#overnight shifts are v chill though

[bunnyreaper]

it's not even 2 and im so tired and want to sleep... yet tomorrow i will have to be at work for another 4 hours at this point fuUUUUuckk!!!!!! 😭

[bangtan-madi]

Year of the Rabbit — Two: Frostbitten

Pairing — Jungkook x Reader, Hoseok x Yoongi

Tags — best friend!Jungkook, non-idol au, flower shop au, gym au, florist!MC, gym owner!Jungkook, friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining

Genre — fluff

Word Count — 2.6k

Summary — Blame it on the storm or the secret feelings or the snow-in, but one thing is for sure: a lot can happen to two best friends when they're confined to their stores overnight.

Warnings — language

Part — 2 / 5(?)

Previous — Next

Seven minutes past seven, the lights over your head begin to flicker. One by one, the seconds tick by, and your heart palpitates with their rhythm. Laptop on the desk in the office of the small, upper room, the very last thing you need right now is for the power to cut out. You're nowhere near finishing your orders; your work night is far from over.

Par the course of your luck these days, the lights shut off thirty seconds after they begin to fail. Just before you can let out a string of frustrated curses, they return to their former glory.

A huge sigh of relief passes from your lungs, and you slump back in the uncomfortable office chair, wondering how the hell Yoongi does it for hours on end.

"I need coffee," you murmur, pushing the laptop away and placing your phone on the desk.

Trotting over to the machine on the other side of the upper floor, you find Hoseok's assortment of beverage selections perfectly organized in a tiny cupboard. The upper floor of the shop is split into two rooms: The first is the office, which is where Yoongi does a lot of the business-end tasks that keep the store operational.

The second, smaller room is a place Hoseok claimed as his own. It's hardly bigger than a closet, but the younger of your partners took it upon himself to create a sanctuary of peace and quiet. There's a coffee machine and a tiny cabinet on one side of the room. The other has a sofa-bed, decorated with a plush throw-pillow and a battery-powered heated blanket. You've had plenty a study-session, cat-nap, and girl-chat (with Hoseok, of course) in this room.

You pop the switch on the kettle and start boiling the water, plucking a Hazelnut dark roast from the vast array of flavors. On the wall facing away from the door, there's a tiny window that reveals the expanse of Seoul. On a normal day, it allows just enough light to get by. This evening, however, there is no such blessing. The sun went down over an hour and a half ago, and the weather has worsened. Snow and wind blast against the side of the building, the remnants of winter releasing their fury on the Lunar New Year.

As the water boils, your thoughts turn to Jungkook, this time out of concern. He hasn't texted or called since he left for your apartment, which makes you assume that the service is down due to the weather. When he exited the shop, there was a dusting of white powder on the ground. Now, you were one inch away from a proper blizzard. Peering out the tiny window, you can hardly see the sidewalk or streets. There must be at least a foot of snow on the ground. From the angry black sky and thunderous display overhead, it is only going to get worse.

"If you're smart, you stayed at my place," you murmur, hoping that your stubborn excuse of a best friend headed his inner warning system.

But then again, who are you kidding? Jungkook doesn't listen to anyone, especially the little voice in his head that advises against danger.

After your coffee is brewed and you begin to stir in the sugar, a loud crash sounds outside the shop. Thinking it the wind picking up, you ignore it and continue to add sugar to your desired amount.

It happens again, this time with added vocals. "[Y/n]! Open up!"

You drop the spoon and rush from the room. Definitely not the storm; the wind doesn't howl your name.

When you reach the top of the stairs, you see a familiar figure huddled against the glass door. A bicycle tightly grasped in one hand, the other presses against the glass in an attempt to peer inside. Jungkook is hardly dressed for the weather, wearing the same black jeans and oversized black sweater as before.

Without thinking much longer, you take the stairs two at a time and unlock the front door in a hurry. Thrusting it open, you grab ahold of Jungkook's snow-dusted sweater and drag both him and his bike into the shop. It takes all your strength to fight the wind enough to shut and lock it once more.

"You biked here in the snow?" You turn on your heel, shooting the shivering man a sharp look. "Jeon Jungkook, what the hell were you thinking!"

Jungkook tosses his bicycle onto the floor, frozen metal hurting his chilled fingers. As he blows heat into his clasped hands, he mirrors your tone with, "That you were gonna be here all by yourself, i—idiot! You're the one not answering your damn phone. I c—called you four times and texted you at least a dozen! Every time it went straight to v—voicemail."

"Yeah, that's probably because the cell service is shit right now!" you snap. "Storms always blow it out, and it's not like we have wifi."

"That makes it so m—much better!"

As if the situation couldn't get worse, the lights flicker once again, this time shutting off with a loud pop. You give it a few seconds, waiting for it to return like last time, but no such event comes.

