor for not participating either way, despite his constant rebuttals that he is taking care of “the most important thing”. You quickly shoot him a text thanking him for helping to take Ralph off your hands for an afternoon, and reassuring him you’ll buy him a drink to show your appreciation. The absolute wordsmith that he is, Connor sends a thumbs-up emoji in response.

There’s a ring at the doorbell, which even Grace is puzzled at. That fills you with a sense of concern, too - if Grace isn’t expecting someone at her door, who could it be? Connor seems pretty confident at going to open it, though, and you see why when he eventually shows up with the pizzas that he clearly ordered. “You didn’t have to be so cryptic about it!” You shake your head at him as you make sure everyone has drinks made up as well.

Scott’s head pokes out of a door to ask, “Everything okay? Who was at the door?” You and Connor both point to the food and Scott grins, “Ah, nice! Right on time! Okay, folks, are you ready to meet The New Ralph?”

The three of you clap and cheer as Scott and Anna make a big show of revealing Ralph, and thankfully you weren’t holding any of the glasses you were making drinks in, or you’d have surely dropped them. Wearing a dark fitted polo, very well-fitting jeans and some crisp new Adidas trainers, Ralph stands between your friends, looking around at the three of you. When he catches your eye, he only makes very fleeting eye contact before looking your own outfit up and down and then hastily looking back at the others. He rubs at the tops of his ears - you can’t quite see from this distance, but you wonder if he’s blushing, and whether he’s doing it over everyone’s reaction, or just yours.

You set everyone’s drinks up around the living room, deliberately seating you and Ralph together. “I wasn’t sure what kind of fancy-schmancy drinks you’re used to, and none of us exactly have champagne on tap, but I thought you might like a martini?” You say to him as he takes his seat on the sofa next to you.

Ralph’s eyes light up. “I do rather enjoy a martini!”

“That’s my guy!” Connor cheers from his corner, raising a slice of pizza in a toast of sorts. Ralph tentatively takes a slice and does the same, but you hurriedly follow it up by grabbing a plate and holding it beneath Ralph’s slice for him.

“Don’t want to ruin your nice outfit before you’ve even been seen out in it, do you?” You fuss, and Ralph nods, taking the plate from you and holding it directly under his chin as he eats, which makes you laugh. He could literally look like anyone in the world, but little mannerisms like that will always tell you that that’s your Ralph.

When he’s had enough to eat, you take the plate from him to take it out to the kitchen, though Grace is quick to whip it out of your hands, too. That’s when you notice the plate seems to have moved something underneath the collar of Ralph’s shirt. You move it aside slightly and, with all the might of keeping any kind of flustering behaviour at bay, you ask, “Is that a neck chain you’re wearing?” Is this what manifesting is?

“Yes! Do you like it?” Ralph scoops it out into view with his finger. “Just a plain one, but Anna said it really brought the whole outfit together, didn’t you?” He asks her excitedly, and she nods back.

“She’s got a good eye, that one,” you grin. “You look so good, Ralph.”

“As do you,” he mutters, gesturing quickly to your outfit. “I see what you mean about dressing to the nines, now. It’s nice to see this side of you, too. All of you, really,” he stammers, looking around.

“Right, last minute hair and make-up touches and then I want photos of all of us!” Grace announces.

Ralph’s face falls as he asks you quietly, “Would you like to teach me how to take them, since I’m not good at being in them?”

“Don’t be silly,” you nudge him. “We’ll get some good ones of you tonight, trust me. And if you wanna see a bad photo, wait until you see the atrocities this lot take by the end of the night.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. We’ll prepare a slideshow of your finest moments for him, shall we?” Scott retorts, to both yours and Ralph’s laughter.

“Maybe we should save that for a special occasion. A birthday, perhaps?” Ralph asks with amusement.

“Yes, Ralph!” Connor and Scott cheer in unison, both slapping his shoulders excitedly as you gasp in mock offence.

“The betrayal!” You can’t actually be mad at Ralph, though, not with how good he looks when he’s this happy. It’s even more captivating in person.

You shake your head as you go to make sure you’re all freshened up after your meal. You can’t keep thinking these things when you’re sober, or else who knows how that’ll manifest when you’re less so.

Your friends all love learning how to get Ralph distracted enough that he doesn’t even realise half the time that his photo is being taken. Scott, being the photography setup genius that he is, even gets his phone out, sets it on a timer, and manages to get Ralph laughing while looking at the camera, in the middle of the group, all while successfully running into the shot himself. Everyone’s in love with that photo, even Ralph, and when Scott sends it in the group chat, you promise him you’ll print one for the flat, and an extra one just for his room. 

“What about the other ones that everyone else took?” Ralph asks. “Could I get those ones on my phone, too?”

“I’ll do that tomorrow. Ooh, speaking of! Before we go! Gimme, gimme,” you make a grabby hand at Ralph, who eventually takes the hint that you want his phone as he hands it to you. You send over the two edited shots - and that’s all - and, on his phone, successfully upload them:

“No caption?” Anna asks, looking over your shoulder.

“Well, it’d look a bit dodge if he’s tweeting to ask his phone to stop changing his words for him, but then he’s a total whiz at Instagram, wouldn’t it?” You explain, to everyone’s agreement.

Finally, you’re all piled into an Uber and on your way to your favourite bar. It’s in the car, cramped between you and the door, that Ralph realises something in a panic. Frantically tapping your arm, he whispers, “Won’t they ask me to prove I’m of age to drink there?”

You shake your head. “Don’t sweat it. The staff know us like the backs of their hands, they’ll trust us that we’re not bringing in some teenager. Besides, you look far less baby-faced now,” you wrestle your arm out enough to ruffle the beard he’s starting to grow with your fingertips. “So we’ll be fine. Promise.”

Ralph, too, wrangles a hand out to hold his little finger towards you. “Promise?”

With a small laugh, you link your own with his. “Yes, but less of that around the people we have to convince that you’re not a kid, okay?” Ralph nods with a very serious expression, and you copy him before settling back into conversation with your friends.

It takes a few bats of the group’s eyelids and some convincing c’mon, mates but the bouncer soon lets Ralph in with you all, to which he enthusiastically thanks them over and over again. You hurriedly rush him in ahead of you before he arouses too much suspicion.

Connor makes a point of letting Ralph know where the toilets are, and Ralph immediately disappears off into that direction. You ask the boys if one of them should make sure he’s okay getting there, but everyone scolds you for fussing over him too much and moves you along with the rest of them to order everyone’s drinks. You want to hold onto Ralph’s for him but, as Scott reminds you, it’s safer for him to, so that you can look after your own. Just in case.

Soon enough, as with every night out, the group starts to scatter. Scott is happily chatting between Connor and a girl you don’t recognise, most likely playing wingman. You can spot Anna and Grace in amidst a small group of people whose heads are turned away from you. Still no sign of Ralph for a while. Ringing his phone does nothing, but the music is quite loud, he might not be able to hear. The bar is small enough, you tell yourself. He’ll find you eventually.

As you’re craning your head around the bar one more time, you don’t realise anyone is in your immediate vicinity until you almost trip over someone behind you. They catch you with a, “Whoa, easy there! How many have you had?!”

“Barely any, that’s the scary thing!” You laugh.

The man smiles at you. “Sounds like I ought to buy you one then, eh?”

You shrug, “Sure, what’s a free drink?” You gesture that you’ll walk up to the bar with him and order your drink. He tries to make small conversation, and you start to get into it a little, until he starts trying to flirt. He’s not exactly your type, anyway, and his total lack of game really doesn’t help matters. You try and get away with a simple thank you, a promise that you’ll find him later to buy him one back but you really must get back to your friends.

