#Dog man Toasted AU

[toastylicious]

DOG MAN INSPIRED OC???? N DOG MAN INSPIRED OUTFITS???

[themotherofblood]

Omg I love your Bloody Baby series! Could I request like an update where maybe reader is in danger and gets hurt and ends in fluff? If anything I would just love more updates 😭😍🥰

you asked and I deliver :)

warnings: blood!! (duh) major injuries, not very realistic but in fanfic so don’t give me a hard time. just lots of gory blood stuff okay :)

synopsis: Nyra and Daemon go out hunting for The Seven, Nyra gets poisoned and ends up hurting baby (badly!) Daemon saves the day,

masterlist | bloody baby series | vampire au

A/N: I’m in hurt/comfort mood.

There was nothing, they had been at it for a week— shady fuckers never stayed out long enough to leave a scent.

Daemon had to raise a toast to their religious determination for sure, spending over a millennia hunting them— their kind. Wasn’t an easy task to keep up with a growing population, they had another reason for their relentless search this time. A secret that was hidden so well even they couldn’t find it, a possibility of cure from the last Great Weirwood tree.

A tree that should have burnt when the Night King was taken down, but its own powers saved it. The blasted thing was out there, somewhere far north, even modern technology had not ventured that far out and neither could they.

“There is nothing, two weeks and nothing!” Rhaenyra sighs into the phone.

There was news of a deal being struck at a very special kind of apothecary, and if the Seven pokes their heads out now, when they are more exposed then ever. It would have been for a damn good reason.

“We should head home, lingering will do us no good.” Daemon hummed, circling the hotel room where his enemies laid in.

Rhaenyra hums on the other end, a faint sound a zipper rumbles on the other end before she speak again.

“Be careful my love.”

“Always.”

Rhaenyra let go of her phone, picking up her bags to carry them to her car. She missed home, it wasn’t like she could sleep— ever. But she missed the feeling of laying in a soft plush bed with her husband on one end and you in the other. She missed the touch of pure human warmth against her skin, the sound of a beating heart under her.

Her senses however caught a whiff of something else, the deceived tug of something being missing, something looming around the corner bothered her. She froze by the door of the abandoned building, her ears hearing everything from miles away, cars, motorbikes, children crying and a dog howling. Nothing went unheard, just like the distant sound of a thudding heart. Very prominent by the second.

Out of the blue, a hooded man comes at her, too powerful for human but not quite quick enough as she dodges his blow, grunting as she whacks her bag against the side of this man. From behind her, the sounds of gunfire echo, pointed wooden bullets lodge themselves into her back.

Motherfuc—

Painful, effective but not enough to take down a vampire of her calibre. She reaches down to duck more shots, tearing the heel of her shoes and launching it at the person with the gun. The pointed heel launching itself straight in their neck, blood guzzling out of their mouth as the person fell to the floor twitching, succumbing to death.

The second man still taking his shots at her, pushing her hard against the cement walls of the building.

Rhaenyra’s hand curled around his neck, hoping to tear his head off his shoulders.

The man bares his fangs out wide, snarling before digging into Rhaenyra’s throat, pulling a chuck out in the process.

She screams, kicking the man’s knee so hard it breaks— he falls to the floor grunting. A bloody smile to his face as he accepts that he has no way out.

Rhaenyra huffs before plunging her hand deep into his chest, pulling the his frosted red heart out of its cavity, letting his body grey into nothing.

Pain radiated through Rhaenyra’s body as she reached behind to pull the six wooden bullets out of her back, the wounds small enough to stop bleeding immediately but her throat, it was throbbing in pain.

She had to feed, she had to go home. The wound was healing but she hadn’t feed enough for it to heal entirely of its own. She stumbled out of the building, using a piece of her torn dress to stop the bleeding as she some how managed to speed home. The sheer will of not wanting to kill an innocent took her home, to the vast fridge of blood bags waiting for her.

The car seat she sat on was soaked in blood as she grunted out of her BenZ, she looked up to her castle and suddenly her perspective shifted. She turned behind for a moment, her car no longer there but an ornate carriage. She shook her head hard, this time she saw her car.

With relief she stumbled into the castle, making beeline for the kitchens as quietly as she could, she didn’t want to wake you. She didn’t want you to see her like this— you couldn’t cope from the blood and she knew it.

When she opened the doors to the kitchen, instead of very modern stainless steel appliances she was treated to stone walls, massive pots placed on wooden stoves, the aprons of maids hung by the door. She shook her head once more.

Kitchen— her kitchen

She proceeded to rip open the door into her walk in bridge of all the blood she could want, she reached for the first bag closest to her and took a big swig— her pain dissipating for a moment as she rested her hot head against the ice cold fridge shelf. She took two more swigs before reaching for two more bags and exiting the fridge.

She was once again greeted to a medieval stone kitchen. This time she was terrified

What was happening to her

The open wound on her neck began to rip into her, she screamed in agony as she fell to her knees.

The blood pooling around her in the kitchen, she peeled her eyes open, trying to compose herself enough to call for Daemon.

She was still created by an old kitchen and woman she wished she had killed with her own bare hands.

Few feet from her stood Alicent, a bloody smirk on her face and a stake in her hand.

You woke up to the sound of crockeries rattling, other than a few security detail outside. No one should be home.

You tried to rub the sleep away from your eyes as a certain excitement filled your chest.

They were home

You happily pulled yourself out of bed, wrapping your fuzzy teal robe around you and taking your water cup along with you as you padded down the cold tiled hallway and down the main stairs.

You heard more thrashes, wondering if it was Rhaenyra and Daemon yet again very passionately professing their love for one another. It seemed a hobby of theirs to completely destroy a room as they fucked away their fill.

What you were met with instead was bloody footsteps, dragging from the main doors headed towards the kitchen. This time you were cautious, reaching for the closest silent alarm in the main foyer and picking up an old heavy candle stand. You know you shouldn’t, you should go upstairs and lock yourself in there until help comes, but then you see more blood—puddles of it leading into the kitchen.

You see a hand poking right out from the kitchen doors, as you turn the corner you see your detail, men dressed in black clothes— dead men dressed in black blood soaked clothes.

One body, two body.

When you move into the kitchen, you hear rustling behind the massive kitchen island. You hold the candle stand with both hands in front of you, ready to swing it at whoever was behind it. As you turn another corner, you find silver hair soaked in blood and a distinct red colour of a dress.

“R-Rhaenyra?” You stuttered, fear losing itself so deep in your bones but also concern as she turns to you.

Then you see it, the hefty chuck on her neck oozing blood as she sucked the blood out of one of the dead men meant to be protecting you.

Her eyes are dark, face stained red with chucks of flesh hanging from her lips.

“Wh—“

“Run.”

“L-Let me help you.” You whimpered.

“D-darling I need you to run.” She cries.

“But”

“I said go away!” She screams at you, eyes red and wild.

Tears pour from your eyes as you hesitate, you begin to walk backwards, everything in you wanting to fix Rhaenyra— to be with her until Daemon returns but as you keep walking back. You foot slips in the puddle of blood and you fall backwards, hitting your head at the edge of the island in the process before splashing into the thick red liquid.

Rhaenyra turns to you once more, she was there one moment and she shook her head again.

This time she charges at you, landing on top of you as you push her face away screaming.

“Rhaenyra please!” You cry out, hoping that she is in there somewhere.

You however were no match to her strength, she easily caught onto your wrist— a little pressure from her end and then throbbing pain shot through your arm.

In the moment of adrenaline, you reached next to you, giving Rhaenyra the perfect aim for your jugular. She bites in as more pain shoots up your spine.

This time you catch onto the jagged candle stand and stab her right through the back, Rhaenyra retreats, sitting over you but you don’t hesitate and plunge your weapon straight to her heart.

Rhaenyra freezes, the veins in her body go blue as she crumbles next you, her body grey and eyes life less.

You had no time to witness what you had done, some how without slipping in the pool of blood again you race out of the kitchen and up the stairs into your room and then your closet. Using your entire body to push a white dresser in front of the door before cowering behind the rack of coats.

The aderaline still coursing through your body, you look at your bent wrists, you cry out— the blood covering you and Rhaenyra.

She wasn’t there but—

You killed her

Daemon had already been driving home, after collecting some more information from his insiders he too shared the same need to lay in the arms of the two women he loved. The streets were dead enough from him to feel the might of his car’s engine as he blasted music.

What caught him off guard however was the security alarm notification that popped up on his watch, if he wasn’t already flooring the gas he sure was now. Racing to get home, Rhaenyra should have been home by now— that gave his heart some comfort but he sped nonetheless.

What he was greeted with was gruesome, cruel. His eyes were seeing things but he couldn’t process them.

Blood to the kitchen and blood up the stairs.

“Rhaenyra!”

“Y/N!”

He screamed, within a second he was in the kitchen. The room stunk of death, the bodies of his hired detail laid scattered across the floor, and in the pile a head of lovely silver hair stained red.

“Rhaenyra…” he sighed, fingers grazing at the iron candle post in her chest.

He placed her body back down, this listening hard for a faint heartbeat that was very much present. He rushed up to your room to find it empty and thuds of your heart echoing from your closet. He pushed against the barred door, huffing unwanting to scare you any further.

“No…no please.”

He heard your weakened cries as he pushed down the door to find you sitting against your long coats, a shawl pressed up against a heavily bleeding wound and your left wrist bent backwards.

Your lips were nearly blue as weakly cried and stuttered.

“I- I killed her.” You repeated over and over again, refusing to be held by Daemon.

Daemon bit into his wrist, letting blood ooze to the surface before pressing them to you lip, almost forcing the liquid into your mouth as you repeated the same phrase in shock.

You sat against him, letting the vampire blood do its work, Daemon could hear your bones realigning as he soothed you with his hands running down your back and nestling your hair. Once healed he effortlessly lifted your limp body and carried you to the bathroom, he placed you on the sink counter. Letting your body rest against the pink walls as he filled your claw tub with warm water.

If you were conscious enough to see it, it tore him from the inside to see you covered in the blood, the faint marks of your still healing wounds and the lifeless pain behind your eyes. His wife laid temporarily dead in the kitchen that he very lovingly made her breakfast this morning in.

He undid the cuffs of his dress shirt, pulling them up his forearms before gently taking off your night shift, he saw more bruising slowly fading away as he deposited you into the warm water.

The sensation seemed to have shot life back into you as you gasped, you looked up at him wide eyed, with so much pain and concern.

“I’m sorry.” Your eyes pooled “I hurt her, I- kill-“

“She’s fine, she will be fine.” He cooed, pulling the hand shower to wash the blood away from your hair.

His fingertips feeling the head wound shut itself as he washed away the remaining blood. It took nearly an hour to wash away all the blood from your body.

You switched from states of sobbing uncontrollably where he would have to stop and calm you and just staring mindlessly at the red water you sat in.

“Sshh, you are safe.”

“You did good, so good.”

“I know it hurts,” he kissed your temple as the last of the wounds healed themselves.

He had plucked you away from the bath, once again dressed and tucked under the heavy sheet of their shared bedroom instead of yours.

Even tucked in, your eyes pooled once more. He didn’t want to do it but he was yet to pick up the pieces of his wife just yet.

His cold palm rested against your cheek as he wiped away the falling tears.

“You have to sleep.” His eyes dilated.

You whimpered and nodded, your eyes soon after fluttering to slumber. He sat there for a moment, listening to your heartbeat and watching as the frown from your face melted away.

This was close, too close. Rhaenyra was indestructible, you however were a dandelion in the breeze.

She was holding back, she was in there. If she wasn’t, you’d be dead and that’s the kind of weight that would destroy Nyra for the rest of her miserable eternity.

Daemon pulled away, locking the doors to his bedroom from the outside before heading down for Rhaenyra.

All he could think of as he pulled the candle stand from her chest and carried her to the Iron Cells was how close he was to loosing everything.

To loosing you.

Andddd that’s a wrap, I missed writing for this series so much but I crunched it down in one go.

Comments and reblogs are appreciated

Let me know if you would like to be on the tag list.

[exitvelocities]

belated mlcweek day 5, "reincarnation, love". follows the ballet au from a couple days ago. hopefully i can catch up and do today's prompt too.

*

the reunion doesn't go quite as li lianhua expects. di feisheng approaches him like he's a skittish animal that may run at any moment, gaze cryptic and shuttered. "you saw the show," he says, and li lianhua nods though it's not really a question, thrown off guard by the lack of remonstrance, surprise, or even enthusiasm.

"it was lovely," he says, and di feisheng snorts, a sound that has li lianhua's shoulders relaxing fractionally.

"it came to me in a dream," di feisheng says, eyes intent on li lianhua's face. li lianhua blinks.

"a dream? lao di, have you gone mystical on me?"

"you don't remember," di feisheng says, obscurely disappointed, and that isn't a question either, but li lianhua feels compelled to answer.

"no?" he says. "remember what?"

di feisheng hums, rolling his shoulders. "come stretch with me, xiangyi."

"huh? now?" li lianhua says, but di feisheng is already turning away, heading for the barre. li lianhua follows, off-balance and confused by this contemplative and almost melancholy di feisheng, automatically moving through the familiar pattern of warm up stretches despite the gulf of years. "it's the middle of the night, lao di," he says, reaching for more familiar ground.

"you're here," di feisheng says simply, like that explains everything. he turns to face li lianhua then, and frowns. "you've regressed," he says, disapproval clear in his voice.

"it's been ten years," li lianhua says, defensive despite himself. "my body isn't what it used to be."

"still," di feisheng says, grasping li lianhua by the shoulders and moving him away from the barre. "haven't you kept in practice at all? sit down. straddle."

"di feisheng," li lianhua says, complaining even as he lets di feisheng guide him down to the studio floor. he stares at himself in the mirrors, pale and thin, chunky sweater and tattered jeans. "i'm not dressed for this," he says sulkily.

di feisheng tsks, settling down behind him, close and warm. "don't make excuses," he says, hands at li lianhua's knees, adjusting the angle and pulling his hips as wide as they'll go.

"i'm not! it's science," li lianhua protests, "a muscle deteriorates if you don't use it—"

"so use it," di feisheng says into his ear, and li lianhua keeps himself from squeaking by sheer force of will. unfair! di feisheng leans in, chest hard against li lianhua's back, applying gentle pressure. "reach," he says, and li lianhua finds himself obeying despite the indignant noise that escapes him.

"there's really no point in making me do this," li lianhua says, and di feisheng laughs, warm breath on his neck making li lianhua shiver.

"we'll see," di feisheng says, and his eyes are dark and fathomless when li lianhua finds them in the mirror.

*

di feisheng dreams of the sea. there's a storm-tossed ship, lightning, the weight of a sword easy in his hands and a man in white with a face he knows and then… later, the man, a dog, a boy. It slips away, leaving him unsettled and awake, a blur of vivid, impressionistic information he can't quite untangle. it follows him through brushing his teeth, taming his hair, the commute to the studio. it hovers over him as he stretches and warms up, xiangyi's face slipping in and out of focus in his mind.

there's a room draped in red and the sense of imminent danger, both escaped and to come. xiangyi is there, this time in grey, the moon a perfect crescent in the window. there's a smile, a toast, a kiss. a trembling in his chest, both then and now. di feisheng takes a breath and looks into the mirror. he doesn't understand what's happening, but he understands this, the only thing that's ever made sense. di feisheng exhales and begins to dance.