You thrust your hands into the air with frustration. "Oh, this is great. Now, we're gonna freeze together."

The Busan native chuckles softly. "Already ha—half-way there."

Your gaze shifts from the darkened lights overhead to your best friend. For the first time since he blew in a few moments ago, you see how cold he really is. In the dim light given by the near-constant sheet lightning, his features are unnaturally pale. His fingertips are scarlet, and his entire body shakes violently. If the storm wasn't so loud, you would be able to hear his chattering teeth.

"Shit, Jungkook," you murmur, reaching for his hands with concern. Your warm touch causes him to hiss, but he doesn't pull away. If anything, he lets you pull him closer. "How long were you out there in that?"

"Well, I left your apartment when I couldn't get a—ahold of you," he chatters quietly, letting his eyes slip closed as you attempt to encase his larger, tattoed hands in your own. "Elizabeth the 3rd is fine, by the way. Fat and happy and com—completely oblivious."

"When was that?"

"A little after six-thirty?"

Your eyes widen, shifting from the attention on his frostbitten hands to his slightly opened eyes. "Kook, that's almost an hour in temperatures below zero! Forty-five minutes, at least! That's so dangerous. You could've died!"

"What's the alternative? L—Leaving you here at the shop by yourself?" He shakes his head, droplets of melted snow flying off the ends of his damp hair. "Not gon—na happen."

Your heart aches a little at his kind and selfless nature. He didn't even think twice before hopping on a bike and facing the storm to get to you, just to make sure you were safe. Now he was paying the price for it.

You pull him closer, taking his hands and shoving them into the pockets of your university sweatshirt. You'd been wearing it all night, so it was plenty warm. Jungkook is surprised by your actions, and you roll your eyes at his wide-eyed expression.

"Don't get any ideas," you tease. "You don't want to lose your fingers, do you?"

Jungkook snickers and allows his hands to greedily absorb the warmth you and your sweatshirt provide. "I'm more worried about what you might do."

You turn your head to glance over your shoulder, towards the exit. "Do you think we can get out of here? Hail a cab or get an Uber?"

"I don't know, [Y/n], it's really coming down out th—there. And on Lunar New Year? I doubt we'll see anyone for a while. They're all at festivals freezing their asses off or at home with family."

"I hate it when you're right," you sigh, turning back to face him and rubbing your hands up and down his arms. "We've gotta get you warmed up, though. You're freezing."

The brunet attempts to brush off your concern. "I'm fine, really. I'm warming up al—already."

"Lies. You're riding the end of an adrenaline high. Once that wears off, you're going to crash and really regret coming back for me." You point towards the upper rooms. "We have a battery-powered heated blanket that gets pretty damn hot. Follow me."

Forcing Jungkook's hands to remain in your sweatshirt pockets, you tug him behind you, up the stairs and into the tiny retreat room. The darkness makes you have to take it slower, but you know the space like the back of your hand. Once inside, you shove him onto the tiny sofa bed and wrap him in the blanket, turning the heat up to high.

"Here," you say, taking the mug of coffee and pushing it into his hands. "Hold this. Drink it slowly so you don't burn yourself."

Jungkook takes a sniff at the coffee, but then pulls back and looks up at you. "But this was yours."

You shake your head. "Yours now. You need to warm up, Gym Bunny. Start drinking."

He scowls at you in defiance of being told what to do, but eventually gives up and takes his first sip of the warm beverage. Feeling how it warms him up from the inside, the second sip comes much more happily.

As you peer out the tiny window, Jungkook inquires, "How long do you think the st—storm will last?"

"I heard something about it lasting until the morning, so we might be here a while. It doesn't look good out there. Definitely not safe to leave the building. The service is out, and no one is going to drop by. I think we're stuck here until we can manage an exit ourselves."

"In that case..." Jungkook reaches out to grasp the edge of your sweatshirt, tugging you over to him. You hesitate in moving closer, both nervous and concerned about his still shivering figure. "It's only going to get colder in here, Flow—Flower Child. Might as well huddle for warmth while you can."

"Fine. But just so you know, I hate this rom-com bullshit...and if you cop a feel, I swear to god, I will kick you back out into the storm."

Jungkook chuckles as you relent. You slip onto the tiny sofa bed and under the heated blanket with him. His free arm wraps around your shoulders, bringing your head to rest against his shoulder, while his occupied hand holds the mug of coffee. He offers it to you with insistence.

"C'mon, one sip won't hurt. 'Sides, you're the one that dumped seven cups of sugar in it."

"Well, that's the last time I give you my coffee. Next time, you can freeze."

"Then who would you complain to about customers?"

You take a sip of the coffee, silently agreeing that you had gone a little heavy on the sweetener. "Hobi or Yoongi. We all have the same customers, you know."