“Ah, what’s the rush? Surely it’s easier for them to come and find you if we stay here, right?” He asks. You look around desperately, trying with all your might to use some of that manifesting power you seemed to have earlier to will one of the boys back, both to rescue you and salvage Ralph.

~~~

Ralph was having quite the experience. Having heard the other boys talk of the bathroom, he assumed that was a prompt for everyone to go, but only once he could see the door to it did Ralph turn around and realise he was completely on his own. Suddenly, the atmosphere changes. What seemed dimly lit now appears almost pitch black. There are lights of all colours shining everywhere. Music that doesn’t quite sound like music thumps in the background. Twenty conversations happening around him turn into white noise, until someone approaches him. A total stranger. Two of them, actually.

 “Alright, mate? Do me a favour?” One asks, despite Ralph’s expression clearly being one that should let anyone know that he is in no position to be giving out any favours. They continue anyway, “Look, I have to draw something, and you have to guess what it is, okay?” Ralph, still bewildered, does not respond in the slightest, but before he knows it, the other person has turned around so that their back can be used as a surface. The original asker now splays a napkin of sorts against their friend’s back as they try and draw something.

Ralph tries his absolute hardest, but as no amount of squinting and focusing can help him, he tells them, “Oh bother, I’m terribly sorry, chaps, I’m honestly trying but I’m really coming up trumps, I do apologise.”

They give him looks of confusion and concern. “Are you on something?”

“Why does everybody assume that of me, just because I’m ever so slightly more well spoken than the average resident here?!” Ralph complains with a frown. “Can this not just be how I talk?”

“Oh my days, you’re a right laugh,” the other grins. “Here, come and do a shot with us, you have to!”

“I- Do I?” Ralph asks, and they nod. “Well, I really should get back to my friends -”

“Oh, c’mon, one shot and we’ll help you find them. Deal?” They ask.

“Well… Alright,” Ralph sighs in defeat. If he can’t find you, he can at least find a constant to anchor onto in the meantime.

“Oi, lads!” The two call out as they approach the table they’re leading Ralph to. “Time out on that game for a minute, we’re doing shots with this legend!” They both look at Ralph expectantly, waiting for him to introduce himself.

“Oh! Yes! Hello, everyone. My name is Ralph. Fabulous to meet you all,” he smiles as he looks around the table.

“Isn’t he sick?!” The artist of the pair grins at his friends.

“Quite the picture of health, actually,” Ralph retorts with a side glance.

“Oh, isn’t he a cutie,” a girl coos from the table. The other of the pair starts to clench his jaw.

“Oi, come off it,” another comforts from around the table. “Any bloke that uses the word fabulous isn’t exactly stealing your girlfriend, is he.”

Ralph’s not even sure how to answer to that, but he isn’t given much time to, either, before being whisked away to the bar with this new group. They hand him a tiny glass filled with clear liquid. Ralph wonders if a shot is perhaps some sort of palate cleanser, a mouthful of water between drinks.

The fiery sensation that travels down his throat as he drinks teaches him that it certainly is not. But once the unpleasantness clears, the strange comfort of alcohol starts to fill Ralph with warmth. It’s certainly happening a lot faster than he’s used to, but then these drinks are far stronger than Ralph’s usual tastes.

Briefly forgetting his own arrangement, he returns from the bar with his new acquaintances - and another martini in hand - and sits back at the table with them as they continue playing their game. It’s played on one of their phones. Someone taps through prompts and reads them aloud. Sometimes it’s challenging a player to do something themselves, sometimes it’s challenging them to approach a stranger, as they had done with Ralph. Sometimes it’s asking them completely arbitrary questions to vote upon amongst the group. They all certainly seem to be having a great time playing, anyway.

Once they declare a round over, they ask Ralph if he wants to join in the next one. “Oh, I’m rather… Old-fashioned, I don’t think I’d be a good fit for this, but I’m sure my friends would love it! Shall I go and find them?”

“More the merrier,” one shrugs.

Ralph excitedly jumps up and starts patrolling the bar to find a familiar face amongst the crowd. He’s yet to see any at all, until one makes his heart drop. He sees you, in the arms of another man. Ralph had really been priding himself on repressing his feelings around you. He wasn’t going to repeat what happened with Lauren. He wasn’t going to scare you off too soon. He was going to keep it to himself. He had tried so hard. And yet, this sight is truly unbearable.

Biting at his quivering lower lip, he storms back into the direction of the bathrooms and keeps going, shoving the first door he finds open as he tries not to cry.

His sorrow is quickly replaced with horror as he finds several women all standing in various places around the room. Some just standing and chatting, some calling to friends in the stalls, some checking themselves in the mirror. After the scene finally sets in for Ralph, he lets out an ultimately high-pitched shriek, swivels around and immediately starts scolding himself. “Oh, bother and blast! Please, forgive me, girls, oh, what an absolute cad I am, I’ve truly disgraced myself, just when it couldn’t get any worse!” His voice gets shakier with every word, and he flinches when a hand appears on his shoulder.

“Sorry!” One of the girls apologises hurriedly. “I just wanted to let you know it’s okay. Are you alright?”

“Please do not ask me if I have taken any sort of drug just because I am well-spoken!” Ralph half-cries, and the hand squeezes him comfortingly.

“We won’t, promise. Did you need a wee, or just a wind down?”

“I’m not sure, I just… Ran. I’m terribly sorry,” Ralph sighs.

“It’s fine,” the voice reassures. “Wanna turn around and talk to us? I promise, there’s no better therapy than a night in the girls’ loos. Right?” A chorus of agreement fills the room.

Ralph slowly turns around to see an awful lot of smiling faces. He sniffs harshly and nods, “Good evening.”

“Hi!” The one who had approached him smiles. “I’m Lauren!” 

Of all the names! “L-Lauren?” Ralph practically squeaks out as he feels himself start to well up, and her own face falls in some kind of realisation as she shakes her head. 

“Or Loz! Just call me Loz! All my friends do! Forget the other name entirely. Sound good?”

Ralph nods. “I’m Ralph. A pleasure to meet you, despite it being under my most horrific actions.”

The other girls introduce themselves, as well. “So, Ralph, this, uh… Girl With The Forbidden Name, is she why you’re all upset?”

“Is she?” One pipes up from the very back. “Because you point her out and I’ll sort her out, no holds barred.”

“See, this is what I tell you, you get like two vodka red bulls down you and you’re ready to throw hands at any inconvenience,” her friend groans next to her. Ralph very quickly taps the square with the bird on it and types a message out to ask the internet “why do people throw hands at each other”, quickly followed by “what sort of hands do people throw”. He decides he’ll check people’s answers later, so as not to appear rude.

“Look at him, though!” The more hot-headed one gestures to Ralph as he wipes away the tears that had been threatening to fall. “Look at those eyes! Like melted chocolate, they are. What kinda sadist would possibly make that happen?!”

“Oh, it’s nothing, it’s all futile,” Ralph shakes his head, but his new friend Loz points at him.

“Oi. Nothing’s futile here. This is a safe space. Let it out.”

Ralph starts to explain that he had fallen for a Lauren, dove in headfirst, had his heart broken and vowed not to let it happen again, but that seeing the housemate he cared so deeply for in the arms of another just brought all of that sadness back up again. The girls are all very sympathetic, and very good at knowing exactly what to say to make Ralph feel better. The rather boisterous one keeps trying to speak negatively of you, but Ralph won’t have any of that. You’re your own person, and it’s up to Ralph to get over his own feelings. The girls commend him on his emotional maturity. Apparently not a lot of men have that.

They ask if he wants to talk it through with you, but he shakes his head, telling them that he isn’t certain how long it is before he can go home again, and so he doesn’t want to commit to anything or risk either staying with you with such an emotionally charged elephant in the room at all times, or being turfed out indefinitely.

"That's quite the predicament you've got yourself in, Ralphie, babes," Loz hugs him arm, and he allows himself the comfort of leaning against her.

Suddenly, a stall door swings open violently, and a whole new girl appears, holding her phone up to her face. Before anyone else can ask if she's okay, she gasps loudly, "I bloody knew it!"

Everyone looks at her quizzically, including Ralph, and she continues. "Well, I thought, guy called Ralph who sounds really old-fashioned, I wonder if… And then some of the things he's said kind of sounded like those tweets, have any of you seen that Ralph On Twitter guy?"

A few more gasps of realisation dot about the room. Ralph's ears turn pink as he recognises the word Twitter from the conversation you’d had with the other four this morning. Loz frowns, "Are you sure it's -"

"Is this your insta?" She turns her phone around to show Ralph her screen. It says Instagram on the top, so Ralph takes out his phone and presses the square that also says that, showing it around to see if that's right. Excitedly, all the girls crowd around to make sure they get Ralph's handle right so they can follow him.

One girl - Ralph's already lost track of them, honestly - announces, "So what I'm hearing is, girls' room photoshoot with Ralph from Twitter?!"

Ralph laughs nervously, "Oh goodness, I'm flattered, but those are all taken candidly, would you believe! I am certainly no poser, I have been told this enough times today already."

"Bollocks to that!" The loud one shouts. "We'll teach you how, won't we, girls?"

Before Ralph knows it, he's squatting amongst all his new friends who are trying to teach him how to do the smoulder look he was doing in his photo on purpose when the main door opens to reveal you standing there, looking absolutely bewildered. "Oh my god, Ralph! You're okay! Thank fuck for that!"

As you frantically update the group chat that you’ve found Ralph safe and well, Loz reaches for his hand to squeeze it. The loud girl starts to tense up behind him but Loz waves her down from behind his back. “Yeah, he’s just been having some drunk girl therapy,” she explains calmly.

“God, I could do with some of that right now,” you groan. “Honestly, you trip and fall onto a guy one time and he thinks you’re soulmates, it’s horrendous!”

Ralph’s face lights up all of a sudden. “You’d… You’d fallen on him?” Concern falls back onto his expression. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, physically, I’m fine, but I don’t know how I’m going to mentally recover from listening to one man talk about himself so much,” you groan into your hands as you hold your face. “I forgot why I stopped dating in London.” You notice that one of the girls puts her arm down after having held her phone up at a particular angle. “Oh my god, wait, you guys were taking photos together?” A few of them nod. “Would you like me to take them for you? Rather than one of you trying to fit everyone in at arm’s length.”

“Oh my god, would you?” one of them sighs with relief.

You nod, gesturing to Ralph to hand you his phone again.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the presence of so many other people in the photo with him, but Ralph blends in so much more naturally in the photos you take now, even when you suggest different poses and expressions. One of them - Ralph quickly introduces her as Loz, and no other name - asks around for phone numbers of the girls that, you assume, had all just met and bonded over whatever Ralph was in here for. You take over the role of adding everyone’s numbers into Ralph’s phone, and see that Loz adds him to a group chat that she names “Ralphie’s Angels”. You laugh at the name, and send all the photos you’ve taken into the group chat.

“Right, I can feel myself sobering up now, and we can’t have that,” one of them calls out, making the rest of you laugh. “Shall we all go and face the music?”

You pull a face, “Ugh, that means I have to go back and face… Him.”

“Nah, you stick with us, hun,” the one who seemed hostile with you at first suddenly seems to be fighting your corner now. “He even looks in your direction when I’m around, I’ll make him wish he didn’t.” You give her a comforted smile in response and the whole horde starts making its way out of the bathroom.

Your friends also catch up with you at the bar, grateful to see Ralph’s face again, too. Grace is hanging off some new guy’s arm, Anna is half-present in the whole conversation but also half-texting somebody, and Scott is catching up with Ralph. You spot that Connor isn’t talking to anyone and head over to him, “What are you drinking?” you ask loudly over all the music. “I still owe you, remember!”

Connor shakes his head, “Nah, don’t sweat it. Ralph’s a good’un, it was no bother.” Speak of the devil, Ralph excitedly hands you and Connor drinks that one of his new friends insists on buying for everyone, then grabs his own glass from Scott who’s followed him to clink against yours and Connor’s before hurriedly rejoining his group. You and your friends laugh in unison before Connor downs his martini, gives you a quick hug and heads home for the night. Grace and her new friend are the next to leave - you never did catch his name, and you’re not sure you’ll have a reason to remember it anyway.

You dismiss Anna and Scott, telling them that Ralph will probably be a while yet, and that they don’t have to wait up for him just because you do. At first they insist on staying with you, but eventually tiredness consumes them both and they bid you goodnight.

As though preying from afar - because that’s most likely what he was doing - your admirer from earlier appears as soon as your friends are out of the door. “Well, well, we meet again.”

Your eyes narrow as you groan out a breath. “Yeah, hi -”

“I can’t believe your friends would leave you alone like that,” he shakes his head.

“Oh, they haven’t, I’m still waiting on -” Your knight in 21st century armour, Ralph, walks over to the pair of you. “Ah, there he is! Are we going home now?”

“Would you like to?” Ralph asks, concern in his eyes, and you nod with fervour. “Then yes!”

The other man pulls a face. “Wait, sorry, you’re going home with - who the fuck is this?!” He gestures at Ralph, a nasty expression on his face.

Thankfully, Ralph’s cavalry come to your defence, led by none other than an incredibly loud, “Oi, dickhead! Who the fuck are you?! Fucking look at my friend like that again, see what happens, yeah?” Despite being perhaps half a foot shorter, Ralph’s most fiery friend easily squares up against him.

You tap her shoulder in thanks, take Ralph’s hand and guide him out of the bar. The cool air outside hits your face, but the alcohol in your system acts as a blanket around the rest of you. “You good?” You ask Ralph, and he nods. “Good. I’ll call for an Uber.”

Ralph frowns, “But aren’t those taxis, parked up over there?”

“Well remembered! Yeah, but a drunk girl once told me that those charge extra for all the time they’ve spent sitting there, and I’ve never felt bougie enough to spend the money to find out if it is true, so I like to play it safe.” You book an Uber that says it’s four minutes away and sit on the edge of the path. Ralph joins you. “Sorry we lost you, earlier, by the way. I did keep trying to look for you.”

“Pah! My own fault, really. I got all frazzled, you know,” Ralph’s eyes widen as he gestures wildly, making you laugh. “I still feel a tad so now!”

“It helps to kind of start resting your head for a bit. Here,” you pat your shoulder and Ralph takes the hint, tucking himself inwards to rest his head on your shoulder. Yours head falls onto his instinctively, and you set your phone to the front camera. You see Ralph’s small, contented smile, quickly plaster one of your own on and snap a photo.

Ralph then frowns, “Oh, no! I wasn’t prepared!”

“Exactly. Look,” you say fondly as you show him the photo. Both of you looking happy and comfortable, despite some bumps in the road. A perfectly normal first night out for Ralph.

“Can you put that one on my phone too, please?” he asks sleepily.

Reluctantly, you push his head away from you. “Yes, but c’mon, sleepyhead. We still have to get home.”

Ralph doesn’t make it the whole journey home, his head once again flopping against yours in the back seat of the taxi as he sleeps. You manage to prod him awake once you’re back outside your block of flats, though, and he trudges along behind you into the lift and along the hallway until you’re back in the safety of the flat again. “Gimme a minute to grab some PJs for the night, yeah?” 

“Of course. I think I should use the bathroom properly now,” he nods.

You pull a face, “Yeah, the fact you’ve gone the whole night without it is honestly impressive!” You hear Ralph chuckle under his breath as you go back into your room, blindly head to your pyjama drawer, take out the first top and bottoms that you can feel, regardless of whether or not they match, and head back into the front room, opting to duck beneath the kitchen counter to change.

Ralph re-emerges a few minutes later, his voice drawling wearily as he asks, “Would you like the bed for tonight? I can’t imagine the morning should be pleasant for either of us.”

You walk over to him and put your hand on his shoulder as you chuckle, “It’ll be fine. You probably need it more than I do, that was probably heavier than what you’re used to.”

“I had a shot tonight, you know,” Ralph tells you with intrigue.

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Oh, yeah? And how did that go for you?”

“Absolutely awful,” he replies simply, pulling a face of disgust, and you both laugh.

“Yeah, you’ll definitely need the bed, then,” you nod. “Did you have a good time, though?”

“Oh, most certainly!” he grins. “I’ve made so many new friends! And I really rather think I’ve made a good impression on your friends, as well.”

“You know they’re your friends too, right?” you ask, cocking your head. Ralph tries to wave you off, and you pull a face of disbelief. “Come off it, they love you! I bet you had a great time with them earlier, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely! Um, but… I did… Um… It wasn’t quite the same without your presence there,” he mumbles.

You frown, “Did you say anything about your past?”

“Oh, no, that never came up! Just… Oh, ignore me, I’m dreadfully tired,” Ralph rubs his face wearily.

“Yeah, you’ll be thanking me for the greasy-ass breakfast I’ll be making us in the morning, so get ready for that,” you grin at him before pulling him in for a goodnight hug. He may smell like a fragrance store with all the proximity he’s had to several perfumed people, but there’s still something comforting about being able to bury your face into his shoulder and taking a deep breath in. Ralph’s arms tighten around you as you do so, as he allows himself the luxury of squeezing his eyes shut and just enjoying the moment.

You eventually pull away with a yawn, “Alright, I think we’re both about to fall asleep standing up, so… Night, Ralph.”

“Y-yes. Of course. Goodnight. Pleasant dreams,” Ralph smiles awkwardly at you before walking quickly to the bedroom.

You set yourself up on the sofa and start looking through the day’s photos. Ralph’s little instagram photoshoot doesn’t feel like it was only this morning, and you can’t help but let yourself fall into the trap of looking at the photo of him laughing again. Shaking your head again, as though that’ll do anything at this point, you scroll through to the photo of all six of you in Grace’s house and set it as your lock screen. You keep scrolling through hurriedly to your other favourite photo of the night, and, while it may be a little delusional, you set the photo of the two of you at the end of the night as your home screen. You’re used to being into people who you can’t have, be it from their disinterest or other reasons, so what’s the harm in indulging yourself a little by imagining a world where the two of you could always be like that?

That’s what Ralph tells himself too as he stares at the photo on his own phone screen until the need for sleep finally takes over.

next chapter

[e-m-christina]

PAROXYSM - Billy Hargrove

CHAPTER ONE : The Cassette Tape

Summary: It's the summer of '85 and Y/n Hopper has a new job at the newly opened Star-Court Mall. When Dustin's radio picks up a Russian transmission, she leads a small group comprised of herself, Dustin, sassy Erica and an unwilling Billy Hargrove to uncover the secrets hiding within Hawkins.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Warnings/Tags: Enemies to lovers, cursing

Requested by @hargrove-stan I hope you enjoy!

Important A/N: Steve and Billy switch places in this story - Billy works at Scoops Ahoy and Steve works at the pool. Billy knows about the Upsidedown, The Lab, Eleven etc.

Find future chapters on my MASTERLIST

“Damn machine,” Y/n muttered, kicking the ice-cream mixer. In the month that she had been working at Scoops Ahoy, the ice-cream mixer refused to work for her. Every morning she had to beat it until it chugged to life.

“Would you hurry up with that?” A curly blond head poked through the window in the wall. “I have a queue forming here.”

“This shitty heap of junk isn’t working again,” Y/n said, giving the machine one last kick.

“Well make it work! There are like ten people waiting out here and I’m out of ice cream.” Billy said, glancing over his shoulder at the apparent line.