[sazwritesstuff]

Espresso | Part 1

Coffee Shop AU | Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Summary: You've been a barista at the same cafe for the past few years. You've gotten to know a far few regulars over those years, some you know by name and others you know only by their order. They make your job just a tiny bit more bearable. So when a new handsome regular begins to show up day after day you can't help but take notice.

Tags/warnings: Coffee Shop AU, barista reader, meet cute, swearing, soft Logan | Worst Wolverine (Deadpool 3)

Posted on AO3 here

No one else liked doing the opening shift but you and Sandy. Everyone else complained about having to get up so early to open at 6.30 in the morning. You, on the other hand, preferred it because it meant you got to leave earlier. There was usually an hour, sometimes two, where there were no customers to deal with. Or only a handful of regulars that you had gotten to know over the past couple of years since you started working at the cafe.

Carrol always had a latte with two slices of brown toast, no butter. With a newspaper or a book. If there were no other customers, she’d happily tell you about her daughter and grandchildren.

Gareth always had a black coffee, in a takeaway cup, sitting with his two dogs near the front door.

Paul, a roofer, came in twice a day for an extra-hot mocha in a takeaway cup that he can sit outside with. Even when it’s raining.

There were a few more that came in throughout the day that you had yet to learn the names of. Most of them you liked but there were a few regulars that got n your tits. Usually because they had one of the most awkward bloody orders that they’d get during rushes and find something to complain about. Despite getting the exact same thing every time.

The regulars that you got during the opening shift tended to be pensioners or part of the “yummy mummy” club. Some faces you recognised more than others. But there were always new faces coming and going, some recognising you when you had no clue who they were.

It was one of those curses of hospitality. That and always being understaffed. Or underpaid. Forced to do way too many hours…

Honestly, it was kind of shit.

But there was a new regular that you had noticed that had started coming in everyday now, getting the same black coffee and just sitting in one of the armchairs by the window. Nothing remarkable about his order. Simple. Easy. You gotten in the habit of getting it ready for him as soon as you saw him in the queue.

He was a man of few words. Polite though. Never rude to you, Sandy or any of your other colleagues. But you had seen him tell a few not so nice customers (usually men, but there were the odd Karen mixed in there) to “go fuck yourself” followed by a few other choice words.

Most people tried to start a fight until they actually turned around and found an over six-foot tall older man with more muscles than most gym rats.

He had become a bit of a favourite of yours.

You’d managed to make him smile a few times and even get a few short laughs out of him.

He was tall, handsome, older than you (but that had never stopped you before), and you so desperately wanted to know his name!

Even if it was just to add fuel to your little fantasies about him. Like running you fingers through his thick brown hair and tugging at the little tufts of hair that remind you of cat ears. Or running your hands up and down those veiny, muscular arms. Or giving his plump rump a smack.

If you could climb that man like a tree, you would die happy.

But you didn’t want to do the classic write your name on his coffee cup with your number, which was practically impossible as he preferred to sit in with a mug, or write it down on a napkin that he’d surely lose.

You’d seen and read enough rom-coms to know that was a terrible idea. Plus, it felt a little cliche.

Simply just asking him for his name and number weren’t an option either.

One, you had never seen him actually using a phone so you had no idea if he even had one. Two, he looked as if he was old enough to be you father (again, not that that had ever stopped you before) and could easily be married or in a serious relationship. Three, your co-workers all already teased you about your preference for older men. Four… he made you nervous. So, so nervous.

He was ruggedly handsome. Tall. Muscular (you wanted to lick those veins you’d seen peeking out under his sleeves).

Today, he’d come in while you’d gone to get some more milk from the walk-in. Sandy had served him his usual, your eyes straying over to where he sat with his coffee by the window.

“I see the crush is still going strong.” Sandy joked as she tamped down the coffee grounds before slotting the portafilter into the machine.

“Shut up! I can’t help it if he’s hot.” Without glancing up you said as you knelt down to put the milk away in the service fridge.

Sandy laughed at your words. “Still haven’t ask for his number then, have you?”

Straightening you sighed, “No. I haven’t and I’m not going to.”

Sandy placed the cappuccino down in front of customer waiting “Here you go! Enjoy!” with a large false smile on her face. Turning back towards you as the customer walked away, she crossed her arms and leant back against the counter. “If he was my type I would totally go for it. But I don’t have daddy issues.”

“No, you just have mommy issues, Sands.”

“Yeah, and if a hot MILF walked in here, I would be all over her like a fly on shit.”

“You’re so gross.”

“So, I’ve been told. But people also tell me that I’m super sexy so it balances itself out.”

Shaking your head smiling at her you said “If you say so.”

“I do and I also say that you should go take to Mr Tall-Dark-and-Brooding and ask him for his number.” She said nodding over to the man in question.

When you glanced over you swore you saw him smirking and trying to hide it behind his coffee.

Fuck me sideways, you thought, he’s so hot! How is that legal!

Rolling your eyes you said the one phrase you knew would annoy Sandy enough to distract her “If you have time to lean, you have time to clean.”

“Oh, shut up!” she said throwing a damp cloth at you. Sending you both into giggles.

“But seriously we should both try and look busy, Jodie’s going to be in in the next ten minutes.”

“Oh, no, not Jodie!” Sandy whined “I thought she was only working at the weekend this week.”

“She swapped with Hannah.”

“Noooo!” she whined pouting “That’s it my day’s ruined now. Scratch that, my whole week’s been ruined.”

“I’m not happy about it either but-" you stopped. Noticing movement out of the corner of your eye. Turning you were half way through saying “Hi, what can I get you?” before you realised it was the man that you’d been talking about only a moment ago. The smile on your face turning genuine as you felt your cheeks heat.

“Hi.” He said, his voice a deep rumble. Is it normal to get turned on just from someone’s voice?

“Did you want a refill?” you asked, still smiling.

Shaking his head he placed his cup down on the counter. “I just wanted to bring this back and, ugh,” he placed a piece of paper down next to it “give you this. I’m Logan by the way.” He said smiling and winking at you as he turned and walked away.

Leaving you standing there dumbstruck.

Sandy picked up the piece of paper that Logan had put down and squealed. “Oh my god! It’s his phone number! I told you. I fucking told you!”

Snatching the scrap of paper out of her hand you looked down at the numbers he’d scrawled with his name ‘Logan Howlett.’ underneath. Patting your pockets you said “Shit! Where’s my phone? I should text him. Oh my god, what do I next text him. Wait will it seem too desperate if I text him straightaway?”

“No.” Sandy tilted her head in contemplation, “Well, maybe. But if he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t have given you his name now, would he?”

“But what if he doesn’t actually like me. What if he just felt he should because he overheard you earlier?”

“Y/n,” Sandy said placing her hands on your shoulders “Hot men don’t just go around handing their number and name out to any random person they come across. Stranger danger and all that. He’s obviously interested and decided to take a chance. Something that you need to do too. Now. Text the hot, sexy old man.”

Taking in a deep breath you nodded. “Okay, okay, yeah.” Pulling out your phone from your apron pocket you tapped Logan’s number into your phone and typed out a text. Trying not to over think it you pressed send.

Y/N: Hey Logan, this is sarah, you gave me your number in the café just now. I was wondering if you want to grab a drink sometime?

Three grey dots appeared. Vanished and quickly appeared again. You chewed on your fingernail as you watched the grey dots on the screen. No less than a minute later a message came through from Logan.

Logan: I’d love too. Are you free tonight?

You glanced up at Sandy “He wants to go out tonight.”

“Well, say yes! Get that DILF dick baby.”

“Sandy!”

“What are you two talking about?” Jodie’s nasally voiced asked as she joined you behind the counter, tying her apron around her waist “It doesn’t very work appropriate.”

“You’re not work appropriate.” Sandy muttered under her breath glaring at the woman.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing Jodie.” Sandy said moving from where she’d been standing next to you. “Can you go clear some tables for us?” she said handing her a tray.

Tuning the two of them out you turned your attention back to your phone.

Taking a deep breath, biting nervously at your thumb, you replied:

SARAH: I’m free tonight How about we meet at Malones at 6?

Logan: I’ll see you there beautiful 😉

You couldn’t wait.

[firsttimewriter92]

Neighborly shenanigans Pt. 3

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f! reader (Neighbor AU)

Part 1; Part 2; Part 4

Description: Your first date with Simon draws near and it turns out to be absolutely magical

Warnings: cursing, some dirty thoughts, fluff, pining and longing getting stronger, reader is not vegetarian; mentions of previous mental abuse by an ex; Please be careful when reading

Word count: 4.368

A/N: Hi everyone <3 Part three is here. Please read this one with a bit of caution.

I´m discussing something that has happened in my last relationship and it might be a bit difficult to read. It´s how I cope. I did something like this in another fic of mine and I realised how much it helped me and apparently others. So I incorporated another experience in this fic, hoping that the toothrotting fluff will make up for it.

Please enjoy none the less <3

It was Friday and your heart was already pumping so many different hormones and feelings through your system that you actually began to doubt your sanity.

You hadn’t seen Simon since he hung up your shelf and introduced you to his dog. The dog. God, the moment you thought he had a girlfriend and had seen how he behaved around you had made you so angry for a second. Thankfully however it was all just a misunderstanding and Simon had given exactly what you had needed at that moment.

Total and complete clarity.

He seemed like the type of man that was not socially awkward per se but definitely a bit of an isolated character. You couldn’t see him at lavish social gatherings or busy events. I think the mask would be too much of a conversation starter for it to not get awkward eventually. If he wanted to wear it, whatever his reason was, you were in no position to question him. You didn’t lie when you told him that it didn’t make you uncomfortable. You were just curious, and if he didn’t want to tell you why he wore it, then that´s what it was going to be. 

Secretly though, your mind was itching with the numerous faces you´d conjured up in the middle of the night. You found yourself awake wondering how his nose was shaped, how plump or not his lips were, if he had stubble, a beard or was he clean shaven? It didn’t matter to you as much as you thought. You´ve had crushes on men before that had shown even less than hair and eyes. Given they were fictional, the cush itself was real.

And so was the one you´d developed on the brown eyed, whisky voiced half stranger living next to you.

When you got out of bed Saturday morning, you dreaded the whole day ahead of you. He´d only pick you up at 8 so you had to occupy yourself for, what? Another ten hours?

“Fuuuuuuuuck” you sighed as you made your daily dose of coffee and got some eggs and toast ready.

Taking it all to your living room you plopped down on your couch and started your TV. Narcos was silently playing in the background as you made some mental notes about what you needed to do before Simon picked you up.

Shower, shave (maybe even exfoliate), pick out a casual outfit, clean up your apartment at least somewhat. Enough time was spent living out of cardboard boxes and not really settling. Being comfortable in your home would surely help making you more comfortable with yourself and therefore comfortable with the thought of an absolute hunk like Simon being interested in you.

It wasn’t that you thought you were ugly or unlovable, no. Not at all. But the men than had shown interest in you before were never like Simon. And that didn’t mean just physically.

Your last relationship opened your eyes to the men that you usually attracted. Insecure boys, hiding behind a strong masculine façade and instead of working on themselves, or realizing what they lacked, always bound someone to them that wasn’t yet aware of their own worth.

Unfortunately, you used to be that kind of person. Your ex was one of the most interesting men you´d ever met. When he started to take an interest in you, you were ecstatic and soon after you began dating. Over the years however, he slowly chipped away at your confidence, misused your people pleasing tendencies and slowly…oh so slowly made you emotionally dependent on him.

So much so, that there was a time where you actually thought there was no other man for you on this planet other than him. That his actions and words were only for your benefit even if you felt deep down that something wasn’t right about the way he was treating you.

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was, however. So, every time you tried to have a talk with him about how his behavior made you feel, he only needed about 5 minutes of constant talking to make you believe he was actually a great partner and that the problem was either nonexistent, only in your head or your fault.

This led to the fact that trying to argument in your favor was something you´d completely lost.

By the time he almost convinced you that you couldn’t do anything right or at least without him, that you weren’t very much intelligent but super sweet, so it was worth staying with you, you had already forgiven him for cheating on you once.

The second time however was your breaking point. The fact that the girl was underage opened your eyes about him so quickly, that you basically ran for the hills. Behavioral therapy and some new complexes were the result of all that. It did work though. Two years later your life was yours again to take and you grabbed it tightly.

Still, some of the things that had happened changed the way you saw yourself.

Simon was different. He seemed confident in a way that didn’t need to put others down for it. He was friendly, mild and cheeky. And you were going on a date with him. You probably would have never asked him so his direct confession that he was indeed trying to flirt and him asking you out first, made your confidence spike like nothing had done in the past two years.

You tried not to let it go to your head. Never again would you define your worth over the attention of an attractive man. But that feeling never once arose when you thought about Simon. Only excitement and juvenile glee. You marveled in it as you practically danced around your apartment, cleaning, putting stuff away, getting a load of laundry going.

Around three o´clock you got hungry again and decided to walk to the market around the corner to get one of your favorite sandwiches.

You walked into your bedroom to put on a pair of lose, flowy beige pants and a black tank top before putting on your shoes. You grabbed your bag and walked outside. The sun was shining brightly, only disrupted by one or the other white and fluffy cloud as you made your way to the market. It was like the busy streets of London as well as the weather congratulated you on a successful and productive day so far. Smiling and humming happily you purchased your lunch and made your way back with an additional fizzy raspberry lemonade you just couldn’t pass up.

Back in your apartment you closed your door and looked around. It was all coming together. No more boxes, the plastic plants all where you wanted them, and the handing shelf finally filled with a colorful display of your favorite books. A deep breath came forth as you enjoyed your meal and lemonade on your couch. It was still a little weird to you to be fully responsible for your own feelings and the actions you had to take to achieve them. Making yourself happy was never something you put much effort into and that had also been something you had to learn the hard way.

Now, you thought about your life and for the first time in years felt content. Like you didn’t need anybody else to feel this way. Just yourself. And with this feeling you noticed, came the confidence and willingness to let somebody else in again.

There it was again. Your inner eye producing a mess of blond hair, brown, expressive eyes and an impressive body. With all the nonphysical attributes he´d shown you so far that made him so endearing, it was hard not to notice how your body reacted whenever you thought about his broad back, his waist or his massive thighs. You didn’t want to objectify him and still, in the late hours of the night you and your mind had managed to get you off so hard, you had to use a pillow over your mouth to drown out your screams and whimpering.

A shiver ran down your spine when you thought about last night. Even though it took you about 15 minutes to calm down enough from your orgasm to catch a coherent thought, Simon still managed to invade your dreams. His raspy voice in your ear telling you to go to sleep. Telling you gently to rest and leave it to him (whatever he meant), holding you close to his chest, tangling his legs with yours and drowsily stroking your back.

Waking up without him though always put a bit of a sting to your chest. That feeling was soon replaced with an embarrassed giggle as you fell backwards into your pillows again with your palm covering your eyes.

Maybe, just maybe these dreams could become a reality. If you played your cards right.

Determined to make this date a success even though you had no idea what his plan was, you made your way into your shower. Humming along to your little radio you turned off your shower to start shaving when you stopped dead in your tracks. There he was again, and your heart swelled twice its size. He was taking a shower, singing along to some tune you´d never heard before. It was mesmerizing. Slow and deep. The wall prevented you from hearing what exactly the words were, but the melody alone was so beautiful that you didn’t care.