"Yeah, except Yoongi will just stop selling to them rather than complain about it and Hoseok is sickeningly positive enough to see the good in everyone."

"Fair point."

He takes another sip of the coffee when you return the mug to his tattooed hand. "I honestly have no idea how those two work so well together. Business and personal, I mean. They're just so different."

"Opposites attract?" you offer. "They've known each other ever since high school."

"Yeah, I never got that full story."

"Yoongi moved to Seoul by himself after he moved out of his parent's house in Daegu. Not a great situation there, but that's not my story to tell. He met Hoseok at school. The ray of sunshine was class president and took a liking to Yoongi. He kinda took him under his wing, as they were in the same grade despite being a year younger. I'm honestly so glad he did; god only knows what Yoongi would've gotten into on his own in a big city. He's one of the few that got out of a bad situation, and he attributes a lot of that to Hobi."

"So who asked out who?" Jungkook asks, hoping to pass the time with casual conversation as the feeling slowly comes back to his extremities.

The question catches you off-guard and makes you laugh. "Believe it or not, Yoongi asked Hoseok. Twice. Hoseok turned him down the first time, thinking that they might ruin their friendship. He should've known that Yoongi doesn't give up when he wants something."

"So...they were friends first?"

You nod. "I mean, I've only known them since college, but they haven't changed a bit. I think being friends gave them a foundation for their relationship. From what Hobi's said about the pre-dating period, they were pretty much the same. Sure, there's a lot more kissing and, uh, stuff now that they're a couple, but they're still best friends."

A silence falls over you both as you enjoy the warmth under the heated blanket. Jungkook finishes the coffee, and you're relieved to see his shivering halt and color return over the next half hour.

The storm still rages outside, and Jungkook sighs as the wind blasts harder against the side of the building. "We can't stay here," he murmurs.

"Where can we go?" you reply, not eager to leave the confines of your warm cocoon. "You said it yourself: we're stuck until this passes."

He shakes his head and turns to look at you in the darkness. You can barely make out his features, even if they're only a foot away from yours. You hadn't realized you were this close until now.

"You're starting to shiver." His hands grasp yours, and it's only then that you see he's right. Your fingers have started to tremble, and your teeth are chattering slightly. "We can't stay here. No power, no heat, we'll never survive the night." He pauses, glances quickly to the door, then back to you. "I have an idea. Do you trust me?"

Your reply comes without hesitation. "More than anyone."

The words bring a smile onto Jungkook's face, and if it weren't so damn dark, you might've thought he was blushing. But that can't be right...

He grabs your hand, stands and drags you with him, and tightens the heated blanket around your shoulders. He's given up his portion of the warmth to keep you comfortable. When you attempt feeble protests, being too tired and cold to put much effort into fighting him, Jungkook places a warm hand over your mouth.

"Just do as I ask, just once, okay?"

"But you'll get cold again," you murmur, words muffled by his fingers.

The brunet moves his hand away from your mouth, dropping it to the blanket as he pulls the edges high enough to have the front draped over your head in a makeshift hood.

"Where we're going, we won't need the blanket." At your perplexed expression, he chuckles and reaches for your hand. "You'll see what I mean. Trust me, this idea is genius."

"Famous last words."

Taglist — @kookie-off-his-kookie​

[luckyspike]

Eleventh Hour Admission - A Good Omens fanfiction

Hey guys remember when I talked about writing a hospital AU

i did it but no one is a doctor they’re all nurses

title refers to literally getting an admission during the eleventh hour of your shift, possibly a fate worse than death

CW: hospitals, medical procedures, automobile accidents, the joint commission

this will never be continued (probably) or posted to AO3, so enjoy it

--

Ari Fell liked it his job. That wasn’t sarcasm. He really, truly liked his job: he liked helping other people, he liked watching the sickest of the sick get well again and, when he couldn’t do that, he liked being there for them, trying to help them peacefully and painlessly move on. He liked meeting the families of his patients, he liked getting to know his patients when they could talk, and he liked that every day was a new day, something different and unknown and rife with opportunity to learn something new, or to help someone.

He liked his job, but he didn’t like 6am admissions.

Which, he had a feeling, was precisely why his ASCOM phone was going off at 5:55am. The caller ID informed him that it was Gabriel, the charge for tonight. He winced and the other nurse working the east pod with him tonight, Tracy, nodded sympathetically. He picked up the phone, and answered the call.

“Ari!” Yes. Yes, that was Gabriel. By the sound of it, he was in the cafeteria, likely having coffee with the other charges during their morning “bed meeting”. Ari had long since suspected that “bed meeting” was an excuse to get coffee and kvetch for the last hour of their shift, but he’d never really had the opportunity to find out, after he’d refused the offered charge position last year. 