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Y/n said, bashing the side of the machine with her fist.

“Jesus Christ,” Billy sighed, disappearing from the window before bursting through the kitchen door. “I’ll get this to work. You go deal with the customers.”

“I can do it myself!” Y/n protested but Billy shoved her out the way. She watched with a scowl as he inspected the mixer and with one slap of his hand, the machine buzzed to life and began to mix the sweet liquid cream.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” Y/n crossed her arms. “If you let me kick it one more time, it would’ve worked for me too.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Doll.” Billy shoved his ice-cream scooper into her hand. “Your turn to deal with the customers.”

Y/n groaned and turned on her heel. Working with Billy was unbearable - all he ever did was complain, flirt and intentionally provoke her.

“Hey, Hargrove, there is no queue!” Y/n shouted, coming to a halt in the empty shop.

“I know, I just wanted you out there so I could have my break,” Billy yelled back.

“Asshole,” Y/n muttered, chucking the scoop on the counter with a clang.

“I heard that!”

Just when Y/n was going to march right back into the kitchen, someone coughed behind her.

“Welcome to Scoops Ahoy, what can I-” Y/n paused when her eyes landed on a familiar mop of curly brown hair. “Henderson!”

“The one and only!” Dustin laughed.

“You’re back!” Y/n hopped over the counter with a grin.

"Yeah, I am! And you got the job!"

“I did get the job.” Y/n laughed, waving her hands in a frenzy as she attempted to perform the secret handshake.

"You always get it wrong," Dustin rolled his eyes, making Y/n laugh.

“How many children are you friends with?” A voice broke through their celebration. Billy was leaning on the counter beside Y/n, with a cocked brow.

“Unfortunately, Billy works here too.”

--

“You have a girlfriend? That’s amazing!” Y/n said, taking a seat beside Dustin in one of the booths.

“And you want to know the best part? She doesn’t care that my pearly whites are still coming in. She says kissing is better without teeth anyway.”

“Wow, um...that’s great!” Y/n said, though she would have rathered not knowing the extra information about Suzie's preference in kissing. “Proud of you man!”

“Mhm,” Dustin shovelled a spoonful of banana-split sundae into his mouth. “Do you really get to eat as much of this as you want?”

“Yeah, though it’s not a great idea for me. Gotta keep in shape for the admirers.” Y/n chuckled with a wink.

“Yeah? And how is that working out for you?” Billy smirked from the counter.

“Ignore him.” Y/n sighed.

“I remember he helped us kill those demodogs last year. He seems cool.”

“He’s not.” Y/n shook her head. “So, where are the other knuckleheads?”

“They ditched me yesterday,” Dustin said with a locked jaw.

“What? For real?" Y/n couldn't believe her ears - she thought he was good friends with the group.

“First day back as well, can you believe that shit?”

“Damn, I'm sorry about that. You can always hang with me though!" Y/n awkwardly patted Dustin's shoulder.

"I wouldn't, she's really annoying." Y/n's head whipped around again.

"Stop eavesdropping, Hargrove!" She hissed, but Billy only shook his head and disappeared into the kitchen with an irksome grin.

“They are gonna regret it big time though when they don’t get to share in my glory.” Dustin stabbed the ice scream violently with his spoon.

“Glory?" Y/n asked. "What glory?”

“So last night I was trying to get in contact with Suzie, and err..”

"Continue?" Y/n said, raising an eyebrow as she watched Dustin swivel around in his seat, looking for a potential eavesdropper, before mumbling something into his hand.

"I didn't catch that," Y/n said.

"I said," Dustin mumbled something inaudible into his hand again. 'What the hell was wrong with that boy?' Y/n thought.

“Just speak louder,”

“I intercepted a secret Russian communication!” Dustin burst out and Y/n jumped back.

“Oh jeez...yeah that is what I thought you said,” Y/n said, trying to act casual because multiple people had directed their attention to Dustin's outburst. She waited a few moments for the information process before frowning. “Wait, what does that mean?”

“It means Y/n, that we could be heroes. True American heroes.” Dustin said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Huh, American heroes?” Y/n shuffled closer. She still had no clue what the boy was talking about but she just went with it. That was something she learned over the last two years - don't question the kids and just go with it. They probably know more.

“Just think, you could have all the men and women you want and more.” Dustin waved his hands, gazing into the distance.

“I like the sound of that," Y/n chuckled. "What’s the catch?”

“None, I just need your help.”

“With what?” Y/n asked, watching as Dustin unzipped his school bag and pulled out a tattered red book.

“Translation.”

---

Y/n chomped down on a banana as she paced the kitchen. She and Dustin had been replaying the recording of the transmission for over an hour, yet they had come to no conclusions.

“So, what do you think?” Dustin asked for the millionth time.

“It sounded familiar,” Y/n said with closed eyes as she rubbed her temples.

“Yeah, because it's been on repeat for an hour!"

“No, no," Y/n shook her head. "The music. The music in the background at the end is familiar.”

“Why are you listening to the music, Y/n!” Dustin said exasperatedly. “Listen to the Russian, we are translating the Russian!”

“I’m trying to listen to the Russian but the music playing in the-”

“Alright, babysitting time is over. You need to get out there” Billy swung the kitchen door open with a bang. "I can't deal with that brat, Erica. She keeps asking for tasters."

“We are doing something very important here,” Dustin said, shoving the translation book under the table to hide it from Billy's view.

“Tell me, Toothless, how do you know these Russians are up to no good?” Billy asked, whipping out a cigarette.

“How does he know about the Russians? Did you tell him about the Russians?” Dustin whispered, glancing at Y/n.

“No, did you?” Y/n whispered back.

“I’m standing right here," Billy puffed on the cigarette with an annoyed expression. “I'm not deaf, I overheard your conversation and that fucking annoying cassette tape. Obviously, you don't know that Russian has a different alphabet, so you and Toothless can't translate it."

“How the hell do you know that?” Y/n asked, completely shocked - that was possibly the most intelligent thing she had ever heard leave Billy's lips.

“Had to take Russian classes back in California. Now let me listen.” Billy took a seat opposite Dustin.

“Why would we let you listen?” Dustin asked, clutching the cassette tape close to his chest.

“Because I might be able to help?”

“Why would you want to help us?” Y/n asked, folding her arms.

“I am bored as shit here and I have nothing better to do." Billy groaned, leaning back in his seat. "Unless you'd be willing to entertain me, Y/n?"

Y/n rolled her eyes with a disgusted look, but opted to ignore his last comment.

“Can we trust him?” Dustin asked, completely oblivious to Billy's insinuation.

“Are you forgetting that I saved both your asses from those demon pigs last year? Of course you can trust me.” Billy said, waving his hands.

“Demodogs, not demon pigs." Dustin corrected.

“Whatever, Toothless, my point still stands."

“He might be the only one who can help,” Y/n bit her lip. She didn't like the idea of Billy joining them, but he was probably the only one that knew any Russian out of everyone they knew. Besides, he had proved he could be helpful before right?

---

Y/n was in the middle of piling colourful sprinkles on a customer's order when the window to the kitchen slid open.

“Psst, we got the first sentence.” Billy whispered.

“Oh seriously?” Y/n placed the tub of sprinkles down before rushing over to the window.

“The week is long,” Billy drawled out in what Y/n guessed was a terrible Russian accent.

“Well, that’s thrilling.” Y/n said, rolling her eyes.

“It’s progress. How does it feel that I am more helpful than you, Doll?”

“Oh shove off Hargrove, and stop calling me that-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Billy slid the window shut with a smirk.

---

“The week is long, the silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west.” Y/n muttered to herself, locking the parlour door. “That just can’t be right, it makes no sense.”

“Honestly, I think it is great news.” Dustin grinned, rocking back on his feet as Billy and Y/n pulled down the security door.

“How is that great news? It is total nonsense. I'm not sure why I even tried to help." Billy muttered, dropping a burnt-out cigarette butt on the marble tiles.

"It must be a super-secret spy code,” Dustin said, as they slowly began their journey to the exit. Most of the shops had closed and lay in darkness, so their only light source came from the occasional neon sign or from the security lights.

“Sounds like bullshit," Billy said, pulling off his work hat.

“He might be right.” Y/n said, gazing into the huge mall windows.

“What? You're buying into this too?" Billy asked. "It's probably some messed-up channel that Toothless hacked into."

"After last year, I’d believe anything," Y/n said with a shrug. "Besides, if hypothetically that we have discovered an evil Russian channel, they aren't going to say 'send the nuke at noon.' They'd speak in spy-code, just like Dustin said."

"S'pose you're right there." Billy mumbled. "But you still sound fucking insane."

Y/n didn't reply. Something caught her attention and she stopped walking, pausing in front of a single horse carousel.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” Dustin asked as she began scrabbling around in the pockets of her sailor work clothes.

“Quarter, I need a quarter!" Y/n said. If she was right about this...

“Are you sure you are tall enough for that ride, Doll?” Billy mocked.

“Shove off, Hargrove," Y/n said, snatching a quarter from Dustin's hand before shoving it into the coin slot. Slowly but surely the horse began to move.

“You need help getting up on it?" Billy asked, making Dustin laugh.

“Shh! Would you two just shut up and listen?” Y/n hissed, pointing to the carousel. After a few moments, Dustin's face lit up.

“Holy shit, the music,” Dustin exclaimed, scrambling to pull out his cassette tape.

“I don’t understand.” Billy said with a raised brow.

“Of course you don’t.” Y/n muttered and Dustin hit play on the recording.

“It is the same music at the end of the tape! Y/n was right, this is why it sounds familiar!” Dustin said.

“Maybe they have horses like that in Russia?" Billy asked, still not entirely convinced.

“Indiana Flyer? I don’t think so.” Y/n shook her head. “The secret code didn’t come from Russia... it came from here.”

---

Thanks for reading! Comment if you want to be tagged in the next parts. Requests are open!

[cal-puddies]

Fetish for My Love // Calum Hood

big shouts to @kindahoping4forever for both the graphic and being her amazing self! I know she is struggling rn but she was there every step of the way while I formulated this idea and wrote it. It took me less than 24 hours because I was so inspired by this thirst trap of a man over the last week.

fun note: the working title was "why's cal gotta sit like that tho"

Warnings: deep throating, oral stimulation on a guy, manual stimulation on a girl, light dirty talk, smut, consensual filming of a sexual act.

Word Count: 2901

Cass & Crystal’s Masterlist

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You’re focusing on applying false lashes with a flurry of girls moving around you, getting dressed, giggling, applying makeup, there’s music lowly in the background so you all could catch up over it. You smirk widely when you hear Wildflower start and you melt a little when you hear Cal’s voice; A voice you’re very familiar with and was just whispering in your ear mere hours ago.

“Wait! Isn’t this…?” One of your friends starts to ask, and before you can answer, your best friend pipes in with “Yep!”

As if on queue, a text from Cal pops up, fit check! Lemme hype my girl

You roll your eyes but snap a quick mirror pic with your bestie and send it.

What a beaut! Have fun tonight, let me know if you need picked up.

You send him back a little heart and then go about your business.

It’s barely midnight and you and the girls are a couple drinks and a shot or two in when you check your phone. Cal’s texted you a couple times, just some random ramblings about his night, nothing important, but you text him back, how’re my boys?

You watch the bubble pop up a couple times but no response. Then you get a picture of Duke on his back next to Cal, and then another one of Cal sitting on the edge of his bed facing the mirror. He’s wearing his green flannel that's slightly open at the top, a white beanie and a pair of black pants. You bite your lip looking at him, because even if he doesn’t mean it, the picture is screaming come over and suck me off. And that sounds a lot better than being in the club right now. You could really go for Calum’s fingers tangled in your hair. The next picture you get is his black pants balled up on the ground, and for a finale, he’s holding his cock through his boxers. You chew your lip more and send off a couple hearts and a flirty slow night then? before chugging the rest of your drink.

You find your best friend in line at the bathroom, “Hey, i gotta go. My head is pounding.” you scrunch up one side of your face.

“NO! Boo!! We never get to hang anymore.” she pouts, throwing her arms around you.

“Maybe next time we hang we can go somewhere quieter?” you laugh, “We can’t even talk!”

“Ok fair! I’m sorry your head hurts… go home and get some rest… text me though, the whole uber ride.” she demands and you nod and wave her off.

You keep your promise though, and text her about nothing the whole way to Cal’s, which isn’t technically your home but felt a lot more like it these days. You let yourself in using your key and find him and Duke in his room. He’s still in the beanie, flannel and black boxer briefs and you chuckle at him, lounging on the bed.

“Hey!” he grins, holding his arms out for you. You kick off your shoes on your way to his bed and grin at him, laying yourself on him, “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

You lean in for a kiss, “Oh sure, you send pictures like those and you weren’t expecting me to come over?”

“Of Duke being so cuddly? You’re right, that was a dick move.” he grins. “I really did want you to have a good night with the girls.” he says earnestly.

“I know, and I did… now I wanna see about making this dick,” you grab his length through his underwear, “move,” you wink up at him and then let go, pushing yourself up to straddle him, he rests his hands on your ass and squeezes, and you reach up to yank the beanie off his head. You toss it to the side and grab his hair, pulling his head to expose his neck for you.

He moans, “Oh… didn’t know it’d have this affect on you.” he murmurs, letting his head tilt further back to expose more skin for you.

You continue down his neck, undoing a couple more buttons so you can get more of his chest exposed, you leave open mouth kisses across the expanse of his collarbone, shoulder to shoulder. You slowly kiss lower, over his pecs, letting your tongue dance across his tan skin and black ink. You stop at his right nipple first, you flatten your tongue against it, licking over it, you swirl your tongue over it, Cal holds your hips tighter and he thrusts up against you, showing you appreciation for what you’re doing. His back arches hard and high when you show his left nipple the same treatment.

Your lips move further down over his ribs, and stomach. You gently bite around his belly button and place soft kisses over the little mark you leave. When you get to the waistband, you sit yourself up and slide your hand between the band and his skin, stretching it and running your hand back and forth.  “Come sit on the edge of the bed for me.” You whisper, voice heavy with desire. Cal moves quickly, barely giving you time to get up yourself. He plops a pillow on the floor between the bed and the mirror, he goes to pull the flannel off, “leave it on baby.” You encourage and he doesn’t question it. He pulls your top off, and pulls you in for a kiss, you drop to your knees and start kissing up his thighs as you situate yourself.

You dip your hand into his waistband and grab his stiff cock, your lips press wet kisses over the fabric and he lets out a breathy “please,” above you. You stop teasing, finally pulling his underwear off, freeing his cock, he diligently steps out of them and you gently push at his hips to get him to sit. “God damn.” He murmurs, tucking your hair behind your ear. You grin up at him and he cups your face, leaning in for a kiss while you gently stroke him. You push the shirt open over his thighs so it doesn’t get in the way and then you lean in, pushing his cock up against his belly, and licking a spitty, wet stripe up the underside and along his most sensitive veins. “Oh…” he moans, and starts to wrap his hand in your hair, pulling it off your neck and up. You pull his cock down and start placing spitty, wet kisses along the slides, slicking him up. You take the tip in your mouth, flick your tongue over his slit and Cal groans and pulls your head off, a string of spit is still connected to his cock and he breathes in sharply… “Baby?” he starts to ask a question but stops. You grip into this thigh and give him a slight nod, not wanting to break the spit string but also to give him permission for whatever he wants. He reaches for his phone and wiggles it at you a little and you give another confirmation for him. “Let me get you like this… for those lonely nights on the road,” he explains.

You grin, nodding. He gives you a curious look and you lean back in, taking his cock back in your mouth, lavishing your tongue around the tip, working up extra spit, you wait for Cal to record and you pull back, the string of spit is thicker, more visible, he nods at you when he’s got what he wants and you slurp and go back to work, slicking up his cock. Cal takes a little initiative when you wrap your lips back around his cock and gently forces himself further in your mouth. You don’t give any resistance and you suck on his cock when he stops, and then you push yourself further on it, holding yourself with the tip at the back of your throat.

Cal’s breathing heavy above you, mewling out your name and little praises. He pulls you off when tears start running down your face and there’s spit dribbling from your chin. He grabs his phone and quickly snaps another picture, his nostrils flare as you stick out your tongue and grab the base, tapping his sensitive tip on your lips and tongue, you push his cock up against his belly and place sloppy kisses along the underside again, reaching his balls and sucking one into your mouth. Cal’s grip tightens in your hair and you know you want to make it last for him, so you decide to slow it down, taking the time to really show his balls some love. You suck the other into your mouth, you let go of his cock in favor of digging your nails into his thighs like he likes. He moans out for you, “darlin, we’re about to be making a movie.”

You pull off with a pop, “yeah, baby… if that’s what you want… better make it a good one though.” You wink. You grab his cock and sit up a little more so your mouth is slightly above his cock, so you can get an assist from gravity in spreading the spit, once he’s fully slick, head of his cock red and leaking pre cum, you run the tip along you lips and the move back, looking up with innocent eyes, “can you stand?”

Cal gets up quick, and he shifts you, so instead of the mirror being behind you, it’s to the side of you both. You grin up at him and bite his thigh. “Thank you.” You murmur, soothing the bite with your tongue.

He gathers your hair back in his hand and his phone is pointed down at you, “Thank you,” he emphasizes.

You decide to play it up for the camera and grab his cock, licking his tip, “you taste so good handsome.” You moan, taking his cock back in your mouth. You turn your head pushing it into your cheek and then straighten your mouth back on his cock. You work your mouth down his cock, bobbing your head to work him further. You pull off and feel Cal’s grip tighten, hear the change in his breathing. He’s trying so hard not to do too much. “Baby… go ahead… fuck my throat.” You bite your lip.

“I will…” he agrees, “want you to watch.” He nods toward the mirror.

“Of course.” You lick your lips, eyes flicking from his to the cock in front of you, the one that caused your mouth to water just from the mere thought of getting it, so red and angry, you kiss the tip and Cal groans. You open your mouth and you slowly work him into your throat. Once Cal senses you're comfortable he gives you a few test thrusts. He watches your eyes go from him to the mirror, and then he really amps it up.

You can feel Cal pushing his cock into your throat with a force unlike any he’d used on you before, his one hand holding your head still, you can feel your hair being pulled, and you’re loving every second of the way he’s using you. You flick your eyes up to him and camera, and he moans. You look back over at the mirror, you can see the bulge of his cock in your own throat and you try to moan, but it’s of course muffled by his cock, “good girl… good girl,” He breathes, “so hot.”

You have spit all over your chest and face, tears rolling down your cheeks and you’re hanging onto his thick thighs, when Cal pulls out, you sputter, more spit going down the front of you. You grab his cock and start stroking while catching your breath, Cal gets so vocal, you know exactly what’s happening, you open your mouth, tap the tip on your tongue again and then tighten your grip to milk his cock, you keep your mouth open, but don’t bother directing his cock as the hot cum spurts across your face and tits. Thick rope after thick rope coating your skin, rewarding you for your effort. You suckle the tip to get every last drop, and then you look up and open your mouth showing off the rest of the cum you milked from his cock.