You´d just finished shaving and were reluctant to turn on the water again when his shot off and the singing yet again stopped. “Bloody hell” you muttered with an airy, fluttering feeling in your stomach. Pampering was the next step. You used your rich body butter and your loveliest perfume. Feeling great and refreshed you used the rest of the time to put on your fluffy bathrobe, sit on your couch and tend to your toes and feet since you decided to wear sandals.

Only five minutes left, and you just finished putting the last efforts into your hair as you heard three strong knocks on your door. Hurrying over to your door you almost tripped over your own feet. Taking a deep breath, you opened your door. Holy gosh darn fucking crap!! That was not fair. It just wasn’t.

Matching his black mask, he wore a black polo shirt that hugged him way better than the other shirts you´d seen on him. His dark washed jeans were held up by a brown leather belt with a silver buckle. You knew he was built but this? The way his biceps was stretching the material and the jeans clung to his thighs made your mouth water. He´d styled his hair only slightly but it sat still adorably tousled upon his head.

You smiled up at him and squeezed out a breathless “Hi”. Simon looked down at you with slightly bulging eyes as he took in your outfit of fitted blue jeans and a flowy, emerald-green blouse. Flitting his eyes to yours again he smiled. “Hi” he repeated in a happy tone.

You grabbed your bag and walked out, closing your door behind you and locking it. Only now did you realize that Simon was carrying a small basket. A blanket attached to it and your heart started galloping in your chest. “Did you cook for us?” you asked in an impressed tone. He shook his head slightly. “Nah, I didn’t cook. Not this time.” This time, oh God help me. “But I did assemble of sorts.”

“I see” you said happily and started leaving the building next to him. “I thought we´re doing casual” you said teasingly as you eyed him from the side. Simon snorted shortly as he raised an eyebrow and let his eyes wander down your body. It gave you a sensation unlike any other. “So did I. But I´m glad I wanted a little more than casual. Otherwise, I would have been fatally underdressed.”

A violent shiver ran down your back when you saw his eye wink at you. Your face was burning, you were sure of it.

“Where are we going?” you asked as you noticed him leading you towards nearby park. “Patience” he scolded good naturedly.

About 15 minutes later you ended up on a slight hill in the middle of a beautiful park. Simon stopped next to a tree and began rolling out the blanket. His hulking form seemed a little out of place there, trying to straighten out the blanket. You felt your features soften as he gave out a small grunt before sitting up on his knees and looked up at you. His eyes were glimmering in the gradually setting sun and he patted the blanket next to him softly.

Grinning you lowered yourself and got comfortable. From your place up on the hill you had a stunning view of the soft, carpet like plane of grass spreading out in front of you. Many other people were out and about, walking their dogs, going for a run, casually hanging out with friends. The glimmering skyline of London was seen in the background of massive oak trees at the very end of the park.

“You hungry?” Simons deep voice seeped into your ears and with an excited smile you turned your had and nodded. You observed as he opened the basket and pulled out several boxes with tuna sandwiches (no crust), deviled eggs, veggie sticks, tomatoes, a bag of tortilla chips and what looked like self-made guacamole. The last item he produced was a bottle of what looked like expensive white wine before his eyes caught yours again. Your mouth hung comically wide open as you stared at the feast in front of you.

“You´re not vegetarian, are you?” he suddenly asked and looked at the sandwiches sheepishly. You almost squeaked the way he looked so adorably worried for a second.

“Vegan, actually” you said dryly and almost doubled over laughing when he gave you a shocked look. He rolled his eyes and handed you a tuna sandwich. “Sorry” you mumbled as you took it from him. Then, something came to you. “Uhm” you said carefully as your eyes fluttered down to his mask.

His eyes crinkled again. “If you don’t mind” he said quietly and produced something else from the basket that almost made you choke on your bite of tuna. The silk scarf dangled promisingly and naughtily between his fingers.

You couldn’t really tell if it was supposed to be a joke or not. You looked around you but there were no other people on the hilltop other than you. The next group of people so far away, their heads were the size of a pinhead.

“I´m asking too much, aren’t I?” Simon said as he lowered the scarf back into the basket. “No,” you said quickly. Your voice octaves higher. Did he not realize that this scenario was the beginning of almost every woman’s wet dream? “Give me the scarf, Simon. Please.”

“You sure?” he asked you. You nodded firmly. “If you need me to wear it while we eat, I will.”

His chest seemed to inflate dramatically. “Let me” he breathed and moved his body closer to you. This is a dream; it must be! Closing your eyes, you felt your hands shaking slightly in your lap as you felt the scarf being put over your eyes.

Simon´s warm breath cascaded over your face as he carefully knotted the piece of fabric behind your head. Your pulse was hammering away when you felt his heat, smelled his wonderful musky, citrussy scent cling to the skin of his throat and face. The deep breath you took before you felt him retreat slowly was nothing you could have stopped and again your ears were blessed with an adorable ´hehe´.

“Alright?” he asked. “Yep,” you breathed. “Can´t see a damn thing.” Grinning you tried to feel for your sandwich a little clumsily.

“Hold on” you heard Simon chuckle. “Seeing as I´m taking your ability to see, I think it´s only fair if I-“ a warm hand touched yours and placed your sandwich back in it. “Help you out a little.” His voice lowered even further. Something you would have bet on wasn’t possible. “Y-You really thought this through, haven’t you?” you asked with a hitch in your voice before taking another bite to occupy your mouth.

“Well. I really didn’t want to pass up an opportunity with you” he answered truthfully. A little strangled sound escaped you seconds before a huge smile split your lips.

You sat for another moment in comfortable silence. “How´s the food?” he suddenly asked. Something was off about his voice and suddenly you realized that he had to have removed his mask. A bead of sweat ran down your back. “It´s delicious” you said as you took the last bite of your sandwich. “Did you make all of it yourself?” Simon hummed. “I did. I usually only cook for myself so I don´t get too fancy with it. But I do enjoy it.”

You carefully patted around you to get to the devilled eggs, trying to remember where Simon had put the container but all you suddenly touched was smooth jeans. “Oh, ´M sorry” you said and retracted your hand quickly. “No worries” Simon said. “What do you want?” you could hear the smile in his voice. “Deviled egg, please” you sang and held open your hand.

“Nuh-uh” Simon said and moved in front of you again. “Open up.”

Oh you´ve got to be absolutely shitting me. This cheeky bastard wasn’t really going to…

You obeyed of course, what else was there to do? You opened your mouth and a moment later your lips wrapped around the egg. You could feel Simon´s fingers holding it to your lips before he retracted them in the last second. “Oh my god” you moaned around your mouth full of egg. “Simon, these are incredible.” You heard a gurgling noise in front of you; a bottle of wine being opened shortly after so you brushed it aside.

This is how you spend the next hour. Simon occasionally feeding you with deviled eggs, chips and guacamole. Only the veggie sticks he let you eat by yourself. He handed you the bottle of wine whenever you asked for it and you really tried not to think about how as teenagers, you and your friends had argued many times about weather drinking from the same bottle was equivalent to a kiss or not.

The alcohol settled comfortably into your stomach as did his delicious food.

“Almost time” he said. “Let me get the scarf off you.” Your senses already heightened, you knew exactly where he was on the blanket, when he was in front of you and when his fingertips were about to touch you.

“Time for what?” you asked with a curious smile. You heard a chuckle before the scarf was removed and Simons face came into view. So much closer than it ever had been. He didn’t move an inch, your noses almost touching. His eyes wandering over your face slowly it was almost like you could feel their path burning on your skin. The sun had already set and a warm breeze was wafting all around you, carrying the scent of hot soil, food and the distinct scent of the city.

“You´ll see” Simon murmured into his cloth before lifting his hand and gently touched your cheek. He looked like he was in some sort of trance. His posture was relaxed, his eyes attentive and staring into your soul. It wasn’t like you were any better off. The whole situation was written straight out of a romance novel and the main characters were about to share their first kiss. Even though it was already dark, the lights of the city were still bright enough to see how his breathing becoming heavier, his chest rising and falling in deeper breaths.

A high pitched tone cut the thick air and you saw how Simon momentarily froze before both of you looked over to the skyline of London. Not a second later with a huge bang, a display of beautiful golden flecks decorated the nights sky.

You grinned ear to ear as the fireworks really started and several explosions of light colored your face in green, red and gold. “I love fireworks” you breathed and looked over to Simon with a thankful look in your eyes. He was already looking at you. He stayed seated where he was when you´d moved to see the fireworks better so he was still quite close. His arm was brushing yours when he looked down at you with a soft look in his eyes.

“I´m glad” he said almost too quietly.

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system or the fact that this man made you feel at ease, lighthearted and without a worry in the world. You couldn’t remember. You just let your head fall onto his shoulder, looking at the firework in front of you and smiling contently.

Simon´s POV

Simon didn’t dare move. The soft skin of your hand slightly brushing his was enough to make him lose his damn mind. Almost. The first firework had startled him but the way the golden light had illuminated your face and the smile you´d given him had made him forget almost everything.

The moment he saw you he knew that he wanted something special with you. You didn´t mind his mask, respected it even. That was something new he had never experienced with a civilian before. You´d managed to sneak into his life and heart so quickly and with such force it worried him a little bit. Any day now he could get called back to base again. Maybe he needed to speed it along a little?

No. Not with you. You didn’t deserve that. He´d let you know if he had to leave again and just take his chances. For the first time he wanted a kiss more than a night of passionate sex to get the edge off. He could take his own edge off, god knows he had to do it in the barracks often enough.

Your whole being however made him yearn for something that went deeper than that. A hug would be worth more than undressing, a kiss worth more than foreplay.

He took a deep breath without moving his shoulder too much, just letting himself fall into the moment. Watching fireworks, having your head lean on him, his fingers playfully chasing yours.

___ POV

By the end of the fireworks you felt like you were floating. Simons fingers were tangles with yours by this point and it felt so delicate and new, you felt like a teenager again. Your heart was doing summersaults in your chest. Thinking about this evening would end eventually made your heart sink.

The last colorful explosion brightened up the sky and you let out a deep sigh. “That was beautiful” you whispered. “Thank you.”

“You´re very welcome” Simon rumbled, locking his picky with yours. You were glad at this point that your position hid your huge grin. Now that the fireworks were over, the alcohol, food and late hour caught up with you. The small yawn you tried to stifle wasn’t lost on him however and he sighed contently. “Come on. I´ll bring you home.”

He stood up and held out his hand which you took immediately. As if you weight nothing he pulled you upright holding your gaze and your hand for several moments longer.

You helped him gather everything before you made your way back to your apartment complex. He didn’t try to take your hand again which made you wonder a little bit. The both of you talked about anything and everything until you were standing in front of your door.

“That was a lot of fun” you said as you turned to him and smiled. You saw how his cheeks lifted again as he nodded. “It was. I´m glad you liked the fireworks.”

“I did” you said. “How did you know there were going to be fireworks tonight?” Simon shrugged comically. “That´s my little secret.”

You giggled. The awkward silence you were afraid was going to come at any second now, did not come. Simon yet again proved that he was a man of action and the direct approach.

“I´d really like to do that again.”

You nodded immediately, feeling heat creeping up your neck. “Yeah, me too.”

“Great” he said happily before stepping closer. He took hold of your hand and lifted it to his face. Without breaking eye contact he waited for the fraction of a second for your reaction. When he saw your almost pleading eyes his clothed mouth came down on the back of your hand, kissing it.

Your knees got week and yet again grew heavy with longing. The breath was propelled from your lungs by the way he did it so gently and sincere.

The soft material of his mask was slightly damp from his breath but you couldn’t care less. He was kissing your skin. His mouth was on you. Cloth or no cloth it made you vision blurr.

Simon let go of your hand after what felt like an eternity.

“Sleep well, darlin´” he muttered almost carefully as if the pet name could somehow be a deal breaker for you.

It wasn’t. On the contrary. You felt like your legs were about to give out.

“You too, Simon” you smiled at him dreamily. Reluctantly you turned around and fumbled for your keys. You opened your door and took another peek to your right in his direction.

He´d done the same thing. Pushing his door open he gave you that juvenile little wave again before disappearing from your sight. Sighing deeply as soon as your door closed behind you, this time you didn’t make it to the couch. Your knees gave out then and there and with the silliest of smiles you glided down your door. Your trusty little toy would have to work overtime until the next time you´d be able to drown in those hazel depths again.

____________________________________________________

Again, thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it <3

Please consider interacting with this post and give me some feedback. Comments and reblogs always help not only to push my work that I love, but also help to improve my writing and get my imagination going.

Thank you for considering it <3

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[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

pt XV good omens entire season 1: a nice and accurate summary

@neil-gaiman I like to delude myself into thinking you would be proud of this. Are you?

Hello, Asmi here, I present to you a summary so nice and accurate that if you're feeling masochistic, you can just breeze through this to catch up and then directly rewatch season 2 to cry! Which is what this fandom loves to do, so as mascot I'm here to enable you :") Spoilers here, of course, and a lot of chaos.

Episode One! We open with God narrating the Fall of Man and we've got ourselves a Bible AU, east gate angel/serpent forbidden lovers, quite wonderful really.

The serpent (Crowley) now in human form takes the Antichrist and catwalks across a graveyard. Crowley delivers the Antichrist to Satanic nuns but there are several fuckups.

The East Gate guardian (Amoxicillin) and Crowley raise the wrong baby for eleven years with Amoxicillin being a frightening gardener and Crowley being a gorgeous nanny.

They realise the baby is wrong. The real Antichrist wasn't raised by them and therefore owns braincells. He names his hellhound Dog.

Episode Two! Gabriel the angel is an ass, we get some nice witch-burning of Agnes Nutter who made prophecies, and oh yeah the apocalypse is now happening and the horsepeople are out.

Nutter's descendant finds the Antichrist and friends and is hit by Azithromycin and Crowley who are in love. Things happen but what is important is Azithromycin and Crowley stare at each other and also Dog faces off a tabby. Azithromycin lies to Heaven.

Episode Three! Crowley looks gorgeous at Noah's ark, Architecture tries not to listen to her about how shit it all is, boom flood dead.

Lots of romantic flashbacks with Archibald and Crowley, medieval, shakespeare, french revolution etc etc lots of sexual tension, Archibald is in handcuffs, Crowley rescues his books from a Nazi bombing.

Antihistamine gives Crowley holy water, breakup breakup, paintball, sexual tension wall slam, bandstand breakup, it is very sad.

Episode Four! Duck aliens invade earth, the Antichrist possesses children, Crowley and Aripiprazole are incompetent at heroics. Aripiprazole is sent to heaven and everything is on fire.

Episode Five! Crowley is very very sad and Antibiotics reappears and possesses a lady, there is vague hetero sex, Crowley is useless, Antibiotics is the posh gay, everything is still on fire.

Episode Six! Big apocalypse face-off, Crowley's car blows up, no one comforts him, Arsphenamine is now back in his body, eleven year olds kill the horsepeople because Crowley and Arsphenamine are still useless, the Antichrist solves his daddy issues.

Crowley and Antipyretic switch places to survive and then they go out to drink and toast to the world and everyone cries.

THE END! WAHOO!

[I am so, so sorry to everyone who was involved in the production of this show. You deserved better than this summary. But this is what you got. Blame the fandom, I am only a figurehead and mascot.]

[gwiyeounsonyeon]

Growing Pains CH3 (MWC Day 9!)

Pairing: RE2 Leon Kennedy x Male(Intended) Reader Summary: College AU! You suck hard at feelings and everyone's just along for the ride. Words: 1,425/200 Warnings: Cursing, a little angst, brief mentions of weed Notes: It feels too soft to be angsty, in my opinion at least.

