#I showed this to my housemate and asked if he trusted this man and housemate said no so that means the design works

[ssecond-hand-faith]

Drip, drip, drop little April shower

Cringetober Day Eighteen: Fandom AU

AU where Freelancer either has the worst luck, or the worst taste, in history and ends up with Kody

[verdemoun]

Fun fact, Kieran may have been originally supposed to live longer, at least judging by his many unused voice lines (found on YouTube) and a longer hairstyle which I actually think looks better for him (found on rdr wiki of cut content). Maybe he was supposed to go to Guarma? The voice lines to me suggested going on hunting missions with him but I’m not too sure.

spoilers. obviously

fun fact i have listened to the 2+ hours of Kieran's cut voice lines so many times even my housemates know it and groan when they walk in and i'm listening to it. Did you know one of his cut voice lines for a near miss in a shootout is 'whoo, nearly took my head off!' to foreshadow his eventual demise? And he has several variations of lines telling Arthur to rest with the gentlest tone suggesting he would have been one of the few characters to show concern for Arthur's illness in later chapters? And slightly less relevant but there is a cut interaction in where he asks Jack to sneak him some food only for Arthur to threaten to kill him BUT CALLING HIMSELF UNCLE KIERAN???

screenshots by cad5150

About Guarma, all but confirmed. Here is one of his cut outfits, which I think very obviously suits the vibe of what most of the gang wore in Guarma like compare it to Micah's Guarma outfit in particular. Additionally he has this hood as an outfit accessory: some people think it was intended that when he rides into camp Horsemen Apocalypse there's a moment of the hood being taken off and then the characters having a much more visceral reaction to his eyes being gauged out but personally I think it makes way more sense that he was meant to be in Banking, the Old American Art 'replacing' Sean as an extra gun. Which would have been really cool because I would have loved a conversation where they bring up they're a gun short and it spiral into more reflection on how they're not just a gun short, they're a man down, they lost the 'joy in their lives' Sean Macguire and they were still hurting instead of just NEVER MENTIONING HIM AGAIN other than a few rare character lines.

Side tangent also his scarf is different in his guarma outfit which is it's own essay because if you're going off the blue high honor red low honor theory this so strong implies we could have seen some really cool character development. looking at what the gang were wearing in banking and then in guarma there's no obvious explanation as to where he got it. how cute would it have been if we got a scene where mary-beth gifted him a scarf?? but the also terrifying implication that we might see kieran become less high honour good boy blorbo to someone a bit more morally ambiguous?

I think the question really is how he would have fit in in Guarma, which of course we will never know and considering how much cut content there is about Guarma. Like everyone else in Guarma makes sense: Dutch's descent into immorality being so clear even Arthur questions it, Bill being the one trusted to look after Javier following his rescue, supporting their friendship in rdr1, Micah reaffirming his position as an actual piece of shit in his lines responding to Hosea and Lenny's deaths and complete lack of empathy. Maybe a kieran who is slightly more ruthless and active in shootouts in guarma but also shows compassion for arthur as arthur gets sick? Maybe the attack on Hanging Dog Ranch was meant to be more a revenge for Kieran's death assuming he was taken and killed similarly to his death in chapter 4 (given how much much foreshadowing there is for his death), but just another misery in chapter 6 that hits harder because we have more time to grow attached and see him develop?

Except. Except then we get to cut outfit kieran.

first. hellooooo sailor. but who is this man. who is this man who looks older. and wears a very, very low honour red scarf. and is obviously dressed still as an outlaw, and didn't go live a happy life with mary-beth. is it. is it possible. kieran was not always meant to be doomed by the narrative??

is it possible we would have seen kieran become more loyal to dutch and micah, true to his army abandoning, gang jumping, choosing to ride with the o'driscolls rather than die, immediately 'loyal' to the vdls despite torture because being alone meant certain death, coward nature? or would he have just been a character john could encounter in the epilogue? perhaps shaken by knowing arthur, as one of his very, very few friends, died trying to be a better person and abandoned any effort to be more than an outlaw?

but. but kieran. shirt all buttoned up. scarf on. thick coat. hair slightly feral and wild. why does it looked like you're all dressed up for the cold, buddy? like- like you might have been hiding out up mount hagen.

[theink-stainedfolk]

Bad Love

Have you seen a monster? What did it look like? What did it say? What did you feel? Did it have a smile? Were its eyes empty? Was it a human? Who was your monster?

Narcissus sat in the investigation room handcuffed.

"I don't understand the reason for being here." He said. "Why am I here? What did I do?"

"Listen, you won't be here for too long, that is only if you speak the truth." Inspector Gregory Rothchild said as he sat on the chair.

"Let us ask some basics, okay? State your name."

"Narcissus."

"Real name."

"That is my real name. That was what everyone I knew called me, that is what I remember being called. I was an orphan Inspector, I never had a name." Narcissus argued.

"I apologize for making you feel uncomfortable. So, your occupation?"

"I am a dancer, a singer, an actor. I do all of them, I do shows, and the circus. My main job is a magician. I do magic, I can do it all." Narcissus smirked.

"I'm impressed." Gregory returned the smirk. "Let me tell you the reason for being here." He said and began placing pictures one by one on the table. The pictures of crime scenes and daffodils next to the body.

"....I don't understand. Do you want me to pull out the flower from the picture?" Narcissus asked.

Gregory leaned close to the table. "These are daffodils, also known as Narcissus. "

Narcissus scoffed. "So the flowers being next to the body, the flower named Narcissus being on the crime scenes, ultimately points out me as the murderer, does it? Am I the only Narcissus in the world? Or you picked me Because I was easy? Do you think this is a joke?"

"But you belonged to Sector 386, didn't you?" A voice from behind Gregory called out. A man with a long coat strode towards Narcissus and placed 9 pictures in front of him.

"Each picture has a letter on them, except for the 3 pictures." He said pointing "It wasn't hard to tell what it was saying, but as far as the world knows, or has been told is that Sector 386, was a home to orphans, but unfortunately due to some electrical issues, the place was burned to ashes. Only 5 survived out of 8. One is you right, Narcissus, aka 02?"

Narcissus scowled at him. "Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm Detective Keenan Pratama. Nice to meet you? But let's exchange formalities afterwards, I'm curious about your housemates. Where are the rest of them? Do they know Hades too?"

"Hades?" Narcissus whipped his head at Keenan. "Why do you call him Hades?"

Keenan tilted his head in confusion. "What should we call him then? He leaves Narcissus on the crime scenes, usually his victims receive Narcissus from either someone or they are left at the door or in the house somewhere. Sometimes he carves Cerberus on the victim's body, these are all, somehow related to Hades, the god of the underworld. I named him that, for the time being until we get a hold of his identity. Why are you surprised? Did I hit a bull's eye?"

"STOP ASKING ME ABOUT MY PRIVATE LIFE!!" Narcissus snapped "I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!! I DON'T WANT TO TELL ABOUT MY PAST!!! I DON'T KNOW HIM!! I DON'T WANT TO KNOW ABOUT HIM!! I HAVE NO RELATION WITH HIM!!"

While Gregory tried to calm him down, Keenan looked at him amused. "So I did hit a bull's eye." He mumbled. "It's a pity, Mr. Narcissus, you can't leave this place for the time being. I'll be taking you with me."

"What?!" Gregory turned at him. "Detective Keenan, that's dangerous!"

"Apart from a sleigh of hands, what else can he do? He may try to get away in the darkness of the night but I have insomnia. " Keenan beamed.

"That's not it! What if he tries to kill you?"

"Then I'll trust you to take revenge for me." He said, patting Gregory on his shoulders. "Let's go, Narcissus, we can chat on our way or when you are comfortable."

He cuffed his own hand and Narcissus' hands together. Narcissus scoffed. "Do you think this handcuff can stop me?"

"No." Keenan looked at him. "I absolutely do not doubt your ability in escaping me, since you've been doing those acts at shows, you know and you can escape me. But I believe that the thought of Hades will blur your mind so much that escaping would be hard. I know that you know about Hades. And I know that too, that you want to know about him too."

Narcissus was silent throughout the journey. The thought of Hades was indeed on his mind. Whatever the detective said was true. Was his monster Hades?

@cssnder I hope you find it interesting 😁 and please tell me if or if not I offended you by tagging you.

[halfbakedspuds]

How has your character's professional life affected their romantic relationships?

Thanks so much for the ask. I think I'll answer for Adrian Castellan from Children of the Stars 'cause I just finished writing a scene where he gets his ass kicked, so he's still fresh on my mind.

Adrian Castellan is a Praetor (Roughly translated as 'Guardian' or 'protector' in English) working on the Kradoma branch of the Imperial Upliftment Corps. His job is to help foster the technological and cultural upliftment of a hitherto uncontacted primitive species that equates to our late medieval period in terms of technology.

The problem in regards to romance is that it is an isolating post. He's one of maybe six hundred total humans deployed to the planet, and most days his colleagues are too busy to even respond to messages regarding their job.

Now the Empire and (for the most part) 27th century humanity overall doesn't really care about a human and a xeno having a relationship. As long as all involved are adults by their species' standards, and confirmed sentient and consenting, no one could be arsed.

The problem for Adrian is that he comes from a culture that does not suffer the fool or the illogical, and living on a world where people still believe that the sun and stars revolve around their little speck of absolute bumfuck nowhere along with several other things makes him very disinterested in what the current native populace have in terms of potential romantic partners.

Of course, this does slightly stem from an ingrained bias he slowly unlearns throughout the story, but he does actually show some interest in some of the more intelligent members of the native population that he works with

He actually initially took a liking to the king of the area he was assigned to because he was proven to be very capable of adapting to seemingly world alterring information and improvising. He never pursued that initial interest though, fearful that if it initially worked out only for things to go sour, it would make his life difficult as a Praetor, and with time realised that it wouldn't have worked out anyway due to some heavily conflicting personality traits that they could still ignore at a professional level.

His interest in Lyanni Sverik (His housemate and friend for most of the story) sparked out of admiration for how far she was willing to go to satiate curiosity- which became respect once he learnt that she did it for vengeance- as well as the fact that she, like him, knows almost everything she does about how the world works from the age-old tactic of 'fucking around to see what happens'

Although, once again, he would not act on it. This time because he had no real reason to stay on Kradoma after the upliftment and didn't want to break her heart when the time came.

Deep down though, these are just the excuses he tell himself. In reality, my man's had severe trauma and trust issues from how a previous relationship ended and that's stopping him from working towards romantic intimacy with anyone else.

[yacinthemorning]

Tailored to Your Liking

Chapter 3

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Summary: Tumble Town attracts all sorts of misfits looking for a fresh start on the frontier, but everyone still needs clothes. Be it extra limbs or high temperatures, Jimmy caters to every hyrbid's needs.

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic)

Warnings: Implied traumatic events, no workplace safety, awkward flirting

On a particularly unbearable evening as far as the weather was concerned, Jimmy hid away in his dining room with several magazines and catalogues. He flipped through the pages, sighing every time he spotted something he very much could not afford.

“You sound like a steam pipe with a leak.” Voiced Tango where he leant against the archway. 

Jimmy’s head lulled miserably to the side to look up at him. “You’re back.”

“Please, hold back your applause.”

“Wh- No, that’s not what I meant-”

“I know, I know.” He pushed off to lean over Jimmy’s shoulder. “So, what’s wrong, Sunshine?”

With some attempt to hide his pout, Jimmy flipped to another page. “Oh, you know. Lamenting the bachelor lifestyle on my finances.”

Wrinkles formed under Tango’s eyes. “Are you okay? I’m sorry if I-”

“Oh, it’s not you… well, it is a bit you. But no. Things are just expensive, and it’s difficult to balance expense and pricing and my conscience.” A very lovely sewing machine, one capable of multiple different stitches, took up the entire page. Several paragraphs boasted its qualities, but his lip twitched at the price below. Jimmy lifted it high for his housemate to see. “Look at this! You could get a good horse for that price! And that’s before the shipping costs. If they could even mail it out here. It’s an insult towards me specifically.”

“You don’t have one?” Tango asked, pulling the catalogue out of the sulking man’s hands.

“There’s always something else more immediately important to purchase whenever I save enough. It’s not as though a frontier town like this gets a lot of these fancy newfangled machines just appearing in the shops, either. It’s just a dream, as are too many things.”

He picked up his tea cup only to find it empty and sighed as he stood. “I trust things went well with the delivery? Since you’re back already.”

Tango’s tail curled up like a cat with a mackerel. “Bigb was thrilled with it. He um,” claws fumbled in his back pocket before showing a handful of copper. “He gave me these as a tip for the delivery.”

“Oh, that’s kind.” It was hardly anything, really, the sort of change given out to the newsboys and children selling flowers they picked, but it was more than Tango had made in the couple weeks he’d been living with Jimmy.

They found their way into Jimmy’s palm nevertheless, for which the taller gave his companion an odd look and tried to return them. “What’s this?”