You let Cal move his phone closer to your face, so the light will catch the glint of the cum on your skin, and he can see it in your mouth. He tosses his phone to the bed and gets on his knees in front of you, his fingers rub your center over your jeans and you squeal as his tongue diligently cleans the cum from your chest and face. He stops every few licks to kiss you, pushing the cum into your mouth as he does.

“I know you have to be soaked, Darlin.” He murmurs as you moan into his mouth. He tugs your jeans down, and you help him peel them off of you. He keeps you on your knees but he shifts you again, this time, facing the mirror. He works quickly to set up his phone to face the mirror and record. He sits behind you, sticking his legs through yours so they are over your calves, you can rest on his thighs and pulls you into a kiss as he pulls your body against his.

You desperately want his fingers back but he’s clearly got something in mind. You see the camera getting all of this in the mirror, and you whine, “please Cal… need you.” He smirks and kisses your shoulder, pulling the cups of your bra down as well, palming your breasts, pinching your nipples.

“I'd never leave you without for doing something like that.” He promises, kissing your cheek, his hands smooth over your bare belly and both grip a thigh before he moves your panties to the side with one hand, and his fingers start circling your clit with the other. “You look so good on your knees.” He whispers in your ear. “Look at yourself… see how wet you are… how wet sucking my cock made you.” He nibbles your ear, you tuck one hand into his hair and your other hand reaches down and spreads your lips, giving more of a show for Cal’s intended use of the video.

You lean into him, trying to angle your hips more. You moan as he finally pushes his fingers inside, giving you a bit of stretch, and reaching for that spot that drives you wild. “Oh… Cal.” You whimper.

“So ready from having my cock in your throat? Or did the video really push it for you? I could tell you were enjoying it.” He murmurs, pressing his lips against your neck and the back of your shoulder. “I knew you had to be getting wet from it, but I didn’t realize how wet.” He takes a deep breath, he stays quiet while working his fingers, and you whine and pant his name, trying hard to work your hips against his fingers. “Relax Darlin… I’ll get you there. Like I always do.” He promises, placing more kisses to your skin.

You’re body is on fire, it’s the only way you can describe it, you can feel Cal all over you; even though you’re all clean, it’s like his cum seared your skin in the best ways, his hands are large and warm and covering you, exploring your body, like he’s never felt you before. You love it, love that you can feel him everywhere. But most importantly, he’s against you, inside you, pleasing you.

“Cal…” you whine, a breathy moan coming out, “please baby…” you pull his head for a kiss.

“Feel how wet your cunt is with me…” he asks, pressing his face against your skin, he pulls his fingers out and you let him guide your fingers on next to his. His other hand comes up to palm your breast, knowing it’s exactly what you needed to cum. Between that, the stretch of his and your fingers, and the way he’s curling them inside you, it only takes about a minute for you to orgasm hard. Your chest heaves and Cal pulls his fingers out but keeps rubbing your clit, you pull him in for a desperate kiss, but you’re panting so hard you can’t close your mouth, Cal makes due, sucking your bottom lip, trying to soothe you but gently running his other hand over your body.

He lets you go when you finally stop shaking in his arms, you push your own cum covered fingers in your mouth and turn into him, wrapping yourself around him. He wraps his arms tight around you and moves you both to the bed easily, “Glad you came to hang out with me tonight.” He murmurs, kissing your cheek.

“Glad you’re a fuckin thirst trap.” You chuckle, kissing his nose. He lets out a hearty laugh, and wraps you back in his arms, rocking you a bit. “Can I wear the flannel to bed?”

“Of course you can Darlin, let’s get you settled.” Cal very lovingly helps you get changed and ready for bed before crawling in with you, “night baby.” He whispers, pulling you into his body. You press a kiss to his chest and hum.

[anothertimdrakestan]

Batfam On A Road Trip HC

req: “Batfam on a road trip? It’s been on my mind for like a week-”

oh god it’s probably so chaotic... and like distinctly dangerous???

also this is my car AU where there’s infinite rows of seats in the car until I’m done.

we’ve got Bruce driving - even though Damian, Dick, Tim, Jason, AND Steph all tried to get behind the wheel but after last years incident the only people allowed to drive are Bruce and Duke but Duke doesn’t like driving with his siblings bouncing off the damn walls.

Speaking of Duke, mans snagged himself a window seat SO FAST it would make your head spin. He likes to sit next to Damian (who got put in the middle because he’s the smallest) and they share earbuds and Duke’s phone which is loaded with like 128 hours of songs. Against popular belief, Damian is actually good at sharing when it’s not with one of his more “obnoxious” siblings and he and Duke get along really well - they also have the same music taste. Duke changes between queue-ing songs, staring out the window making little stories in his head, and watching Damian draw. He occasionally is tasked with holding the sharp objects smuggled into the car after they’re discovered by Bruce as he’s the second most responsible (after Cass).

Speaking of the most responsible sibling, Cass somehow got shotgun next to Bruce. This is because she’s the only who makes him not want to throw himself out of the car and she’s a pretty good navigator. So, as she tries to moderate the back of the car she also is in charge of agreeing on pit stops and coffee breaks which works well because Cass is fair and no one can be an asshole to her. On the first road trip Cass discovered a Wendy’s Frosty and now she will usually write at least one Wendy’s stop into the trip - no one complains except Tim who is forbidden from ordering the spicy nuggets after last years incident.

Tim, the one notorious for threatening to throw himself out of the car most often, is sat in the far back. He someone gets a row to himself under the guise of “sleeping” when in reality he spends the trip typing away on his laptop, chugging monster energy drinks, and occasionally trying to make Dick bark like a dog through some kind of sleep-manipulation he read about one night at 2am. It involves him whispering in his ear and usually ends up making the whole car uncomfortable, except Jason who thinks it’s the funniest shit ever. However, after the incident his back seat gets thoroughly checked by Bruce for stowaways every pitstop, but he’d never store a secret in the same place twice...

We move to Jason! Who sits next to Steph. They’re the snack distributors. Known for throwing popcorn in the other’s mouths but it usually ends up being thrown at Bruce, Damian, or both. Jason is a champ at fruit roll up eating competitions. He claims it’s because his tongue is so strong from eating... nevermind. Jason is surprisingly organized about the snacks, and frequently restocks (with Bruce’s credit card of course) on pit stops. Jason likes to complain early into the trip but by the end he’s telling the most fun stories, singing the loudest, and causing the most trouble. His and Steph’s row is definitely the most fun. But he’s still on the list with Bruce after helping Tim become a world class smuggler during the trip that shall not be named.

Steph is the family interpreter. She shares messages from the back to the front and vice versa. She’s known for saying the back row is hungry when it was in fact her but everyone loves her for her honesty. She’s the first to ask for a leg stretch break, and the one who puts on good songs after Dick has had the aux for too long. She’s basically the lorax of the batfam road trip. She usually makes the snack packs that are distributed throughout the car and is known for memorizing everyone’s favorites to optimize the best snacks. Steph actually wasn’t in the car for the great incident, she often questions what happened but only knows what Dick quietly whispered to her, something about feeding nuggets to a foreign passenger...

Dick, the storyteller, the terrible-music-meister, the road trip organizer himself, sits on the other side of Damian. He was the one who purposefully cleared everyone’s schedule for the weekend and who roughly planned the route. Dick works closely with Cass to make sure they’re going the right way and he also mediates all fights that occur during the trip, and trust that there are a lot. Dick is known for being restless and often throws his head out the window on the freeway “just to feel something” his quote not mine. Dick is incharge of taking all dangerous items off Damian (and sometimes Tim’s) person before the trip and he was in the most trouble when the intruders were found during last years incident. But he took it with stride and promised Bruce this year would be better!

Damian, the deeply unhappy middle seater, can be found drawing and pretending he can’t hear Grayson blabbing on about “this crazy adventure he had as Robin so sooo long ago”. Damian is known for pouting through the first stop but after he’s had some quiet time he can actually be seen with the corners of his mouth upturned- especially if they drive past farms during the trip (Cass tries extra hard to make sure they do). Damian also had been known to try to run away during stops so he’s kind of heavily watched by Bruce and Dick. Luckily, his place in the middle seat means he’s far enough away from Tim to be “bothered by his mere presence” which is a significant win and close enough to Duke and Cass to keep him sane.

We are in fact missing two main people: Babs and Alfred. These two opt to stay home, getting the much deserved break they need. They like to have tea parties, cleaning extravaganzas, and (though they won’t admit it) the occasional dance break in the batcave when no one’s looking. They like to take the batmobile to get food and their guilty pleasure is watching rom-coms on the giant screen in the batcave while eating “trashy takeaways” as Alfred so eloquently calls them. These two have the best time, but if anyone asks they were simple awaiting the rest of their families return.

That’s how I think it’d go down! Overall I think it would be chaotic but not as bad as one might think, they are family after all : )

Oh wait, I forget, there are two more stowaways...

Bart and Kon are silent, Kon mostly flies above but occasionally slips into the trunk to rest with Bart. Bart easily slips into the trunk and is quite literally gone in a flash if Bruce ever suspects anything. Just because Tim can’t hand feed him nuggets doesn’t mean the boy isn’t read for road trip part two! He just hopes Kon made a flying stop at tacobell because he’s getting kinda hungry...

“Timmmm are we there yet?”

“DID I JUST HEAR WHAT I THINK I DID TIM”

“oh my god I finally experienced the great incident but now part two!”

“hi Steph! Yeah I’m here! Sorry Brucie, but yeah, can you pass me a twizzler?”

“HOW DID YOU DO THIS AGAIN TIM I SWEAR TO-”

yup, now that’s a batfam road trip : )

[jinxfirebolt18902]

Shameless Flirting - JJ Maybank One Shot

Words: 1.428

Warnings: swearing

Pairing: JJ Maybank x kook female!reader

A/N / Summary: back in January I found a request on someone else’s post that read: “The death squad Top, Rafe and Kelce with the reader/oc. She’s a kook  girl version of JJ and it’s just her and and JJ shamelessly flirting with each other (neither pogues or kooks like that) but”. So I guess that’s it. Got a part 2 in drafts.

(pic not mine)

—Take a picture, it’ll last longer bae.

She smiled winningly at him as Topper rolled his eyes and walked away towards Kelce. —Oh yeah? But then what would I do with a picture of you?

—Well, you know, whenever you get lonely at night —she playfully hit him. —Shut up JJ.

—You could also use it as your lock screen. —he winked and smirked.

She half laughed and replied —Yeah, I bet you’d love that.

—Oh, you should totally do it.

John B called JJ’s name from where he sat with Kie and Pope on the beach. Charlotte quickly took her chance and snapped a picture of him from her angle, a little behind him. The photograph showed JJ nonchalantly leaning against the wooden structure she was sitting on, only the upper half of his body with his grey tank top and his usual hat. His neck with a few strands of blonde hair could be seen as well as only a part of his face, which was looking at John B. It was very aesthetic, the sun was close to setting so the sky was turning darker with different colours including orange, contrasting with JJ’s grey shirt but also highlighting his blonde hairs and tanned skin.

The sound of her camera phone taking the picture made him spin his head to look at her and ignore John B as he gave her a seducing smile. She laughed and then dropped her body to her feet. —Go mister, the public awaits. —she lingeringly kissed his cheek on purpose to tease him as she always did before turning on her heels and head towards her friends. He stood there for half a second just to get out of her effect and went with his friends as well.

—Finally Charles! Rafe was about to go pick you up. —Kelce told you as Rafe nodded in agreement next to him.

—Sorry guys, but here I am, all for yourselves boys! —she smiled and tried to ease the tension Rafe and especially Topper felt due to her flirting with the Pogue they hated the most.

JJ kind of experienced a similar situation with his own crew. Kie not even looking at him, Pope was wearing an expression of disgust and John B was trying his best to hold his tongue. JJ took a beer can and ignored his friends’ dislike of his flirting with the second Kook they despised most, the first one being Rafe.

-x-

Sarah and Rafe had agreed for once to throw a pool party together when their dad and Rose left a few days for business. This meant although the majority of the guests would be Kooks, on Sarah’s behalf there would also be a certain Pogue crew as well as some Tourons of course.

—Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! —Rafe, Top and Kelce boosted Charlotte as she downed the drink being poured into the beer bong funnel.

—Wohooo! Damn that was nice! —She exclaimed as she cleaned the drops falling down her chin with the back of her hand.

Rafe threw an arm over her shoulders —This is our girl boys! —she grabbed the hand that hung over her right shoulder as she laughed.

—Told you this one was a keeper! —Topper added.

JJ had been watching her chug and interact with the three men. To be honest he didn’t want to come. Although the whole group tried their best to avoid Kooks, JJ was particularly reluctant to party at the Kook kingdom. Only after Sarah ensured they’d be safe they all agreed to go. Under Sarah and Kiara’s wing, they would be okay. At least as long as John B or JJ didn’t start a fight.

—JJ! —Kie’s voice brought his attention back to their conversation. He gulped his beer down and laughed at Pope’s anecdote.

A few meters away Charlotte heard a peculiar laugh that captured her interest and so she directed her look at the blonde. She couldn’t stop a smile that didn’t go unnoticed by Rafe.

An hour later she was sitting at the pool’s edge with her legs in the water as she listened to Kelce tell a story about his last trip to Costa Rica.

—Yo guys, I’ll be right back, gotta pee. Someone wants a drink? —she asked.

—I’ve got us an Appleton hidden at the top of the bookshelf near the stairs, bring it. —Rafe spoke.

—An Appleton? Uuh fancy —she moved her eyebrows up and down quickly making him laugh.

When she saw the queue to get in the bathroom downstair she didn’t waste a second deciding to go to the one next to Rafe’s bedroom. As she was opening the white door she heard someone clearing their throat. She looked up and found a rather provoking JJ resting his back on a wall. Immediately a mischievous smile appeared on her face.

—Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in… —he rolled his eyes and took a step towards her, circling his right arm around her waist to bring her closer and leave a tender kiss on her cheek. Caught by surprise, she felt blood rushing to her cheeks at the unexpected greeting. Such reaction only made the boy more confident, letting go of her to give her a beguiling smile.

—Whatcha doin’ up here gorgeous? —a more serious look on his face now.

��Oh nothing, just gotta use the bathroom. What about you though? What are you doing up here? Doesn’t seem like your comfort zone, you know, away from your gang and in the enemy’s territory… —she winked.

—Not gonna lie, I was looking for something good to drink.

—Up here?

He grimaced. —No secret that the rich hide their best collections. —he lifted his shoulders and pouted, not giving a care in the world about voicing his bad intentions.

She smiled and nodded. —Okay then, good luck on your treasure hunt, I’m gonna go to the toilet now. —she turned to the door but stopped before going in, she spoke once again —Oh and, if you want my advice, I’d look into bookshelves.

He watched her disappear into the tiled room and kept looking for a bottle worth stealing. By the time she came out he was already standing in front of the bathroom door with a bottle attached to his lips.

She raised an eyebrow at her sight. —I see you’ve been successful on your hunt. —she walked to stand next to him and grabbed the bottle to put it in her mouth. He watched her attentively, not being able to stop himself from staring at her every move. His eyes set on the way her lips embraced the bottle spout, on the movement of her throat as she swallowed the liquid and on the tip of her pink tongue licking her lips when she finished. She turned to him and softly closed his mouth with her hand.

—Careful, you’re drooling babe. —with that she left down the stairs to reunite with her group.

As she was looking for the Appleton, she felt Rafe’s voice behind her, startling her.

—What took you so long? —Sorry, I run into someone.

Just as she finished her sentence JJ passed by and sent a defiant glare at the Cameron. The latter set a deathly glare on him as well and mumbled. —Of course you fucking did.

—Actually, I don’t think dirty pogues like you are welcomed in my party. —Rafe stood in front of JJ threateningly. Maybank, being no coward, bit his lip and prepared himself to fight. Before anything else happened, Charlotte stepped between them facing her friend. —Oookay, no need to get heated now, right?

The two boys seemed to be in a staring contest, angry expressions and slightly agitated breathings on both of them. She put a hand on Rafe’s shoulder trying to get him to focus on her and not on the blonde. —C’mon dude, lets go outside and drink this bad boy, I know you wanna. —she tried to lighten the mood but failed miserably. Magically, her silent pleas for Sarah or any of JJ friends to come help her became true as Sarah walked in on the three, getting a hold of the situation immediately.

—Rafe cut it, we talked about this. —Rafe looked at her sister and huffed. Sarah hurried to grab JJ’s hand to take him away from his death. Once they were a few feet away Charlotte grabbed Rafe’s hand and tugged to stop him from looking at Maybank and go back to the pool to keep drinking.

[yeojaa]

ANGELS & AIRWAVES (w. jjk)

He's never met you but you know how he sounds when he wakes up from a nap and his greatest fears.  You know the way he sings after a shower and that he could be mistaken for a dying seal when he's laughing too hard.  The best part?  You don't judge him for any of it - including the fact he's a filthy Widow main.  He might just love you.

alt summary.  Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

pairing.  jeon jungkook

genre + rating.  fluffy crack. general, for now.

warning / tags.  long-distance relationship, crushes, canon compliant (ish),  eventual happy ending, gaming, gamer!jungkook, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, overwatch.  tags are hard.  :( 

reading.   n/a.  a three part one-shot.

word count.  ~3400

part i.

JUNGKOOK’S ROOM Sunday, 10 November, 2019.  2:13 AM.

It’s 2:13 AM when Jeon Jungkook finally finds a match, the familiar in-game sound dragging his attention away from the illuminated screen of his iPhone to the monitor before him.  He studies the SR - 3779 and 3761, respectively - and skims burning eyes across the members on each team.  Four rocks, including himself, and two Masters.

One of them has a strange name - BIGMELON - that he stares at until he's zoning out, trying to make sense of it.  Was his teammate a pervert or just hilarious?

"Good luck and have fun, everyone!"  

Your cheer filters through his headphones crystal clear but he's somehow still surprised, head tilting curiously to the side.  He hadn't expected a girl to be playing Overwatch at quarter past two in the morning.

When there's no response - he notices no one else is in the voice chat, an oddity for such a high ranking game - he takes it upon himself to keep you company.  His username lights up as his finger glides across the ALT key, sleep-worn words breaking the silence.

"Thanks, you too."

Nothing follows until BIGMELON appears once again in the upper left-hand corner of his screen.  You have a nice voice, he thinks.  "Are you sticking with Widow?"

Jungkook takes in the team comp:  Sigma, Hog, Genji, and Lucio.  A little unconventional but not wholly un-doable.  They're on King's Row, too, which is one of his favourite maps.  Balanced enough that people aren't too salty when they get headshot but with enough coverage that he can get clear picks.  

"Should I?"

"If you want."  A pause and your hero slot is filled with Mercy's portrait.  "I can damage boost."

He thinks he can hear the teasing.  It's soft and sweet and a little rough - like you'd just woken up.  