Navigation | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

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With how often you wake up these days, still tired no matter what you do and depressed, you wonder if a doctor would diagnose you with chronic neuroticism. Maybe if you played your cards right you could get a medical marijuana card and live the rest of your days as a carefree stoner, You stand in your kitchenette, in your underwear, with a piece of burnt toast hanging out of your mouth as you listen to Luis’ muffled voice through the thin wall. You can't make out who he is talking to nor what he’s talking about but from the sound of his steadily raising voice, you assume it must be pretty important. You shrug it off, telling yourself that it's none of your business. But, as you finish your pathetic breakfast and pull on whatever clean clothes are left in your closet, you can't help but think about the absurdity of it all. 

You sit on your bed and pull on your socks and shoes, ruminating over the past year and a half youve spent at college with the man have you ever heard him sound like that, much less talk to another human being in that manner. You listen closer, stopping everything as his voice sounds again, hoping to make out even a snippet of the conversation. He's talking fast in an angry or frustrated tone, his voice pitched up to convey that to whoever he's yelling at, part of you (the insane part) wants to stop by and check on him, maybe he needs your help. But the rational part of your brain reasons that it's most definitely not a good idea, so you give him his privacy and continue on with your routine, making it out of your door in record time. On reflex you pass by the elevator about to take the stairs only for you to stop and look back over, the caution tape that you were beginning to think was just a part of the elevator was gone, ripped off, and tucked carelessly into the trashcan in the hallway. As you mull over whether to take the elevator or not you read the note from your landlord, his messy scrawl beckoning you into the elevator with promises that it's going to stay fixed. 

You highly doubt it, the guy’s a complete deadbeat and the elevator is much more worse off––you remember moving in and using the elevator for the first time, you’d nearly had a panic attack from the abhorrent state it was in. You chuckle to yourself, cringing a little looking back on how you acted, pulling out your own pen, you scribble ‘use with extreme caution’ on the bottom corner of the note and underline it a few times. You tuck the pen safely back into your pocket where you’ll probably forget about it, you step away from the elevator, resuming your path to work, and the elevator dings just as you set your hand on the door to the stairwell. You turn the knob and Claire walks out of the elevator with the guy, who you’ve come to know as Leon, in tow behind her. They dont notice you at first as Claire storms to Luis’ door, Leon lingers awkwardly behind as Claire pounds on his door looking angry. You’re just about to slip silently into the stairwell when Leon catches your eye, he brightens up and smiles widely upon seeing you, looking like a love-stricken puppy dog. 

It's odd, seeing someone look at you like that and it puts you on edge, you’re unable to picture how he could look at you like that––or how any normal person could look at someone like you that way. Anxiety rises like bile in your throat but you swallow it down and school your expression, trying to keep cool and unbothered. You gesture to Claire and hold your finger to your lips, not wanting to get dragged into whatever drama they're stirring up––Leon's smile turns into an ‘oh!’ expression and he nods smiling as he repeats your gesture, pressing his finger to his lips then making an okay sign with his hand. With that, you slip into the stairwell unnoticed, just as you hurry down to the first landing the door opens behind you. You look back up at where you came from to see Leon stood awkwardly by the door, he closes it and clears his throat like he's trying to find the words he wants to say. 

Bile bubbles anxiously in your stomach as he descends the stairs looking like a kicked puppy, he stops at the third step up from you and takes a deep breath, “uh… i- um.” He fumbles his words, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He clears his throat before trying again; “I…” He starts slowly, dragging the syllable out like it's going to help him speak, the stairwell is quiet enough that you can almost hear his throat click when he swallows. “I was- w- uh… wondering when-” His nerves are infectious, jumping over to you like fleas. His eyes move away from your face to look at some scuff mark on the ground “w- when you were off w- um- work next?” He chews on his lip anxiously and you relax, tension floods out of your body so fast you dont catch your smile until his body language eases and his face softens up. “Uhhhh?– tomorrow or Monday probably.” You shrug, hoping if you acted unbothered the lingering nerves would settle, “I work, like, every day but I dont have any classes Sunday. Monday Uh-” The hesitation coming out as a sigh as you think. 

“I work in the morning and I think I have two classes in the afternoon.” That feels right and you nod, he eases up more and smiles sweetly. As you look at him, you notice what you think are dimples on his cheeks. “Okay, I guess I'll text you, then?” You physically have to stop yourself from swooning, dimples were your weak point. You bite your lip hard and nod, turning to resume walking down the stairs, “See ya’ then.” You force yourself to sound casual and not trip over your feet as you walk away, you hear him agree but you dont look back. Once you make it to the third landing for the floor below you, you hear Leon ascend the stairs and leave the stairwell. 

You slump down against the wall, sliding all of the way down to the floor as you exhale the breath you didn't know you were holding. You don’t even get a minute to yourself as you hear the rowdy teens that plague your building snicker, you shoot up onto your feet and peek over the edge to see the three boys sat two landings below you with cigarettes and cans of cheap (probably stolen) beer littered around them. “He’s so in love with you~” The middle one teases, the one to his left snickers, and the other one makes kissing noises. You roll your eyes, maintaining a cool facade as the thought settles in your head, you descend the stairs and without stopping you snatch the middle one's cigarette and bring it to your lips. “You better get the hell outta here before I get your dad.” You scoff and take a long drag from the cigarette before flicking it at their feet, the boys’ eyes go wide, they know you’ll make good on your word having already done it once before. 

They scramble for their belongings and take off back through the door, leaving their empty cans littered on the ground. You press your palms to your eyes and groan tiredly, not ready to unpack the idea that Leon might genuinely be in love with you, instead of just harboring some hopeless puppy crush that he'd be over in a week like you’d hoped. Of course, you found him cute, he was cute and maybe in a perfect world you’d consider something like that but now? You pull your hands from your eyes, ignoring the shapes and bursts of color that decorate your vision to scowl down at your hands. Leon was ungodly sweet and smarter than people gave him credit for, and he was awkward in the most endearing way, You groan again and scrub your hands down your face. 

This was not what you wanted to be thinking about, and with that last thought you resume your walk to work praying to whatever god listening to give you just one moment of peace.

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A/N; this was a little harder to get out today so I apologize for the lack of words.

[agentoli]

whether it's canon or your au, what do you think the agents, Sim troopers, and ai would dress up as for Halloween? I especially see Wash, Caboose, Tucker, Sarge, Theta, Omega, Gamma, York, South, and Connie being gung-ho about it.

Oo!! Ill do this for my au!!!

Blood Gulch

Carolina: The boys had to pay her just so they could put a cheap cat ear headband on her. She did allow Maine to do face paint afterward and vehemently defends it to anyone who might make fun of it.

Wyoming: A vampire. He puts way to much effort into it and ends up unable to wash off the face paint for a week.

Maine: Swamp Monster. Yes he has glowing eyes. Yes the Red Team collectively pissed themselves when they saw him from across the canyon.

Washington: A glow-in-the dark skeleton. Basic, but he insists he ALWAYS goes as a skeleton. (He admits it's because it was tradition that he and his sisters all matched on halloween, and that skeleton was broad enough to have fun with every year)

York: Werewolf, secretly stoked once he sees Carolina with cat ears. He has deluded himself into thinking they are in some sort of couples costume.

North: An angel. (Its bad quality like from party city)

South: A devil. (also party city quality)

Texas: The grim reaper. She has a really creepy skull mask covered in old (hopefully fake) blood, and delights herself by scaring her team.

CT: She's got regular clothes on save for a pumkin hoodie, citing how she wasn't allowed to celebrate Halloween as a kid and doesn't get the hype.

Freelancer

Church: Will not dress up, no matter how many times Tucker tries to get him in a couples costume. Halloween is for babies and he is way to cool for it.

Omega: On the other hand, Church's AI dresses up like Beetlejuice. (He really wants Church to be Lydia)

Tucker: A vampire, but sexy. He wanted Church to be a vampire hunter, but that didn't end well. He has those fake fangs in that give you a horrible lisp.

Caboose: Rudolph the red nosed reigndeer. Yes he knows its not Christmas, he just really likes that one stop motion film.

Sigma: He is dressed like a court jester. Point and laugh.

Sarge: Uncle Sam. He would've let off fireworks if Donut hadn't confiscated them instantly.

Gamma: Also, Uncle Sam. He makes fake fireworks :)

Simmons: Data from Star Trek. It's his favorite character! (He's just like me for real!)

Delta: He does not dress up. That is illogical. (Nah, he's Spock LMAO)

Grif: He wears black and calls it a day. He's just here for the candy tbh.

Theta: Headless Horseman! He replaced the horse with a big holographic dog, but Grif will punch anyone who tries to point out the inaccuracy.

Lopez: They covered him in cardboard and painted him like Optimus Prime

Donut: A fried egg.

Doc: A piece of toast.

Kaikaina: Bacon.

Iota: A nurse! She dressed up just like Doc McStuffins!

Eta: Pippi Longstockings!

Lopez 2.0: Cardboard costume Megatron.

Others:

Florida: A zombie with way too much gore. Like, stomach churning, genuinely upsetting amounts. Has been asked to leave the function.

Georgia: Bee from Bee and Puppycat! They have a plushie of puppycat, though!

Ohio: Dorothy from Wizard of Oz

Idaho: The Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz

Iowa: The Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz

[icarus-does-fall]

It's short an stupid but it fixed the brainrot <3

The hannigram fic idea that suddenly started rotting in my brain<33

I love these two crazy mfers a totally normal and reasonable amount

Somewhere in season 2 ig but like also just sorta an AU lmao

I need hannigram domestic bliss (except they're still crazy<3)

.𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤. .𝆤࿙࿙࿚๋࿙࿚ ⊱♡⊰ ࿙࿚๋࿙࿚࿚𝆤.

Will had once again been arrested and then set free because of over lying factors. It was becoming something of a pattern with Will being framed and then coincidently let go because another killer took the fall.

Hannibal, was of course the one still setting up Will, afterall he did stab Will only to moments later confess his love, but he'd be damned if other people kept saving *his* boy.

It was clear these two had a… problematic relationship but Hannibal knew how to be domestic on occasion, and these were one of those occasions.

After stabbing Will and begging for forgiveness while confessing his love, he immediately fled to Italy. Not long after did Will find him, they always knew where the other was. *Somehow*.

So of course Will found himself in Hannibals Italian Villa and one morning Hannibal and Will ended up in the kitchen together, Hannibal was cooking breakfast and Will was being a casual menace.

“William, please put the knives down, I need them to dice the chives.”

“Or I keep holding them, and try to stab you when you get too close.”

Hannibal sighed and continued to prep the needed ingredients for breakfast. “I have already apologized for that, must you keep it over my head forever?”

“No I don't have to, but it's nice seeing you squirm with guilt every time I mention it. More convenient than a gun this early in the morning too.” :3

Hannibal merely gave Will a slightly annoyed look as he took the Knife out of his hands and then kissed Will on the nose before going back to finish breakfast. Will bluescreenned for a moment, while yes Hannibal had admitted his feelings open affection from the man was still a strange concept.

“You're an impossible puzzle to solve Will.”

“Yeah- Anyway whats for breakfast?”

“We have caramelized french toast with a mixed berry compote for your child like behaviours, and I have a fiddlehead omelet with bacon and a homemade salsa.”

“That sounds- Hey wait a minute, I'm not childlike! I'm an FBI agent who have taken care of himself the majority of his life.”

“William, you point a gun at me whenever you want to get your way and pout whenever you remember your dogs are still in the states without you. Furthermore you pout whenever you don't get your way.”

To even further prove Hannibals point, Will pouted as his behaviours were pointed out one by one. The down side of living with and liking a psychiatrist, you tend to get psychoanalysied without your permission.

“Just shut up and make your breakfast already-”

Hannibal smiled smugly as he turned back towards the stove. A few minutes later breakfast was done and plated, Will sat at the bar, causing Hannibal to scowl from his place at the table. He mightve been a cannibal but he still had table manners.

Hannibal silently glared at Will, trying to will Will into sitting at the table. It eventually worked but not in the way Hannibal wanted. Instead of sitting nicely Will was sitting cross legged in one of the chairs and was breaking almost every table etiquette rule there was. But at least he was at the table.

“William…”

“I haven't done anything!”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you quite positive about that William?”

“Uh… yes?”

Hannibal nodded disapprovingly and continued to eat in silence, now Will wasn't nervous per say but he definitely was a little on edge from Hannibals reactions. Knowing his luck he'd end up with an ear in his mouth again while he slept.

Besides that one incident the two had a fairly calm and casual morning. Will did the dishes as Hannibal cleaned the table, after the chores were done the two ended up on the couch together watching some nature documentary that Will liked.

“You know this isn't going to last forever right? If I found you Jack is eventually gonna show up at the door too-”

Hannibal nodded, absent-mindedly pulling Will in closer to his side. “I am well aware of Jack Crawford's efforts to find me but I have ways to delay the inevitable for now.”

Will was about to say something else but Hannibal cut him off with a kiss, even going as far to bite down on Wills lip until it bled- The might have started to be a little more than civil but that didn't mean Hannibal didn't have issues anymore.

A gasp and a soft moan slipped past his lips as Hannibal kissed and bit him. Yet he returned the kiss with a similar fever leading to him tugging on Hannibals shirt, only to then he pulled away from.

A coy looking Hannibal smiled as he looked at Wills flushed face. “Don't get carried away now William, we still have a documentary to finish watching.”

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Mature Rated Fics Masterlist (43)

Part 1-Part 34 / Part 35 / Part 36 / Part 37 / Part 38 / Part 39 / Part 40 / Part 41 / Part 42 /

Created: March 14th, 2024

Last Checked:------

Watcher-Chele20035 (ao3)  Summary: A sacrifice needs to be made, a volunteer steps forward. Peeta meets Katniss and she is not what he expected in this alternate Panem as they move forward to change their world. Everlark. Panem AU. What Lies in Between-Demona424 (ao3)  Summary: Katniss has always found happiness in the quiet little life. She had her sister, her good friend Cinna, and a wonderful job as a director at the Conservatory of Flowers so she never really searched for more. At the Conservatory’s Anniversary Gala, along comes Peeta to shake things up. He's cocky, charming, and determined to get what he wants causing the walls around her to crumble leaving her more vulnerable than she ever wanted to feel. But will it be the same for him or is it just a game? What To Fight For-DustWriter (ff.net)  Summary: An original AU based on aimmyarrowshigh's stunningly beautiful and brilliant AU from "Dark Toast" When Peeta met Katniss-Alliswell (ao3)  Summary: "Men and women can't be friends, man are only seeking ONE thing" or at least that's how cynical, disillusioned and guarded, Katniss Everdeen feels about interpersonal relations; her long time acquaintance, Peeta Mellark is bent on showing her wrong, becoming her best guy friend, until a double blind date goes array... When We Were Young-HGfanonezillion (ao3) Summary: Annie and Finnick reunite at their fifteen year high school reunion. Inspired by When We Were Young by Adele. When You Kiss Me-Chele20035 (ao3)  Summary: Katniss helped wounded vet when she trained his service dog, Duke. After spending months together finishing his training, Peeta sets off to conquer his new life with his new helper by his side. A chance meeting at the airport and a shared flight to London, brings these two back together again. This time, will it be forever? Who nibbles the moon?-Annieoakley1 (ao3)  Summary: Peeta's new girlfriend and his four-year-old daughter meet for the first time. Wilderness-chele20035 (ao3)  Summary: A lonely heart calls out, and a unexpected soul answers. After years of waiting, he can finally claim his mate, to only have unexpected events try to pull them apart. everlark! were!peeta. Wildest Dreams-dandelionsandberries (ao3)  Summary: As the start of college dawns on Katniss Everdeen, she and her group of friends decide to take a trip to Finnick's beach house on their last week of summer. While she plans to have one last hurrah before her fresh start, she discovers she isn't able to abandon everything that easily. Especially not her unresolved feelings for her second cousin and friend, Peeta Mellark. Windfall-Court81981 (ff.net)  Summary: Katniss Everdeen has never been lucky. But a chance encounter with an old acquaintance and a winning lottery ticket just may change that

[quitealotofsodapop]

So I finally read the little post about all the Joke Meme for Chapter 3 Teaser and it made me wonder… Does Erlang ever get a win? Or will he ever get one?