“Gabe.” He stared gloomily at the empty room before him. It had been empty all night, after he’d packed the last patient off to IMC to make room for a possible admit. He had known it was too good to be true, known with a sort of icy certainty that a quiet night would never last, and soon enough there would be some kind of admit rolling up. He’d hoped it wouldn’t be an hour before shift change but, well … 

Maybe it would be an intubated pneumonia. Sedated, even. That would be nice.

“Got an ED trainwreck coming up. You heard them call that level 1 trauma, yeah?”

His heart dropped into his stomach, which dropped all the way to his Danskos. “Yes.”

“MVA, lady was flying and ran off the road into the orchard. Hit like three of the apple trees, Bee told me. Anyway, she’s a hot mess. I told them they could call report and bring her up any time.”

“I’ll need to stock the room -” 

Gabriel ignored him. “I’d love to help get her settled but we’re gonna be in bed meeting until 6:30 and then I have to do the board for day shift, but I’m sure you and Tracy’ll have it in hand. Holler if you need anything!” The line went dead.

“What do you need?” Tracy asked, already half out of the pod, aimed toward the supply room. The supply room, Ari knew, where the housekeeper usually hung around this time of the morning, surreptitiously drinking instant-brew coffee behind the Pyxis. 

Ari sighed. “A whole set-up. I don’t have report yet, but it’s a trauma. Probably need suction and the whole nine yards.” The ASCOM chirped again. “That’ll be report.”

“I’ll get some culture bottles and extra red tops as well.” He nodded to her as she vanished around the corner, and picked up the phone. “Ari Fell, ICU 4 East.”

“Ari!” He might have groaned. “It’s AJ!”

“Great. You’re calling report, I assume?”

“Well, yeah, but also I was just thinking I’m off for two days after this, and I don’t have any plans after my shift, was thinking about kegs and eggs at the place across the street. Care to join?”

“Somehow,” Ari said with rather more chill to his tone than usual, “I think I’ll be getting off my shift late.”

AJ laughed. “Oh, yeah. I’m bringing up the hot mess express.”

“Oh, boy.” He half-sighed, half-groaned. “I’m ready.”

“Right, patient’s still a Jane Doe but ID in her purse said Eve Smith, 22 years old, just waiting on family to confirm. Chaplain called her parents but no answer yet. Anyway, adult female, unrestrained driver in car-versus-tree MVA, GCS of 3 at the scene, flown here, went into SVT on the way but we’ve got her on amio now at 0.5mg/hr, pan-scan showed a left-sided pneumo -”

He rattled on, Ari jotting down notes as AJ moved through the systems. At least there was that: report from AJ was, usually, good, although he did like to linger on the gory details a little longer than necessary sometimes. If he was going to get a 6am admit, at least he’d have a good report to hand off to the next shift when he inevitably presented them with this hot disaster.

Tracy was back from the supply room, a suspicious damp spot on her scrub top. The navy blue shade hid the color of the spot, but if Ari had to guess, it would be the color of Svanka instant coffee. “Enough?” she asked, holding up two bags of supplies and a handful of lab tubes. He cupped a hand over the phone.

“Two straight poles and an IV pole,” he whispered. “And an EVD hookup for the monitor.”

“Gotcha.”

“Anyway,” AJ was saying, “she’s got a Foley, so you don’t have to worry about that, and, ah … Hm. Multiple lacerations and abrasions spread out all over, but no pressure wounds or anything otherwise. Right. Anything else you need?”

“Ah …” He looked at the report sheet, the notes about infusions and lines and testing left un-done, and shrugged. “You’re coming up with her, right?”

“Oh, yeah. It’ll be a miracle if she doesn’t crump on the way up. I’ll probably be bagging her when we get there.”

He grimaced. “Wonderful. I’ll have RT ready. Otherwise, uh … no, I think I should be alright. Whenever you’re ready, we’ve got the room stocked.”

“Okay.” A little distantly, as if he’d moved away from the receiver somewhat, he heard AJ call, “Hey, you ready Erica? Time to move!” And then, back into the phone. “See you in ten.”

Ari ended the call, placed a quick SOS to respiratory for a vent delivery, and tossed the ASCOM onto the desk. One last chance to check his other patient - a post-op heart cath they’d sent for access site observation overnight before planned discharge in the morning - and then he headed into the empty room, fussing around with the lines and waiting. The vent was there, already pre-programmed with the settings, blue screen glowing in the dark room as it waited. Tracy returned with the required equipment, and rolled a pole across the room, around the end of the bed, toward Ari.

“Disaster?”

“Complete train wreck.”

She patted his shoulder. “My two are primped and propped and ready for seven. I can help all you like, dear.” She was always nice like that, calling him ‘dear’. He supposed it made sense, given that Tracy was old enough to be his mother, but he had noticed she never used the term for anybody else. He’d never asked her about it, though, mostly because he was sort of afraid that if he pointed it out, she would stop. 