“Well, I have to pay you back somehow, and I hardly did anything more than walk down the street.”

This again. Jimmy’s expression twisted. He grabbed hold of Tango’s hands before he could fully retreat, placing the coins back in his hands. “What you can do,” Started Jimmy, voice harsher than he intended, surprising the both of them for a brief moment. When he started again his voice had softened, perhaps a bit too much to compensate. “What you can do to repay me is get back on your feet. And you can’t do that if you don’t have even a copper to your name, can you?”

“But I-”

“No buts, I won’t accept it! If I find them in my purse I’m turning them into buttons!” His hands went up with finality, not waiting to hear anything more. Instead he did as he first intended and marched towards the kitchen to refill his cup. Though quiet he could feel Tango’s presence follow behind him. A small noise escaped him when Jimmy turned around to glare at him. “I mean it!”

“No, that’s not… I was going to say something else.”

“Well, then, say it.” Jimmy crossed his arms.

Tango fumbled with the coins, slowly pouring them back into his pocket. “I was going to say, the delivery gave me an idea. It might not be much but, until my order’s done and I can find a real trade, I thought I could pick up odd-jobs.”

“Oh.” Jimmy perked up. “That is a good idea.”

“Yeah. And I wanted to ask, since you seem to know everyone-”

“Not everyone .”

“-almost everyone, if you knew who to talk to in order to put an advertisement out in the paper?”

A hand was brought to his chin in thought. “Well, if you want a spot in The Herald, then Cleo is who you’ll have to speak to.”

“I knew you’d know!” Tango snapped his fingers, grinning from ear to ear while Jimmy pouted.

Cleo was an imposing individual, broad and robust, with a long head of bright orange snakes that slithered across their shoulders menacingly. They disappeared under their hat which was curtained with a shining vail, though even it could not fully cloak their piercing glare. It was, though, enough to safely seal behind it their power, as Jimmy had carefully crafted for them. “What is it you want, Jimmy?” They bellowed, irritation already in their voice.

“Just a moment of your time for my friend, Cleo.” He tried to assure. Tango waved shyly.

“I was looking to put out an ad in the classifieds.”

Two snakes perked up while a third hissed. “Alright, let me see it.”

On a small scrap of paper was written a meagre two sentences, as short as Tango could make them. Cleo snatched it up, and they all nodded before placing it on their desk.

“That’s fine, although your spelling is atrocious.”

“It’s his second language.” Jimmy quickly defended.

“I’ll fix it up either way. Should be in this Sunday’s paper.”

“No cost?” Tango asked, tail perked.

“Our classifieds take up only a quarter of a page in a small town like this.” Cleo leaned forwards as their snakes curled around each other. “The other three quarters of the page are always bought up by one Mister Goodtimes’ latest concoction’s extravagant campaign, which he may, perhaps, be foolishly unaware of the average cost of in other papers.”

Jimmy tried very hard to keep his feathers smooth against his body’s instinct to hide from the shame of his not-quite-brother-in-law, while Tango and Cleo’s unified laughter echoed through the small printing press. In an attempt to bring the interaction to a swift end, Jimmy grabbed hold of Tango and gave Cleo a small bow. “Well, thank you very much for your assistance, Cleo. We’re very busy today, so we’ll be off.” He said, then darted out the door. 

Thanks to Tango’s unprepared footwork, they stumbled out into the dirt road hard enough to kick up a cloud. When Jimmy went to apologize, though, he found the blazeborn staring a bit stunned between them. At first, he was unsure what had caught Tango’s attention. Then he felt the hand he’d thoughtlessly grabbed twist in his grip until it’d comfortably laced itself with Jimmy’s and a teasing grin was sent his way. “Where to now, darlin’?”

Jimmy turned away. “Home. This sun is melting me.” His voice came out too high. The weather was surely overheating his brain, or he would have had the mental capacity to shake off Tango’s hand. “And this dust is getting between my wings.”

“I could help with that.” Tango offered.

Involuntarily, Jimmy’s feathers puffed out. Words failed him as he tried to gauge how sincere that offer was, or if there was any awareness behind it. “Maybe another time, Mister Tek.” Was all he managed to mutter out.

“Mister Tek?” Tango squawked, caught between confusion and unsure offence. “Why so formal all of a sudden?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Mister Tek.”

“You…”

“Yeah, would you two mind doing your little dance literally anywhere else?” Cleo interrupted. Both turned to see the gorgon leaning in the press’s doorway, snakes low in agitation.

Sputtering like a drowning man, Jimmy darted off immediately, squeaking out an “Apologies!”

Once again, he forgot to let go of Tango’s hand.

The advert worked surprisingly well. A few folks showed up to the shop throughout the next week looking for Tango. First was an old woman who needed someone to crawl down her well to retrieve her bucket. Then some newcomer requested help with raising their barn. Some of them were the oddest things Jimmy could not even begin to imagine how they wound up needing assistance, such as catching a prairie dog alive and holding it for measurements.

To the point, more than no one had taken up Tango’s offer of miscellaneous work. None of them offered much, but it was enough that Jimmy lent the man an old coin purse and a spot in his safe. He’d wished Mumbo had been there with his camera to capture the look on Tango’s face when Jimmy shared the combination.

“Well, you haven’t robbed me yet. And to be frank, I know quite a few conmen, and I’m not sure you have the… spark for that line of work.”

“Uncalled for.” He grumbled, but his tail was curled cutely in amusement.

It seemed to have been a good idea, though, as not a day later Joe had given them unfortunate news.

“Seems there’s been a massive issue with shipping from the Nether this month. Your package likely won’t arrive for a while yet.”

“Of course.” Jimmy muttered while Tango rubbed his arm soothingly. “My terrible luck strikes again. Thank you for the news, at least, Joe.”

“No problem, sir.”

“Looks like I won’t be out of your hair anytime soon. Sorry.” Tango gave a wry smile, for which Jimmy glared at him until it was gone.

“You’re not in my hair, I’ve already told you.”

And such was the subject of their argument until they made it back home. It ended only because Jimmy set himself to work on the gown Lizzie had ordered, stubbornly ignoring Tango until he apologized for apologizing. As revenge for the annoyance caused, Jimmy began to draft up plans for a proper bedframe and mattress to replace the makeshift cot Tango was sleeping in.

A tiny, whispering voice at the back of his mind propositioned that it would be significantly easier as far as time, supplies, and space were concerned to simply expand his own nest a little. Jimmy smothered that thought along with his candle. Just because his brother wished to be some open-nested harlot for any man in a nice suit did not mean Jimmy had to follow his example.

… Although, the safe was looking quite sparse lately…

His solace was that the harvest season was around the corner meaning an influx of winter orders and repairs. It was times like these that Jimmy was thankful for his career’s stability. Particularly when he watched Tango rush around from job to job.

At least Tango seemed much happier. Marching in through the door with his clothes coated in sooth, sleeve torn, probably too few diamonds for whatever ridiculous task the townsfolk found to give him that day, and an exhausted but satisfied grin. He’d crash onto the bench and take a short nap while Jimmy wondered if this was similar to how it was to let a cat out at night for a hunt. Then he’d work on Lizzie’s gown, taking care not to hum so as not to wake Tango. When he woke up, Jimmy could fix the tear, wrestling it from Tango who would insist he’d learned how to do it on his own but continued to prove he had not.

All in all, life fell into a very odd new rhythm. Odd, but not unwelcomed.

For the umpteenth time that day Jimmy cursed under his breath and undid a pin. Tango looked up from the broken lock he’d been fiddling with for Impulse. “Are you okay?”

“Perfectly fine.” He said very convincingly. Despite this, Tango still placed down his tools and approached the man.

“Aren’t dresses usually made by dressmakers?”

“They are in towns that have a dressmaker, besides the necessary adjustments.” Jimmy let out a long sigh and gave up on the frill. It refused to happen, and he was just turning his test cloth into swiss cheese. Instead he turned his attention to the pile of mock-ups scattered across his station among catalogues and guides to drapery. “Lizzie’s dinner party is in only four weeks and I haven’t even started on the actual gown.”

To say nothing of the sorted piles in the corner for three other orders, looming like storm clouds in the corner of his vision. They could wait, simply because there was no one else, but he would rather not his reputation be that he was better than quite literally nothing.

 “Artist’s block?” Tango offered sympathetically.

“I’m beginning to wish she hadn’t given me so much freedom. This fancy sort of thing is beyond me. And now everyone’s orders are behind.”

While Jimmy wallowed in his failure, chittering to himself, Tango stood up. Where he went, Jimmy was too deep in misery to pay attention, but he did look up when he came back, nervously standing by the door to their home. Jimmy gave his housemate a raised brow.

“So, um.” Stray sparks flew from his whipping tail. That was new. “So I’ve made quite a good bit the past two weeks.”

“Yes, I’m very proud of you.”

Tango paused, shoulders going stiff at the praise, before he took a deep breath and nodded. “I know I should be saving every copper I get but you know, I couldn’t help myself with the redstone.”

Jimmy pursed his lips, still unsure where this was going.

“And, well… gah, you know what, I’m terrible at this sort of thing.” The blazeborn finally huffed out a cloud of smoke and reached into the closet beyond the doorway. Whatever he was getting was either stuck or heavy, as he struggled for several awkward moments. Ready to go over and assist him, Jimmy only managed a single step before Tango burst back into the room, and stumbled like a circus performer over to the desk. The object in his arms thunked down onto the wood, loud enough for Jimmy to be concerned for one or both.

It was not until Tango backed away that Jimmy realized what was in front of him. Mismatched, oddly shaped, and by no means compact- the true sign of something made by hand, yet clearly it was functional from the thread already woven into its needle.

“A… Is that a sewing machine?” He chirped, unable to hide the excitement raising his feathers. Jimmy bolted over, Tango barely stepping aside in time, and bent down to examine it.

“I was going to wait to give it as a parting gift,” Tango explained behind him while the machine was tilted and prodded. “But who knows when that’ll be at this point. It could help you get those other orders out of the way sooner, so you can focus on the gown, I figured...”

Jimmy finally let go of the machine and turned to Tango, eyes wide with wonder. There was a trill in his throat, though he was unsure if it escaped as he could only hear his own blood. Without thinking twice about it Jimmy cradled Tango’s face and pulled it forward until the blazeborn’s forehead connected with the avian’s lips, then decided it was still not enough and instead wrapped him up in a tight hug. “How on earth!”

Tango wavered, face blooming with colour. “Well, you know. Reverse engineering, a lot of trial and error… But you said it was one of your dreams. And I can’t do much, can’t even pay for the shirt on my back, but I figured maybe I could do this.”

“Well, thank you. This means a lot to me, Mister Tek.” Jimmy beamed, then pulled his companion back into another hug. Tango gladly returned the embrace, a soft purr rumbling in his chest.

“Anything for you, Darlin’.”

[redstainedglasses]

The Intruder pt 4

Crossing her arms Vertebrae leaned back in her seat. The tea The Shade had offered her remained untouched on the coffee table as she glared at Reaper who casually fed his avian familiar one of the cookies provided along the tea.

"But...why did La Muerte bless you?" She finally asked. The Night slipped behind her and draped its hands over her stiff shoulders. The jester still tense and untrusting of the grim reaper in front of her.

Gilded claws gently rubbed white flesh as it kneaded her muscles gently.

Reaper sitting across Vertebrae on the other side of the coffee table sat with his weapon now bird on his perched on his knee. His broad shoulders simply rose up in a shrug at the question. He offered no other action or words and reached to delicately picked up his own tea. Raising the decorative cup to the tip of his beak as took a drink.

"So…she just gave you soul?.... For no reason?"

Setting his cup back down Reaper shook his head. He was silent for a moment before he spoke.

"I do believe Death had a reason. Unfortunately. She did not share it with me." A gloved hand gently stroked the top of the small white headed raven's head. The small creature had relaxed since transforming back to its feathered form but it kept a wary eye on the demon jester. Clearly it trusted her as much as she trusted them.

"Perhaps. It is due to a similar reason as to why she has not killed you yet."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Reaper was silent again. The man seemed to hold stock in his choice of words. Thinking deeply on them before speaking.

"Your collection." He gestured to the walls and shelves. The various assortment of bones on display covering what once was the grim's own home and personal archive.

"What is your goal?"

"Are you dodging my question with a question?"

"No."

Vertebrae uncrossed her arms and sat stiffly in her seat. She stared at the red googles trying to peer behind the thick opaque red glass to the eyes behind.

"…to restore mi familia, bring them to life." Reaper and Scythe both watched her for a long moment before the large male nodded slowly.

"I believe Death desires that as well." Vertebrae quirked a brow but Reaper was already getting to his feet. Scythe climbing up to rest upon his shoulder. Clearly the conversation was now over much to Vertebrae's annoyance. She'd barely learned much of the grim in the few hours they'd been cordial with one another.