Like to start off our man is going on a mission—ope, no he’s not he out cold with the frying pan to the back of the head. Oh but he’ll remember what happened and be mad—no he won’t, he thinks he’s the one person in Heaven’s history that partied harder than Sun “Casually Drank 50 bottles of Heavenly Wine and got his 12th of 27 immortalities while hammered” Wukong cuz of how he woke up.

But wait, the Harbinger of Chaos is gone, problem solver and hey, Wukong got back together with some theatre bitch he used to wax poetic about—Erlang takes one moment, one singular moment, and remembers that he thought said theatre bitch died??? Cannot fact check. Moves on with life.

Oh but suddenly the Harbringer is back???? They never defeated him????—Its in some Monkey Kid with Wukong’s powers and he just makes the (smart) decision to not personally go down there unless directly ordered by The Jade Emperor. And hey, there’s the Jade Emperor now and wait why is he locking himself in his throne room?

What’s that? Azure Lion and The Brotherhood are back and on a rampage to kill the Emperor? We’ll buckle up boys! Time to stop this overglorified pussycat and hey, uh, has Azure always looked that good? Like, Erlang thought he looked gold back in the day but, damn, he ages like a fine wine—but in a total bro way! Like, it’s not that he fantasized about Azure or anything in the past or present and wow did he always look good in the sunlight and battle? Wow…

All my rambling to say that from what I gather of Erlang Shen’s story trajectory is that he just unknowingly keeps taking L’s and I find it absolutely hilarious.

Erlang's whole vibe for the first couple of chapters is:

Wakes up covered in wine and dog slobber with the peach attendants yelling at him cus they think he partied Too Hard after a successful mission. Later the Jade Emperor congradulates him on a job well done, with SWK standing there smiling nervously with a broken egg shell thing? And in the corner Nezha's getting yelled at by General Li Jing for some reason??

Erlang's third eye is like "I dunno man. We must've been toasted last night." And Erlang just decides to play along with a stoic look on his face.

I love the idea of his Third Eye acting as a fact checker, but it doesnt give him the context or changelogs.

Erlang, thinking real hard: "Wait... isn't Wukong's mate dead?" *old 90s computer noises* "Nah he aint. Good for them."

And ofc Azure has been doing probation with Manjusri, since Wukong and the Celestial army had to crack down on Camel Ridge. So he and Erlang occassionally interact and spar and whoops, giant lion man hot ( •///•)

I think part of the hilarity comes from the fact that Erlang is destined to win his historical encounter with Sun Wukong no matter what. So in the au, he just keeps getting non-fatal Ls by just minding his own business.

He might just get a win however... if a certain nephew plays nice with that axe of his.

[toastylicious]

CAT KID INSPIRED CHARACTER?????????? IN CAT KID INSPIRED OUTFITS????

[lynxgriffin]

Eldritchrune good

Still haven't finished paper trail

But love dogs of future past

What do you think

Is the best thing you've made

A translation of the one ask

Also, I have reason to believe the toast wizard was the one who sent it. They tend to be like that

I'm talking about the LJDNDLRNCNEKXLOWKDNIE ask btw

Man spelled out like that it sounds like Gasterspeak, somehow. XD

But uhh to answer the question! Shoot, hmm...generally I tend to like what I've done most recently/what I'm currently working on because older artwork just isn't going to look as good to me. I'd say I'm probably happiest with Skybox, actually? Since that was seven years of work that I felt accomplished finishing! But for strictly DR stuff...I like DOFP's overall vibe and feel a lot, but I think that Paper Trail has better characterization and art, and then Eldritchrune has (again) better art and has just been a fun challenge since I don't usually do AUs...I guess I like them all for different reasons, so it's hard to pick one as the "best" for me!

[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, drug content, penbury is a fanon surname

Word count: 9.7k

A/N: Sorry this one took so long, gang. New work rota to get used to (which, as a night shift worker, is a rough one) and then just as I got some good time off, I got hit with a MASSIVE cold that I'm still fighting off but it's been a downer on the ol' creativity.

Next chapter's a REALLY BIG one plotwise, so hopefully it shouldn't take as long!

You wake up to an empty bed and an overly natural lit bedroom. Pouting at the lack of Ralph, you throw yourself out of bed.

Thankfully, he's in the kitchen, sitting at one of the stools you'd recently bought in the January sales, since Ralph had said that he had enough of eating from his lap like a "feral animal". His eyes light up when he sees you, greeting you with a soft, "Good morning, darling!"

"Morning, yourself, handsome," you grin back, going to start making breakfast. "I know I couldn't avoid work today, but I'll still make us both your favourite, yeah?"

"Aren't you forgetting a little something?" he asks in a hopeful lilt. "Something for the birthday boy, perhaps?"

You roll your eyes, "Of course not," as you walk round to him, trying not to get too distracted by how simply adorable his little anticipatory shoulder wiggle is. Reaching over to cradle the back of his head, you pull him in for a kiss. His soft, sweet lips, still minty from having brushed his teeth, sandwich your top lip between them as he kisses you eagerly. You pull away with a soft, “Happy birthday, Ralphie,” before giggling, “and what have I told you about brushing before breakfast, it’s pointless!”

“I’m afraid I get rather a bad case of halitosis when I first awaken and I would hate for you to have that sully your opinion of me,” Ralph admits, frowning at your lack of presence as he watches you walk over to the other side of the counter.

“We all get morning breath, babe, you don’t have to worry about that!” you wave him off. Somehow, you know that you’re making him breakfast, but the actions don’t quite seem to match up. Before you know it, you’re sliding a plate in his direction. “Here you are, my love.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Ralph asks, a small smile on his face as he points to his ear.

“Shut up, you heard me, you just want me to say it again,” you shake your head, laughing under your breath. He simply smiles contentedly as he starts eating, and you watch him adoringly.

A strange noise starts to ring in your ears. It sounds as if it’s coming from outside, then as though it’s in the room with you.

Finally, you jolt awake, face half-buried in your pillow as your alarm rings over for the twentieth time. You grumble until you look at the time and you practically throw the phone at the wall as you yelp. How the fuck do you end up oversleeping through your alarm for twenty whole minutes?! Today, of all days, too. Head Office are coming in and your regional manager has stressed the importance of all hands on deck.

You finally emerge for Ralph to see you for the first time that morning, running between your bedroom and bathroom shouting a chain of, “Shit, fucking piss-stain wanker! Dogs-bollocking, dick-shitting nipples, fucking - ahhhh!” You shout as you violently brush your teeth.

Going back to throw on the first vaguely business-casual outfit you see, you stride out into the main part of the flat and face Ralph for the first time. With half a piece of toast in his hand and a crust sticking out of his mouth, he looks at you in horrified fear. You groan, “Sorry you had to hear all that. I’m running so fucking late, oh my god, why did I do this?!” You let your muscle memory take over the act of finding your jacket and shoes as you continue scolding yourself internally.

Ralph finishes his mouthful and pouts, “Aren’t you forgetting something? A certain birthday boy, perhaps?”

With an exasperated sigh, you continue running on autopilot, huffing an, “Of course!” Marching towards him, you hold the back of his head and gently bring it forward to kiss him in a sweet, lingering peck. “Happy birthday, Ralphie,” you smile before rushing out of the door, not noticing the surprised and confused look frozen onto his face or his beetroot ears. 

As you hear the lock of the door click behind you, the realisation of what you’ve just said also clicks. You freeze, accidentally mirroring Ralph’s expression. What the fuck did you go and do that for?! You certainly weren't dreaming that time. You should go back in there and apologise. You should go back in there and assure both yourself and Ralph that it was purely an accident.

But then your phone buzzes with the name of your regional manager illuminated on the screen. With a sigh of resignation, you tap to answer the call and tell them, “I know, I know, I’m literally on my way in now, I’ll be there in time, I swear.” You run down the stairs, not even thinking of waiting for the lift, and once you’re in your car you catch your reflection in the rear view mirror just long enough to scream at yourself for being so fucking stupid. How you’re going to talk yourself out of this one, you just don’t know.

Ralph remains frozen in the same position, with the same expression, for several minutes. When his brain finally allows him to actually do something, the first thing he does, naturally, is slap himself across the face. He rubs his stinging cheek with mixed confusion and realisation. He can’t be dreaming. But why on earth would you just kiss him like that, out of nowhere? Had Ralph missed a cue or… Seven, if you’re at the stage where you’re happy to just up and kiss him? Could he have been outwardly courting you this whole time? And since when was this an established thing between you, anyway? The only other time you’d kissed was exactly one month ago to the day and -

Of course. Reality falls on him like the setting winter sun - quick, harsh and cold. You kissed him to celebrate the New Year, and so now you’re kissing him to celebrate his birthday. It must just be another tradition. Of course he shouldn’t have expected anything more. If there were any other potential for an actual relationship between you and him to blossom, you’ve had plenty of chances to let him know that you’re interested, and you never have. Your kiss was simply a nicety for his big day. Nothing more.

Still, Ralph’s heart is racing. What a rush to feel your lips on his again! Though he immediately scolds himself for indulging in his selfish fantasy. It’s honestly unfair to the both of you for him to keep pretending that you could possibly seek his companionship. It would put you in an awkward position, and its inevitability finally being addressed out in the open would surely break Ralph’s heart to no end.

To distract himself, Ralph goes to make himself a coffee, but curses internally at the empty jar that’s been left on the side. Of course, stupid Ralph. He’d already used the last of it up yesterday, and you’d told him not to worry, that you’d pick more up on your big weekly shop. Ralph thought it wouldn’t be a problem, but now he needs a boost to keep his mind moving, to stop him dwelling on… Whatever just happened.

He strides over to the other side of the flat to look out of the window. He could go to the supermarket, though this smaller one doesn’t have the coffee you like to buy, and the last thing Ralph needs on today of all days is to cause more friction between the two of you. And so, with a heavy sigh of resignation, he goes to get dressed before begrudgingly making his way out of the house.

“Hi!” The barista grins from behind the counter. “Are you… Okay? You look kinda… Not sure if you’re lost, or just… Grossed out,” they cock their head as they try and study Ralph’s reaction.

“Well, I certainly never thought I’d be stepping foot in this… Coffee house of yours since it replaced my favourite shop,” Ralph frowns.

“Ahh, yeah. Sucks to see the old plant shop go, but I guess there’s not enough gardens in South London to keep them in business, eh,” they shrug.

He scoffs, “My friends and I are more than proof enough that you don’t need a garden to enjoy having greenery around!”

They put their hands up, “Alright, alright, I’m sorry? I dunno, I didn’t have any say in what happened here, I’m just one person.”

“Yes, of… Of course you are, my most humble apologies,” He squeezes his eyes shut, but the barista offers him a forgiving smile. “I… Have no idea what any of these things mean.”

“Oh, what, the different types of drink?” They point at the board behind them, and Ralph nods. “You ever drink coffee before?”

“The kind you would make at home, yes,” he nods.

“Okay, so that’s pretty much the cafe au lait,” they point to the entry up on the board. “If you’re looking to expand your horizons a little bit, a flat white’s similar but it’s made with espresso, not filtered coffee, so that’ll pack a real punch. An Americano is a diluted espresso, you can ask for milk with it but as a coffee snob, I will judge you a little for it,” they joke. “If you like milk, lattes are a safe bet. If you’ve got a sweet tooth, we’ve got cappuccinos, or mochas if you really like it sweet. If you’d prefer a cold drink, I can make you an iced latte, mocha or a tea of some kind, if you’re into those…”

“I’m still not quite sure what I’d like,” he frowns, more puzzled than ever.

“How’s about we start you with a cafe au lait, then? See how you like it?” Ralph nods in agreement, and the barista taps away at their register. “Wanna start a loyalty card?”

Ralph turns his nose up, “Feels like a betrayal.”

“Oh my god, I promise your houseplants won’t care that you’re buying your coffee here now,” the barista groans sarcastically.

Ralph sucks his lips in before looking to the barista and nodding. “Very well.”

“Just need your full name and date of birth, please,” they ask, and Ralph freezes up. “Alright there, mate?”

“Y-yes, of course, just need to check something,” he frantically takes his phone out, taps the calculator and works out what 2023-26 is. “Ah! February 1st, 1997!” Despite knowing he now lives in a year that starts with a 2, the notion of saying 1997 out loud still feels alien to him.

The barista ducks their head to look up at him past their eyebrows, disbelievingly. “You just check the date to try and get free shit?”

Ralph looks shocked at their vulgarity. “Not at all! It truly is my birthday today, why would I lie about such a thing?!”

They shake their head, “Whatever. Have a birthday every day if you really want, no skin off my back,” they tease.

Ralph takes his free coffee back to the flat with him, expressing his gratitude to the barista before leaving.

After replying to texts from both your friends and his little girl gang, Ralph finishes his coffee and starts looking around the flat for something to do. Everything is clean, he daren’t get any shopping done without you for fear of getting it wrong… If only he could do some redecorating of some sort. That would be nice. It’s all looked the same for the last five months, and who knows how long before?!

As he goes to check Twitter, to read through some inevitable birthday greetings, he accidentally clicks open Instagram instead. Terrified, he notices that all of the adverts are for home decor. It’s bad enough that the speaker knows his voice, now his phone can read his thoughts?! He slams his phone down and marches back out to end up back at the coffee shop. “Hello, again.”

“I liked that drink, but I feel a little… Adventurous,” Ralph’s eyebrows waggle. “May I try that flat white now?”

“Sure thing,” the barista smirks. “Have you downloaded the app yet?”

Ralph frowns, “What app?”

They point to a sign detailing the loyalty reward scheme. “You need to scan the code from your phone to get the points to get the prizes. Get it?”

His eyes narrow. “I don’t think I can trust my phone anymore. Mine can read my thoughts. Can yours?”

The barista looks at him, bewildered, until they finally understand. Laughing, they shake their head. “Listen, mate, you seem like a decent guy and all, and I wish I could help, but I don’t get paid enough to learn all the ins and outs of datamining just to teach you.”

“Fair enough,” Ralph admits quietly. “But so, you mean I’m not the only one being targeted?”

Another head shake. “It’s just how advertisers get to you now. Don’t sweat it too much, it’s inevitable.”

“Very well. I promise I shall bring my phone back next time. Though you may have to teach me how to use this new app, I’m not very good with them. I apologise if my inadequacy is frustrating to you.”

“Normally it would be, but I dunno, there’s some strange charm about you that makes me actually kinda want to help you?” The barista asks, confused by their own sentiment.

With a small smile, Ralph muses, “I do rather seem to have that effect on people.”