“I think we just wait, now.”

“Fresh meat coming?” The gruff voice of the custodian drew their attention to the doorway. “I’m off duty at 6:30, so if you think I’ll be coming in here to clean up whatever mess you and those hideous interns make -”

“I’m sure your relief will have it well in-hand, Mr. S.” Tracy fluttered her eyelashes, and leaned across the bedside table, the front of her V-neck scrub top gaping open just enough to draw the housekeeper’s eyes. “You know, I was thinking of getting breakfast and coffee at The Pantry across the street after shift … been craving their waffles.” It was a statement, but it hung open like a question. Mr. S blushed a little.

“I … I’m a little hungry myself. Could go for a nice thick pat of scrapple.” He cleared his throat. At the far corner of the ICU, Ari heard the elevator - the direct-from-the-ED elevator - ding open, and the distant sound of alarms suffused through the early-morning bustle of the unit. 

“Think they might have two seats at the breakfast bar?”

“Maybe.” He smiled a little, and then remembered himself and glowered. “If an educated woman’ll deign to eat with me, that is.”

“Mm, I think I might be able to bring myself to slum it this morning.” She waved a hand. “Here she comes, move over, there’s a love.”

And come she did, in a wail of alarms and machines and, Ari was both relieved and exasperated to see, AJ, who had, as long as Ari had known him, struggled with the concept of ‘reserved’. “Heyo, told you so!” AJ was, as promised, bagging the patient, his arm snaked between various lines and tubes, the critically-ill human attached to them almost so covered as to be invisible. “Ari.”

Ari looked at the lines, horrified, and then to AJ. “What happened?”

“Huh? Oh. She came back from radiology like this. Didn’t have time to untangle everything.”

“Nothing’s even labeled!” He waved his hands at the mess. “You’ve got fluids and pressors and is that blood? What’s going where?”

“Ah. All in the subclavian, I’d imagine.” The redhead added, with scathing sarcasm, “Pretty sure I didn’t hook anything up to the EVD. Got a slide board?”

Tracy had, and she and Ari tucked it under the unconscious young woman as AJ and Erica rolled her to the side. “Hang on, let me check her back while she’s there.” There were abrasions, and lacerations, too many to count or list as part of a specific area, and then, between her shoulder blades, was an apple blossom. He plucked it off. “Really, you couldn’t clean that off?”

“Had bigger fish to fry. You done?” AJ raised an eyebrow at him, visible of the rims of his dark-tinted glasses, and Ari nodded. AJ and Erica let the woman down. “On three -” She was light enough, and with four of them they had her slid into the ICU bed in one smooth motion, still piled with a tangled mess of lines and tubes. 

“You really had to bring this mess up,” Ari griped, trying to decide where to start first. His eyes widened. “You left the EVD lying under her pillow!”

“It’s clamped!” AJ replied with an exasperated groan, gratefully flicking on the vent and plugging it into the ET tube.

Erica rolled her eyes. “You done here? I’ve got to get back to the department.”

“Be right behind you,” AJ said, waving the other nurse off. “I’m gonna help whiny here get organized.” He pulled the EVD from under the pillow, carefully threading the buritrol back through the other lines until the tubing lay neatly over the rest of the tangled mess. Carefully, he hung it on the straight pole, leveled it, and opened the clamp. Pink-tinged spinal fluid started to drip out. “Come on, hand me the cable, I’ll even hook it up for you.”

“How charitable,” Ari grumbled, tossing the cable behind the headboard and bouncing it off AJ’s shoulder. “Bastard.”

“Now, boys,” Tracy admonished from the foot of the bed, where she was busying herself with untangling the Foley and the SCDs*. “Let’s not argue.”

[* Are SCDs really that important in a fragile immediately post-trauma patient, you may ask. To which the answer is: only if the Joint Commission is there.]

“Oh, we’re just having a good time.” AJ was tracing the IV tubing containing the fluids down through the sheets. “Alright, so this is going to the peripheral, just untangle this -”

“You know,” Ari said, as he fiddled with the monitor and the arterial line, trying to check for level in spite of the level being, as always, conspicuously absent. “I’m sure you have patients back down in the department. You don’t have to help. I was just giving you a hard time.” He ended up seizing a length of blood pressure cuff tubing and eyeballing the line between the transducer and the phlebostatic axis.

“Well, what if I want to?” He snorted. “My only other patient down there is a kid with a head lac, and he’s on ice until the LET kicks in and we can do staples anyway. Which will be, fortunately, after shift change. He looks like a screamer.” He smirked at Ari, and passed the IV pump with all of the various central line tubing across the bed to him. “Never let it be said I’m not occasionally nice.”