Vertebrae remained seated as she watched him.

"As we have agreed. You are welcome to stay." Stepping around the small table he stood directly in front of the small seated jester. Staring down at her as she rolled her eyes.

"I would have loved to see you try to make me leave." She scoffed. "It's your own fault for abandoning your own home."

"Correct." A hand reached out asking politely for Vertebrae's. Staring at the large gloved hand Vertebrae sighed and reluctantly took his hand in her own. Giving it a firm hard shake.

"I thank you for accepting our bargain Lady Vertebrae. As well I apologize once again for our less than tasteful introduction." Letting go of his hand the jester rubbed her throat. While she had fully healed hours ago the sensation was still fresh in her mind. The feeling of her bones snapping with ease....it was not common for anything to hurt her in such a fashion.

"Yea.... just don't forget to fix the walls and floor you broke!" Vertebrae shouted as Reaper, Scythe where lead out of the room by The Shade.

"Let me show you to your new room Sir." The darkness droned as it took the lead.

Sitting in the silence Vertebrae sank into her seat again with a deep annoyed huff. Although he hadn't won her trust entirely back yet it appeared she had a new housemate.

[piastrinorris]

busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

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

masterlist | prev. | next

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

Word count: 9.2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grin, “I’d love nothing more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More the merrier,” one shrugs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

next chapter

[barbiewritesstuff]

Locked out

This was requested a while back (sorry) by @lizzieann143 who wanted a dom!Bob x sweet!reader.

Minors, DO NOT INTERACT I will block you so fast. 

Tw p in v sex, unprotected sex, not pulling out?? rough sex and Bob because baby he comes with a warning of his own 

Taglist: @blessupblessup --

            The Hard Deck wasn’t officially open anymore, but the door wasn’t locked and you knew the dagger team would still be playing pool. You pushed the door open with one hand, the other holding your phone with which you had been trying to call your housemate.  

« Hey, is Jake there ? » You asked the only aviator Jake had ever introduced you to. 

« Went home with a girl » Coyote said « Did you forget your keys again ? » He laughed 

You smiled 

« You have to stop losing your keys, he can’t drop everything and come and save you every time »  

« Sure he can. This living arrangement needs to work for the both of us. I cook and clean and he lets me in when I forget my keys. » 

Coyote laughed again.  

« Where are you going to sleep then » 

You gave him a warning glance because you knew where this was going, but you were not interested and even if you were, you were pretty sure Jake would skin him at the next chance. You had a rule, no sex with friends. He could fuck the whole world and you wouldn’t complain but if he glanced flirtatiously at any of your friends, he would sleep in his car and never speak to you again. He held you to that same rule.  

You valued your friendship too much to ever break that deal. 

« I’ll find someone to go home with, don’t worry » You winked and he nodded. You meant that in a less sexual way than it sounded like, but now the words had come out of your mouth, the prospect of maybe sleeping with someone sounded kind of nice. 

« Any chance you could wingman me ? » You asked, Coyote wasn’t attracted to you in any other way than physical so it didn't feel like rubbing salt in the wound.

« Not outside of the team » 

« Anyone he isn’t friends with ? »  

« Rooster probably » Coyote said and you winced « Or Bob »  

You looked at Bob. You weren’t sure what to expect in regards to a guy whose call sign seemed to be his own name, but that wasn’t it. The man you were looking at was gorgeous.  

 

 

Bob had overheard the entire conversation. He saw you glance at him and figured you had already chosen your proverbial victim. He was happy it was him. 

« Yes please » You said, your eyebrow had cocked up appreciatively and your voice had a suggestive hint. He almost choked on his peanuts.  

Coyote moved from his seat, and walked up to him. Bob tried to keep a straight face as the other man wrapped an arm around his shoulders and guided him towards you. 

« Bob, can I introduce you to my friend Y/N ? She’s really sweet » 

« Hi Bob » You said. You had spent far too much time with Hangman, he concluded, you had the same habit of slipping into a southern accent when you flirted. Although, it was less grating on you, and absolutely part of your charm when directed at him.  

Bob guessed that when Coyote had introduced you as his friend, it was an exageration, as the first question you asked clearly showed you didn’t trust his opinion. 

« So, are you and Jake friends ? » 

« No, we don’t really talk » 

They were definitely not friends, but hell he would put up with the guy forever if it meant he could keep on being looked at like you were looking at him. Bob imagined a hunting tiger had the same look in their eyes before jumping on their prey. He wondered briefly if you’d be surprised to find out he wasn’t as much of a goody-two-shoes in bed as he acted like in public.  

It wasn’t an act, he was a shy man. He hated social groups, although he put up with this in an effort to get to know the team. But sex was where he took control.  

No, he thought, you acted a little too self-assured. You’d be into it.  

« Heard he locked you out. »  

« Yes, I guess I’ll have to sleep in my car » 

« That sounds uncomfortable » 

« Well, it’s my only option… Unless you have any other ideas ? » 

Bob stifled a chuckle. He wasn’t usually one for one-night-stands, but maybe this didn’t have to be one, he thought. So, he gathered all the courage he had and tried to match your flirtatious manner.  

« Why, yes, I do. »  

He grabbed your hand and led you out of the bar.  

 

 

This was so far out of your comfort zone. You were usually a relationship person, but hey, Jake swore by it, so maybe it wasn’t all bad. And Bob seemed nice, he was polite, he was gentle and he still hadn’t let go of your hand, which you were grateful for, both because it brought you comfort and because it kept you from asking him to stop the car and drop you off.  

« We don’t have to do this » He said once you were inside. Bob was an observant man, a talent he picked up after many years of wallflowering parties he had been dragged to.  

« I want to » You said. He moved closer, his hands grazing the strap of your tank top. He moved it down and lowered his head to kiss your neck in slow, open mouthed kisses.  

« Okay, I’ll be gentle » He murmured between kisses. Your eyes fluttered closed as he kissed down your shoulder  

« No » You said. You weren’t sure why, especially since you had never allowed anyone else to be anything but gentle with you. But then again, you had just gotten out of a bad break up, which was the only reason you lived with Jake in the first place. Maybe you just wanted something completely different.  

 Bob bit down into your shoulder. It surprised you and you could not control the pornographic moan that passed your lips.  

« You like that Baby ? » He asked, his voice low and gruff « You like it when I mark you ? »  

You could only whimper as every word he said sent a wave of arousal straight to your core. Bob guided you towards the couch were he allowed you to lie down before climbing on top of you for a searing kiss. You rocked your hips up and he hissed, moving one of his hands down to keep you anchored down to the couch. He bit down on your collarbone, and you were certain he would leave a mark. The pain and pleasure made you struggle against the hand weighing you down. 

« I don’t like it when my girl disobeys. So if you want me to fuck you, you’re going to have to be good. » His hand on your waist became a fist as his fingers balled around the band of your skirt. Now his digits had breached the barrier of the fabric, you could only think of one thing.  

« Think you can be a good girl for me ? » He growls in your ear. You moan again. Bob chuckled, nibbling at the skin of your neck and occasionally licking a stripe. Once he deems his work on your neck to be satisfactory, he moved down to your chest, sucking hickies on your skin.  

He was going so slowly, taking his time to explore every part of you. It was agonising and Bob knew it, the more you moaned and whimpered the slower he got. And when he eventually removed your shirt and revealed your breasts, he ignored your aching nipples alltogether. He wanted you to ask and beg for his attention. 

Bob trailed down to your tummy and then to the waistband of your skirt. He didn’t go further though. He looked at you instead. You knew what he wanted and as much as you were desperate for him, you were actually enjoying the torture. But watching him smirk so close to your core made you want to feel what else he could do. 

« Please »  

« What do you want ? » 

« Anything, please. Just –«  

« Christ, you are a needy girl » He said appreciatively. Bob pulled your skirt up and trialed a finger up and down your panties. It felt like heaven, you could get lost in that feeling. You felt a little pathetic like that, completely undone on Bob’s couch and begging for his touch. Suddenly his finger was replaced by something else , Bob’s lips cradled your clit over your underwear. He sucked sharply. Bob laughed at your reaction and two of his fingers brushed your underwear aside to find your entrance. He first fit in a finger before abandoning after a few strokes and fitting in a second one.  

« You’re so wet for me baby » 

You hummed in agreement, then he removed his fingers altogether and climbed back up to crash his lips onto yours in a bruising kiss before leaving you needing more as he stood up to remove his trousers. He made quick work of his belt, jeans and boxershorts before pushing your panties to the side once more and quickly dipping his fingers into for a quick taste 

« Fuck baby, you taste so good » 

« Jesus, Bob » You snapped in frustration « Get on with it » 

« Oh, you getting mouthy now ? »  

He flipped you on your front with a single movement and smacked your ass with much force that the noise echoes off of the walls and your eyes filled with tears.  

« You’re going to learn, sweetcheeks, that you don’t get mouthy with me »  

He spanked you again. 

Then, as soon as his hand left your cheek, you felt him fill you with his member. The pain and pleasure you were feeling were making it hard for you to think. But your body responsed to every single touch, happy to have been given what it had been craving for so long.  

Bob snapped his hips into you with dizzyingly slow thrusts, almost savouring the feeling of you around his cock. Each stroke hit that sweet spot inside of you but you didn’t dare try and speed up the the process in fear that he might stop. You eventually reached your orgasm and the intensity of it made your legs shake.  

« Jesus Christ » Bob whispered, he seemed to lose all self control. Suddenly his hips snapped into yours and the speed kept picking up. The grip he had on your waist was bruising but you were too lost in your own pleasure to care. You hadn’t even noticed you were being loud until Bob covered your mouth. It was lazy and his fingers barely covered your lips which told you Bob was only pretending to care that his neighbours might hear, and the fact that he liked you being loud only added to the arousal you felt right then. Then, his thrusts became more erratic and you knew he was nearing his own release. The speed of his thrusts were moving you towards your second orgasm at dizzying speeds  

« Where do you want me to come ? You want me to fill you baby ? » 

You nodded furiously. And as soon as you tightened around his member, you felt Bob release himself inside you. He fucked himself through his orgasm. He moaned with every thrust, joining your whimpers and groan until eventually he stilled inside you and you both caught your breaths.  

Eventually he pulled out and left to get a washcloth to clean you up, careful to smack your ass as he stood up. You watched him stroll away with all the confidence of a man who knew he’d fucked someone so hard they couldn’t walk. And you removed your phone from the pocket of your skirt to check the notifications. Six texts from Jake. 

« Back at the Hard Deck »  

« I have your keys » 

« Where are you ? » 

« Coyote said you left with Bob ? » 

« OH » 

« HOLY SHIT » 

"YES GIRL! MAKE BABY ON BOARD A MAN!!"

[harryforvogue]

So This is Love (Harry and Faye’s Christmas Blurb)

HIIII okay we’re at 8/10 now!!! this is harry and faye’s blurb and it’s SUPER fluffy and soft and the point of this is to make you all feel single. it’s about faye taking care of a half asleep harry after he’s dead from working during the holidays <3 we’ve seen a lot of harry taking care of faye, so let’s reverse it!

3.8k words. happy reading :)

***

Faye sticks out like a sore thumb when she walks into Harry’s tattoo parlor shop. She’s there with her cute pins in her hair, her big coat, gloves, and she’s surrounded by hanging pictures of quite scary looking tattoos and piercings.

She walks in and spots Harry, waving awkwardly to him. She hesitates when he beckons her over. He has someone laying on the table, tattooing a very frightening looking clown onto his ribcage, and it looks painful as hell, drawing blood from a few places. But she doesn’t see a hint of agony on the man’s face. Harry’s doing some shading. Faye doesn’t know much about tattoos, but she does know that shading hurts like a bitch. Harry’s words, not her own.

She winces on behalf of the man as she joins Harry.

“Hi.”

“Hey. I’m almost done, okay? Doing some finishing touches.”

“Okay. I’ll wait here.”

“Alright, love.”

The man raises his head. “That's your girl?”

Harry nods, concentrating on the tattoo. “That is my girl,” he confirms. “Pretty, isn’t she?”

Faye would smack Harry’s shoulder if he weren’t sticking multiple needles into a guy. How embarrassing.

The man is grinning now. “No shit! I’m Harry’s coworker. It’s great to meet you. I’m just getting tatted last minute by Harry here because he’s the only one I trust to get my shit right.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Faye says timidly, sitting down on a stool besides Harry’s, grounding her feet before she can slide across the very clean floor. “I only know Timmy from here.”

“Oh yeah, he’s Harry's roommate, right?”

“Housemate,” Harry says. “And stop fucking moving, man.”

“Sorry. Timmy’s still here, by the way. I think he’s cleaning up his station.”

Harry’s brow is furrowed as he continues to lean over. The sound of the tattoo machine is a low buzz, but it’s very distracting to Faye. She taps on the stool she’s sitting on idly, occasionally tapping her feet too. She watches Harry shamelessly, smiling when one of his dimples show since he’s realized that he’s being watched. His gaze cuts to hers and he raises his eyebrows in a silent question.