Ralph’s journey through the coffee menu proves very educational to him. The cafe au lait seems boring in comparison to the flat white, but the flat white was far stronger than Ralph could handle, for now at least. The latte proved to be too bitter, the mocha too sweet. Cappuccinos seem to finally hit the sweet spot with Ralph, but once he’s finally realised that, the barista cuts him off. “You are literally vibrating, mate. That’s enough caffeine for you.”

“Are you quite sure? I’m finding this all rather riveting! Are there any more drinks for me to try, perhaps? Or I could start making that cappuccino a regular thing!” Ralph babbles, his own speed ramped up hundredfold.

“Very sure. Come back whenever you’ve come down from your high and then we’ll talk, alright?” they smirk, flashing their eyes towards the door for Ralph to take a hint.

“Could I at least have one to take back with me? I promise I won’t drink it as quickly!” If there is one thing Ralph has learned in recent months, it’s that he’s got a face that few people can say no to, and even if they do, he can make it more persuasive. He lowers his chin ever so slightly and makes his eyes look especially wide, sticking his lower lip out just enough to not look deliberate.

The barista’s poised composure falters a little as they sigh, “Fine. One more. But don’t you dare come back until tomorrow, promise?” Their face melts as Ralph holds out his little finger to them and they link it with their own. “You’re a weird one, Ralph. But you might be becoming my favourite regular.”

With an unnaturally wide smile, Ralph nods to them in thanks, pays for his drink and takes it back to the flat with him.

Once he’s back in, the first thing his eyes are drawn to is the stool he was sitting on when you kissed him. Oh, blast, and now that’s all he can think about, with all cylinders firing. You should be home soon, and then you’ll have to talk about it, and Ralph’ll have to while he’s like this, and that’s no condition to be having such a serious conversation in.

He checks the time on his phone and accidentally unlocks it to the page he had been scrolling through furniture on. That’s it! Ralph thinks in an epiphany moment. He’ll just put all of his energy into imagining the perfect way to redecorate.

~~~

Finally, as you wave your regional manager and the Director of Somethings (it’s been far too long a day to remember specifics) out of your store, you close the door and collapse against it. You make eye contact with the day’s floor workers and smile gratuitously at them with an exhausted nod. “Alright, good job, team, think that’ll keep them off our backs for a little while.”

“You were amazing, chief,” one of them grins, and you wave them off, pulling a face of disbelief. “You really had your head in the game today!”

“I swear to fucking god, if any of you start singing High School Musical…” you falter through the first half of your threat, not having any of the brainpower to finish it. Thankfully, the silence is filled with your team’s laughter, instead.

“Nah, seriously, you were on one today. Haven’t seen you like it in yonks,” another pipes up.

“Yeah, well,” you shake your head, “believe it or not, I’d rather do all that all over again than what I’ve got waiting for me at home.”

“Oo-er, trouble in paradise?” One teases, and you throw two fingers up at them as a joking insult.

“Trust me, living with someone like Ralph is far from paradise sometimes,” you shake your head, but you let out a tension-relieving rasp of breath at that sentiment. The way you’re talking about him makes it look as though the ensuing awkwardness of the evening is his fault. You woke up too late. You rushed yourself out of your sleep. You kissed Ralph again. How on earth were you going to explain this to him?! You can’t tell him the truth, that you’d been dreaming so vividly about a situation where kissing him would be so normal that you just forgot that it wasn’t. Maybe you could call it a modern tradition to kiss people on their birthday? But then he’d expect it from the others, and you’d have to explain to them why he’s expecting it. Which would unravel as to why it would be weird for you to kiss Ralph, which would unravel the truth of Ralph’s circumstances. And you’re in far too deep, now.

The walk to your car, the drive home, even opting to walk up all nine flights of stairs still proves fruitless as you try and think of any excuse to give to Ralph.

But thankfully, in true Ralph fashion, he seems to have created his own problem to discuss instead, as you open the door to find your furniture splayed out across the expanse of the flat, all at various angles. “Okay,” you start, alarming an unusually extra-jumpy Ralph, “I’ve had the most insane day at work, so I’m clearly just imagining this. I’m going to close the door, open it again, and everything will be the way it always is.” You step back, swinging the door shut, take a deep breath and open it again to find the flat still in total disarray. You rub your face with your palms. “Dare I ask?”

“Ah! Well, I’ve had quite the brainwave today! I really thought that all of this furniture could do with a little… Revamp, and so I’ve found some pieces that I thought could really brighten the place up, and some wouldn’t quite fit, unless! I had an idea! Since we have the stools now, we can begone with the table in front of the sofa, and then I thought that would open up the space for one of those ones that’s also a bed, but then I thought, well that’s pointless now, isn’t it? But then I had another bright idea, what if we moved things around to create some more open space here near the entryway, and then perhaps we could create an area for playing more of those card games with everybody instead of all being hunched over that tiny little coffee table, and -”

You zone out for most of his rambling, but you check back in in time to interrupt him. “Oh my god, please breathe.” Ralph takes a deep breath in, but he can’t seem to focus his gaze on you. “Even if we could get the furniture up here, getting all new stuff would cost money that neither of us have -”

“Ah, but that’s the remarkable part! There are apps that sell furniture for cheaper! I found one, it’s called Ebbay -” somewhere between your tiredness and the hilarious mispronunciation of eBay means you decide not to correct him - “and they sell secondhand furniture for far cheaper, and a lot of it is still in good condition!”

You groan, “Please tell me you haven’t bought anything yet.”

“Oh, heavens, no, it appears to be some kind of auction, and Mother banned Victoria and I from attending those when we were young for assuming it was a consequenceless game and accidentally spending frivolous amounts of Father’s money on items we certainly had neither the room nor the use for!”

The mental image of a young Ralph simply waving a paddle around for the sake of it at a high-end art auction charms you just enough to take your mind off of that matter, and to finally get around to addressing the elephant in the room. “Look, Ralph…” you start slowly. “I really think we should talk about this morning -”

“Oh, what? That?” Ralph asks, visibly shaking. “No, no! No need to talk about that, there are far more important matters at hand! Now, if I could just bend your ear about -”

“Ralph, we do not need more furniture!” you interject impatiently, and his face falls, still not making eye contact with you. “What is with you?!” You look around the flat for some kind of clue, and finally spot a take-out cup with the same logo as the new cafe that opened up opposite. “Oh, thank fuck it’s just coffee this time,” you sigh with relief as Ralph’s dilated eyes continue to dart in every direction.

“Yes, although I shall miss the plants a great deal, it is rather a splendid alternative, now that I know what I like! And whoever it was that was working there was incredibly charming, I’m already a favourite - oh,” he goes from giddy excitement to a flat deadpan. “Oh, heavens, was I being wooed earlier?”

Most likely, you think to yourself. Who wouldn’t want to flirt with Ralph? “Alright, listen,” you hold his biceps at arm’s length, and he finally looks straight at you. Big, blown-out, warm brown doe eyes bore into you intently. Swallowing hard, you continue, “You’re probably due to crash any minute, so there’s no point in trying to think anything through, you’re not in the right frame of mind. Just go lay down in the bed, sleep it off, and we can get ready for tonight when you wake up.”

“You look rather tired, yourself,” Ralph looks concerned. “Perhaps we would both benefit from a nap?”

“Yeah,” you rub an eye sleepily. “Yeah, I could take an hour’s kip on the sofa once I get it back to normal again.”

“W-well, there’s no harm in us both still sharing the bed, is there?” He asks, his eyebrows knitting together. “Plus, if you sleep through another alarm, at least I would be right there to wake you.”

Blinking slowly, you look disbelievingly at him. “So, you knew I was sleeping through my alarm and you didn’t think to do anything else to wake me?!”

“You always complain that you forget to switch your alarms off on days that you don’t need them! I assumed -” his yawn interrupts him, causing you to yawn as well. “The evil contagious yawns are back,” he muses, and you laugh under your breath.

“Yeah. Let’s just go to bed, shall we?” You ask in resignation, padding your way over to the bedroom and deciding that putting the flat back is not a task for your current self.

You awaken not by your alarm, but far sooner than it from the sound of panicked shouting coming from the other room. You fly out of bed, vaulting over Ralph’s body entirely and waking him up in the process. You swing the door open to find your friends looking terrified and calling your name. “Oh my god, babe, I think you’ve been burgled!” Grace states breathlessly through her squeezed cheeks as she looks around in horror, hands holding her face the whole time.

You can’t help but giggle, “Sorry to panic you all, but crisis averted. Ralph decided to do some sudden renovations on a caffeine high and crashed before we could fix it.” Ralph emerges from behind you, looking in wide-eyed fear at the prospect of an intruder. “He’s the robber you’re worried about!” You jerk your head at Ralph from where he stands, and all four of your friends all exchange strangely knowing glances at each other. “What?”

“Furniture all over the place, you two in the bedroom…” Scott smirks quietly. “Guess we were the intruders, after all!”

You feel yourself get flustered, while Ralph seems to have thankfully not heard. “Oh, piss off, do we look as though anything happened?” You hiss, and everyone merely looks at each other in the same way.

Ralph instead looks at everyone’s hands intensely to make sure they’ve all understood the assignment for tonight. He had requested no gifts for his birthday, as he had insisted that everything everyone has done for him has been more than enough, but he wanted to celebrate by getting as many of his friends together for a night out as possible. His girl gang had suggested a rather high-end club in the city, which everyone is happy enough to meet at to compensate for not buying gifts. The one thing your friends have been looking forward to the most about Ralph’s birthday is getting him on public transport.

Once everyone has helped you get the flat back in order, you and Ralph get ready - as separately as you can show your friends - and you make your way over to the train station - but not before grabbing a McDonald’s to eat on the train. Ralph initially turns his nose up at the thought of eating such a meal out in the open, but after Connor reminds him of the dangers of drinking on an empty stomach, he wolfs his burger and fries down while you’re all still waiting at the platform.

Ralph rushes ahead of you all to press the button that opens the doors, jumping up and down with glee as the doors do, in fact, slide open. He leaps onto the train to make sure he gets a window seat, despite it being too dark outside to see anything. You, Connor and Anna all sit at the four-seat bay with him, while Scott and Grace sit on the other side with their partners. Nobody can take their eyes off of Ralph, though, who seems enamoured at the view through the window as the train moves even though most of it is plunged in the pitch black of night.

You make a plan for the Underground - teach Ralph how to use his new Oyster card to get through the barriers, then Connor was to take the lead in charging ahead, with you quickly following, Ralph in tow by way of you holding his hand, with Anna also holding his other hand behind him to make sure he didn’t get lost. You tell Ralph over and over again of how ruthless the Tube is, and that there is no room for manners, or dithering, or anything other than getting to the next train as quickly as possible. He finds it all rather overwhelming, especially as he learns the hard way that standing up on the Underground means having to hold on at all times, but his eyes light up as his body is thrown around under his grasp on the hand rail. He giggles at the names of certain stations, such as Plimlico, and you curse yourself that nobody knew of a good enough place to go that would be on the same line as Cockfosters station. Oh, to see Ralph’s reaction to that name.

Most of Ralph’s girl friends greet you outside of the bar, as well as one of his work colleagues. “I’ve been told to tell you that Babs appreciates the invite, but she’s already had enough of her body replaced that she’s not in the business of seeing what else science can do for her,” they recite to Ralph, to your amusement.

“You invited your boss?!” You ask him through laughter. “The lady who’s like 107?!”

“84,” he corrects you indignantly, “and I was simply trying to be nice!”

“Yeah, looks like you extended that nicety to the customers, too,” his colleague smirks as someone strides over confidently.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Ralph, how many strangers have you invited?!”

“None!” He frowns. “This is a friend!” He smiles and claps as this friend of his that nobody seems to recognise approaches.

“’Sup, everybody? He-hey, Ralph! Happy birthday, my dude,” he greets, taking Ralph’s hand to shake it.

If the accent hadn’t already been a dead giveaway, Ralph nods excitedly, waggling his eyebrows. “He’s American!” He says to you pointedly, as though showing off.

You suck your lips in, trying desperately not to be too sarcastic in response so as not to embarrass him in front of his new friend, but you do allow yourself a little snarky, “Exotic,” comment, knowing it’d just go over Ralph’s head.

“He calls me dude,” Ralph continues proudly before introducing him to the group by name. “Um, Connor, would you be so kind as to introduce him to the ladies? I just have a small matter to discuss, I shall fill you in later,” he looks to his friend with a greater intent in mind, and Connor happily obliges.

“So, how did you meet Mister Cowabunga over there?” Grace smirks.

Ralph does not look amused. “He likes to come in on his work breaks to see what new ideas we’ve - I’ve - come up with! He has quite the experience level, though, he says that when he was younger, he worked in a whole city that was devoted to partying so he’s seen plenty of costumes in his time, but he says they’re nothing like what our shop does!”

You all allow yourself the moment of silence it takes to process how differently Ralph has perceived something yet again, but Grace’s boyfriend permeates that with a, “Wait, isn’t Party City just a chain store over in the Sta-”

“Yeah,” Anna nods quietly, “yeah, it is. Just let him think what he thinks, though.”

Grace also nods, “Trust me, babe, there is not enough time in this world to convince Ralph of something he’s wrong about. Just smile and nod.”

“So, did you only invite him because he gives you a very generic nickname?” You smirk.

“No! I have a plan,” he claps his hands together again. “I am going to wing him with someone tonight.”

“Right, and just who are you playing wingman with on his behalf?” You ask in a subtle attempt to correct him, but of course, it goes in one ear and out the other.

“Well, I thought he might be a good match for Charlotte, you know? He seems so calm about everything all of the time, and she’s quite… Excitable, albeit in a violent manner. I think he could possibly help her to chill out.”  He looks around at all of your dropped jaws and throws his hands up exasperatedly. “Oh, heavens, what more could I have possibly gotten wrong for you all to keep judging me on my birthday, no less!”

“No, Ralph, you said that perfectly. Like, in context and everything,” Anna smiles proudly at him, and he beams back.

“Well, then! Who’s the bee’s knees now?!” He asks confidently, striding over to join the girls with his chest puffed out.

“And he’s back,” you mutter under your breath as you follow him, to Anna’s amusement as you link arms with her.

The girls seem to have arranged for a special VIP listing which they vouch for everyone personally, which you’re grateful for as you suddenly remember that, had that not occurred, Ralph has no ID, and your luck with that is bound to run out any day now. But that day is not today, and so you can relax somewhat. Just before you go in, you debrief all his other friends on his drink tolerance, and his American friend finds it particularly hilarious that Ralph can turn different types of drunk at will depending on what drink he has.

Everyone has already assured that since a) most of you are a fair distance away from home, and b) tonight is all about Ralph, nobody will get too drunk so that everyone can focus on making sure that he has a good night. You get into the bar, with its rhythmically thumping bass and dim lights, and immediately get hit with the tiredness you’d been putting off. Shit. You don’t want to risk drinking to the point that it’s going to make you even more drowsy, nor do you especially want to be the only sober one of the group; especially after the day you’ve had, knowing there was a drink and a good time waiting for you by the evening was the only thing keeping you going.

You head up to the cocktail bar and see that they’ve got something called an espresso martini. Perhaps that’ll keep me going, you think to yourself, though you make sure you personally tell everyone in the party to make sure that Ralph doesn’t get bought it - after the events of earlier, the last thing you need is to try and rein home a caffeinated birthday boy on the night train home.

The bartender lets you know that his specialty is actually a banana espresso martini, and that he only makes it for his favourites. He slides the glass over to you with a wink and a gesture that alludes to him expecting you to drink it in front of him. The bitterness of the espresso is cut short by the sweet taste of what you assume must be banana, even though you hadn’t specified. Bit presumptuous, you think to yourself, what if I was allergic? Still, the tastes complement each other well, and so you hold your glass up to him and nod. He looks you up and down and bites his lip as he turns to serve another customer, and Anna sidles up to you, one of Ralph’s other friends, Emily, closely following. “Well, guess I know where we can find you tonight!”

You look at her in confusion. “Excuse me?”

Her new friend points over at the bartender. “Come off it, we was halfway through coming over to tell you two to get a room when he’d finished with you!"

“Excuse me?” You repeat, now wide-eyed.

“Oh, come on, you can’t say you didn’t realise he was flirting with you!” Anna exclaims. You shrug and shake your head and she scoffs, “Seriously? What is it, hm, you got your eye on someone else?”

Your face deflates as you rasp in disbelief. “Give over,” you shake your head, but as you innocently sip, you chance a look over at Ralph, to see him chatting away with his American friend and a girl who you vaguely remember as going from wanting to fight you to fighting for you within seconds in a bathroom about four months ago. This doesn’t go undetected, but the fact that it hasn’t remains undetected by you.

Considering how exhausted you are, you actually last well through the night. Every time you feel yourself starting to wind down, you simply order yourself another drink, grab at least two of Ralph’s - and now, you suppose, your - friends and get on the dance floor until one of you inevitably needs the bathroom, to which you all go together.

At one point, you’re there with his friends Lauren (or Loz, if Ralph’s around) and Hannah. “You alright, hun?” Hannah asks, making you realise you’ve been stood in a trance-like state for however long.

“Hm? Oh! Yeah, just dead tired. Had a long day at work, and not enough time to nap before getting out here,” you shake your head and wave her off.

“Okay, well, don’t feel like you have to bottle stuff up, alright? Me and Lauren, and all the rest of us, we’re here for you if you need us, okay?”

“Yeah, just ’cause we’re Ralph’s friends, don’t mean we’re not also yours,” Lauren rubs your shoulder comfortingly.

“Thanks,” you offer them both a small smile, “but I promise that’s all this is. If I have anything truly on my mind, I promise I’ll book an appointment for some toilet therapy.”

Lauren cackles loudly, “Good! I’ll have to start charging you lot soon!”

After some bathroom mirror selfies, which warm your heart that Ralph’s friends are opening their arms to you as well, you head back to the bar. Ralph is still very much playing wingman, and it actually seems to be working. Charlotte seems far more fixated on the American than on Ralph, even when the latter is talking. Already warmed by his friends’ affection for you, your chest almost bursts at the sight of Ralph just… Existing happily, amongst people he didn’t even need you to introduce him to. Living his own little life. That all starts to sink when you then remember that he’s going to have to pull himself away from all of this to live a life that doesn’t appreciate him the way people do now.

And then comes the strangest feeling yet. As you watch the three of them take their shots - it’s just too dark to make out what they’re drinking, but it at least looks darker than vodka, thankfully - you just about catch eye contact with Ralph from the corner of his eye, keeping it as he puts the glass to his mouth and tips the shot down his throat. Something about that whole interaction has you feeling light-headed, accompanied by a sort of tingling sensation that moves through your body, but most definitely starts and ends between your legs. 

As you process everything, you sigh loudly in resignation, which doesn’t go unnoticed by your new friends. “Alright, come on, what’s up, babes?” Lauren asks. “Tell me exactly what’s in your head, right now.”

In a fleeting moment of sheer lack of autonomy, either caused by lack of sleep, the presence of alcohol, or a bit of both, you simply shake your head and sigh, “I’m gonna have to fuck him before he goes, aren’t I?” When you come to, oblivious to what you’ve just admitted to, you have the urge to check your bag for your phone. “Shit,” you mutter to yourself, “think I left it in the bathroom. Um, would you get this one for me and I’ll buy yours next time?” You ask either of them, confused as to how they’re so dumbfounded, but Lauren nods.

“Sure thing, hun, take your time.” Once you’re out of earshot, the two girls slap at each other’s arms. “Did you hear that?!”

“Yeah, but what did it mean?!” Hannah asks, shaking her head.

“Well, based on who’s around us, if that was triggered by seeing whoever it was about, there’s only two options, in’t there?” Lauren flashes her eyes, gestures with her head and points over to where Ralph is now chatting to just his American friend.

“So… Ralph?” Hannah asks excitedly, but Lauren sucks the air in through her teeth.

“Nah, I don’t think so. I wish it was, I love a good rom-com moment, but why say before he goes? Ralphie would have told us if he were going anywhere, but I’m assuming Mister United States over there isn’t here forever, so…” She shrugs.

“Oh, but that’d break his heart,” Hannah pouts.

“Who’s breaking what’s heart? Lemme at them,” Connor interrupts jokingly, with Anna, Emily and Ralph’s colleague in tow.

Lauren and Hannah fill the others in on what’s just happened, and Anna and Connor look at each other excitedly. “What, were you guys rooting for Team… Whatever the other guy’s name is, not Ralph?” Lauren frowns, making Connor laugh.

“Oh, we are very much Team Ralph,” Anna waggles her eyebrows, informing the other girls of how they’d all interrupted yours and Ralph’s “shared nap”. As Scott and his partner join the conversation, quickly waving over Grace and her boyfriend, too, everyone starts swapping stories about you and Ralph that have convinced them all to start shipping the two of you. As though they could sense the vibe, the other girls also start to gravitate towards the group as the conversation goes on.

“So that’s it, then,” Scott shrugs. “We tell them that they’re madly in love with each other and finally get this painstaking slow burn over and done with!”

Lauren hums in disagreement, her eyes narrowing. “Hmm, I don’t know. Ralph would never believe us in a month of Sundays, remember that whole mess when they matched on Tinder?”

“When they WHAT?!” Your unaware friends chorus.

“Yep, Ralph accidentally,” Lauren holds up air quotations at the word, “hit the super like option or whatever, I don’t use Tinder, and ended up automatically matching with you-know-who.” The others vibrate with excitement. “So, we laid out an entire game plan to have Ralph finally confront everything, and what does he do? Panics as soon as they start talking, calls it an accident and runs away to call us, blathering on.”

“Right before that shitty date of his, too,” Emily scowls. “He could have dodged such a bullet, there.”

“Those two have taken so many easily dodged bullets, I wouldn’t place my money on either of them in a game of Russian Roulette,” Scott pulls a face, making everyone laugh.

“So, yeah, I don’t think we’re much use, there,” Lauren shrugs. “Sadly, I think the only way those two idiots are gonna get together is whenever they finally figure it out for themselves.”

“Right, we better start planning now what care home we’re all going to, so we can at least see it out together,” Connor nods, taking a little extra pride in how Lauren laughs louder than everyone else.

“God,” Ralph’s colleague pipes up with a laugh, “I had no idea about any of this, I can’t wait to tell Babs!”