"Who says I need it?"  Comes his immediate response, question chased out of his mouth by a laugh he can't help.  It echoes, filling the quiet of his bedroom.  He hopes you don't take it the wrong way.

"O—kay, Widow main.  We'll see if you get anything from me."

It's an empty threat because you're giggling along with him.  It's distracting in the strangest way.  The sound bounces around in his ears and he can't help but focus on it, realizing belatedly that he's still sitting in spawn as the timer runs down for setting up defence.  

"Are you going to join us?"  You quip, emoting right beside his stationary sniper.  "I didn't queue just to have someone go AFK."  

Mischief colours your words and he laughs again, snorting as he finally presses W.  Two sets of footsteps echo in game and he presses SHIFT once he's hit point - and with just a few seconds left to spare - launching Widowmaker's body onto the balcony overwatching it.  Mercy follows, Guardian Angel carrying her into the air to alight behind the blue-skinned hero.  

As the timer hits 0:01, Jungkook right-clicks, scoping in on the second-floor spawn door.

BOOM.

The kill feed reads DDEOKKOOKI x STRIKER007.

"I guess you didn't need the damage boost."  

He can't help the sound he makes - a marriage between a witch's shriek and a pig's snort.  It leaps out of his mouth, louder than he intends, and he feels equally bad for you and his hyungs.  He's definitely going to get an earful in the morning - or any minute now, when one of them bursts into his room to berate him for being so loud.  "I told you."

"Yeah, yeah."  The way you speak has him grinning from ear to ear, nose scrunching in amusement.  Mercy is flying across the map, healing stream trained on Genji as the cyborg ninja just narrowly misses an errant Hanzo arrow and dashes back to point.  "I'm gonna take care of the rest of our team.  Let me know if you need anything, O' Headshot God."

You're clowning him hard but he knows it's all in good fun.  Still, he likes the nickname and decides to keep it, effectively picking off the attacking team's stealthily half-hidden Junkrat and Ana right after. 

"Show-off!"   

Then he's dinked in the head - health dropping to 30 from the partially-charged shot.  He needs heals like yesterday.

Unfortunately, Lucio is up at choke with the tanks, skating circles around the base of the statue as they hold point.  Jungkook doesn't see you immediately - he’s scanning his screen for your witch skin (of course) - only realizing you've appeared at his side when his health bar begins to climb.  "Try to stay alive, yeah?"

"My bad,"  he drawls, scoping in the same instant the kill feed announces two more enemy deaths. 

There are only a critical Reinhardt and protected Zarya left.  The former falls the moment he drops shield and her bubble doesn't reset in time;  the Russian tank dies in the next instant, his charged shot firing the moment it hits 100%.  

"Thanks for the damage boost."

"Any time."

Then you're gone, off to support the rest of your team again while he grapples onto a different ledge and continues his oppressive gameplay.  He feels a little bad when the opposing team goes double shield tank and swaps their Junkrat for a Pharah.  He feels less so when he's slept out of nowhere. Four seconds feels like an eternity when he’s out in the open - vulnerable as a baby lamb in a den of lions.

"Looks like you're really making them mad."  You'd been relatively quiet when not tending to him - likely because it was only the two of you in voice chat - and he startles when your comment breaks the quiet lofi he has going in the background. 

"I don't know why.  I'm just having fun."  He's lying.  You're laughing.  

"Too much fun, I think."  

"Maybe they should be better."  Jungkook says this like he's commenting on the weather or the colour of the sky - offhand and nonchalant.  It makes your giggles come harder.  He can hear the scratch of your mic as if you've doubled over and it's now pressed into cotton clothing.  He can't help but pat himself on the back.

"Please don't tell me you're going to 'gg ez' them when we're done."

Now he's feigned offense, gasping at the mere thought.  "Of course not.  I'm not that rude!"

"Well, you never know."  You're right.  People could be the worst when it came to online gaming, spewing vitriol and hurling insults the moment their egos were bruised (or inflated). 

"I promise I'm not an asshole."  He's not really sure why he feels the need to make this abundantly clear.  After all, he'd probably never play with you again.  Korea's density of players was just too great - you were just one in hundreds, thousands, millions. 

Still, he smiles when you reassure him you don't think he is.  "I'm just teasing.  You seem nice."

"I am nice."  Spoken in the same instance he lands two consecutive headshots - one on the bouncing, wall-riding enemy Lucio and the other on the momentarily grounded Pharah.  You must see that, because you're mocking him in that dulcet tone of yours, caramel coating words and turning them soft like toffee. 

"Not according to them."  And not that you mind, it seems, because you're damage boosting him as he catches their out-of-position Rein in his sight.  He whoops in triumph, eliciting another bemused sound from you. 

"You know they're going to do everything to counter you when we go on attack."  Which was in sub-one minute, the timer counting down the last thirty seconds of your team's defense. 

"Who says I'm going Widow again?"  

You're scandalized.  "You mean you're not just a filthy Widow main?"

For a moment, Jungkook wonders if this is how his older members feel when he (and Jimin and Taehyung) mercilessly rib them.  He thinks it must be and oh, how the tables have turned.  He decides he doesn't really mind, though.  It's all innocent fun and it's keeping him awake, aided by the cold brew he'd chugged at midnight. 

"Woah - says the Mercy player?"

"Mercy is a respectable support, okay!"

"Sure, e-girl."  

"Take that back!"  How the words explode out of his headphones makes him momentarily worry he might've overstepped but by the way your laughter chases it forward, he knows he hasn't.  You can take it just as well as you can dish it.  

"Okay, okay.  You're a not bad healer."  Because he hasn't died yet and last he checked, neither had your tanks.  Genji had once or twice - to be expected, given his playstyle - and you had, but that was still pretty respectable.

He can practically hear you rolling your eyes.  "Oh, thanks."  

"Any time, BigMelon."  

"That's ‘daebak’ to you, pal."  Had he heard you wrong?

"What'd you say?"  

There's a long pause - he's not sure whether it's for comedic purpose or something else.  You sound muffled on the other end, as if you're repressing sound.  "Because watermelon?  Su-bak?  So big melon is dae-bak?"  Whatever you had stifled earlier disappears, torn away by the pride that shines bright yellow and boisterous in your peals of laughter.

It's such a bad joke that Jungkook feels like he's about to have an aneurysm.  Were you Jin moonlighting as a Master support player? 

"You're kidding me."  He wonders if you hear him above your own glee, giggles making it hard for him to hear himself think.  "What're you - a dad?"

You scoff now, parroting his words back to him.  "What're you - the pun police?"  

Another one?

He briefly considers ALT + F4-ing his way out of this match and away from your corniness.  Considers it but ultimately decides against it, instead remaining stoically silent and choosing McCree when the hero selection screen slides into place.  His silence will surely speak volumes.  

"You know that was funny!"  By the way he can practically hear your pout - it's endearing, much to his chagrin - he thinks you know where he stands.  

"Not the word I'd use."

"You just have bad taste, McCree."  You say it scathingly yet full of mirth, a sniff punctuating the end of your rebuttal. 

"Do not!"  He returns, just as quickly.  

"Prove it.  Laugh at my joke!"  You're shameless, confident, reassured - it makes him chuckle.  

You take it as his surrender though, your own laughter blending seamlessly with his.  It goes on for longer than is strictly speaking necessary, crowding like cotton balls in his ears as you leave sprays of your hero - Ana this time - across the spawn walls.  He wrecks every one of yours with his own, BAMF displayed in 1440p. 

"Hey - stop that!"  It doesn't matter that the round is about to start - you're spamming your melee button into him.  He immediately does it back, toggling between that and his voice line. 

The rest of your team is probably wondering what the hell you're both doing.  

"Stop distracting me!"  He barks into his mic, deep dimples on full display, nose scrunched adorably.  He doesn't really mind - it's clear by his hyena cackles that follow - and he likes when your chorus of shut up's pitch and leap with your giggling. 

As he navigates McCree out behind your tanks, he can't help but wish - maybe a little selfishly - that they'll lose this round and go into a best of three.  When the opposing team's healers both die - one to Ashe's dynamite and the other to Zarya's high-charged beam - he knows that's not going to happen.  Your team's going to cap point and then you're going to be gone - off to the next game and never to be matched with again.

"We did it, McCree."  You sound deeply pleased as the last of the defenders fall, leaving point uncontested.  The Lucio on your team lingers by the choke, ready to boop any last minute hoodlums;  Echo hovers just above the enemy’s spawn, dealing damage the moment any hero comes in view.  One of your tanks is already emoting.

VICTORY flashes across his screen.  

"We sure did, BigMelon."

The cards come next - they're all for your team, though he isn't surprised.  You'd gotten 37 defensive assists whereas he had 27% Infra-Sight uptime.  He's sure you both vote for each other, the remaining four going to your other support's Sound Barrier casts.  

"Thanks for the carry."  He doesn't mean it facetiously.  This is some of the most fun he's had in-game in ages.

"You're welcome,"  you chirp.  He thinks you'll leave right after.

Instead, you both sit in voice chat in silence, watching the timer in the upper right-hand corner. 

"Do you want to duo?"  You ask in the same instance he does, breaking the both of you into a fit of laughter.  It's more distracting than he realizes, the FINDING MATCH countdown replacing the end game statistics while you’re both still cackling.

Luckily, you invite him to a group right as he removes himself from queue.

JUNGKOOK’S ROOM Tuesday, 24 December, 2019.  11 PM.

It’s six weeks and a good three dozen games later - a feat for him, considering how much of his time is eaten up by literally every other obligation he has - when he asks for your name, not realizing the consequences of his action.  

“Most people call me Jinny.”  He thinks it fits you, bright and pretty and punchy.  “What’s your name?”

Jungkook's unprepared for the question, though he shouldn’t be.  Of course you’d want to know.  Anyone would, if they’d already given their own answer.

He's silent for the longest time, quiet stretching on and on over group voice chat.  He applauds you for your patience, how you don't press him on it when the hesitation has descended from appropriate to downright awkward.

"Uh."  The word drops like a weight, crashing through the tentative friendship you've built over the past weeks.  

"You don't have to tell me,"  you supply as softly as he's ever heard you.  It's the first time you've seemed uncertain - and it bothers him that he's the reason.  "I get that we haven't known each other that long."  

As if that's actually the issue.  He would've told you the night you spent four hours together, taking wins left and right, filling the time in between matches with silly banter that had his jaw aching from laughter.  He would’ve told you on that random Thursday, when you’d listened to him talk about his busy day, effortlessly keeping him occupied - and amused - while your SR nearly descended below 3500.  He would’ve even told you yesterday, when you’d said you were going to bed, only to be roped into another six games by Jungkook’s eagerness.

It has absolutely nothing to do with time - or the lack thereof.

But he can't say that - can't tell you who he really is - so he improvises as best he can.  "My friends call me Jay."

"Jay, huh?"  You turn the sound over on your tongue, like you're tasting it for the first time, trying to decide whether you love it or hate it.  He hopes you don’t hate it.  "Then I guess we're the best J-duo to ever exist."

"Woah, we?"  He's only doing it to rile you up, finding it cute when you huff and puff and threaten to let him die in-game.  You never make good on the threat anyway;  you just like to see him sweat, watching as his health bar drops to measly single digits.  "I don't think I agreed to that."  

It's your turn to mock him, that same edge turning your words into sour candy.  "Fine.  You can find yourself a new healer.  We'll see how your SR likes that, Bronzie boy!"  

Neither of you really take the game that seriously but he gasps like he's been shot.  

"No!  Don't leave me with them!"  The way he howls the plea is enough to return you both to your rightful place - one filled with boisterous laughter and things he never thought would see the light of day.

Because somehow, he's found somewhere he feels safe - a place he feels like himself, with no pretenses or expectations.  It’s where he can rant and rave, bouncing from topic to topic like an energizer bunny with no end in sight.  It’s, oddly enough, with you.  

Connected through voice chat and built by an endless stream of communication - sometimes productive, other times not - the space you’ve carved out together has come to feel like a third home.  It isn’t quite what he has with his family or his members but it’s just as nice.

Different, but nice.

"Fine.  You're forgiven."  You sniff in that peculiar way of yours and he snickers loudly.  "How was your day?"

And this is why it is - because it's ordinary.  It’s where Jungkook can rest his head and drift for a while without worry of what’s over the horizon, ready to swallow him whole the moment he takes his eyes off the calm blue sea.  He's not raised on a pedestal with you, all the weight of his choices resting on his shoulders.  He's just a normal guy playing games.  

It might not make up for all the years of normalcy he's missed out on - the movies after school, the street markets on weekends, the holiday parties with classmates - but it's enough.  

He eats it up like he's been starved of it.

"Busy.  Really busy.  I had dance practice all afternoon and forgot to eat so I'm dying now."  There'd been a time - about three weeks in - when he'd chosen his words more carefully.  He'd been worried he might let something slip but he's found what feels like the sweet spot now, where he can tell you about his day without thinking he’ll suddenly shatter the image you have of him.

It's not always easy - he has to remember to never mention names or intimate details - but it's better than nothing.  He can finally tell someone about his day like he wants - all of the good and the bad, too.

"You should make something to eat!"

He's used to your reprimands but he still laughs, crossing his long legs beneath him as he readjusts in his computer chair.  "But we're in queue."

"Jay!"  It comes out devoid of static, clear as the waning sunshine that filters through his blinds and reflects particles of dust that drift lazily through his bedroom.

"I'll make something after we win."  He knows what you're thinking - that he's gone and jinxed your whole night.  You’re weirdly superstitious, something he's learned only recently.

As if right on cue:  "Shut up!"  

Your words sweep his expression up with glee and giddiness, like a kid on Christmas morning;  lines dig themselves into the bridge of his nose and the delicate skin beneath his eyes.  Jungkook tells himself it’s the usual pre-game jitters but he knows it’s more than that.  

It’s you and that infectious giggle that careens through his headphones, making him see everything in a pretty haze of warmth.

He’s not sure when you’d started having this particular effect on him - maybe since the beginning? - but he feels it now, clearer than ever.  Every tinkling laugh makes his heart speed up, thump around his chest like a baseball missing its mark.  The sight of you logging in elicits the biggest, possibly dorkiest smile, all slightly too-big front teeth and deep dimples.  You have him rushing through his post-practice showers and devouring dinner in half the time he usually would just to get online a minute more quickly.  

There's just something about you. 

And sure - a part of him wonders whether it's all in his head (as if it could be anywhere else).  Wonders if he's seeing you through rose-tinted glasses, doing to you what so many do to him.  Was he in over his head, praying to a deity that didn't even know he existed?  

Sometimes it felt that way - a little out of reach, like childhood crushes and summer love and wishing upon a star.  Certainly far too much for a blossoming friendship of just a month and a half.  

But then you laugh and it's Pop Rocks fizzling in his stomach and he knows that no - it's there and it's real.

Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met. 

notes.  i love overwatch and i love jeon jeongguk.  what more can i say?  :)

[theramenbandit]

A continuation of this little bit of plotless drabble 

-

Lena likes Wednesdays. There's a lot less taking orders and a lot more making coffee. She likes making things. The method, the motions, the measurements, they bring her a sort of calm steadiness as she rides the little tidal wave that is the midmorning rush.

With Mike at the till, skillfully keeping the queue moving, charming his regulars the whole way, and Lena behind him, keeping the rhythm, everything is chugging along efficiently. 

Until it isn't.

Now it's a large-ish town and it's a busy street, so Lena gets her fair share of weird customers, but this one… 

Who the hell orders a spiked beverage this early in the day? And why does this particular mix trigger something in the back of her mind? Something familiar, like an old song once cherished, but whose words now escaped her, floating just out of her grasp.

The feeling that something is off distracts her. It trips her up, and the rhythm is lost. Everything is so loud all of a sudden, and the machines are working too, too slow.

She announces the drink at the counter, almost slamming it down in the confusing din, then turns to go and finish making that god-awful caramel latte. But the person who ordered it doesn’t claim the cup. Instead, the person misses the cup entirely and fully grasps her hand. Alarmed, Lena spins around, her other hand discreetly moving towards the small knife at her thigh. 

“Be careful who you trust, Lena.”

Her hand is released, and the person, a tall, attractive brunette in large sunglasses, takes the drink and strides headlong into the uncaffeinated crowd. The woman almost clips Kara as she walks straight out the door.

“Who was that?” Kara asks as she approaches the counter.

Lena schools her face back into her most radiant customer service smile, something more like a barista greeting a regular and not a sophomore ambushed by the history pop quiz. “Who was what?”

“That lady who just barreled outta here,” Kara says with a jerk of her thumb towards the exit. “You looked like you'd seen a ghost.”

“Well, she did just order a six-shot carajillo,” she says with a chuckle. “I think my reaction was only appropriate.”

The blonde makes a horrified face, then checks her watch. It’s not even 10 AM yet. “Yeah, I’ll say.”

She'll probably have disappeared by now, but Lena shoots a glance towards the street anyway for good measure. She then busies herself with the next orders in a valiant effort to not entertain the thought until she could properly unpack it:

What in the damn hell is Andrea Rojas doing in National City?

The moment she comes home, Lena immediately breaks out the scotch. She plops onto her couch and tumbles the day’s events around in her head, examining them from every angle.

What should have been a normal Wednesday found her staring into the face of none other than her ex, who, instead of thanking her for cranking out six damn shots of espresso, left her with a cryptic warning about trust, of all the bloody things. The irony isn’t lost on her, but the fact that Andrea came all the way out here to tell her that herself, isn’t either.

She’s here for a reason.

About an hour of fruitless brooding passes and she concludes that it probably has nothing to do with the current op, so the connection must be somewhere in the past. 

Their past.

At that, she heaves a heavy sigh and pads into the kitchen where the Arkanian fox awaits, languidly swishing his flaming tail. She dejectedly plates Chewie’s food (though she still gives him his evening cuddles) and begins her bedtime routine, deciding that a trip down memory lane is an activity best done sober.

[sckyie]

word count: 2.5k

genre + warnings: enemies to lovers; coworkers, office love, alcohol mentioned, swearing

pronouns used: she/her

a/n: hi hi here’s my exchange gift for @coophi! happy holidays and stay safe, i hope you like what i wrote for you! [ this was apart of @/haikyuucreations secret santa ]

You put your forehead on the table groaning at the recent news. "You'll get'em next time, Y/n," your coworker rubbed your back. You sighed louder as you heard something being placed on your desk. You shift your face towards the corner of the surface to see a coffee cup with your name scribbled on the side.

You rolled your eyes and looked up to see the new lead, Kuroo, being congratulated by everyone. "That was supposed to be my promotion," You grumbled. You stared at the coffee up and walked over to Kuroo's desk. Leaving the filled cup, you excused yourself to the bathroom.

Kuroo watched as you rejected his peace offering before leaving the office. He understood how you felt once you heard that you didn't get the promotion. Your papers were perfect, clients loved you both, but the one thing keeping you from getting the promotion was simple. Kuroo's numbers were much higher than yours and it crushed yours.