Faye takes out a candy cane from her pocket and begins unraveling it. Harry has to look away before she wraps her lips around it.

“It’s cherry flavored.”

“Of course it is,” he murmurs.

She gets a good look at him then, his dark circles from working overtime very apparent under his eyes. She never knew that the holidays were prime time for people to get their tattoos done. Nearly every night, Harry comes home utterly exhausted, telling her about all the tattoos he’s done. People tip very generously during this time as well, so he’s been staying at the shop well after midnight, having to get up again in the morning. It’s a miracle that he’s even awake when he gets home because the second his head hits the pillow, he’s asleep.

She usually doesn’t sleep until the AMs anyways, so she doesn’t mind waiting up for him. Her final show of the year wrapped up last week and she has two weeks before the next production, so she really doesn’t have much to do except wait for him. She’s been going out with Timothée’s girlfriend a lot since she is also lonely, Timothée taking extra shifts like her own boyfriend.

Timothée walks out of the back room, pulling a hoodie over his body. “I’m heading out, suckers. Happy Holidays. If you call me next week, I will be unavailable so refrain from calling me.” His eyes land on her. “Oh, hey, Faye.” And then he’s gone.

“Are you guys the last ones now?” she asks.

“Yup,” the man says. “Then we’re closed until the New Year. We had a very busy week, didn’t we?”

Harry nods, not replying.

“Man, if you told me your girl was going to be here, I would have asked Timmy to do my tattoo.”

Harry doesn’t respond again, too engrossed in the tattoo. It’s quite attractive to see him so concentrated on something. He’s barely blinking, body solid and unmoving as opposed to hers that’s always suffering from anxious movements. She really doesn’t like the sound of that tattoo machine. It reminds her of bees in her ear in the summer, but the temperature is cold this December. Those don’t go well at all.

Faye answers for him. “Timmy also has a girlfriend who’s waiting for him.” She pauses, sitting up a bit straighter. “Er, how are you celebrating the holidays?”

She knows she’s not imagining the small smile playing on Harry’s lips. He’s not making fun of her. He’s proud of her. Her cheeks burn when she realizes it.

“Me?” the man asks, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m heading to see my family right after this to beat the traffic tomorrow.”

She nods, trying to think of something else to say. Time goes by, the seconds ticking away. She’s desperately trying to keep the conversation going.

“Harry and I are planning to bake tomorrow,” she blurts.

Faye suddenly falters, deflating. Was that weird to say? Is he embarrassed? She peeks at Harry, but he shows no signs of embarrassment. He simply turns the machine off and begins the aftercare part of the tattoo procedure.

“We are and I’m looking forward to it.”

She’s instantly relieved.

Faye doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but it’s fascinating to witness him in his element. She’s always heard about him doing tattoos, but seeing him do it in person is different. The level of professionalism he has and the quiet voice he uses to instruct his client is… well, arousing.

She pinches her thigh. She cannot be thinking of that right now! Harry’s hand is gloved in black, fingers spread wide as he wraps the tattoo. She’s too busy looking at his hands when he turns back to her, removing his gloves one by one. She even watches him wash his hands and then dry them.

“Faye,” he says softly, a smile in his voice. She glances back at him and blinks.

“Hi, sorry. You’re all done?”

“Yes.” He presses a kiss to her hair. “Wait for me in the waiting room? I’ve got to clean up.”

The man claps Harry on the back and praises him for doing the tattoo for him. He gives him some money, marvels at the tattoo for a bit longer, and then leaves.

Harry takes no more than ten minutes to finish cleaning up, and when he returns, he’s in his jacket, beanie in his hands. “Let’s get out of here.” He pulls her closer and zips her jacket up all the way to her chin, putting his beanie over her head. His tired eyes shimmer. “It snowed so much. Are you wearing the right boots?”

Faye reaches for his hand and frowns. “Don’t worry about my boots. Worry about your ability to walk. You’re about to fall asleep. If you fall into the snow, how will I get you up?

“Don’t. Just leave me there and save yourself.”

“Harry!”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, pressing his palm to his eye, rubbing softly. Then he lays his forehead against hers and sighs. “I just want to sleep. Let me sleep on the snow if anything.”

Faye giggles, tugging him outside. The cool blast of air suddenly causes him to narrow his eyes, but he seems to be more awake. His fingers round her gloved ones tighten and he pulls her into his chest, staring up at the sky. The blankets of undisturbed snow go on for streets and streets. Harry really enjoys how there are no cars on the road right now, the occasional red bus slowly crunching over the snow as it passes, making a noise so wonderful, he fears he’ll actually collapse and fall asleep against the ground.

They don’t get much snow here, but the blizzard that’s just passed through has brought back a few memories of snow from his childhood. Faye’s too. Despite her getting cold very easily, she loves the snow and often finds herself staring at it for a long period of time. She imagines herself laying in it, or throwing snowballs at Harry's face. She even considers shoveling snow with Timmy and his girlfriend must be really fun. If it’s something they all can do together, no matter how annoying and tiresome, it must be fun. Next, they’ll sit by the T.V., Harry and Timmy each bringing their girls hot chocolate. They'll watch movies and then head to their warm beds where Faye swears to Harry that he’ll never know where she ends and where he begins.

When they get to the house, they’ll see how much snow needs to be picked up, and from there, she’ll create plans for the next few days where all four of them are snowed in. She can’t wait for it. Although the loves the idea of doing Christmas together with the rest of them, she knows Harry will eventually shift both of them to her place so they can have some privacy. Usually after long days of work. Harry likes to spend his time in bed with Faye, catching up on all the love making they have missed previously.

In fact, Faye thinks as they crunch through the snow with their boots, looking down at where Harry’s hand is intertwined with her own, they were supposed to start that love making marathon (Harry laughs every time she calls it that) tonight. But Harry looks as if he’ll actually collapse from fatigue, and if Harry falls asleep on top of her during sex, she may just suffocate. They’ll have plenty of time to love each other tomorrow and the day after and after and after…

They’re planning to take the bus back home and the walk to the next stop is a decent 15 minutes. Harry makes sure she’s completely covered, stopping a few times along the way to adjust her beanie for her. Her cheeks are red from the cold, her mouth quivering. His larger hand rubs over her arm repeatedly in an attempt to warm her up.

Five minutes pass in the bitter cold before snow begins to fall again. Faye’s the first one to notice it, picking her head up off of Harry’s arm, gasping as she stares at the sky. “Harry, look!”

Her boyfriend seems to be half asleep trudging through the cold because when he lifts his head, it takes him a moment to figure out what exactly he’s supposed to be looking at. His own nose is red from the biting wind, his hood over his head tightly bound there thanks to the drawstrings. Faye glances at him and feels her heart tighten with love for him, his green eyes even lighter against the snow. “Oh, wow.”

Everything about him contrasts the snow, from his dark curly hair to his all black clothing, and it makes him stick out just like she did in his parlor. 

She squeezes his hand and stops walking, pulling him back in.

Harry looks at her and raises his eyebrows. “What’s wrong? Are your shoes bothering you?”

“I want to kiss you as it snows down on us.”

He blinks a few times as if to clear the sleep from his eyes. And then his eyes widen as he breathes out a laugh, snow caught in his lashes. “Wow,” he murmurs. “My girlfriend is a poet.” He reaches for her waist. “Come here.”

Giggling, she wraps her arms around his neck and reaches up to her tiptoes to press her cold lips to his cold ones, instantly attracted to the warmth they make together. He loves the sugar on her lips from her candy canes and the way she presses her body against his. Snowflakes fall onto their faces, Harry shuddering and Faye smiling into the kiss. She pulls away and presses her nose into his neck.

Harry groans. “Cold! You’re so cold!”

She doesn’t let him go, holding him tighter when he tries to pry her off. She catches his earlobe with a kiss and makes him shudder again. “I love you.”

Harry immediately stops trying to shove her away, simply accepting his fate after a few long moments. Goosebumps litter his entire body. She pulls away and grins at him. She no longer peeks through her bangs as they are too long and she pins them back, so he presses a kiss to her forehead instead and sighs deeply. “I love you, too, baby.”

“Do you want to make snow angels?”

He pulls away. “I don’t love you that much.”

She’s grinning though, kicking the snow a bit. “Alright, whatever.”

He kisses her again, slow and gentle, his fingers splayed over her cheeks as he holds her jaw, pouring his love into the kiss since he won’t be able to do more when they’re back home. “I liked that you were talking to my coworker.”

Her eyes open. “Yeah? I knew it. I knew it from that smile.” She pokes his dimple. “I know you so well, don't I? We’re going to have so much time to yourself now! We’re going to watch movies and bake things and have the party on New Years and just have so much fun together again.”

“And have sex. We’re going to have lots of sex.”

“Yes! I just bought a few candles! A cool ginger spiced one and vanilla and that one that you like that I can’t pronounce. That one is good too. I bought some hot chocolate and tea. And we’ll unwrap our presents and do it all over again. We’ll take a hot bath every day and just be ourselves. And we’re going to have so much fun, aren’t we?”

“Are you forgetting that we have to go see both our families twice?”

“No, that's part of the fun too. I get to watch my little baby cousins color in your tattoos and you get to watch me awkwardly mingle with your dad’s side of the family who are so much more awkward than I am. Isn't that exciting to think about?”

“Who are you and what have you done with my innocent girlfriend?” He catches her cheek between his fingers and roughly squeezed it until she’s crying out. She rubs her skin as she pouts.

“Ow!”

“Sorry. Sometimes I look at you and I get that cuteness aggression thing that you get when you see little kittens.”

“Oh.” She’s back to smiling and he begins to tug her back in the direction of the bus stop. By the time they arrive there, the bus is only 2 minutes away.

The ride consists of Harry’s head laying on her shoulder and Faye constantly flicking Harry’s forehead to wake him up. It’s pretty funny and she only stops giggling when she gets a mean glare from the person sitting across from her.

She has to hold his hand and drag him to his house when they get off the bus. His body is heavy and stiff from working for so long, his footsteps lagging, but Faye’s yanking him pretty hard and he manages to stay awake somehow. When they arrive at his place, she opens the door for him and shoves him in.

“If I ever murder you, I wouldn't even be able to hide your body,” she mutters to herself, trying catch her breath. “Can you get to your room at least?”

Harry’s swaying in the foyer, blinking sleepily at her. “Yes,” he says, but then he doesn’t move.

“Um, now would be a good time.”

“I am moving. See.” He still does not budge an inch. “On my way to our room…”

“Oh, boy.” She wraps her arm around his waist and begins to walk him to his room. 

Faye pushes him down to sit on the bed and then heads to his closet to pick pajamas out for him. As she’s looking through his things, she hears a sound. Startled, images of Harry laying face first on the ground erupt in her mind and she quickly sticks her head out to look at him, ready to take care of him or scream for his housemate, but instead, she finds that Harry’s fallen onto his back, eyes closed.

Returning with a regular shirt and his grey sweats, she removes her outer layer, gloves, and beanie, placing them on the floor beside his laundry basket. With a great push, she shoves Harry back upright.

“Keep yourself up please. I have to get you out of those clothes.”

“Why?” he mutters, placing a hand on her cheek. “Lemme sleep in them. Why are you so fucking cute?”

“Uh, okay. Anyways, you’ll be cold. The snow on you is already melting.”

“The snow was pretty. You are pretty.”

“Harry!” she laughs, placing her hand over his. “Let’s get changed because if we sleep like this, with you all wet, I’ll get cold too.”

His eyes blink slowly. “Don’t want you to be cold. Okay. Let me just--”

Harry pushes his hood off and unzips his rather large jacket, shrugging it off him and onto the floor. He begins to remove his shirt, reaching for the one she holds out to him. “This is a lot warmer,” he says.

“Yes, Harry. It is. You’ve really overworked yourself.”

“Everyone bloody wanted tattoos. Two of the other artists are out of the country. They come to see me sometimes. I can’t turn them away.” He looks up at her. “Do you know that someone came all the way from Birmingham in the blizzard to see me? Couldn’t turn him away. So I stuck it through. Birmingham! Bloody difficult fucking tattoo too. And then there was one person who accidentally came in a day early and I couldn’t send them away because they also came from some far away place. They wanted a whole back tattoo! Had to push everything back by two whole days to fit them in.” 

“Must be hard being liked by everyone,” she teases playfully.

“Mhm, it’s nice. But I really only wanna be liked by you.” His head falls to her shoulder and he inhales softly. “You’re so lovely, Faye.”

Her heart swells with love again. Her hand reaches for his hair. He groans approvingly when she lightly scratches his scalp.

“I’m so lovely or I smell so lovely?”

“Both. You feel so lovely too, pressed up against me.”