~~~

Once you’ve grabbed your phone and gotten back to the main room, Lauren and Hannah are lost in a crowd of your other friends. You look over at the only other place you know definitely has at least one other person you know. You watch as Charlotte and the American - you wish you had the brainpower to remember his name right now - go off on their own and, not wanting to leave Ralph unattended for too long for fear of literally any consequence, you make a beeline for him. “Hey there, birthday boy!” You grin.

He flashes his phone up, and you get a glimpse of his lock screen - a photo of the six of you at New Year’s. “Not anymore, unfortunately! It has passed midnight now, so it is the day after,” he frowns.

You nudge his arm, “Yeah, well, it’s still your birthday in some countries, and we haven’t slept yet, so tomorrow isn’t today yet, either!” You raise your eyebrows at him, and he looks perplexed back at you. You giggle, “Never mind, ignore me. Been a hell of a day.”

“Yes, I can imagine. You, um, must have been under an awful lot of stress all day,” he mutters, barely audible over the thumping music.

“I know, I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to properly give you your card and your present, although hey! Extra birthday tomorrow! Who cares what time it is?!”

He frowns, “I specified no gifts, I just wanted a night surrounded by the people I care about the most, and I certainly have had that!”

You smirk, “Yeah, except we’ve barely seen you, Casanova!”

He laughs bashfully, “Yes, well, I thought I’d give a little something back, in return.”

“By giving Charlotte someone to distract her with?” You laugh.

“Not only that,” Ralph muses. “You talk a lot about teaching me how to assert myself more, and proving that what I have to say matters. I wanted to - well, firstly, to show myself that if I could do it for others, I could do it for myself, too, but - I wanted to show you, as well. What you’ve done for me. And why I must insist that I cannot receive any more of a gift from you.”

Just toeing the edge of alertness enough to know it’s a bad idea to kiss him again, you instead opt for throwing your arms around him and hugging him tightly. He reciprocates for a while, until your supposed love interest for the night, the bartender interrupts to ask if you want anything. You insist on buying Ralph a martini, but not yourself, partly to start allowing for a steady and time-appropriate decline into exhaustion, and partly to ensure Ralph has no idea that the espresso martini exists, though you doubt he’d be privy to the bartender’s “special”.

You get lost in your own thoughts for a second. If the bartender had really been flirting with you, so obviously that it was spotted from the other side of the room, why didn’t you tell? Even through the tiredness, it’s been long enough that surely even your “take what you can get” instinct would have latched onto that and run with it. But something just felt so wrong about the way he approached you. Immediately calling you a favourite without knowing you. The wink and the way he looked at you like you were some kind of object to be claimed. 

The word you’re looking for hits you with another realisation. It feels vulgar, and you only know one person who would use that phrasing. Ralph’s purity mindset has permeated your brain now, to the point where you can’t even allow yourself to be flirted with. If your dating life wasn’t already dead in the water, it certainly is now. Who, in all of London, would be willing to have the patience to “court” you and “woo” you the way Ralph insists you “deserve”?

“Are you alright?” His concern pierces through your train of thought, and you shake yourself back to reality to nod at him. “The man behind the bar said you should take this. I took a little sip to be safe, and it certainly seems to just be water.”

You thank Ralph with a grateful nod as you take a sip, before turning to catch the bartender’s eye and smile warmly at him, too. You hadn’t meant to buffer his advances, you just… Don’t care about seeking anyone else out at the moment. And yet, the only person you do care about doing that with, you’re doomed to never get to. What a tragic life.

Trying not to focus on the doom and gloom of it all, you try and distract yourself. “So, about Charlotte and Whatshisface,” you state as you start to approach the rest of your friends, who seem to hurriedly hush each other. “That seems to have gone well.”

“Certainly! And I have my eye on my next two subjects already,” he replies coyly before slinking himself away to rejoin the group, specifically standing next to both Connor and Lauren - Loz, now that Ralph’s here.

You all gradually drink, dance and sing the rest of the night away until the time to get ready to catch the night bus home looms. You slide into a seat on it, opting for the side closest to the window, and allowing yourself to switch off, merely enjoying the feeling of the bus beneath your forehead, vibrating away. You only know that Ralph has decided to sit next to you because, of all the slowly fading voices, Ralph’s is still the loudest.

You’re prodded awake by Ralph, who leans awkwardly to do so as you’re draped across him, head slipped just off of his shoulder to rest above his chest but still very much on his torso. You jolt up, hurriedly apologising, but Ralph waves you off. “Oh, pish-posh, Connor woke me up with such a forceful slap to my other shoulder I fear I’ll be bruised in the morning!”

“You fell asleep, too?” You ask, amused, before groaning. “Oh, god, there’s gonna be pictures of us sleeping on each other circulating the group chats for weeks now.”

“Well, that’s not a problem, is it? Not if we don’t make it so.” You’re not sure where Ralph’s managed to find such profoundness, but it impresses you. “Connor woke me up to say that he was getting off, but that the next one is ours.”

You nod, “Wanna push the button to tell the driver we’re next?” And watch affectionately how giddy Ralph gets at the action of pressing the button, hearing the bell and seeing the “Bus Stopping” sign light up.

You both thank the driver and walk back to the flats, thankful that the bus stop is barely a two-minute walk. Once you’re back at the flat, Ralph clears his throat. “Um… I suppose… Since it is still my birthday… And I’m certainly not tired for the moment…”

“You wanna open your present now?” You beam, and he mirrors you back in response. “Gimme a minute.” You rush to the bedroom and fish it out from your hiding spot. “Okay, you can come in!” You call for Ralph to follow you, and invite him to sit on the bed, which he does. As you brandish it to him, you explain, “At first, I got it because I saw it and I thought it’d look great as one of your window displays, but then I looked inside it and I thought… Well, you’ll see, “ you prompt, and he tears open the packaging.

He looks astonished at the sight in his lap. A suit jacket, golden in colour, adorned with sunburst and jacquard patterns. He lifts it out and turns it over to see an almost glistening black fabric. “Well, good heavens, this looks just like -”

Excitedly, you interrupt, “Look at the inner pocket! Left side!”

He pulls the jacket open to reveal a label: Tailored by Dower & Smyth for the personal wardrobe of Lord R. Penbury. His jaw drops. “Y- This couldn’t possibly - This is… Mine?” You nod vigorously, and he looks up at you, his doe eyes wide with shock.

“How weird, right? It’s like it was fate or something! It was just in some charity shop!”

“Yes, well, I’d rather not dwell on that,” he mutters under his breath as he carefully folds the jacket back onto his lap. “You know… This was tailored for mine and my sister’s 25th birthday party. The day we met Lauren and the rest of them.”

“That’s the first time you’ve said her name without hesitating or blubbering,” you point out light-heartedly, and he lets out a small chuckle, though it’s heavy with sadness. Not the usual woe-is-me, romantic-tragedy sadness, though. A different kind.

“It’s also the first time I’ve really thought of my sister today. My own twin, my... supposed other half. On her birthday, too. What a terrible brother I am,” he wrings his hands together, but you interrupt by forcing yours between his to hold one.

“Oi, none of that,” you start. “Considering how shit of a sister she was to you, and that she’s probably long gone by now, I think it’s allowed.”

“Do you think she mourned me?” Ralph asks quietly. “I mean, surely at some point they would have presumed me dead eventually. Do you think they held me a service? No, don’t answer that, what a morbid end to such a wonderful day.”

“Hey, I’d started this mess of a day, it’s only fair that you end it that way, too,” you tease, which makes him laugh a little. “I think… It shouldn’t matter either way. When you go back, I’m sure H.P can get you back to a time when they’ll still think you’re off with the Army or whoever you went to join. And before then… Who gives a shit? They’re not here, now. And they never did anything to deserve you in life, so why should they get to in death?” You shrug, squeezing his hand. “You’ve really found a way to find your people here, Ralph. I could see that tonight. And trust me, if you can win people over in this day and age, you can do it anywhere.”

Ralph blinks back tears and pats your linked hands with his free one. “I suppose I should get ready for an actual night’s sleep.”

“Sure thing,” you smile as you let go of him. Once he carefully hangs his present up, and grabs some pyjamas, he heads into the bathroom. You, too, quickly change into something far more comfortable, but your attention is interrupted as you notice that Ralph hasn’t quite shut the door between the bedroom and the bathroom. And that he is apparently the kind of person to strip all the way down to his underwear and then put his next outfit on. Watching him feels wrong, perverted, scandalous. But you can’t tear your eyes from him. His slender structure, with just the perfect amount of chub to form a perfect little tummy. One that also has a smattering of hair that leads down from his navel and beyond, burying itself beneath the elastic of his -

That’s when you pull yourself away from your sickest train of thought yet. Whatever prompted you to start objectifying Ralph like this, you hope it ends soon. Quickly throwing your own night clothes on, you silently await his return so that you can quickly head into the bathroom to wash your face, making sure you have the water as cold as possible.