The thought of endless nights staying late to catch up became pointless. The effort in surpassing him wasn't necessary anymore. All your work, all your stressful nights, everything didn't matter to the manager and execs.

"Hmph," Kuroo seated himself and stared at your drink on his desk.

"Something wrong, Kuroo?" Your coworker peeked beside him.

"Oh nothing," He responds.

You return to your desk, side-eyeing your now superior. You took a deep breath before returning to your paperwork.

Numbers, numbers, numbers. You spent your shift calculating, writing, and fixing errors. The jumble of text on your screen began to hurt your brain for working so hard.

The day dreaded on as the anger in you fumed. It wasn't that you were mad for not getting the promotion. You were furious that out of all people it'd be Kuroo who got it. You despised his snarky, overly confident facade and his petty ways of trying to show you how great he was.

Finally, your shift comes to an end but so does Kuroo's. You two walk together to the elevators though you tried your hardest avoiding him. "Did I get your order wrong?" Kuroo smirked as he pressed the lobby button.

"I don't want your pity coffee," You muttered.

"It's not a pity coffee," He rebutted. "It was a hot chai latte."

"Haha," You mocked. "I don't even like chai."

"Then what do you like?" Kuroo smiled.

"Not you," You immediately walked out of the elevator, making your way to the parking lot.

"Tsk," He was the tiniest bit irritated by your tone but decided to try again tomorrow.

Papers, papers, papers. Endless papers for you to edit and write at home. It was torture but how else could you succeed in your career. Things were already shit with Kuroo trying to be friends with you. Nevertheless, you finished at least ten pages of reports for tomorrow's agenda.

Early morning, you arrived at the office before everyone like normal. Kuroo arrives with two coffees and a small brown bag. He walked over, placing the snack and cup on your desk without a word. He walks to his desk and begins his work without interacting.

You turn the cup to check what it was. "Café latte," You mouthed. You peeked in the small bag to see a blueberry muffin. Before you could return the drink, people began to file into the room. You rolled your eyes and sipped on the drink.

"Success," Kuroo thought to himself as he watched you snack and sip the offerings.

It became a daily thing for Kuroo to bring you drinks. Never the same one twice, but always a blueberry muffin. You gave in to his gesture and thanked him silently whenever he passed by.

Your favorite interaction however was his failed attempt in talking to you. "You come here often?" He asked as he placed your coffee on your desk.

"Considering I work here, yes," You say sarcastically.

"Wow I'm literally so stupid," Kuroo thought. Kuroo saw many opportunities to talk to you more but fell nervous every time. It was always hard for him to get close to someone new. His past relationships had left him hopeless for his own future. The toxicity from the past girls left him thinking he'd never be happy with someone. These past few years, he'd been focusing on himself.

Then you walked into his life. After being transferred to a new branch, you seemed different than any other girl he's met. Kuroo saw hope in you and believed that you could be the light of his love life. He admired your attention to detail, your determination, and well, your beauty. Kuroo saw all your greatest features yet he could never bring himself to tell you his admiration.

One day, you had already a shitty morning and didn't want to deal with anything at work. From annoying traffic to angry clients to the blisters from your heels, you wanted more than anything for the day to end.

A few upset clients later, your head began to pound and you excused yourself for an early break. Kuroo turned to see you sulk away, causing him to furrow his eyebrows.

"What's with Y/n?" He asks his desk neighbor.

"Oh, two of her clients weren't co-operating and it's getting her frustrated," She responded. "She's been having a bad day."

Kuroo looks at your desk curiously and noticed how you had removed your heels under your desk. "Be right back," Kuroo gets up from his desk and walked over to the shared kitchen area to grab some things.

You returned from your short break to be greeted with a small pile of things. Bandages for your blisters, medicine for your headache, water, and a cut-up apple. "Take it easy," You found a post-it on the water bottle. You looked at your screen to see your client queue cleared with everyone on the list as approved. Confused as ever, you make use of the mystery goods to tend to your needs.

"Attention everyone, tonight Ryu here is throwing a little work party at his apartment," Your manager announced. "It is a small goodbye party for him and congratulations to our new lead, Kuroo." You rolled your eyes at Kuroo's name and continued to snack on the apples.

Later that night, you arrived at Ryu's house, catching Kuroo's attention. "Woah," Your male coworker gasped at the sight of you. "Damn, how is she single."

"Hey calm down, Kuroo-san has a crush on her," Other teased.

"Fuck off and keep my love life out your mouth," Kuroo nudges his shoulder. Though they weren't wrong, you were stunning. Dressed to impress and you even put your hair down from your usual updo. Kuroo was left speechless, thus leaving him too anxious to tell you anything.

After one cheesy speech and a big congratulations, the drinking began. Kuroo began to get too into the moment, having one too many drinks. You, however, stayed sober the whole party. You snickered at the sight of your drunk colleagues.

Kuroo's cheeks were bright red and he walked funny. He made his way towards you and you couldn't help but laugh. This was his chance to confess. "I- I- want-" He hiccuped between words. Kuroo began to get lost in thought, forgetting he was drunk confessing. "I- want my- keys- I- need- need  to go- home."

"I don't think so," You snatch his keys from the key holder before he could. "Do you want me to take you home?" He nodded excessively as you rolled your eyes. You chat with Ryu shortly before taking Kuroo to your car.

"Kamikita Apartments," You say. You had asked Ryu as you saw no hope in getting anything out of Kuroo. He slowly fell asleep in your car as you drove through the lit city. "I hope you know, I'm only doing this because you're drunk. I still don't like you."

"Mhm," Kuroo says in his sleep. You giggled at his expression all the way to his apartment.

Kuroo rests his arm around your shoulder as you two made your way to the apartment. You unlock the door and Kuroo immediately walks to the bedroom. Once he realized you weren't behind him, he turns back. "Where'd you go?" He pouted.

"Nowhere," You followed into his room. "Where are your pajamas- Oh, here. Change while I get you water."

Kuroo obeys your order and seats himself as he waited for his water. To him, he had already confidently talked to you about how he felt. Yet in reality, he was too drunk to even comprehend the front of his shirt.

"Here," You notice the tag in the front of his shirt as he chugged the water. "Your shirt is backward."

"Help me?" He begged. You facepalm at his tone but agreed. It felt like you were taking care of a baby. Your cheeks flushed pink once you helped him take off his shirt. You stopped to admire his face as you adjusted the middle of his sleep shirt. His hands move to rest on your hips. "It's so cold. Thank you for helping me change. Oh, and Y/n?"

"Y-yes?" You stuttered at his large hands.

"I have something to tell you," His voice started to sound sleepy. "I love you." Your eyes widen and you couldn't show him your shy expression.

"Tell me that again when you're sober," You move his hands away from you. Making your way to the light switch, you looked at the sad Kuroo. "I'll sleep in the living room. Just- go to bed."

Thankfully you had a change of clothes in your trunk that you used to sleep in. You got ready for bed, chuckling at the sounds of Kuroo snoring next door to the bathroom.

You laid silently on the couch staring at the ceiling. Those three words, you never thought you'd hear them from him of all people. It'd been years since your last break up, so you'd always been so closed off when it came to men. After getting heartbroken, you didn't think another man could love you. Kuroo was no exception. Sure he was handsome but you were adamant about staying single for the longest.

The thought of Kuroo in your life lingered up until the morning. He had woken up before you and found himself with a pounding headache. He made his way to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. As he drank his water, he spit-sprayed the water out of his mouth when he spots you sleeping. He began to cough aggressively before collecting himself. "Wha- what is she doing here?!" He whispered.

You woke up to the sound of your dying colleague, rubbing your eyes to the bright room. Kuroo walked over to you as you sat up, pulling the blanket to your lap. "Good morning," You yawned. "How's the hangover?"

"What are you doing here?" Kuroo panicked.

"You were shit-faced. This was the one thing I could do for repaying you for the coffees," You say.

"Did I do- did I say anything stupid?" He hides his face in his hands.

"You told me something," You began to fiddle with your thumbs. "I don't know if you meant it or not, but you told me you loved me."

"I...did?" Kuroo slowly moves his hands to look at you. Your face was red and you were playing with your sleeves now.

"Well, did you mean it?" You ask. "If you didn't..."

Kuroo reached over and pulled your chin up with his index knuckle and thumb. "I meant it," He says. "I really did."

Your face grew warmer at his words. "Why?" You sighed. "I'm so mean to you."

"Because," Kuroo moves his hand away to stare at his lap. "I love your smile. I love the way you work. I love how determined you are. The way you sign your papers with a tiny heart. The way you laugh at the smallest things. And...I know you might hate my guts but ever since I saw you, I admired you. You make so many people smile and bring happiness to the room. I thought I'd been on your shit list but I'm glad you took care of me- See that's another thing, you put yourself after everyone else. That's why I gave you bandaids, buy you coffee, finished your quotas for you. I just think you deserve better than what you have right now. And I'm so impressed by you-"

You got annoyed by his rambling and decided to grab his cheeks. You interrupted his words by crashing your lips into his. "You literally talk so much," You pulled away. "Can I talk now?"

Kuroo was stunned at the fact that you just kissed him to shut him up. "You just- kissed-" You pressed your lips on his again to keep him quiet. He deepened the kiss before you could pull away. "You can talk." He smiled as he pulled away.

"Okay," You move from his face. "I wanted to say, you weren't on my shit list or whatever. I was upset I didn't get the promotion and I didn't like your attitude. But, getting to know you I learnt how different you really are. Especially when you’re drunk, it's funny. Besides that, I didn't know how you felt, I didn't notice all the things you've done for me."

Kuroo placed his palm on yours, carefully comparing the size of it to yours. "I didn't think I could fall in love with someone who didn't give me the time of day," He says. You moved your fingers to trace his.

"How are you so sure that you love me?" You laced your fingers with Kuroo's.

"That's the thing, I'm not sure," Kuroo looked down at his lap. "I did all those things just to make your days easier. I thought all the small gestures I did, wouldn't matter to you. That they were just tedious things that bothered you. To be honest, I'm afraid of letting someone into my heart. I was drunk when I told you and I meant it but I want to know for sure that I'm in love with you before anything."

"Do you want to find out?" You say softly.

"Only if you'd let me," Kuroo looked up to see you smiling at him. You nodded and leaned in for another kiss. "Man if only your kisses made this hangover go away."

You rolled your eyes and pressed your lips against his once more. The feeling of his hands move to your waist caused the heat in your face to return. Kuroo pulls you to straddle his lap as he deepened the kiss. Your hands rest on his shoulders while he rubbed your sides.

"I promise to make you the happiest woman in the world," He whispered as he pulled away.

"Do I still get morning coffee?" You giggled.

"And your blueberry muffin," Kuroo chuckled. You smiled before pecking his lips. You rest your head on the crook of his neck as he rubbed your back. "I won't disappoint you."

taglist: @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme @just-a-siiimp @d0llpie @elianetsantana

[rvmmm21]

[ V V S her diamonds ] – ch 04.

[5:45 p.m.] Washed-out rays of sunshine flood the arcade cafe, and Seungwan can’t contain her flourishing smile at the thought of Bae Joohyun visiting her at work. 

. . . . .

Sometimes I wish I could go and live in the clouds of your fantasies.

Being a part-time barista is a safe-haven for all of hers.

The junior buzzes around behind the counter, systematically preparing orders of cakes and coffees on the tiny overhead order slips. A satisfied hum sounds as she finishes prettying the dessert display and slides the glass window closed.

Cake display, check. 

Watermelon lychee-mint crush, coming up.

She dries her hands after spooning the frozen watermelon chunks into the blender, and the crinkle of her leather apron sounds brand new for some reason. Perhaps it’s because she feels brand new. Either way, her customers seem to pick up on her good mood too, and it blows her usually gruelling shift by like a light summer breeze. The hustle of work-pressed university students scrambling for their sugar rushes and extra shots of caffeine dulls in her ears, the memory of the past three weeks sitting at the very forefront of her thoughts. 

The past three weeks of back and forth texting, weekly study dates and a volantly climbing heart rate– wait no, a steadily building friendship.

About halfway through the afternoon, the regular tempo of her shift suddenly interrupts with a swish of silky hair and an award winning smile. 

“Wow, a barista. Cute and talented, I see. Where do I sign up?”

Seungwan adjusts the straps on her apron, blinking. “Taeyeon sunbaenim?”

“Kidding, kidding,” the girl laughs, holding her hand out as if that would somehow quell the bout of unease that had begun to well in the pit of Seungwan’s stomach. 

Remaining professional, she answers with a nervous laugh of her own. “What can I get for you today, sunbaenim?”

Taeyeon hums, tapping a delicate finger to her chin while she stares down at the fancy little menu. A vague smirk graces pink lips as her fingertip traces the bold laminated print. “Hm, what do your pancakes come with?”

Seungwan leans over the cash register to glaze over the small description underneath and then snaps back up, knowing the ingredients by heart already. “Oh! They’re plain buttermilk, but you can choose your topping! Uh… strawberries and ice cream is– it’s a customer favourite, if you’d like.” 

A hum of deliberation. “I see. And do I get special service?”

“S-Sorry?” The suggestion in her tone chokes the girl, unsure of what that means. 

Taeyeon gracefully giggles and leans over the counter to playfully tap Seungwan on the shoulder. “Yah, you’re too funny. I meant an extra scoop of ice cream. Since we know each other, obviously. Why, what were you thinking?”

“Ah! Of course I can do that for you,” she chuckles awkwardly, keying in the order. Seungwan’s fingers flinch around the Amex Black Card when it doesn’t slip out of Taeyeon’s as easily. Chestnut eyes peek up at her, and from the casual smirk on her face, the older girl seems to know what she’s doing.

“Oh yeah,” her expression contorts as though she’s trying to recall why she’s now holding up a small queue of foot-tapping, huffing customers. “How’s your project going?” 

She answers hastily, eyeing the holdup. “It’s great! Joohyun unnie is really helping me with this class.”

Taeyeon raises a brow. “Unnie?”

“Y-Yeah, Joohyun unnie’s great, can– can I take your card, please?” she reiterates.

“Ah,” the other girl finally nods in realisation, “you two are close friends now. That’s great! I’m glad to hear it’s going well.” The grip on the credit card slackens. “Thank you, Seungwan.”

Seungwan purses her lips, stiffly rocking on her heels as they both wait for the card reader to go ‘beep’. Once Taeyeon walks away, her tension dispels with a heavy sigh and she signals for the next customer.

Softy’s Autumn Morning comes on the set playlist shuffle. Pleasant lo-fi beats ripple through the cafe and Seungwan gently bops along as she works, carefully eyeing the bubbling pancake mix to make sure it doesn’t burn. 

Time seems to slow to a glacial pace. That is, until the little bronze bell chimes and a certain someone walks in. Seungwan recognises that vintage Balenciaga Defile Sport hoodie in a heartbeat. Her legs kick into gear and she rushes over to meet her. Joohyun approaches the counter with her signature gaze of boredom, but hides a laugh behind her sweater paw when she sees the barista almost trip over her own sneakers. 

Five minutes later, said barista is hunched over a small cup of latte, hands steadily crafting two pointy milk ears with the help of a toothpick.

As she pops a little bonus on the saucer in replacement of their standard Lotus Biscoff biscuit, Seungwan wonders where Sooyoung and Jennie are, melting a little at how Joohyun looks so small and harmless without the final duo to complete her killer posse. God, when they're all three together, it gets really hard to not believe she'sthe precious daughter of South Korea's most elusive mafia boss. The rumours have to come from somewhere, right? She takes a deep breath to steel her nerves before serving the mafia daughter sitting by the window.

“Enjoy your coffee, unnie!” she chirps, setting the steaming drink down. Service with a complimentary home baked cookie is her way of saying ‘I think you’re super cool’. 

Totally embarrassed at her dumb little gift, the girl slinks back to her station with sizzling ears before her senior can even thank her.

How cute.

Joohyun’s lips curl into a secret smile at the milk foam cat happily greeting her from her latte.

. . . . .

[7:45 p.m.] Seulgi whines when she goes to get a Cola from the fridge and finds the door wide open with Yerim chugging milk straight from the carton. Her roommate calmly caps the lid, dutifully ignoring her.

. . . . .

Polystyrene containers of spicy tteokbokki, salmon sashimi, crispy pork mandu as well as skewers of various glazed meats glisten deliciously under warm living room lights. It’s the perfect go-to cheat day feast. 

“Unnie, you’re like those tragic lovers in my dramas,” the youngest blurts, chewing on her Yakult straw. “Literally every one of them. Too dumb to confess and then drowns in their tears at night. You gonna break the cycle or what?”

Shock seizes Seungwan’s expression before she shakes her head at the way this heartless dongsaeng just takes her feelings and tosses them around like a salad. Still, she thinks, there’s no harm in being honest.

“What’s there to confess? We’re just friends."

Seulgi and Yerim exchange a silent look at the neat pile of tteokbokki on Seungwan’s plate. They remembered only a month ago, their friend seemed to have eyes for nothing else. The dish was so tasty she could marry it, apparently. But its charms seem to have worn off; now overshadowed by Joohyun’s endearingly obnoxious laughter and just about everything about her.

"Plus, you know, I doubt Joohyun unnie sees me that way either."

An epiphany strikes Yerim and she slaps her hand on the table, jabbing a restless finger at her shocked dorm mates. “Zenitsu, Zenitsu! Unnie, you’re Zenitsu, I’ve freaking figured it out.”

Confusion colours Seungwan’s face. “Zenits… who?”

“Zenitsu from Demon Slayer.”

“What?”

“That mopey kid.”

“Yerim-ah…” 

“Demon Slayer. Yerimie’s bingeing it right now. Anime on Netflix or something,” Seulgi explains through a mouthful of dumpling, “she won’t shut up about it. God help us there’s a movie out already.”

Curiosity soon has the confused girl peering at her screen, determined to find out what she’s being called. Thank god for YouTube. 

The youngest feels the heat as she watches her unnie’s expression become more and more deadpan with every passing video.

“Yerim. What, exactly, do you see of me in this?” Seungwan threateningly questions, holding up a paused clip of a cartoon boy grovelling at the feet of a pretty girl. She wonders if it’s wrong to want Joohyun to actually have mafia connections now… and if she’d be willing to share them with her for… purposes.

She shrugs defensively. “What? Don’t you think he’s cute?”

"Don't worry Wan, I don't see it either," Seulgi jumps in.

‘Cute’ isn’t quite the term. The blonde nonchalantly brings the chopsticks to her mouth and bites down… onto thin air. Much to the amusement of the two across her. “Hey how’s it going with Sooyoung?” she turns her attention to the girl sitting cross-legged opposite.

Seulgi tuts in reply, dangling a salmon slice in front of her unimpressed roomie. “Stop trying to change the subject, Wan. It’s sooo obvious.” After a pregnant pause, she grins like a kid on Christmas morning, spilling her own adventures with her third of the black velvet trio in one breath. “But thank you for asking because we’re going to the cinema this weekend.”

Yerim chopsticks another tteokbokki onto her plate. “Ooh, what movie?”

“Oh, uh…” Seulgi shrugs, “dunno… I think Sooyoung knows more about what’s good, so I’ll–”

“You’re gonna let her decide, is what I’m hearing,” the maknae scoffs with an eye roll.

Seungwan smiles.

“Simps… simps! Help, someone save me, you guys are everywhere!” Yerim pretends to drown on land and her friends resist the urge to jump her on the spot. 