“Harry–”

He quickly picks his head up. “And I would make snow angels with you in the snow. I do love you enough. I was only kidding.”

Faye can’t help but burst into laughter, pressing a hand to her mouth. “I know you were kidding!”

He grabs her wrist and pulls it away from her mouth. “Don’t. Don’t hide from me. I wanna see it all.”

Her face heats up suddenly despite the cold. “Oh, sorry. Look. You just have to change your pants and then we sleep, okay?”

“I know you wanted me tonight and I promised you,” he says softly. “I’m just so fucking tired and I don’t think I can even get it up right and I don’t want to disappoint–”

“Harry, you don’t have to do that,” she laughs. “I can wait a day or two.”

“Only one day,” he says, kissing her cheek. “Not two. Only one.”

“Sounds good. I’m going to take your shoes off, okay?’

“Mhm.”

She sinks down to her knees, grabbing one foot, balancing it on her thigh as she pulls down the zipper. The shoe gets thrown to the other side of the room and she works on the other. When she’s finished, she wiggles her way between his legs and then unfastens his jeans button, tugging his fly zipper down as well.

He can do the rest himself. For a moment though, she simply rests her head against his solid thigh, the melted snow on his pants makes her shiver. But instead of urging him to get into warmer pants, she peeks up at him through her eyelashes and gives him a gentle smile, blinking at him.

Harry smiles back, eyes glazed over with both love and sleep. He runs the back of his hand over his cheek and then pinches it, making her giggle through the pain. He’s balancing his other palm against the bed, making sure he stays upright. His fingers release her cheek and then run over her pink lips as a sigh escapes him.

“So pretty,” he whispers, pressing his thumb into her mouth. She accepts him in, sucking on him softly. He sighs again, this time with more meaning. He withdraws his thumb from her wet mouth and then tugs her away.

He hums. “I like when you’re on your knees for me.”

“Harry.”

“Sorry.”

He stands shakily, and she takes a step back to give him space as he pulls his jeans down and steps out them. She’s still on her knees before him, his towering height and arousal in his eyes making her feel weaker. But she doesn’t say anything, knowing this night is only going to end in both of them falling asleep against one another. Harry silently places his sweatpants on and then brings her back up to her feet.

“I’ve never fallen asleep while receiving a blow job,” he mumbles, kissing the bridge of her nose. “And today is not that day to experience that.”

She giggles again, nodding. “I’m going to change really quickly and then I’ll come join you, alright?”

“Mhm.”

Faye changes her clothing and removes her makeup, washing her face and moisturizing it before returning back to his bed, fully expecting him to be asleep. However, when she lays beside him and reaches for his hand, his eyes open and he turns his head towards her. He gathers her closer to his chest and sighs, resting his head on hers.

“Thank you,” he murmurs against her cheek, eyes falling shut. She’s not even as tired as him, but she feels his fatigue. “You like taking care of me?”

“Love,” she corrects. “Love taking care of you. Just like you love taking care of me.”

A smile plays on his lips. “I do. I could spend all day just being at your every beck and call.”

“You already do that.”

“It’s still not enough.” His arms tighten around her until she squeaks and begs him to release her. He chuckles and buries his face into her neck. “It’s not enough. I have to love you more. But I think I cannot physically love you more. You are everything, Faye.” His voice is getting quieter and weaker, sleep slurring his words. “And I’m… I’m so proud of you. And… Faye?”

“Hmm?” She’s scratching his scalp gently, eyes fluttering shut.

“We can make those snow angels tomorrow. There will be more snow and we…we will…”

Faye bites away her smile as Harry’s breathing evens out and he rests his entire weight on top other, his arms still wrapped around her waist.

“Okay, baby,” she whispers, kissing his face once more. “We’ll do that.”

[nyxicnymph]

Douxie x Reader: Do you trust me? (A Whole New World)

Characters: Gender neutral reader, Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan, a flying ship.

Best meant for ages 16+, gets a little touchy touchy, though no clothes are removed.

Words: 2341

(This was an excuse to dabble in deeper kisses and more intimate scenes.)

Please enjoy!

You awoke to a tapping on your window. Rolling out of your bed, you checked the time. Ten thirty pm. You must have fallen asleep while reading, at least that’s what you gathered from the book on the floor and your less-than-perfect sleeping position.

The tapping on your window persisted, and you pulled aside the curtains, then pulled up the blinds. You gasped when you saw Hisirdoux Casperan smiling on the other side, standing on what looked like a flying ship. You opened the window.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him, keeping your voice down so as to not alert or disturb your housemates.

“Oh, darling y/n, do I need a reason to see you?” You raised an eyebrow at that, and he sighed. “All right, fine, maybe I was going to ask you on a date earlier, but you left before I got the chance. So, I’m asking you now.”

“Me?”

Douxie looked at you with a cheeky grin. “No, I am definitely speaking to your shadow. Yes, you.”

“But, I’m just…” You gesture to yourself. “I’m just me.”

“And who did I trust with my secrets when I needed to? You. I trust you, y/n. Do you trust me?” He held his hand out to you, waiting for you to make a decision.

You looked into his eyes, the yellow tint gleaming in the lamplight spilling from behind you. You mentally catalogued everything you knew about the man in front of you, then finally took his hand. “Yes. I trust you.”

He grinned and pulled you into the ship, closing your window with a quick use of magic. “Hold tight, lovely.”

He hadn’t specified what to hold on to, so you grabbed the nearest solid object: Douxie himself. He hadn’t been expecting that, and he looked down in surprise, but continued to maneuver the ship up, up, and away. As the ship rose above the clouds, Douxie turned to you.

“Where do you want to go, darling? We can go anywhere you’d like.”

You looked up at him. “Anywhere?” At his nod, you hummed a bit and thought about it. “I want to see the Coliseum,” you told him. He laughed and nodded.

“Of course. As you wish.”

Soon after, you arrived. Douxie landed in the center of the abandoned building, being as gentle as he possibly be. You jumped out of the ship almost before it stopped moving, giving Douxie a heart attack.

He jumped down after you, following you around as you rambled on and on about the history, the events that happened here, and some of the people who were there. He watched you go on and on, as you started drawing in the sand, explaining about legends and reality, and things you wished you’d been present for.

He chuckled, but found himself lost in the sparkle in your eyes as you wrapped up what you were discussing. You stood up, brushing yourself off with a sigh.

“God, the history here,” you whispered. “Were you there for any of it?”

Douxie shook his head. “I only visited Rome one time, and that was because Archie’s manticore cousin got caught in someone’s garden and we had to get her out and erase some memories.”

Your eyes shone. “Archie has a manticore cousin?!”

“Yeah, though I’m not sure what she’s been doing lately. Who knows, maybe she went underground.” Douxie didn’t voice his doubts, not wanting to dwell on the past or potential grief.

“So, where now?” You asked, walking up to him.

Douxie thought. “I want to show you some place that had a lot of meaning to me when I was younger.”

“How much younger?” You asked sassily.

“That’s rude to ask.”

“Last I checked, you aren’t a lady.”

“Oh, you saucy little-!”

You ran off giggling to the ship, Douxie chasing after you. He let you beat him to the ship, but when he jumped up with you, he picked you up, sweeping you off the deck. “Gotcha!”

“Noooo! Let me goooo!” You squealed, attempting to wriggle out of the wizard’s strong grip.

“Not until you apologize for sassing a master wizard!”

“I’ll do it again, boomer!”

“I am not a boomer! First of all, I am far older than any boomer. Secondly, I’m up to date on all the latest memes!”

“Oh yeah?” You grinned cheekily. You started struggling again, only for his grip to tighten. “By Talos, this can’t be happening!” You cried, a laugh on the edge of your laugh.

“Seen that one,” Douxie grinned.

Y/n went limp, then suddenly shouted, “RULE THREE!” and kicked him in a very painful place. Douxie released her as he doubled over.

“I am never letting you hand around the trollhunters again,” he groaned. “That is most definitely not rule three.”

“Sorry,” you apologized, bending down to check on him. “What is rule three, then?”

Douxie looked up, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “When in doubt, run like the dickens.”

Your eyes widened, and you scrambled back over the edge of the ship, taking off running.

“Not fast enough, darling!” Douxie called after you, flying after you.

“That’s cheating!”

“No, it is not!”

“Yes it is!”

Douxie caught you and flew you both back to the ship. “Come on now, love. I want to show you my choice.” He set you down gently. “Hold tight.”

The trip was much shorter than the previous one, only taking a few minutes compared to the hour and a half long first trip. He landed the ship on a bare set of cliffs, double checking something on his bracer. “We’re here.”

You looked over the edge of the ship, not seeing much but jagged cliff edges, and an ancient overgrown forest. “Where are we?”

Douxie sighed heavily. “This is where I used to live. This is where Camelot used to be. Many years ago, before it could fly, before the disastrous tournament. Before I went back in time and almost screwed up the entirety of history.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Back when it was home.”

You looked at him, aware of the mood and setting. Yet, all you could think about was-

“CAMELOT? YOU LIVED IN CAMELOT?!”

Douxie jumped. “Er. Yes?”

“That’s so cool! What was it like?” You asked in excitement.

Douxie laughed, jumping out of the ship. You followed, still asking a bunch of questions. He sat on the edge of the cliff and started telling the story. When he finished, you both sat there, in a forgotten corner of England, the wind blowing across your faces. You reached for Douxie’s hand, but he stood up.

“Let’s head back to Arcadia. We can go stargazing for a bit before I take you home, if you’d like?” He asked, ever the gentleman.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you say as you get up. You brush off the feeling of disappointment that you felt. There would be plenty of other times to try and express your feelings.

You took the hour or so trip back to Arcadia as a chance to doze a bit, trying to focus on other ways you could express your feelings to the dorky wizard close by. You were pretty sure that he reciprocated your feelings, but there was also a chance that this was a platonic date. You’d been on a few of those, sadly.

“Hey, y/n, we’re here,” Douxie said softly, gently shaking you awake. Oops.

You sat up, quickly rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

Douxie cut you off with a laugh. “It’s fine, darling. It was a bit of a trip and it’s getting pretty late.” He frowned at the sky. “Or early. Today’s Sunday though, so I hope you don’t have anywhere to be.”

You giggled. “Nope!”

“Excellent!” He jumped down from the ship, then extended his hand to you. “My lady.”

Your face warmed as you took his hand, and jumped down from the ship with his assistance. “Thank you, Douxie,” you whispered.

Now that you were back in Arcadia, where it was dark, and everyone was sleeping, it just felt more appropriate to whisper, even if you were technically miles from anywhere. Douxie led you to the center of the clearing, and lied down. You followed suit, and turned your eyes to the stars.

Douxie started pointing out and naming stars and constellations. You told him about how you almost always knew where Mars was thanks to an astronomy phase your mom went through. He thought that was cute and funny.

You shivered. You were in a t-shirt and shorts, and hadn’t grabbed a sweater before leaving, and after traveling through the skies, and with it approaching the dead of night, you were starting to feel pretty chilly.

Douxie noticed right away, and sat up. Then he gently pulled you towards him, holding you close so you could feel the heat radiating off of him. He wrapped his arms around you, then paused, and scrolled through his bracer. He chose a rune and mumbled some Latin. Immediately, warmth spread through the clearing, with no visible source. Douxie chuckled triumphantly, before wrapping his arms around you again.

He rubbed up and down your arms, making the goosebumps disappear, and giving you a rush of emotions you hadn’t expected to feel. The real surprise comes when he gently presses his lips to your ear.

As your face warms, Douxie starts whispering to you. “Y/n, I want to tell you something. I know we only met a few months ago, but you’ve been a constant in my life since then. Trusting you with my secret was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made, and you make me feel so comfortable and relaxed. In all my years, only one person made me feel like this.”

Your breath caught in your throat, but you swallowed back the emotions bubbling inside of you. You whispered to him, “Who?”

His lips were right on your ear again. “You, love. Only you. And always you. I love you, y/n.”

You turned your head so you could see his face, wondering if his was as red as your own. Nose to nose, you stared silently at each other, until you broke the silence.

“I love you, too, Douxie.”

He laughed quietly, then softly closed the gap between the two of you.

His lips brushed against yours softly. You hadn’t expected his lips to be so soft, or mango flavored. Clearly, he was a lot better at remembering to apply chapstick than you were.

The kiss was short and chaste. You were kind of sad that it had ended so soon, actually.

So when he leaned down again and whispered, “Can I kiss you again?” you nodded, and met him in the middle.

This kiss was deeper, and longer. Somehow, the two of you ended up laying down on the grass again, still embracing. You put your hands on his face, never wanting to let go of him, while his hands found your waist, pulling you closer to him. You both pulled away for air for half a second, then dove right back into the kiss.

Douxie ran his hands up and down your waist and ribcage, cautiously testing the waters. He pulled away and you sighed sadly, until he kissed the crook of your neck. Tingles ran through your whole body, and he did it again.