Once you get back into the bedroom, though, Ralph looks at you apologetically. “What’s up?” you ask.

“You got me the most thoughtful present anyone could have done and I didn’t even have the decency to thank you for it.”

“Ahh, don’t be so silly,” you smirk, sitting on the bed that he’s already tucked himself into. “Your reaction was more than enough.”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly jumping off the walls,” Ralph frowns, but you shake your head.

“Doesn’t matter. I could tell how much it meant to you anyway, plus it got you to open up, which speaks volumes.” You reach over and take his hand again. “You know what you said earlier? About proving yourself to me, and to you, too?” He nods, and you grin. “Everything you just said about Victoria, and again, not being scared to say Lauren’s name anymore? That’s everything I need to know I aced that gift.”

“It truly is a wonderful find,” Ralph nods, once again misty-eyed. “Though I must again insist for the billionth time that everything you all have done for me to get me to that point is more than enough of a gift to last me many lifetimes.”

“And I must insist for the billion-and-one-th time, phooey to that! You deserve to be spoilt!” You grin. “And not in your usual little-rich-boy way,” you quickly add as Ralph’s brow knits together.

“I was about to say that you often refer to my past as being rather spoiled,” he comments, and you laugh.

“Yeah, but that’s more in a rich-people way. You deserve to be spoilt in other ways, for other reasons. But I better not talk too much about that, you need to fit your head through the door to go to work tomorrow afternoon!”

“Yes, I suppose we should both go to sleep soon, should we not?” Ralph asks, looking at the free side of the bed expectantly.

“Yeah, I guess,” you give in, throwing back the cover and basically dropping yourself onto your mattress.

Ralph sidles up to make his way slightly closer to the middle of the bed, “So, we should probably make sure we’re comfortable, shouldn’t we?”

You sigh with realisation. “That shot you had earlier was whiskey, wasn’t it?”

“I’ve had several, yes,” he admits quietly. “Though they were all bought for me before I could request my own drinks!”

“It’s fine,” you comfort him with a laugh. “So, big spoon or little?” You look over to see him mouthing your words back at you in confusion, so you hold your hands up in the air to demonstrate. “Two spoons, yeah?” You cup your hands and place one in the other. “Big spoon holds little spoon.”

Ralph nods. “So, I should be the bigger spoon, correct? Since I am… Bigger."

You shrug, "Not necessarily. Sometimes the little spoon is more figurative than literal. Though that's more, I guess… Backpacking than spooning," you laugh to yourself.

Ralph ponders for a moment. "Well, I suppose under any normal circumstances I would opt to be the big spoon, but… I think after everything, I should rather prefer to… To be held, I think."

"Alright, then, over you go," you gesture for him to roll over on his side, and you line yourself up to tuck his shoulder just under your chin as you wrap am arm around him, moving the rest of your body to fit the shape of his comfortably. "This alright for you?" You ask, unable to see his smiling, contented face.

"Just perfect," he replies wistfully, and you squeeze back in affirmation.

"Good. Night, Ralphie. Hope it ended up being a good birthday for you."

"Just perfect," he repeats in the same tone, "all of it." And before he can say anything else, and before you can think too much about that addition, you both fall asleep in synchronisation.

next chapter

[delopsia]

del 🌼🍰🩷🌷💓 (i’ll let you decide if you’d like to include why or any headcanon-y tidbits that pop into your lovely noggin) 💐 but if you had to assign one for each man (hawthorn au rhett & robby)…

hotdog / hamburger 

pancakes / waffles (or a secret third thing, french toast)

onion rings / french fries

milkshake / soda float 

autumn / spring

cake / pie

usually in a hat / almost never in a hat (cowboy or ballcap)

chocolate flavored treat / fruit flavored treat

cats / dogs

most likely to text / most likely to call

(in the event of needing only one vehicle) who’s driving / who’s riding shotgun

big spoon / little spoon

Omg hello 🌷🍓💕

hotdog / hamburger Bobby is absolutely a hotdog kind of guy; he's the primary reason they appear at every Dagger Cookout. He can find Hamburgers near every fast food chain, so when he gets the chance, he'll absolutely go for a hotdog, but that's only if they're pan-fried or off the grill. They've gotta be a little bit charred.

Rhett loves to give him trouble for the amount of toppings he'll put on them, too. It's a remnant from when he was in college; his momma got him one of those indoor grills, and the only thing he could really afford to grill was hotdogs. At some point, he got bored of the flavor and learned to experiment ���

Rhett is the hamburger guy; it's just something he's learned to appreciate after a lifetime of raising beef cattle. He's pretty damn good at finding the good stuff, too, and fortunately enough, he's decently handy at operating a grill. It's the one thing he can cook, and he's damn proud of it.

pancakes / waffles (or a secret third thing, french toast) Rhett's heavily on the side of waffles; he likes that they're crispier than pancakes. Sometimes, he'll add chocolate chips or eat 'em plain without syrup; it depends on what he's craving.

Bob though? Die-hard french toast lover. Especially when he can add berries to them. Strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, together or individually. He'll even add some banana every now and then. Momma Floyd used to make them every Saturday morning, and they never fail to take him right back to his childhood.

Until Rhett drives by and steals a bite, at least.

onion rings / french fries A part of me likes to reckon that Rhett was the french fry lover until Bob finally convinced him to give them a second try. Come to find out, not every onion ring tastes like the vile ones he got from that Wabang gas station. Now you've got to beat him back with a broom to keep him from stealing one or three.

milkshake / soda float  Bobby adores his milkshakes, especially if there's a cherry involved 🤍 but he's been known to lean over and steal some of Rhett's beloved rootbeer float every now and again.

autumn / spring Rhett's an autumn soul. It's the prime season of his favorite sport, that time of year when his flannel and jeans aren't too hot or too cold. He's been known to come in with a leaf clinging to the brim of his hat as well 🍁

Bobby is spring. His allergies absolutely hate the season to its core, but he loves to venture out and see all the new flowers. You've gotta be careful with him because he'll go out and buy a bunch of flowers to plant in the garden, and he'll be sick before he's even got them out of the truck 🌷

cake / pie Pie and cake is a funny thing in this house. Rhett adores ice cream cake, but if it's not that, then he'll tell you that he likes pie (it's because Bobby makes them). Robby enjoys both, but he leans toward fruit-flavored pies. Now if you pull out a cake with fruit in/on it...

usually in a hat / almost never in a hat. Rhett has to be pried out of his hat; it's a little bit ridiculous. He's so used to needing one around the ranch that he just? Doesn't? Know how to act without one? He feels naked if he steps outside without one. And then there are the days when he's so tired that he walks into the house and forgets to take it off...

Bob isn't a fan of wearing them because they tend to mess up his hair, but sometimes Rhett will notice him squinting in the sunlight and offers up a spare. However, he isn't above stealing Rhett's cowboy hat in the privacy of their own home. Sometimes, Rhett will be sitting on the couch, and he'll see his own hat pass by in the corner of his eye.

chocolate flavored treat / fruit flavored treat Fruit and Bobby go together way too well; if the name mentions fruit, then he's more than likely gonna reach for it. Rhett? Cannot be separated from chocolate. Cheap, expensive, obscure, it doesn't matter. Their tastes collide for chocolate covered fruits 🍓

cats / dogs Cats are universally loved, but Bob is the true cat guy. He can walk into a room, and every cat in the vicinity will wind up in his lap. Likewise, Rhett can take a nap in the barn and more often than not, wakes up to a barn kitty on his chest. But he's truly a dog person; he's found half a dozen strays and converted them to ranch puppies.

most likely to text / most likely to call Bob is the texter. He's not all that great at filling the silence during phone calls. He just can't think of anything to say, you know? Unfortunately for him, Rhett has big thumbs and sometimes struggles to type on that tiny little screen, so he just calls without warning.

who’s driving / who’s riding shotgun Rhett loves to be the driver, given that he's in a semi-rural area/not in a city. The winding roads unravel all the worries that have collected up in his head. Robby loves riding shotgun; getting to lay back and gaze out the window is one of his favorite parts of being in the truck. There are so many things you don't notice when you're doing the driving! But he will get motion-sick if you put him in the backseat, so his riding options are somewhat limited.

big spoon / little spoon Big spoon Bobby! It's his favorite thing. He doesn't get to feel "big" a lot in his life, he's never been noticeably muscular or had a presence that fills the room before he enters. In fact, he didn't experience it a whole lot until Rhett and Reader wandered into his life.

He's obsessed with the feeling it gives him, like a pillar in the wind, warding off anything that could ever hurt whoever is snuggled into his arms. Rhett, in particular, triggers a sort of protectiveness Bob didn't realize he had. This massive, tough-as-nails cowboy trusts him this much? Ugh.

Likewise, Rhett adores being able to exchange his strength for vulnerability. It's nice to feel protected, especially when he's spent so much of his life being the protector. He's funny when he gets to fall into that role because he loves to snuggle his head over Bob/Reader's chin. He can and will fall asleep like that. Rough and tumble cowboy by day and oversized cuddle bug by night?

[dreamblasterharuka]

In Our Bedroom After the War

For @mt10lt20 with the prompt

Ello got an idea! But no pressure at all and feel free to ignore (cos life happens!) would really like to see your AU take on a Cipher, Pixy, Trigger as a fam. No specific characterizations from me. Your take!

Pixy and Merlin need to catch an early morning flight.

So it was mostly Pixy and Trigger, because I haven’t done anything with those two yet. I hope you enjoy! Title comes from In Our Bedroom After the War by Stars

Also on AO3

It felt like every time Pixy thought he got over his hubris, he was proved horribly, horribly wrong. Granted, he wasn’t dying this time, or doing his best to set the world on fire, but it certainly felt like it.

He blearily watched as the digital clock flickered to 3:31 a.m., hand still on the snooze button. Back when he was a young man, early morning flights and sleep deprivation were par for the course. Just get on the plane and pass out until arrival. Half of the time, he was up until an hour or two before he had to leave enjoying the local nightlife. After retiring from the skies, he still got up early by virtue of never having the luxury of sleeping in. An early flight should have been fine.

This was not fine. Pixy wasn’t a young man anymore. He was a civilian with a spouse and a kid, who worked normal, human hours. It really didn’t help that he rarely slept well without Cipher, and his buddy was on the other side of the continent for a contract. They were well out of harm’s way, but it didn’t ease any of his anxieties that something horrible would happen to them before they got home. When he got the opportunity to see them, he got over-excited and booked the first flight out.

3:32. As tired as he was, time was still moving forward, and he only had some much time to make it through airport security. He forced himself out of bed, and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He trudged down the hallway, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, to his daughter’s room. As expected, Merlin was still fast asleep, clutching her doggy.

The little stuffed animal was an impulse buy. Pixy saw the dog…wolf (it was orange, so it might’ve been a fox, but he personally thought it looked like a dog) and had to get it. Cipher gave him a lot of shit about the great Solo Wing Pixy, infamous mercenary, being forced to buy stuffed animals, but it was Merlin’s favorite and she carried it everywhere. So there.

“Merlin. It’s time to get up kiddo.”

She groaned, and honestly, he agreed.

“C’mon. We’re gonna go see Cipher.”

She shot right up, rubbing her eyes. “M’kay.”

“Do you need help getting dressed?”

She shook her head.

“Alright, I’m gonna go make breakfast now.”

“Okay.”

It was way too early, but the routine was mostly the same. Get the coffee machine working, only one cup this time, and only two slices of bread in the toaster. On other days, he would try to make something healthier, but this would have to do for now.

Merlin stumbled into the kitchen, fully dressed, and tugged on his pant leg. He scooped her up, sat her down at the edge of the sink, and poured her a glass of milk. When the toast was ready, he spread strawberry jam on both and passed one to her. They ate their breakfast in silence over the sink, way too tired to make any conversation. Cipher hated when he ate over the sink like this, but they weren’t there and Merlin was a good secret keeper. After finishing his off, he washed his hands and nearly poured water straight onto Merlin in a father of the year move, before helping her down.

Loading the car was easy. He still packed light, so it was easy to pack all of their stuff in one large duffel bag. Merlin was old enough to get herself situated, but she hadn’t gotten seatbelts down quite yet. They were still working on it, but it wasn't hard to help her. 

The streets were still night dark when they set out. It would be at least an hour before light would even begin to peak over the horizon. He kept an ear on the radio for any traffic updates, but he was pretty sure they’d make there before the morning rush got too bad. Aside from that, it was just boring local news. He tried to comment on them when he could think of something to say, since he read somewhere that it was good for childrens’ development, but she never responded. Hopefully she was listening, and he wasn’t just talking to the air. 

They made it to the airport several hours before they needed to be on the plane. Security was always hit or miss. Volunteering his services in the war and other shady backroom deals covered up most of his records, but sometimes people still remembered him from the documentary. At best, it was an incredibly awkward meeting with security. The extra time was for nothing, and they made it through fairly quick. 

Merlin wanted to walk all the way to the terminal on her own. Unfortunately, their terminal was halfway across the airport, which was just a little too much for the toddler, so he carried her most of the way. He did let her down for the conveyor belt hallways to race. Pixy only let her win half of the time, just to keep things exciting.

It was enough to tucker her out a little, and she seemed content to sit on his lap and point at different planes in her picture book. Every so often he was reminded how calm she was for her age. It had to have come from Cipher, because it sure as hell didn’t come from him. Most of his first memories were of causing problems and getting into trouble. 

The wait felt like an eternity. By the time the boarding call finally came around, they were both half-asleep. But the second other passengers started lining up, Merlin immediately perked up. As he carried her onto the plane, she kept bouncing up and down in his arms.

She clambered over to the window the moment he let her down at their seats. He was pretty sure she would smoosh her face into it if he let her. He had to tell her three times to sit down so he could buckle her. Even then, she leaned up as far as she could go, eyes sparkly.

To an outsider, she just looked like an excitable little kid flying for the first time, but Pixy knew better. He knew that look. He had seen it in the face of every pilot worth their salt. He saw it in Cipher. He used to see it in himself, but he knew that light dimmed well before the end. 

Cipher told him not to worry, but he couldn’t help the dread that pooled in his stomach. Flying was his passion, what he lived for, but it was entwined with pain and violence. For each good memory, there was a devastating loss. Every victory came with someone’s death, soldier or civilian. The world was constantly at the brink of war, and he didn’t have the faith in humanity to think that would change. He didn’t want that for her.

His stomach swooped as they finally lifted off the ground. Lingering anxiety from when he was shot down still clung to him like smoke, no matter how many times he’d done this by now.

“Daddy! Daddy! Look!”

Merlin grabbed his shoulder and shook as hard as she could, which wasn’t very hard. She pointed to the ground, which was rapidly getting farther and farther away. They watched as people, then vehicles, then buildings all shrunk down and began to disappear. After a little bit of turbulence, they breached through the clouds into the clear sky above.

It all seemed so inconsequential from all the way up here. And maybe it was. Maybe he could afford to finally relax and let the chips fall where they may. 

Pixy settled in and watched his daughter watch the clouds. They still had plenty of time.