. . . . .

[11:09 a.m.] The raven-haired senior catches her unsuspecting junior on her way through campus gardens the next morning and pries her for answers. 

. . . . . 

“Why a cat?”

Seungwan’s eyes form joyous crescent moons. “Unnie!”

Suddenly, she has to keep her focus from dwindling into how good they’d both look sitting under the shade of that big old oak tree. 

Somewhere through the cottoned clouds of her daydreams, they’re on one of their many picnics. Doughnuts, corn-dogs, toasted sandwiches and bottled juice litter the peach gingham mat they’re sitting on, and Joohyun offers her a corner of her Gilgeori toast. Of course, she cheekily tries her luck, leaving her with just the corner instead. She yelps when Joohyun gives her a shoulder thwack well deserved. 

Clumsy knees knock together as they laugh themselves silly, the powdered sugar on their lips melting into a sweet river every time she connects them with a kiss. 

Seungwan bites her lip, wringing her mind of those thoughts, trying to play down the elation at hearing her senior’s curiosity. “A cat? I-I don’t know, I just think they’re funny and– kinda cute.” Her voice goes squeaky with excitement. “You liked it? Unnie! You should order more coffees with milk in them. I’ll draw you a bunny next time!” 

Joohyun nods, willing to buy the cafe’s entire stock if it meant she got to see Seungwan beam like a praised puppy, all too eager to learn its next trick.

And she might’ve just marched down there right now to do as she’d said… if they weren’t ten minutes late for their class. Suddenly they’re both panickedly clutching at each other, torn between sprinting like they’re being chased by hyenas, turning up fashionably late, or hopping around and freaking out about the fact that they’re already eleven minutes late, now.

Joohyun’s wrist is grabbed just as she’s about to suggest the fashionably late option. Then she’s hurtling forward, struggling to keep her books from falling whilst poorly protesting the early-morning PE session. But Seungwan is too busy shouting nonsense into the skies about how this is the final chance the lightning gods get to strike her down and charge her up.

Which would’ve been convincing had her voice not cracked on every other word.

As the pair clumsily sprint down the path of pastel flower bushes, the older girl can’t remember the last time she’s laughed this freely. She can barely get the words out but she feels like she’d explode if she didn’t. 

“Seungwan-ah! You’re giving me a six pack!”

And when Seungwan turns back to laugh with her, something in Joohyun’s static heart ignites.

. . . . .

In the diamond, star-dappled sky, Cherub wakes from his silken cloud. Lily-white wings unfurl at the latest calling.

[ethanlivemere]

Half-Life²: Anticitizen - Chapter 3

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

_____________________

Chapter 3

Trespass

The true citizen knows that duty is the greatest gift.

The true citizen conserves valuable oxygen.

The true citizen cooperates with his Civil Protection team.

The true citizen’s job is the opposite of slavery.

The Consul’s brief messages echo across the pavement, each one followed by a hollow chime. It has an almost hypnotic effect, as I find myself staring up at the cluster of screens hanging over the intersection. It’s an Orwellian sight to behold: the citizens going about their day while the Consul’s watchful gaze looks down from above.

The true citizen embraces the Universal Union.

I think back to my encounter with the Vortigaunt. It had been a shock to hear English words coming from the mouth of the alien. Its voice was guttural and rough, and it continually made insect-like hissing and clicking sounds, but it spoke English nonetheless. Quite eloquently, even. Vastly different from Black Mesa, where the hisses and clicks had been the only components of their communication. But perhaps the bigger shock in seeing the Vortigaunt was not what it said, but the way it spoke to me. Like I hadn’t killed dozens of its kind in Black Mesa after seeing them slaughter my coworkers. After such hostility, I expected this Vortigaunt to charge up a bolt of green energy and attack me, and my instincts wanted me to reach for a weapon I didn’t have. The last thing I expected was for it to greet me as an ally.

“Your presence gives us hope, Freeman,” it had said. “As you saved my kin in the border world, so shall you save us again on this miserable rock. For now that the lesser master lay defeated, the greater must also fall in time.” Ah, so that’s how it is, I thought. When I killed the Nihilanth, I freed the Vortigaunts from their enslaver, and now they expected me to do the same once more. I remembered the slave camps and factories on Xen, where, for just a brief moment, they didn’t attack me – until the Nihilanth’s Controllers arrived and forced them to fight. They must have realized I was their one hope for freedom. A freedom which, ultimately, was very short-lived.

The Vortigaunt then walked to the contraption that held another one of its kind in its dark liquid. It placed its two-fingered hand against the glass and, despite its alien features, I could see sadness fall across its face. “The Vorti-cells drain power from my kin to support the Combine’s machinery. Those who enter them seldom emerge. The few who do are weakened almost to the point of collapse. Truly, it is a fate far worse than the shackles I bear.” The shackles were different from the ones worn by the Nihilanth-enslaved Vortigaunts. Instead of shining green, they were a dull gray. Their design remained very similar, though. Wrist bracelets, a collar, but also a sort of codpiece that I didn’t remember seeing on the Nihilanth’s slaves. Apparently the Combine deemed it necessary to cover the Vortigaunts’ loins – even though they housed no visible organs of any kind.

The Vortigaunt proceeded to grab a broom from against the wall and told me it had to resume its duty or suffer punishment. It seemed rather ironic, almost comedic even, that an alien race powerful enough to power factories was also being employed to sweep the streets. Recalling the instructions Jeremy had given me, I asked the Vortigaunt if he knew how I could get to the Manhack Arcade, where Barney was supposed to meet me. “Ah,” he responded pensively. “The Manhack Arcade. The hall of the unwitting executioners.” He proceeded to give me clear directions. I was to go to a place he called the Stenographer’s Chasm and then continue in a straight line. I wondered what he meant by ‘unwitting executioners’, but before I knew it, he had already said his goodbyes and disappeared around the corner.

The strange encounter had left me confused and a bit shaken, but I resolutely continued my journey and followed the Vortigaunt’s directions. I had a hard time imagining what this ‘Stenographer’s Chasm’ could be, but I could never have imagined what it turned out to be. An enormous, Combine-modified warehouse consisting of one long room that extended far into the ground, filled with rows of workers perched on stools behind desks, frantically typing on typewriter-like machines. But the stools and desks weren’t on the ground: they were mounted onto single, suspended rails that ran across the room. There were multiple levels of these rails and desks reaching all the way to the ceiling and down into the chasm. The workers had nowhere to go. My guess was that at the end of their shift or when their quota was fulfilled, the rails transported them to a place where they could safely dismount their stools. Until then, they could do nothing but work. I didn’t know what it was they were doing. What kind of paperwork could the Combine have? They didn’t seem like the type to bother with those kinds of things too much. Then again, an intergalactic empire is bound to have some unavoidable paperwork. Probably keeping track of resources and the like.

More disturbing sights awaited me, though. It all began at a building that produced a continuous sound of whirring and chugging, like a giant steam engine. Looking through the window, I saw a black and white tiled hall that was filled with enormous, diagonal pistons moving back and forth. At their base, people were working on the large engines that seemed to drive the pistons. I then realized that the engines weren’t just large, the figures knelt at their base were also small… they were children. Children, no older than twelve, were working on heavy machinery under the watch of Metrocops. And that wasn’t the only factory where children were being forced into labor. A bit further down the street was a smaller brick building that housed a large furnace. More children were stationed at a conveyor belt that lead into the furnace. They took white, ellipsoid objects from barrels and placed them onto the conveyor. They weren’t being burned in the furnace: they reemerged out of the side, attached to the ends of poles, and were transported into another machine. I had seen the white objects before on the brown-robed, flamethrower-wielding beings in the station and on posters that Jeremy had referred to as ‘Cremators’. These were Cremator heads. I tore myself away from the windows and continued my way through the industrial area. I never looked through another window again.

The factories eventually made way for a busier commercial district, which is where I find myself now. It’s the busiest place I’ve seen in this city, apart from the military parade. This must once have been a street with many successful shops, but now most of the display windows stand empty. One of the buildings still in use houses the same ration dispensers I also saw in the station. Another one showcases multiple television screens, all of which display the Combine logo.

“Can you believe it? Free TVs!” says a citizen gazing through the window.

“Don’t get too excited,” his companion replies in a cynical tone. “Those things only have one channel: the Consulcast.” He points over his shoulder at the cluster of screens overhead, where the Consul’s many faces are still naming the values of a true citizen.

But the Consulcast nor the free TVs are the reason why there is so much traffic on this street corner. In fact, I’d wager the Combine strategically placed those here so that as many citizens as possible would be exposed to the propaganda. The real eye-catcher everyone seems to be here for is across the street: the Manhack Arcade. It’s a large building that forms the corner of the street. Completely Combine-made, no recycling of old buildings. The people in the street flock towards the wide entrance on the corner, which is flanked by two Metrocops. Above it hang a number of yellow posters and banners and even more screens, all showing Combine logos and imagery.

I wonder if I should go in. Jeremy told me Barney would meet me at the Manhack Arcade, but it’s unclear if that means outside or inside. It seem risky going into a Combine facility, but it doesn’t seem like the citizens get scanned like they did at the checkpoints, and I could probably slip by the two guarding Metrocops unnoticed by hiding in the crowd.

I wait a little longer, hoping Barney will show himself. The clouds have gotten darker still, and before long a light drizzle starts pouring from the sky. Not only am I not dressed for rainy weather, I also want to avoid getting into too much contact with this water, which, judging from the greenish color of the clouds it originates from, could have all kinds of toxins or undesirable pH values. And so, when an exceptionally dense group of people approaches the entrance to the Arcade, I join them and walk past the Metrocops without either of them giving me a second glance.

Inside is a corridor that leads to the main room. Like the Stenographer’s Chasm, it’s long, tall, and extends down into the ground. Instead of rails with desks and tired workers, this room is filled with catwalks leading to strange machines. Citizens queue in front of them and when it’s their turn, they step onto a pedestal in front of the machines, grab hold of two control handles and lean forward to place their heads in some sort of virtual reality display built into the arcade.

A screen above the player allows bystanders to follow the game. A citizen near me has just started: at first, the screen shows only a grid of red lines in a black void. Then, the grid bends and reshapes itself into a three-dimensional environment that resembles a ruined building. Several humanoid shapes appear in yellow and orange tints, like heat vision, but with a clear red outline to them. The player navigates the environment, seemingly flying, and moves towards the outlined targets. The targets start moving around, trying to evade the player, but eventually he catches up to one. It’s not clear what happens, but when the player bumps into the target, the red outline disappears and a score of one hundred appears in the bottom right corner of the screen. “Ha ha, got one!” the player exclaims. Another nearby player is already at a score of eight hundred, when one of the targets suddenly rushes at him, holding up some kind of long object. The screen goes black and the words ‘GAME OVER’ appear on the screen. “Damn it!” the man shouts. “I was almost at my high score!”

Something’s not right. The way the targets move – it doesn’t look like a video game character. Much too erratic and lifelike. And from what I’ve seen of the Combine so far, I doubt they would put effort into providing ground-breaking AI technology for their panem et circenses. The Vortigaunt’s words echo through my mind: ‘the hall of the unwitting executioners’. I can put two and two together, but I don’t want to. I refuse to believe that what I fear is true. People slaughtering their own, cheering while they do it – and without ever realizing what they did. Or, at least, I deeply hope they don’t.

I don’t want to stay here any longer. Watching these innocent people enjoying the Combine’s twisted games turns my stomach. I have to find Barney. But how can I simultaneously hide from the real Metrocops and try to get Barney to see me?

As I pace through the room, I notice a Metrocop eyeing me. It’s hard to tell with the gas masks, but it seems like his gaze is following me. Is he Barney or a suspicious guard? I try to act inconspicuous and wait for a signal. Suddenly, the Metrocop turns away and walks towards a door. He interacts with the locking mechanism and it opens before him. He throws another prolonged glance in my direction before stepping through, out of sight. I wait. The door doesn’t close behind him. I cautiously make my way to the door. It leads to some sort of backstage corridor, clearly a ‘staff only’ area. I can’t see the Metrocop. I look around the Arcade one last time, but none of the remaining guards seem to notice me, so I enter the corridor. It’s cold and dark, and my footsteps are loud on the metal floor. I arrive in a small room with one of those Combine consoles. The wall is lined with a rack containing dozens of small, deactivated drones whose purpose I can’t discern. I hear the door I entered through close.

“Hey, you!” I hear from one of the neighboring corridors. A Metrocop – the one I followed in here – enters the room. “Do you have your identification?” He menacingly steps towards me. Seems it wasn’t Barney after all. Tough luck. “You are not supposed to be in here. I need to see your identification.”

Well, I seem to have gotten myself into a sticky situation. The Metrocop is trying to drive me into a corner, drawing his stun baton. “Overwatch, restricted incursion in progress in sector 8. Permission to enact civil judgement?” he says to seemingly no one. There’s a short blip and a burst of static following his question. I’m not thrilled about the prospect of ‘civil judgement’, so I decide not to wait until he gets his answer from whoever Overwatch is. I place my hands on my head, feigning surrender, while I scan the exits. The corridor back to the main Arcade hall is sealed and I can’t tell where the others lead, so I’ll have to trust my instincts.

Either the Metrocop has received his permission from Overwatch, or my eyes darting around the room have made him suspicious, because he suddenly swings his stun stick at my head. I try to duck and the blow lands against my elbow, sending a shock through my entire arm as blue sparks fly from the weapon. In response, I kick at his shin as hard as I can. He grunts and loses his balance, and I take the opportunity to dart down the nearest corridor. I hear the Metrocop’s heavy boots give chase behind me as he mumbles a status report to Overwatch. I round a corner, praying I won’t run into a dead end. I see a T junction ahead. Suddenly, I hear a deafening bang behind me, and the sound of a bullet hitting metal. Damn. He has a gun. I have to reach the junction as fast as possible. No time to look which way to go. As the echo of the gunshot fades out, I speed off into the left corridor just before another bullet plunges itself into the wall.

Suddenly, my surroundings open up into a larger room that’s two thirds Combine architecture and one third concrete rubble, remainders of whatever building was here before they installed their Arcade. I could get out through the collapsed walls and floors, but I’d be an easy shot. There’s also what looks like a Combine elevator with a bright red button inside it. I have milliseconds to make a decision. How far behind is he? Can I pull it off?

I slam my fist into the red button, rush back out of the elevator and then dive behind a half-collapsed wall. The doors close and the elevator starts to rise as I flatten myself against the concrete, bent rebar poking into my shoulder. My left arm is numb from the shock of the baton. I hear the Metrocop charging into the room. I hold my breath and pray he falls for my trick. It’s a trick as old as time. He stands still and I wait, my heartbeat ear-deafening.

“Subject is headed for top floor, secure perimeter around elevator.” I have to keep myself from sighing in relief. He isn’t gone yet. In fact, he seems to just stand still in front of the elevator. He must be waiting for the elevator to reach its destination. If he waits for the top floor units to report an empty elevator, my cover is blown.

“Copy,” he says. My functional right hand grabs hold of a loose chunk of concrete near me. I hear him walk a few steps, and then a couple of beeps. “Elevator power disengaged. Heading to your location.” With that, he walks out of the room, and I can finally breathe again. They don’t know the elevator is empty yet. They think they have me trapped in an unpowered elevator. Now to finally get out of here.

Easier said than done, as it turns out. The ruins are a concrete maze, and I constantly have to watch my step. It doesn’t help that the rain that seeps down through the broken ceilings makes everything slippery. The downpour has changed into an outright storm: the water beats down loudly on the concrete and every now and then a roaring thunderclap tears through the sky. Meanwhile, I guess the Metrocops discovered I wasn’t in the elevator after all, because I suddenly hear the cold, disembodied female voice – Overwatch, I assume – echo through the air once more: “Individual, you are charged with anti-civil activities: 63 criminal trespass, 148 resisting arrest, 243 assault on Protection Team. All local Protection units: code alert: locate, contain, prosecute.”

I spot one of the lambdas painted by the resistance group on a pillar. It leads the way down a slope of collapsed floor into a sub-street level area. Knowing the Metrocops are looking for me again, I try to speed up my pace a little while heading down – a mistake. The wet rubble gives way and I lose my footing. The world spins around me as I slide and tumble down the slope. I try to shield my head with my arms. I roll over the floor after reaching the bottom before coming to a stop.

I lie on my back as my surroundings come back into focus. I’m in some sort of underground sewer chamber: I see a ladder on the wall leading up to a manhole cover and there’s a grate in the ceiling through which light and rain pours down in a small waterfall, though the ground I lie on is thankfully dry. I do a quick damage report: my palms are chafed and I’ll undoubtedly have a few bruises, but no lasting damage. I’m lucky I didn’t hit my head on any of the protruding edges of the concrete.

I become aware of a sound, just barely audible over the storm. It sounds like a fire – no, more like a flamethrower. At the same moment, I notice the dancing orange light on the brick wall, and my nostrils are assaulted with the stench of burning flesh. I immediately jolt up. Pain shoots through my back at the sudden movement. I look around and immediately spot the source of the sound: there’s a Cremator standing on the opposite side of the room. The two lanky, leathery-skinned arms sticking out of its brown robe carry a heavy flamethrower which, I notice for the first time seeing one up close, is connected to a spherical fuel tank in the middle of its stomach with a thin tube. ‘Flamethrower’ might be an incorrect word, however. Instead of producing flames, it shoots the green particle jets I also noticed being used to clean trains in the station. It must be some sort of corrosive liquid that only affects organic matter. The source of the orange light on the walls turns out to be a burning pile of charred flesh being sprayed by the Cremator. The flesh is being set ablaze by the green particles, but not only that: where the jets hit the flesh directly, it seems to blacken and disintegrate. Despite the fact that the corpses have turned black as coal and have been turned into an amorphous, ever-shrinking pile, I can still make out just enough to see that these were once people.

The Cremator stops what it’s doing and turns its white, oval head towards me, alerted by my sudden movement. Its tiny, expressionless eyes lock onto me. I hear mechanical breathing from the Cremator’s mouth-tube as it steps closer. It tilts its head like a curious animal before it points the nozzle of its weapon towards me. I could try to run, but I doubt I could get far enough to evade the scorching cloud. I briefly wonder if I should not have moved an played dead. It probably wouldn’t have saved me from being disintegrated.