His warmth spell must have been short-lived, because as he rubbed up and down your back again and your shirt moved, you felt the cold air against you, and you shivered, despite you and Douxie being so close.

“Douxie,” you whispered softly.

“Yes, love?” He whispered back from just underneath your ear.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“But I’m too cold to continue,” you whispered even softer than before. He understood immediately, removing his hands from underneath your shirt. He moved to pull away, but you grabbed his hands. “We can still cuddle,” you tell him. “I just don’t want to freeze or catch a cold.”

Douxie nodded, and pressed his forehead to you. You could smell his mango chapstick still, and the dye he used in his hair. Combined with the faint smell of coffee and books, it all smelled unmistakably like Douxie.

“You know, love, we can always continue another time,” Douxie whispers. “Maybe at my home. I’d kick Archie out for a while, he’ll survive.”

You giggle. “Only if you can spirit me away again.”

“It’s a deal.”

The sky was starting to lighten above your heads when you finally made it back to your house. Douxie opened your window for you, and helped you inside your room again like a true gentleman. Once you were safely inside, he leaned forward.

“May I have a farewell kiss?” He asked with a grin.

“Of course, master wizard.” You pecked him on the lips, then touched your forehead to his. “I had a magical time, Douxie. Thank you.”

“Thank you for coming, my love. Now make sure you rest.” He smiled at you. “Can’t have you exhausted the next time I see you.”

You poked his nose. “You’ll be seeing me at the coffee shop, you goof. Because you’re the only one who can make my order special.”

“I’m honored.”

“It’s because you bewitch it, isn’t it?”

“I do no such thing!”

“Then why’s it always better than everyone else’s versions?”

He met your eyes. “It’s the love.”

You poked his nose again. “All right, if you say so. Now shoo before everyone else wakes up. If you don’t, they won’t buy my lie of studying all night. And you need to rest, too.”

He sighed, which turned into a yawn, proving your point. “Yes, my love.”

You closed the window, and watched him fly the boat away. As soon as he was out of sight, you closed the blinds and curtains, threw a few open textbooks on the bed, made yourself comfortable among them, and closed your eyes, reveling in the events of the night.

-Fin

[ray-ray-writings]

Warming Up-Technoblade

This is a Technoblade x gn!reader in the dreamsmp! In this, we’re going to pretend that every village has a name, you’ll see why. 

TW: Mention of domestic abuse. It’s very very brief, like one sentence long.

Check out my masterlist here!

Philza and Techno find something in the snow that definitely shouldn’t be there and take it back to Techno’s house to warm up

Technoblade’s POV

There wasn’t supposed to be anyone but Philza and me on this path. Ever. It was the path that Philza and I trekked to get from my home in the tundra to L’Manberg and vice versa. It was only known by the two of us. There shouldn’t have been anyone else here, it’s hidden… Lot of good that did me. 

The walk started normally. Philza and I left his house in L’Manberg to go back to mine. I had something to show him and he wanted to come see it. So we took off down our path, bundled up tight. We walked for many blocks, making random conversation about the goings on in the server. We had almost made it back to my house, only about 150 blocks to go. I didn’t notice the body, Phil did. He was in the middle of a sentence and cut himself off with a gasp. 

“What?” I questioned, really confused as to what was happening. He said nothing, only rushed forward further down the path. I immediately hopped into action and followed behind him. There was no way I was letting my father run off on his own. I watched, almost in amazement, as Philza dropped to the ground and slid on his knees, coming to a stop as he leaned over something on the ground. 

As I joined him at his side, he shrugged off his winter coat and placed it on the ground. “Dadza, what are you-” My question froze in my throat as I looked to the ground. There, lying unconscious in the snow, was a person. They had cuts and bruises strewn about their face, a deep red stain soaked their shirt, telling us they were injured. Their eyes were closed, but short shallow breaths puffed from their parted blue lips letting me know they were alive. “Who is that?” I croaked, dropping to my knees beside my father. “I don’t know. I don’t recognize them. And how they got all the way out here is an absolute miracle,” Dadza stated, grabbing their arm to check their hearts. They’re health bar was a little below half but after a few moments of staring at it, they lost half a heart. 

“We need to get them inside… Do you mind?” I let out a sigh, I knew what he was asking. As much as I didn’t want a housemate, I couldn’t just leave this person to freeze. “Yeah, okay. Just put your coat back on. I don’t need you freezing too. My internal body temperature is hot enough for me, I’ll give them my cloak,” I grumbled, a little begrudgingly. Dadza gave a quick nod before pulling his coat off of the person and slipping it on to his own body once more. 

In one swift motion, I unclasped the cape and swung it around and laid it down on the person. “I’ll carry them bridal style. Let’s hope they don’t have back injuries,” I muttered, standing up, Dadza doing the same. I quickly bent down and scooped them up in arms, stumbling a little under the weight, but Dadza’s arm held me steady. Dadza tucked my cape closer to the unconscious person’s skin before the two of us trudged back to my cabin. 

Once we had made our way to the house, I quickly brought the stranger into my living room. “Dadza,” I announced motioning my head to the couch and then to the fireplace. He took the hint and pushed the piece of furniture closer to the fire. I slowly leaned down and placed the person down on my couch. Once I was sure they were secure, I turned to my father, “Do you want to get the blankets or the first aid kid?” “I’ll get the first aid kit and begin taking care of their wounds. I’ll begin on their stomach as it’s obvious they’re bleeding from there.” 

The two of us walked further into my home to do our respective tasks. I couldn’t help the grumbles that escaped my lips. So much for having a fun day with my father. After gathering my warmest blankets, my dresser caught my eye. I let out an annoyed sigh before walking over and getting an old sweatshirt of mine and some sweatpants. It’s obvious their clothes are ruined, you know, cause of the blood stain… Why did this have to happen to me?

Philza was already working on their face by the time I entered the room. He looked relieved at the sight of me. “They’re clothes are ruined… I’ll dress them if you want to prep whatever you were going to show me,” Dadza offered as I set the items on the back of my couch. I gave him a short nod and turned around. I was glad Philza had offered to take care of them. It’s not that I wouldn’t, I just don’t think I’d be very good at it. Besides, I had other things to do anyway.

*Time skip and POV Change*

Y/N’s POV

It was warm. Too warm. Hot. Why is it so hot? Aren’t I in the tundra… Wait is that a fire? Crackling? Oh god, I’m going to be burned alive. 

My eyes snapped open and a gasp escaped my lips as I attempted to sit up as fast as I could. A shooting pain in my stomach caused me to gasp again and fall back into the sno-- nope this isn’t snow. My eyes scanned the room wildly and found that I was in a cabin, lying on a couch, next to a fireplace. Once again, I attempted to sit up, but was too weak to do it on my own causing a hiss to pass my teeth, “Woah there,” A gentle voice called as a friendly hand placed itself on my back, gently lifting me up and helping me sit up and lean against the arm of the couch. My eyes focused on a blonde man with a soft complexion in front of me. His eyes raised from his hands to my eyes, “You alright?” He asked softly. I felt comforted in his presence. Something from deep within me told me to trust him. So I did. 

I gave a slow nod, noticing that when I did my skull pounded. “Yeah,” I croaked, my throat extremely dry, “I’m okay… Thanks… Not to be rude but who are you and where am I?” I asked, my eyes scanning around the room once more. The blonde man let out a small laugh as he backed away from me, not going far. Just far enough to give me some space. “I’m Philza, you can call me Phil. My son, Technoblade, and I found you on our journey home a few hours ago. You were unconscious in the snow. As for where you are-” “You’re in my house,” a monotone voice cut Phil off. My eyes shifted to where the voice sounded, they didn’t have to go far. 

At the other end of the couch stood an extremely attractive tall man, pink hair framing his scar littered face. “And who are you?” I asked hoarsely, my throat still very dry. “I’m his son… Well one of them. I’m Technoblade and you’re in my house,” he stated, his eyes boring into me. I gave a small hum of acknowledgement, remembering that it hurt when I nodded. “Here,” He said, passing a cup to his father before his father handed me the cup along with a few pills. “For your pain,” Philza murmured, pressing the cup and the pills into my hand. 

I eagerly lifted the cup to my throat and allowed the cool liquid to coat my throat before bringing the small pills to my lips and swallowing them as well. Bringing the cup down and my hand up to my mouth to dry my upper lip, I noticed I wasn’t in my clothes. “Your clothes were… damaged. So we put you in some of Techno’s old clothes. I changed you. I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable,” Philza stated, his eye shifting nervously. I gave him a small shrug, “It’s fine. You guys saved me. You didn’t have to. Thank you,” I said, my eyes shifting between the two. 

Philza gave me a soft smile, and Techno was still staring into my soul, “It’s what anyone would do… Would you mind telling us your name?” Philza asked, trying not to intrude. “Oh! I’m Y/N… I’m from the Village of Blockley!” I informed the two. Both sets of eyes widened in disbelief at my announcement. “Blockley? That’s well over 2,000 blocks away from here! Why have you come all this way?” Philza questioned in shock. “It’s a bit of a long story…” I trailed off, not really wanting to bother them with my sob story. “We’ve got time,” Philza prompted, motioning for me to continue. I turned my head to get confirmation from the other man. He gave me a small shrug before sitting down on the arm of the couch, folding his arms and leaning in toward me. I let out a sigh before shrugging… Here we go.  

“I was born and raised in Blockley. As I grew up, I got tired of the same old routine. Wake up, go to work with my father, the town’s cleric, break for lunch, back to work, work till sundown, be inside as soon as it’s dark, go to sleep, wake up the next morning and do it all over again. I wanted to leave, find something new, something exciting. I told my father all of this. He thought the idea of me leaving was stupid. He told me that there was no way that anywhere else would accept me and that I would be left alone, defenceless and I would come crawling back to the village. I disagreed, of course. We got into a verbal fight and it escalated. My father struck me. And then he threw me out, told me that if I wanted to leave then to leave and never come back. I would never be welcome back in the Village of Blockley… So I left. 

“I wondered for a very very long time. I had very little supplies and no sense of direction. I somehow ended up in tundra completely under prepared… I was about to go back the way I came when I was attacked by a zombie. I had never fought before, we had an iron golem to take care of it and I was always inside by sundown. Well I killed it, but not without a few injuries and completely draining my body. I was limping back the way I came once more, but a skeleton shot me in the stomach causing me to collapse in the snow. I think he thought I was dead, so he left me alone. That’s the last thing I remember. And now I’m here because you saved me… And for that I owe you my life.” 

Silence followed my story for many moments. The two seemed absolutely stunned at my story. As I was about to speak again, arms wrapped themselves around my shoulders carefully, still mindful I was sore. “Jesus kid,” Phil mumbled in my shoulder, “I’m so sorry. You don’t owe us anything kiddo. You can stay here as long as you like,” He offered gently. Tears pricked in my eyes as I squeezed the older man back. This is just what I needed a fatherly figure to tell me I was welcome somewhere. Wait, it’s not his house. 

Still in the hug, my head shifted to Techno. He seemed angry, but somehow I knew that it wasn’t aimed at me. The two of us locked eyes, “He’s right Y/N,” Techno spoke carefully, “You can stay here as long as you want. You’ll always be welcome in my home.” And there go the tears. A small sob escaped my lips. I had only just met these people, but I knew that I was always meant to find them. “Oh don’t cry honey,” Phil tried to comfort in a panic. 

A watery laugh escaped my lips as I buried my face in his broad shoulder, “These are happy tears Phil. I promise. Thank you. Thank you for welcoming me. That means more to me than you’ll ever know.” 

*Time skip*

I could tell that Techno was really having to work on getting used to having another person in his house. Every morning I would walk into the kitchen and he would jump, go to draw a weapon, and then his eyes would meet mine and he would let his guard down before going back to whatever it was he was doing. He would take me with him to explore or gather materials but the words that were spoken between us were few and scarce. I didn’t mind though. I knew that it was definitely a new and sudden change for him to have to deal with. So I made myself as useful as possible. 

When Techno would leave me home alone, I would spend that afternoon cleaning and organizing the house so that by the time Techno returned the house was spotless. I would also make sure there was food ready for him when he got back home so he wouldn’t have to worry about making himself something to eat. I always took the time to ask about his day, even if his answers were short and choppy. I could tell that he often felt awkward in the silence between us, so I filled it. I would always talk to him, tell him about my day, the new gossip I heard from Phil, or just about nothing and everything. On days I didn’t want to talk, I would play soft music throughout the house so the silence wasn’t so deafening. 

I could tell that my actions were slowly but surely warming the thought of me living with Techno up. I would catch small smiles that painted his face out of the corner of my eye as I babbled about how Philza had taught me a new bread recipe. My question of how his day was was met with longer explanations about what the pink headed man had done that day. Fond looks he didn’t know I could see would settle on his face as he found me taking things out of chests only to put them in different ones. The day I heard Techno laugh was the day I found my favorite sound. 