“You’re not.” 

“Hey.”

At the foot of the bed, Tracy shook her head, tapping in the vital signs as she did. “Did anyone page the fellow to let them know she’s arrived?”

“Not yet,” they replied, in unison. And then exchanged a look, very briefly, before Ari looked away to busy himself with setting the monitor alarm parameters and AJ became absorbed in scribbling labels for the IV tubing. 

“I’ll do it, then.”

It was quiet for a minute while they worked, but after a time, Ari realized the white sheet atop the woman was clear, the lines were meticulously untangled and laid properly, with messily-written but legible labels. It would have done the Joint Commission proud. 

“Think she still needed cultures,” AJ muttered, grabbing the bottles off of the counter. “Where do you keep the tourniquets up here?”

“Here.” He set to checking orders, with the black-clad invader from the ED pulled the first set of cultures on the first stick. Ari frowned, impressed. “Nice one.”

“Eh, you get good at ‘em when you have to get a line in anything.”

“Seriously,” Ari said, more quietly now, noting that for the most part, all of the ED orders had been cleaned up, taken care of, and signed off before the patient had arrived, “you can go. Really, I’m grateful, but I can handle it and you don’t have to -”

“I know. But this is really selfish for me.” He tore the tip of the index finger off the fresh pair of gloves he’d donned, the better to palpate a vein in the opposite arm, where the splint would allow. “Don’t wanna eat breakfast alone.”

Ari stared at him for a minute. Blinked. “Seriously?”

“Well, yeah,” AJ replied, tone flippant. “I think it counts as alcoholism if you drink alone too much. Have to keep up the facade of being a normal, healthy, functional adult.” He winked at Ari over the rim of his glasses. “You know how it goes, choir-boy.”

“I -” he glanced into the hallway, where Tracy and Mr. S were chatting. Mr. S had clocked out - was it past 6:30 already? And Tracy had her ASCOM in hand, although by the looks of it she hadn’t yet called. If she waited much longer, the fellow wouldn’t arrive with new orders until after shift change. He could have laughed. What an angel. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. You want to get a pitcher?”

Aj laughed, although he was watching intently as the second bottle filled. “You know, I have two days off coming up - what the hell? Let’s do it.”

[hardbreadhylia]