“Cremator! Stand down!” A Metrocop charges in and stands between me and the Cremator. “This prisoner is property of Civil Protection and is to be transferred to Nova Prospekt for processing.” The Cremator tilts its head again, then turns around and returns to its previous work. The Metrocop turns around to face me. I should be worried, but I’m not. Despite its distortion, I have already recognized his voice. I once again hear the click of the mask detaching and am greeted by Barney’s smug grin. I’ve never been happier to see that stupid grin.

“So Gordon, is this what you call ‘not drawing any attention to yourself’? You’ve got practically every Metrocop in the sector looking for you!” He reaches out and grabs my arm to pull me onto my feet. The numbness from the stun baton is almost gone, though it now hurts from the fall instead. As I rub my elbow, I glance at the Cremator. It seems to be minding its own business, but I don’t feel comfortable hanging around near it much longer, and I wonder if it’s a good idea for Barney to unmask himself and be so friendly with me in its presence. Barney follows my gaze and says “Don’t worry about him, he won’t bother us again. They’re not too bright, these Cremators. Mindless synths. They were made to be janitors, primarily. Destroy biological waste, contain the Xen infestation…” He looks down at the charred corpses grimly. “… clean up after the Civil Protection patrols.” He beckons me and starts walking. “The reason he was about to disintegrate you is because you are not a registered citizen or Combine unit. So to him, you would have to be either a Xenian creature or a very lively corpse. Either way, you were considered ‘unauthorized biological mass’ and had to be disposed of.”

We enter an underground utility tunnel. The sounds of the storm fade away as we follow the cables and pipelines down the dimly lit corridor. “You’re lucky I found you,” Barney remarks. “Those Immolators of theirs can give you a nasty burn. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you at the Arcade, I was held up by unforeseen complications on my shift. I had just gotten back to Dr. Kleiner’s lab when I heard the local CP units go crazy over some guy causing trouble at the Arcade.” He flashes me a smirk. I tell him what happened at the Arcade, with the Metrocop I had thought was him. “You got baited,” he replies. “Some CPs will bait citizens into breaking rules, like trespassing, just so they can enact some civil judgement.”

We march through the underground network in silence for a while before I cautiously bring up Jeremy. Barney sighs sadly and lightly shakes his head. “Yeah, I heard what happened.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment, seemingly choosing his next words carefully. “Listen, Gordon… don’t worry about it, okay? I can probably pull some strings to make sure he turns out okay.” He doesn’t sound all that certain. “Either way, don’t blame yourself. Each of us knows the risk in what we’re doing. We’re all prepared to... go all the way for our cause.” I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach. Barney is being uncharacteristically serious and grim. This is not the same man I knew before Black Mesa. Then again, the same goes for myself.

His face lightens up again and he slips back into his usual grin when we go down a side tunnel with another lambda, at the end of which is a short staircase with a metal door. “Well Gordon, looks like we’re finally here.” He opens the door and the sound of machinery pours out. Not harsh, loud and aggressive, like the Combine factories, but light beeps and clicks over a soft hum. A familiar sound that invites me inside. The sound of science.

_____________________

Consul screens

Stenographer's Chasm

Piston hall

Cremator factory

Manhack Arcade exterior + Citadel

Manhack Arcade interior

Cremator

Underground

And for the first time, there aren't just images for reference, but also sound: here is the original Vortigaunt voice.

As always, really excited to share this new chapter of Anticitizen with you. We've finally reached Kleiner's lab, so from now the story will start picking up pace. And as always, please let me know what you think :)

[cosmiclatte28]

#1 Ornament Spree (Sungchan x you)

First day of Christmas 

Ornament Spree (Sungchan x you)

I do not own the pictures, but I own the stories :) hope you enjoy this

It’s the day after Christmas, the merriest night has passed and you’re more than delighted to meet your family and had a nice feast. Yesterday was great with all of you buying presents and playing white elephant. You won a speaker and that is something you did not expect you’d get on a white elephant game. Your big family decided to gather in your parents’ house, where the grand Christmas tree stood up in its glorious form. You’re proud to say that the ornaments you hung with your brother look super pretty on the tree and that everyone is praising the Christmas tree in the hall. It was all good until your uncle got pretty drunk from chugging eggnog too fast and he bumped the Christmas tree. Though you think it is sturdy enough, turns out some of the decoration fell and break. Even worse, the main focus which is the star also toppled down and shattered into pieces.

Since everyone was in their Christmas mood, no one was making a fuss out of it. The maid cleaned up the shattered pieces and party continues like nothing happens.

But when the guest left the house and you were just chilling by the fireplace with your brother, Jaehyun, your mother came in and asked you a favour.

“(Y/n), I am sorry to disturb you and Jae, but can you please go to the store tomorrow and  buy us some decorations, we have some more guests tomorrow and we do not want to greet them with a plain tree right?” Your mother walked gently into the room and brushed a hand over your hair.

You sighed, “Why me? What about Jae?”

Your brother laughed, “Apparently, I am invited to attend a lunch Christmas celebration tomorrow in my girlfriend’s house. Sorry honey I cannot come with you.”

You rolled your eyes, “When does the store open?”

Your mom shook her head, “Not sure, you can search it up in the internet and find the one open for Christmas. Usually they’re close, but I know you can find it!” she planted a kiss on your head and then without listening to you, she left the room.

You punched your brother’s thigh and he yelled in pain, “What was that for? It’s Christmas we shouldn’t be mean to one another!”

“Oh I’ve gotten my present already, I can be naughty now.” You taunted at him and he laughed too when he realized that was a great answer.

“Look, I’m sure you will find a store. Worst case will be going to the mall but try the stores we usually go to.” Jaehyun patted your back, “I’m sure that will be a nice activity while you wait for our guests. I’ll be back before noon.” He stood up.

You turned your head to follow his step, oh he’s leaving too.

“Good night (y/n)! Merry Christmas!” he sent you a heart and you just shooed him away.

Knowing there was nothing left to do and everyone seemed to be in their room already, you made your way to your bedroom and drove to dreamland. At least mother did not ask you to wake up early and go to the stores.

You woke up late the next day. Jaehyun was gone already and your mother and father were also away, maybe visiting the orphanage they always visit on Christmas. Lunch was prepared nicely for you and as you enjoy the snow falling outside your window, you scrolled through your phone looking for shops that are open on the 26th of December.

You almost lose hope when the nearby stores are closed and that you have to go to the mall which is an hour drive from home. Quickly you glance to the big grandfather clock in the house and noted it’s almost one already. The quickest you can be on the mall is at two, and then look for Christmas decorations. Well luckily mom said to just grab a set and the star, but still an hour drive in the cold winter day by yourself is not pleasurable.

But a chore is a chore and so after making sure you’re dressed up nicely in a toasty attire, you step into your car and drive all the way to the big mall. Christmas song blasts on your speakers and you’re no longer sour about going to the mall. You put your car for valet and inhale the holiday vibes around you. Stores are holding sale and people are laughing from one store to another.

You look for the directory and found the store you are looking on the second floor. Without hurrying, you take your time to see the stores and even stop to smell candles and try candies. This was a wrong move, because when you arrive at the decoration store. There’s many people queueing in the cashier and you can see most of the decorations cleared out from the aisles.

“Oh no, I hope there’s some more left!” you rush into the store and hope to still get something.

The aisle with colors that do not match your other decoration are full but you’re struggling to find gold and blue! Those two were the majority of the colors hanging. You luckily found the star and take the last one remaining. Thanking all the gods you know that you still get the last one.

Your small steps bring you to the last aisle where there are some gold and blue ornaments left, with a big smile you stand in front of the aisle, reach out your hand, only to frown when you’re a couple of inch short.

You look around for a stool but find nothing, but your eye caught something. More like someone.

There you see on your left, a few steps away is a tall young man wrapped in a nice black coat.

He’s super tall, way taller than you but like Jaehyun’s. hastily you look around, but no crew is here too, should you ask for his help?

“Um excuse me,” you tap his shoulder and gosh he’s way taller than you!

He turns to look at you and you see a pair of warm eyes meeting yours. You bite your lips suddenly shy about asking his help.

“Yes? What is it?” he asks when he finds you quiet and his brain finishes processing that he doesn’t know you.

You gulp, “I couldn’t reach the christmas decoration on the top shelf and you look really tall.” You point to the aisle you mean and he follows your finger.

“Can you please help me?” you put on your pleading gaze Jaehyun hates so much, but look at him blushing over your cat eyes.

“Oh sure, I can help you.” He follows you to the rack and you point out the decoration you want.

He takes one easily and hands it to you, you examine the details and frown when you see a damage on the ball, you want to see the other options but how do you ask him. Luckily he notices your face of dissatisfaction and takes a glance on your box.

“Oh you want the other one?” he offers you as he reaches out for two more box.

You’re speechless, he is super considering and fast in reading face! Whoah his brain is sexy.

“I think this one can go back up there, it’s damaged.” You return to him the first box and he patiently returns it and even helps you examine the remaining two.

“You good with that two?? Want me to take out another one?”

“No need, thank you! I think I’ll get this one.” You keep the one you like and when you just want to return the second box on the other shelf, he gently picks it up and returns the box.

“I once worked in a market and when people return things randomly, it annoys me. So, let me it’s okay.” He smiles when his hand accidentally brushes yours.

“Thank you so much,” your sentence lingers, and he laughs, “Sungchan.”

“Thank you so much Sungchan!” you bow, and he calmly asks your name.

You introduce yourself and the tall man blurts out “What a pretty name!”

You invite him for coffee since you’re thankful for his help and he accepts it with great respect. After the two of you paid your ornaments, you bring him to one of your favorite coffee shop.

He settles for a hot chocolate and so did you. As you wait for the drinks, he begins talking and getting to know you. You learn that he is just a year younger than you and he is sent to the mall to buy some decorations because their lights burnt, and he needed to get a new one.

“Did you know earlier when you pull that puppy eyes, everyone will sure fall for it and help you.” He laughs between the hot chocolate cups you two hold to warm your hands.

You blush, “Well that is the first time someone told me that! My brother always hates me for pulling that face.”

He clicks his tongue, “That is because you look so cute! He can’t reject or deny you if you pull that face.”

Your mouth gape and you admire his smart brain. “You’re super smart. I haven’t thought about that.”

He giggles, “I heard that a lot.”

“Woah smart and confidence eh! You yourself are charming.” You admit it shyly and successfully makes the younger boy across you run a hand on his neck.

The talk continues and come to a pause when your phone rings and Jaehyun was telling you he is on his way home. You note the clock and it’s almost three already! You’ll be home  by four and need to prepare before the guest comes!

“Can we keep in touch?” you boldly ask after knowing you have to go home.

Sungchan nods, “Of course,” you hand him your phone and he types in his number.

“I’ll send a text and reply me when you get it.” You say and before you can ask him, he has sent you a reply.

The two of you smile although a bit sad that the short meeting has to come to an end.

“So I guess I’ll see you one day!” He reaches out his hand for you to shake, you shake his hand and smile back, “Yes, see you! Have a great Christmas and thank you for helping me.”

“I’m treating you lunch next time we meet!” he waves his hand and the two of you walk opposite ways.

Your drive back to the house is full of love song blasted out loud and once home you’re all smile when Jaehyun greets you for taking the decorations.

“Looking overly joyful eh?” he questions you as the two of you start putting the ornaments on.

You hide a mysterious smile, “Maybe it’s the Christmas vibes.”

He snickers, “Yeah maybe, or maybe it’s you falling in love with a stranger.”

You keep your story to yourself, Sungchan is no longer a stranger right?

  Merry Christmas 

 see you tomorrow! 

masterlist

[bowl-of-shortness]

Ozqrow week, day 3

Sick day/Playing hooky

@ozqrowweek

“Fucking finally.” Qrow grumbled as he threw open the door to his house. Work had been miserable today, nothing of the fun variety like usual, just stupid meetings and talking with people. “I took this job because I didn’t want to talk to people. Not the other way around.” Although being a bounty hunter was as unpredictable in relations with people as it was handling grimm. He had gotten off work way earlier than he anticipated, normally he would’ve stayed out the entire day, but today it wasn’t even close to noon yet.

He stayed in a 2 hour meeting and then was allowed to leave, probably the only good thing about going to work today. As he flopped down onto the couch he started to contemplate what to do today, as much as he wanted to visit Oz he was probably busy, same with Glynda. Qrow sat up and looked around his small house, it was dimly lit, and there were clothes and trash laying around.

Heh, Ozzy would have a fit if he ever saw this. Maybe that’s what he could do, clean the house for once.

Qrow’s scroll rang, snapping him out of his thoughts. Picking up the small blue brick, he looked to see who was calling. Qrow arched an eyebrow, “Speaking of Ozzy...”. The noirett shrugged and answered “Hey Ozzy.” The voice he was expecting didn’t answer, rather a different familiar voice. Glynda sighed “Hello Qrow, it’s not Oz but it involves him.” Qrow’s original expression of confusion morphed into one of concern. “What happened?” He questioned, “Seems Oz pushed himself too hard again and got himself sick. Unfortunately I can’t take today off to take care of him, hence why I’m calling you.” Qrow could practically hear her frustrated expression, “No problem, what’s he sick with?” “Some respiratory illness, I’m not quite sure but he’s coughing violently.”

Almost on queue, Qrow heard violent coughing in the background. Seems cleaning the house is gonna have to wait. “Aight, give me a little bit and I’ll be there.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Thank you.”

Qrow opened the wooden door to the decently sized house and stepped inside, instantly he heard the coughing he heard over the phone and the familiar scoldings of Glynda. Turning the corner he found Ozpin laying on the couch, ouch, he looks worse than he normally does.

Ozpin looked over at him with exhausted eyes, Glynda turning around at the action, “Oh good, you’re here. I wrote a list of things he needs, just to make your life a little easier.” Qrow skimmed the list before turning back to her “Thanks. Now go to work before you get in trouble with anyone.”. Glynda thanked him again before exiting the house, leaving the two men alone.

Ozpin coughed again, huffing in irritation before collapsing back down on the couch. Qrow cocked an eyebrow and smirked, “And this,” he walked over and crouched down to Oz’s couch bound level “Is why I keep telling you to take breaks. You look like hell.”

Ozpin rolled his eyes, “Thanks.” Oz always was a bit sassier and grumpy when he was sick, ever since he was a kid. Qrow shook his head before standing up and picking Ozpin up. “H-huh?” Ozpin questioned, confused at the action, Qrow explained nonchalantly “I’m moving you to bed, it’s more comfortable that way.”

Once Ozpin had been secured in bed he almost instantly fell asleep, almost. He shook himself awake at the last minute, an action Qrow took notice to. “Y’know, it’s ok to sleep.” “No, it really isn’t. Not for me.” Ozpin choked out, in the process of losing his voice from all the violent coughing, The noirett was on the opposite side of the room getting some cough syrup for him. “For starters, you’re trying to give me medicine. It is quite difficult to do that if I were sleeping. Secondly, the nightmares get worse.” Fucking hell. This conversation again.

Qrow turned and looked to him, “Oz—“ “I don’t want to hear it.” He snapped. Seems this was a discussion he wasn’t in the mood to have, fine. “We’re talking about this later whether you like it or not.” The shorter man internally grumbled. After giving Ozpin his cough syrup, and him promptly chugging it down, Qrow joined Ozpin on the opposite side of the bed.

The silverett immediately latched onto Qrow in a hug, “Clingy, that’s new.” He thought curiously. Of course, he didn’t mind, why would anyone turn down a hug from this man? The shorter Necromancer started rubbing circles into the taller ones back, and soon, he heard gently snoring. Qrow internally breathed a sigh of relief, “Fucking finally, I wish he wouldn’t argue with me about this stuff.”

The noirett decided that it was best to make his partner something to eat for when he woke up. There’s just one problem with that, “Holy shit he’s got an iron grip on me.” Qrow couldn’t move. So there’s a few decisions the noirett contemplated, get up and risk waking Oz out of well deserved sleep, stay there and fall asleep with, or try to maneuver his way out of Ozpin’s iron grip. “Eh, it’s a nice thought to do it before he wakes up but it’s not necessary. Plus I’m comfortable so I guess I’m succumbing to my fate.” Qrow internally chuckled.

The noirett was woken up by Ozpin moving some time later, looking up at the taller mans expression Qrow noticed how he seemed to still be asleep. Something was off though, Ozpin looked, panicked, despite being asleep. It dawned on the shorter man “Nightmares.” He gently shook the silver haired man awake, Ozpin jolting upright once he was awake, breathing hard. His heavy breathing was interrupted by a harsh coughing fit as Ozpin attempted to stumble over to the bathroom.

Qrow watched him cautiously, it seemed like Ozpin had forgotten that Qrow was even there. He stayed silent for a while until Ozpin looked up at the mirror and stumbled back, nearly hitting his head. The noirett was quick to jump out of bed, “Oz!” Ozpin’s head snapped in the direction to the sound. “Q-Qrow, I—“ “Are you alright?! What was that?” The shorter necromancer hugged Ozpin tightly.

“I—, I thought I saw something. Heh, seems I was wrong.” Ozpin made a sound at the second part of that sentence that sounded similar to a chuckle while also a wheeze. Qrow, thoroughly concerned, helped Ozpin back into bed. Where Ozpin proceeded to latch right back onto him.

They laid there for a while, Qrow whispering reassurance to Ozpin and Ozpin staying silent. The silverett didn’t want to move, if he could, he’d stay here forever. Holding Qrow, feeling safe from all those nightmares, but life is cruel and they both have lives to live. But for now, even just for a day, he’d like to stay here. Ozpin snuggled in further, Qrow laughing at the reaction.

“If you get me sick with all this cuddling I’m gonna be so pissed at you.” “Mmm” Ozpin replied, not truly caring. Mumbling into Qrow’s charcoal colored hair, Ozpin spoke “Maybe then you would finally take a day off from work like I’ve been asking you to.” “Yeah yeah yeah. Whatever Ozzy, keep dreaming.”

The rest of the day was spent in bed, one occasionally getting up to grab something, then falling back to sleep, repeat cycle until the next morning.

Ozpin woke up, feeling much better than the day before, before he could turn to look at Qrow, the sound of violent coughing came from right next to him. Qrow collapsed back down on the bed from his coughing fit.

“Seems Someone is sick.” Ozpin smirked

“No thanks to you.” The shorter man glared up at Ozpin.

Ozpin feigned confusion while tapping a finger to his chin, “Hmmm, What was that you said? “Keep dreaming” about having you take a day off?”

Qrow rolled his eyes and turned over, facing away from Ozpin “Shut up.”

“I am not sure why you’re complaining~” the silverett replied in a singsong voice.

Qrow looked over his shoulder and glared, Ozpin smiled “You’ll be taken care of by me all day, so I truly am not sure why you’re complaining. I thought you liked me taking care of you and spoiling you~”

The noirett’s face flushed. Ok, he had a point.

Maybe being sick wasn’t going to suck as much as he originally thought.