As cliché as it is, as the two of us grew closer, I found myself falling deeper… Deeper in love with the man that had saved me. How could I not? Once he opened up, I found him to be the funniest, kindest, most lovable man ever. Techno tries so hard to appear tough to me, but it doesn’t fool me one bit. I once watched him cry because he stepped on a flower. 

“Flowers aren’t supposed to grow in the tundra Y/N. That flower didn’t care, they put all their effort into growing and I crushed it!” He huffed, wiping away the tears that had escaped his eyes. I simply listened with a soft smile and nodded along. That was the day I realized I was in love with him. His fond looks, gentle touches, and soft words told me he felt the same. 

“Hey, how’s it going in here?” Techno questioned softly, his hands gently brushing against my lower back. “Hey, it’s going good! Dinner will be ready in like 10 minutes,” I replied, peering into the oven to confirm my guesstimate. Techno hummed in acknowledgement and moved to sit next to me on the open counter. I playfully rolled my eyes at his actions, but couldn’t deny the soft smile that curled on my lips as I chopped carrots for the salad. 

“Hey… I wanted to tell you something,” Techno spoke, breaking our peaceful silence. I let out a hum, tilting my head up, “What’s up?” I asked, my eyes locking with his. “I just wanted to tell you that… that I love you,” Techno admitted softly, his eyes not leaving me. The smile on my face widened at the confession. I quickly set down my knife before moving to stand in between his legs. I gently reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing him down to my lips for a soft kiss. Techno immediately kissed back, his hands moving quickly to settle on my hips, pulling me even closer to him. 

“What was that for?” Techno muttered softly after the kiss was broken. “I just wanted to tell you, I love you too,” I murmured, my lips brushing against his as I spoke. “Tell me you love me again,” he demanded. I giggled at his shift of tone but complied, leaning forward and pressing my lips to his once more. Gosh I’m so glad they found me in the snow. 

There you have it! I really hope you enjoyed! If so, be sure to leave a like!!

[salemsimss]

Beginning | Previous | Next

Transcript under the cut

Sorya: How are you holding up? Are you doing okay?

Juliana: Yeah! Honestly, it's not painful at all. It feels relaxing if anything.

Sorya: Okay, great! Just let me know if you need a break at any point.

Juliana: Yes, boss.

Sorya: [Snort] It feels weird having you call me that outside of work.

[Tattoo machine noises]

Juliana: Oh my God, did I tell you about this weird customer we had come in last night?

Sorya: I don't think you did! What happened?

Juliana: So this guy came in, acting all high and mighty and stuff-

Sorya: [Scoff] Typical.

Juliana: Pfft, yeah. But for some reason he would not shut up about his sex life.

Sorya: Oh God...

[Chattering]

Juliana: So Rahul was serving him- poor fucker, and out of nowhere he brings up that Isaac Osario dude.

Sorya: What did he say?

Juliana: I can't remember all of it, but if I remember correctly, he was talking about how he was going to fuck him up, and make him his bitch or something. I don't know...

Sorya: Oh...

Sorya: Huh, it'd be interesting to see how that would go. I heard Isaac's pretty brutal on the streets.

Juliana: Oh he is! I've seen him fight; he's not someone you want to mess with.

Sorya: So I've been told...

Juliana: Told?

Sorya: Yeah. I asked Tom about him the other day- only out of curiosity, and he pretty much filled me in.

Thomas: Hey, can I ask you something before I forget?

Sorya: Yeah, sure. What's up?

Thomas: I'm thinking of going up to Carlisle in mid October to surprise my Mum, and I just wanted to ask if I'm good to book some time off to do so?

Sorya: I don't see why not? It's been a while since you've last seen your family. How is she, anyway?

Thomas: She's doing okay! She's got a bit more movement in her left leg, now.

Sorya: That's great! I'm glad to hear she's doing better. Put the request through online, and I'll check with Dan.

Thomas: Thank you!

Thomas: My Mum asked about you, you know?

Sorya: Really?

Thomas: Yeah. She mostly just asked how you were- she really wants to meet you.

Sorya: We're gonna have to arrange something, then.

Thomas: Yeah. She'd like that. She really likes you.

Sorya: I see you've been saying nice things about me, then.

Thomas: Well, it's not like I have anything bad to say about you.

Sorya: I find that hard to believe, Tommy.

Thomas: Okay fine, next time I'll tell her about how you're a workaholic who doesn't know when to take a break, and that you have weird eating habits.

Sorya: Leave my eating habits out of this!

Thomas: [Laughs] But seriously, though. You're the only person I know who eats food in a certain order based on the least liked to the most liked food.

Sorya: Is that not normal? I swear everyone does it! Even Isa- my old housemate, Isaiah does it. Maybe you're the one with the weird eating habits.

Thomas: Whatever you say, weirdo.

Sorya: [Laughs]

Thomas: But seriously, though. I'd like you to meet my family one day, I think you'd get along really well.

Sorya: I'd like that, man. You'll have to be my tour guide and shit- show me around Carlisle.

Thomas: I could show you the Lake District, also.

Sorya: For real? I've always wanted to go there at least once.

Thomas: Looks like you've got some holiday requests that you'll have to put through, also.

Sorya: Right.

[Car drives by]

Thomas: Sorya?

Sorya: Yeah?

Thomas: You still down for the gym tomorrow?

Sorya: Fuck yeah, bro. Just let me know what time and I'll be there.

Thomas: Great! Just... Be careful on your way back. We've had a bunch of shit happen up this road lately. Some older man got jumped by a group of lads the other day.

Sorya: Shit... I'll be careful.

Thomas: You sure? We can get you an Uber or something to get you home quicker.

Sorya: I'll be fine. Honestly. You know me, I can take care of myself.

Thomas: I know. I just worry sometimes.

Sorya: Trust me, I'll be okay.

Thomas: Okay, fine. Just message me when you get back, okay?

Sorya: Sure. I'll see you tomorrow.

[Music playing through earbuds]

[ticketstomydaydreams]

5:3666

(All We Have: Part Two)

Part One

Colson x Female Reader

Summary: You and Colson fall into a night time studio routine when he starts keeping you company through your insomnia and you decide to work though some past demons

Word count: 3,200 (ish, I lost count editing)

Feels: Fluff with a dash of past trauma

Warnings: Drug & alcohol consumption, domestic violence, cursing, Colson being so sweet it almost makes your teeth hurt

Companion playlist:

Machine Gun Kelly - 5:3666

Warren Zevon - I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

The Vamps - All Night

Halsey - You Should Be Sad

A/N: If you've been affected by anything in this story, please know you're not alone. My inbox is always open and I'm all ears 🖤

______

During the first couple of weeks of moving in, you’d been partying A LOT. The guys wanted to show you just how mad it got, breaking you into their chaotic household, blending the days together. Everyone was hyper and the house was buzzing with energy. You'd been so exhausted from all of it that you'd been all but passing out each night, but you couldn’t lie, it was great fun.

You’d tried to pass on a few nights but Colson would never hear of it, often forcing you out of your room to get involved as the house was filled with people, jam sessions taking place in between drinking games. It was a far cry from your usual homelife, your last housemate mainly kept to themselves so your place was normally pretty chilled. Colson had used your place as a quiet escape over the years, but it seemed you wouldn’t have the same set up extended to you here with this lot.

With the pandemic unfolding, the house had started getting quieter, less people in and out every night and everyone was settling into a lazier way of life. The gang were mooching around the house throughout the day and while the house was still lively at night, it wasn’t quite the party central you’d almost started getting used to. Your normal working routine went out the window as everyone had started working from home mainly and without your daily routine, followed by nights out partying, your insomnia was back with full force.

______

You were lying in your bed, trying to force sleep on yourself but after trying to nod off for a couple of hours, you accepted defeat and got back up. Throwing some sweats on and one of Colson’s huge hoodies (you’d been slowly sneaking them out of his closet, finding that the masses of material drowning your small frame were super comforting), you headed down to the kitchen, turned the stove on and filled the kettle up. You were scrolling through your phone when you heard footsteps on the tiled floor. Colson strolled into the kitchen looking disheveled in a white tank top and boxer shorts, hair ruffled and looking sleepy

“Dude, it’s 3am how come you’re up?”

“Couldn’t sleep, living that oh so fun insomnia life again” you sighed “Did I wake you?”

“Nah, I was already awake. Couldn’t sleep either and heard someone moving about so thought I’d come down” He replied, climbing onto one of the breakfast stools

“Yeah, I think it’s not having much of a routine. Hate lying in bed staring at the ceiling so just got up. You want a cup?” you offered, pointing to the chamomile tea you were brewing

“Sure, thanks” he says, taking the steaming mug from you

You sit down at the breakfast bar with him and start chatting, scrolling through instagram as you do. After about an hour, as you’re talking about an article you’re reading, you notice Colson doesn’t respond and you look to your right and see he’s fallen asleep, leaning on his hand, his mouth slightly ajar.

“Hey, sleeping beauty” you whisper, rubbing his back with your hand “Go to bed”

He slightly jolts at your touch, opening his eyes “Nah man, I’m keeping you company”

“Some company” you laugh softly “pretty sure you just slept through all my rambling there”

He leans against your shoulder, closing his eyes again “Hey, at least you’re not sitting here alone. That’s something right?”

“That’s true” you smile, leaning your head against his “You’re very appreciated, do you know that”

You gently push him upright and stand up “Come on, let’s go to bed. I’m pretty tired myself, so you’ve definitely helped”

He’s laid his head down on his arm on the counter, his breathing getting heavy immediately so you pull his other hand making him stand up. He stands up and puts his arm around your shoulder as you walk towards the stairs, your legs feeling heavy as you climb each step, carrying some of Colson’s weight as he sleepily walks with you

Once you’re standing outside your bedroom doors, he pulls you in for a hug

“Night kid, don’t be wandering around bored if you can’t sleep yeah? Just come get me. Nothing worse than sitting up alone at night…”

“Will do. Thanks Col” You squeeze him a bit tighter as he kisses the top of your head

“Night” you smile, as he let’s you go and turns and heads into his room, waving his hand up behind him

Undressing and crawling into bed, your eyes feel heavy as your head hits the pillow. Colson was right, insomnia was a much less lonely experience with a friend.

______

Of course, as is always the way after your sleepless nights, you sleep in super late the following day meaning the cycle continues and you find yourself wide awake as the witching hour approaches. Feeling restless in your bedroom, you get up, and decide to head downstairs and out into the studio because you figure you might as well put this time to good use. You settle into a chair with your acoustic guitar and started playing, stopping and starting as you figure out a melody, working your latest lyrics in with it

“I wanna start this out and say, I gotta get it off my chest. Got no anger, got no malice…”

“I thought I told you to come get me if you couldn’t sleep”

You almost drop your guitar as you hear Colson’s voice behind you, “Jesus, how are you such an enormous human but you still manage to creep up on me all the time?”

“Just a stealthy motherfucker I guess” He laughs, flopping into the chair next to you

“Whatcha working on? That sounded sweet, keep playing…”

Colson knows you sometimes get a bit self-conscious with people watching you sing, so he lights his joint, rests his head on his hand and closes his eyes. You smile as you see what he's doing, thankful he always understands what you're like.

You turn back to your notepad, reading over your lyric outline quickly before repositioning the guitar in your lap and resetting the metronome

___

‘I wanna start this out and say, I gotta get it off my chest

Got no anger, got no malice, Just a little bit of regret

No, nobody else will tell you, so there's some things I gotta say

Gonna jot it down and then get it out and then I'll be on my way

No, you're not half the man you think that you are

And you can't fill the hole inside of you with money, drugs, and cars

I'm so glad I never ever had a baby with you

'Cause you can't love nothing unless there's something in it for you

Oh, I feel so sorry, I feel so sad

I tried to help you, it just made you mad

And I had no warning about who you are

I'm just glad I made it out without breaking down

And then ran so fuckin' far, that you would never ever touch me again

Won't see your alligator tears

'Cause, no, I've had enough of them’

___

“Man, that was beautiful Y/N. I got some chills right there…You just wrote that?”

“Nah, it’s something I dug up from ‘back then’. Been going through some old lyrics and samples while we’ve got all this time on our hands. It’s kinda cathartic to go over some of that stuff now there’s a bit more distance you know”

______

A couple of years ago, you’d been stuck in a really toxic relationship with your ex, Stevie. Your time with him had been a tornado of arguments, drugs and the constant heartache of him cheating on you. Every time you’d get close to having the strength to leave, you’d always cave in and the mess would continue with you losing a bit of yourself each time you stayed. You’d become pretty used to his violent outbursts, he had always been controlling and short tempered, often pushing you and throwing stuff around your apartment. Despite his own frequent infidelity, he flew into a jealous rage with you constantly.