Sleepover- Older! Dipper x Older! Reader

This is my first fic ever, so please give some feedback and bear with me if it's not that great!! . Y/n - your name H/c - hair colour F/c - hair colour Y/n/n - your nickname . . . . You live in the picturesque town of Gravity Falls with your aunt, on a gap year for university. Due to it being such a small town, it's not long before you become great friends with basically the only other two kids that are your age (minus Pacifica, Grenda and Candy), aged 17. You've heard countless stories about weirdmageddon and so forth, and are very good friends of the twins as well as Stan and Ford. After a hard day of work at the mystery shack, conning innocent tourists into emptying their wallets, you say goodbye to Mabel and Dipper, suddenly exhausted from the day, happily taking out the tight ponytail your h/c hair has been stuffed into all day. Just as you leave the door of the shack, Mabel calls, "Hey, y/n! Wanna come over for a sleepover tonight?" You reply, "Yeah, sure. Nothing better to do." And wave her off. You're secretly buzzing for tonight, as over the past few months you've grown feelings for her male twin, Dipper. You're far too shy to ask him if he feels the same way though, and unfortunately Mabel's clocked onto your crush on him, so as usual she tries very hard to play match maker. It's evening and you've finished packing for the sleepover tonight- a baggy plaid pajama set with overnight toiletries etc. Just as you turn to leave, a hyper Mabel crashes into your f/c themed bedroom, out of breath. "y/n. I HAVE JUST HAD THE BEST IDEA!" You inwardly groan. What has she come up with this time? "Find the nicest damn underwear you can find, and you're packing that. With maybe a big t shirt or something?" Her smile widens evilly. You, on the other hand, are shocked. "No way. Why would I wear that?? What if Grunkle Stan and Ford see me?? Worse, what if Dipper sees me?" You anxiously run your hand through your h/c hair. "Chill out, y/n. Grunkle Stan and Ford are out on a fishing trip." And, she adds with an evil smirk, "I'm counting on Dipper seeing you wearing that." Which makes your face turn bright red. But hey, what if it works? What if then, finally, Dipper might see you as more than just his sister's friend? Maybe its worth a try. You give in and agree to the stupid shenanigans that Mabel always thinks of, and you're terrified of what tonight might bring. A few hours later, after Mabel left you once again, you head back to the mystery shack with Mabel's plan in your head. Immediately greeted by Dipper, he looks down and smiles behind is fluffy brown fringe, with a light pink dusting his cheeks, which you misinterpret as just being polite. After watching a few scary movies with Mabel clinging to you for dear life (and Dipper hiding upstairs somewhere, probably reading his journal), you decide to say goodnight to him, still not changed into your suggestive pajamas much to Mabel's dismay. As you guessed, he was still reading, and the dim light from his desk lamp accentuated his sharp jawline and chiseled cheekbones in the darkness. You'd seen photos of him when he'd first arrived at the shack all those years ago, and while he still has that eternally cute smile with the dimples and warm chestnut eyes, he's changed so much. I guess that's what happens when a dream demon tries to destroy you and everything in existence, right? "Goodnight, Dip." You smile warmly. He catches your eye and blushes violently, but recovers and shoots you a smirk. "G-goodnight, y/n/n" After that you get changed into your suggestive sleepwear, lacy f/c underwear and bra, and a faded, oversized band t shirt. You'd only feel comfortable looking like this in front of Mabel, anyway, who were you kidding? You'd forgotten to bring a duvet and Ford and Stan had taken all the spare ones on their trip with them, so you slept on the living room floor with Mabel, sharing the covers. After talking about nonsense for what seemed like hours, Mabel drifted into sleep, and so did you. Until a few hours later, checking your phone to be exactly 3:17 AM. Mabel had stolen all the covers, leaving you open in the draughty, cold shack. Little did you know that this was all part of Mabel's plan and that she was wide awake, fake sleeping. You tried feebly to try snatch some cover back but you didn't want to wake her, she looked so cute when she was asleep. So instead you ventured upstairs to check if there was anything you could use for warmth. You checked every room, the bathroom, Stan's room, the spare room, and eventually you came to Dipper and Mabel's. If Dipper saw you like this he wouldn't be able to take it. As you walk in, Dipper is splayed across his bed, sheets twisted, with a peaceful look on his face. You also can't help but notice his shirt has ridden up a bit so you catch a glimpse of a v line, and a toned stomach. He starts to move a little so you tried as quietly as possible to find some cover before it was too late. There was a high wardrobe at the end of the room, at the foot of Dipper's bed, that looked like it had some sort of blanket on the top. Reaching on your very tiptoes, completely exposing your lower half, you grabbed the material. At this exact same time, Dipper had woken (a very light sleeper) to see you, illuminated by the moonlight from the window, in pretty suggestive clothing, in his room. Just as you grabbed the fabric, which wasn't a blanket at all but just a jumper, Dipper cleared his voice, making you squeak. His voice still groggy with sleep, "y/n. What are you doing in here at this time?" If it wasn't for the partial darkness, Dipper would have been shown to look bright red. He had the biggest crush on you since you arrived, you liked all the same things, went on adventures all the time, had the same mindset, and most of all he thought you were the most beautiful thing in the whole of Gravity Falls, including the sirens, mermaids and even unicorns. You sighed, you'd been caught. "Mabel stole all the covers and this house is freezing. I was just looking for some extra blankets." "Use my bed. I'm used to the cold of this house anyways." He started to lift himself out of bed with a groan, in a tight grey tshirt and black tracksuit bottoms. He brushed a calloused hand through his soft chestnut hair, briefly exposing his big dipper birthmark. "No. I couldn't do that. Just go back to sleep Dip, I'll find another way." You were far too flustered to be in this situation. "Nope." He approaches you slowly, arms outstretched, and you're very wary of his actions. What's going on here?? He suddenly lunges forward, scooping you up bridal style, grinning like a madman. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, as he carries you to his bed. He gently lays you down and starts to step back before you realize your arms are still clasped around his neck. This is too much. Until something clicks and he starts leaning towards you again, eyes shining in the moonlight. He carefully puts his hands back onto the bed, leaning almost on top of you. As ever, Dipper was still being a dork. "y/n, can I...?" His eyes on your lips. You nod in return. He carefully brushes his lips against yours, hands cautiously feeling around your bare skin legs and slowly working up to your hips. He gets more confident and tries for a fully blown kiss, and you can feel him smirking. You bite his lip and he gasps, deepening the kiss. You and him lose track of time completely, just one person, his hands wrapped around your body, your legs entangled with his, your hands in his soft hair. How does he keep it so fluffy, anyway? With all that adventuring how does he have time? Your mind returning to the action at hand, you kiss for as long as you can before you both come out for air. It wasn't a fiery, passionate kiss. It was a soft, loving, patient one. A kiss that should've happened months ago. "How about we share the bed? It'll be super warm then." Dipper suggests, his breath against your cheek. You shuffle to give him room as your answer, him automatically wrapping his arms around your waist as the big spoon. He plants butterfly kisses on your neck before falling asleep with a grin on his face, and you also fall asleep, hearts beating in sync. You awaken to a snap of some sort, then blearily eyed, see Mabel grinning behind a camera. "That's one for the scrapbook!" She says before giving me a thumbs up and going back downstairs. Dipper shifts beside me, giving me a lazy grin as I reach up to stroke his birthmark. "I could get used to waking up to this view every morning." You then swat him on the arm, laughing, and then get up to go get breakfast, him ogling every bit of you until you leave the room. You hear Mabel shout from downstairs, "MY PLAN WORKED!" followed by a maniacal laugh.

[moshimichi]

Day 5 – Surprise

Arc V Rare Pair Week: Day 5

Fandom: Arc V Pair: Sovereignshipping Rating: M Genre: General

AO3

Zarc’s not sure if he should enjoy this or die from a heart attack.

–

‘Surprise’ didn’t cut it. ‘Surprise’ wasn’t nearly enough to describe what Zarc was feeling right now. Because honestly, it felt like his heart had frozen and he had died. That was how startling his current situation right now.

Gold stared up, eyes wide, as Zarc was pinned bodily to the wall. Even if he had his wits about him, he couldn’t have escaped what with how his wrists were gripped firmly by pale fingers. What’s worse was the way one leg was shoved between his, making him spread his limbs in a way he wouldn’t be able to properly squirm away. And he was so tempted to squirm, especially since those normally cool eyes were staring at down at him rather heatedly.

“Did you get taller?” he blurted. Instantly, he wanted to smack himself. Honestly, here he was getting his personal bubble thoroughly violated and the first thing he asked was did he get taller. Though to be fair, last he checked they had both been the same height. Now he had to tilt his chin up a bit to keep eye contact. Did Reiji shoot up an extra two or three inches overnight?

The smirk Reiji gave him in answer was not reassuring in the slightest. If anything, it sent chills down his spine. Not that it was entirely…unpleasant. No, it wasn’t unpleasant at all.

Now might not be a good time to get a boner, Zarc thought nervously. As much he enjoyed an assertive Reiji, he really did feel like something important was in danger right now. Like his nonexistent virtue or something.

“Of all the things to say in this situation,” Reiji chuckled. Seeing Zarc’s nervous expression, his smirk widened and he pressed in closer. Zarc yipped as Reiji’s leg shifted enough so that his thigh pressed against him.

Low laughter reached his ears and he could just feel the heat rising in his cheeks. Gods, what had gotten into Reiji today? The younger man had never been this assertive before. And quite frankly, this was starting to get a little scary. Was everything moving or was his vision just swirling from his confusion?

“You’re so cute,” Reiji murmured into Zarc’s ear. Feeling the other’s breath against his flesh, Zarc’s breath hitched and he became even more jittery. Cute? Cute??? What the actual bleeding fuck!

“Who are you and what’ve you done with my Reiji!?” No, his voice did not crack, thank you very much. The younger teen chuckled. Zarc didn’t quite `appreciate the clear tone of amusement, but just when he opened his mouth to yell at him, a loud squeak came out instead. “What are you doing?!?”

Teeth released the collar of Zarc’s shirt, having pulled the material down to bare flesh. A kiss was pressed against his throat, lingering at the pulse fluttering underneath the skin.

“I’m only marking what’s mine.”

Zarc’s eyes snapped open, heart thundering painfully in his chest. After a minute of getting his bearings, the man gave a loud, humiliated groan. It was all just a dream? Seriously? Granted, the Reiji in his dream had been out of character, but really?

“Zarc? Are you alright?” Golden eyes blinked, vision finally managing to focus on what was in front of him. At the sight of a concerned Reiji hovering above him, he yelped and jolted upwards.

THUD

Zarc cursed, clutching his head at the pain ringing through his skull. Ouch. Eyes watering, he peeked over and winced at what he saw. As it turns out, he had headbutted the younger male right in the forehead. And judging by the red mark forming and the pain in his own forehead, he had hit him pretty hard. At least it wasn’t in the glasses.

“Sorry, Reiji,” he said sheepishly. He pulled Reiji’s hand away from where it had been rubbing the spot and replaced it with his own fingers. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” the teen said. Though he said that, his voice was strained and Zarc felt a pang of guilt. Sure, it had been an accident, but yowch. Before he could apologize again, however, Reiji continued speaking. “Are you alright? You sounded uncomfortable while you were sleeping.”

Uncomfortable was one way to put it he supposed. While an aggressive Reiji was…exciting, it was also pretty damned disturbing. And Zarc honestly wasn’t all that eager to experience that again. He grasped Reiji’s shoulders firmly, facing his confused expression with all seriousness.

“You’re not allowed to grow any taller than this. Ever.”

“Wha—”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Zarc, we’ve been through this. No matter how highly you think of me, I can’t just control my body’s growth like that—”

“Not allowed.”

Because he probably wouldn’t survive the heart attack if he was ever faced with that kind of surprise in real life anyways.