He’d always hated Colson, despite him being one of your best friends, and while he’d play nice to his face you’d always get it in the neck once you were alone about how you and Colson were ‘too close’ and he ‘didn’t trust him’. Before that final night you’d spent with him, things had been pretty good with the two of you for a few weeks, there hadn’t been much drama and so you hadn’t thought too much of inviting him out with you and the gang for a night out clubbing. Your good run had clearly come to an end, when you felt his hand grab your arm tightly and drag you off the dancefloor where you’d been dancing with Colson. You’d been bundled into an uber so quickly, you hadn’t even managed to get your handbag from inside. You saw Colson running out of the club, followed by Rook and Slim who was holding your bag, as the cab pulled away.

Once you were back at the apartment, he flew into a rage. You’d never seen him this bad before, his eyes were dark and when you tried to argue back, calling his jealousy ‘pathetic’ he snapped. He’d grabbed you by the throat and slammed you against the wall, “Don’t you ever disrespect me like that again” he’d spat in your face, before striking you so hard with his fist that the skin across your cheek split open. It was as if his actions had knocked him back to reality, he’d let go of you and you ran to your bedroom, locked the door behind you and started packing a bag. He hammered on the door, begging you to open it and you could hear that he was crying. You looked around for your phone before you remembered you’d left it at the club. Desperate to get away, you opened your laptop and brought up instagram, managing to send Colson a message asking him to send you an uber to his house straight away. You’d thrown your laptop and a few more bits in your bag, the battery dying before you had a chance to wait for a reply, before pulling the bedroom door open and barging past Stevie. He’d tried to grab you, but you’d finally had enough “Never fucking touch me again” you spat, pushing him off you. The hatred in your voice rooted him to the spot and he said nothing as you walked out, the door slamming behind you.

Once you were outside the apartment building, the reality of what had just happened and the situation you were in started to wash over you. You had no phone, no wallet, your laptop was dead. Just as you were starting to seriously panic, an uber pulled up and Colson had leapt out of the backseat. You’d been in total shock and had just let Colson guide you into the cab and then out into his house, up to his room. He didn’t say anything as he led you to his bathroom and lifted you up onto the counter. He grabbed a flannel and soaked it with warm water, rinsing it out before pressing it softly against the cut on your cheek, gently wiping away the blood that had mixed with your mascara laced tears. The tenderness of his actions was almost too much and you started to sob again.

“Hey, hey. Y/N, look at me” he said softly, lifting your chin so you looked at him, his blue eyes misty themselves “It’s okay, you’re safe here. Don’t move, I’ll be back in a sec”

He left the bathroom and returned with a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Putting them on the counter next to you, he crouched down and undid the straps on your heels, slipping them off your feet and then helping you down from the counter. “I’ll leave you to change”

When you came out of the bathroom, Colson was lying in his bed “Come here” he said, holding his arm and beckoning into his side. You crawled under the covers next to him and snuggled into him, his long arms wrapping around you.

“Col…” you said quietly

“Yeah?” he whispered back, stroking your hair off your forehead

“Thank you…”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve always got you Y/N”

______

“I hated that fucking guy. That night...I wanted to kill him after what he’d done to you”

You see him tense up at the memory and you lean over and squeeze his knee “You’re such an amazing friend, do you know that. I don’t know what I would’ve done that night without you”

"You're a fucking warrior Y/N, you'd have handled your shit. I was just happy you trusted me enough to let me be there for you. You deserve so much better than that" he says, covering the hand you'd placed on his knee with his, staring you in the eyes and returning the smile that's crept across your face

"You know there's been a few punches I've wanted to dole out on behalf of you over the years, but you've never let me" you tell him

"Too right I'd never let you. I never want you in the drama, you're too good for getting caught up in that shit" he replies, pointing at you with mock sternness

"Hey" he says, seeing your expression wash over with a tint of sadness "At least the sleepless nights aren't what they were then…

… If we're gonna work through some old demons this lockdown, I'm sure I've got some songs and lyrics that have never seen the light of day" He reaches over the desk and pulls his laptop towards him "You've inspired me… "

"Oh no, are we gonna fuck our heads up with this?" you joke nervously, worrying that Colson's going to delve into something that's going to upset him

"Nah, I got you covered and you got me, right?"

"True dat" you say, as he holds his fist out so you can fistbump, his eyes now focused on his laptop screen

______

You felt kinda bad, having kept Colson up all night with you the last two nights, especially as you'd got him reminiscing about some tough memories, so tonight you tried to sneak past his room when your restlessness got the better of you.

"Nice try kid!" Colson says as he throws his bedroom door open, causing you to yelp in fright. standing there topless with his sweatpants hung low in his hips, he lights the joint hanging from his mouth "I told you we were in this together now"

"I felt bad, making you stay up with me"

"You didn't make me do shit…Wait a sec, let me find a hoodie. If I have any left in here…" he says, giving a pointed look towards the huge blue hoodie you were wrapped in before walking back into his room and rummaging through his drawers

"Oh shush, you have like a hundred…"

"Right come on" he says, pulling a pink hoodie over his head and flipping the hood up over his messy hair "Let's see what we get into tonight…"

______

And so the nights went on like this, the two of you falling into an easygoing studio routine. If there wasn't anything else going on in the house, you'd eat dinner together then head to the studio and work through the night into the small hours, skipping out the pretense of trying to sleep. You were both pretty productive at this time it seemed, both being proclaimed night owls, and keeping busy during these uncertain times was keeping your minds off the unfolding pandemic.

Considering he’d referred to his home studio in the past as the ‘rage cage’ (and it certainly could still be party central when the entire crew got involved), it was actually a place you drifted towards to relax these days. You’d always worked well together in a studio, but over the weeks spending so much time just the two of you, you became more in tune with each other, noticing when one of you had hit a wall and it was time for bed. Sometimes you'd work in comfortable silence, side by side, engrossed in your own seperate tasks. Sometimes barely any work would get done as you put the world to rights talking about anything and everything in a late night impromptu therapy session.

This evening, you'd been sitting cross legged in your chair for hours now, focusing so hard on editing a song which was driving you mad, you hadn't realised your feet had gone numb. As you try to move, your knees crack and pins and needles shoot through your legs. Colson looks up from the screen he'd been engrossed in after hearing you groan and sees you rubbing your feet trying to bring back the feeling to them

‘C’mere’ he said, before turning his chair towards you and leaning down to grab your legs, bringing your feet up onto his lap. He pulls your socks off and begins massaging your feet. You lean your head back, eyes closed and let out a long ‘hmmm’. You don’t see Colson glancing over at you and shifting in his seat as he lets out slow breath before turning back to his screen

“Now this is the kind of work session I could get used to”, you sighed "You being my studio bitch on hand for foot rubs. Although, I imagine this enjoyment goes both ways Mr Foot Lover” you tease, throwing him an exaggerated wink

Colson throws his head back with a hearty chuckle, and light heartedly slaps your calf

"Keep it in your pants Y/N"

You laugh and wiggle your toes, Colson letting out a dramatic, throaty groan in response. "Those are some sexy little toes though" he states, sticking his tongue out.

Still laughing, you put your hand to your chest, and gasp as you feign prudishness and try to pull your feet away. He grabs both your feet in one of his hands, keeping them in place then leans over the desk and pulls your laptop towards you

"Get on with some work you, this is supposed to be keeping you motivated, not distracted"

He scolds affectionately, with a smile on his face

“Okay, okay, spoilsport” you grumble as you pull your computer onto your lap

Half an hour passes, your legs still on Colson’s lap with him still massaging your feet absentmindedly with one hand while he works, and your eyes begin to feel heavy. You don’t realise you’ve fallen asleep, until you’re awoken by a “woah” from Colson as he catches your laptop which is about to fall. Taking it from your lap, he states “Right, time for bed you”

You check your phone and see it’s already 5:36am.

You stand up and stretch then walk over behind Colson, putting your arms around his shoulders, and resting your chin on his head. Looking at his screen, you yawn “You got much left to do?”

He leans back into you, bringing his hand up to rest on your arm, “Making some good progress so just gonna finish a couple of bits”

“Okay dude” you gently kiss the top of his head and squeeze the back of his neck a couple of times as you turn to leave “Try and get some rest, we’ve got a long day of sweet fuck all to do tomorrow” you say through another big yawn

“Heh yeah, Night Kid” he says softly, letting out a yawn himself. Colson turns and watches you head out of the studio and lets out a big sigh. Feeling the back of his neck still tingle from where you’d squeezed it, he’s suddenly aware of how empty the room feels without you in it....

______

Taglist: @triplexdoublex @thisshitisfuckingdifficult @brightblaqkkheaven

Lace Up! ❌❌

[bitacrytic]

The Black Rose (2)

Read previous chapter HERE.

♧

Yohan knew something was amiss. It had been a while since Gaon had looked at him that way. Hell, Yohan thought they’d come to an understanding but that theory was out the window because, suddenly, Kim Gaon was watching Yohan like a hawk again, sneaking glances at him out of curiosity and horror. If it wasn’t for the fact that Yohan felt a little betrayed, he might have thought it was funny.

After all this time, Gaon was regressing to how he used to behave when they first met... when Gaon didn’t trust a word that came out of Yohan’s mouth.

“We have work to do,” Yohan said one evening, as he sat at his desk at home. Gaon was on the couch, his laptop beside him as he did his research for a new case. “What is the problem?”

“What problem?” Gaon asked, eyes dropping down to his work.

“You’ve been looking at me funny. Do you have something to ask me?”

“No.”

“Do you suspect me of something?”

“No!”

Now, that was a lie.

“You have something on your mind, Gaon. Go ahead and say it.”

Gaon looked up at Yohan, biting his lips deep in thought as he fought with himself. He obviously had something on his mind. Yohan couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t just spit it out.

“It’s nothing.”

“If I was a guessing man, I’d say you suspected me of murder again,” Yohan said. “Either that, or you’ve developed a crush on me.”

He chuckled as he made his last statement, but Gaon didn’t get the joke. Instead he gasped a little, looking down at his laptop as his ears turned completely red.

“What?” Yohan asked, perplexed.

“What?” Gaon echoed, suddenly tapping away at his keyboard with forceful purpose.

“I didn’t see that coming.”

“Didn’t see what coming?”

“That’s entirely inappropriate, Gaon.”

Gaon stopped typing and Yohan waited. The conversation had gone from... sternly light to awkward in a second. If Gaon had suspected him of murder, it would have been a lot better than this. Defending himself against murder allegations was easy. Trying to dissuade your live-in co-worker from over-friendly thoughts was an area well beyond Yohan’s expertise.

“I am not admitting to anything, Chief, but wouldn’t you say that we’re way past appropriate.”

“Gaon,” Yohan chided.

“I’m living in your house. You enter my room without knocking. You walk around the place without clothes. I know more about your private life than I did most of my colleagues from Law school. One would have thought there were no boundaries between us.”

“There were no boundaries because I didn’t think this was an issue.”

Gaon sat up.

“How is this an issue? I’m just asking. I’m not admitting to anything.”

Yohan examined his hands as he searched for an easy way to end the conversation.

“Let’s say it’s alright, it still doesn’t change the fact that nothing can ever happen between us.”

“I didn’t say I wanted anything to happen. I was just curious.”

“About what?”

Gaon’s lips clamped shut as he sat back on the couch, staring at Yohan.

“So there is something you do want to ask me.”

“That’s irrelevant now, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Yohan asked, unable to curb his curiosity. Because now, he’d pay good money to know what Gaon wanted to know.

“Yes,” Gaon stated firmly. “It’s fine. And for the record, I don’t think you killed anyone.”

Without saying another word, he pulled his computer into his lap and went back to work. Leaving Yohan to reel at the many possible things that were floating around in Kim Gaon’s head.

♧♧♧♧♧

Yohan had steel cabinets in his head. Each with a limitless number of drawers that all had labels on them. He liked to file people into certain cabinets so as to figure out how to interact with them. Yohan had learned, from a young age, that freestyle conversations never bode well for him.

So he filed people away. Put them in drawers that were easy to contain, easy to label. Once in a while, he’d take those names out of the cabinets and imagine conversations and play them out in various scenarios so that he wouldn’t be caught unawares in real life.

Which was alright. Except for the fact that Gaon was slowly pushing his way out of his cabinet. Bull-headed and unwilling to stay in his place. Stubborn as ever.

And it wasn’t as if Gaon was actively doing anything different. Yohan was sure the actual problem was that stupid conversation about crushes. Because now, Gaon was no longer just Yohan’s work colleague/housemate. He was also the beguiling man who called to Yohan in his sleep. Who said nice things to Yohan when he was awake. Who touched Yohan with ease, in a way that Yohan never found threatening. Who played with Yohan’s niece and made her laugh. Who made Yohan stare at him for hours and hours instead of working.

He was now, for lack of a better word, beautiful.

And Yohan hated him for it.

Hated how close he stood. Hated how good he smelled. Hated how nice he looked at work or at home, in one of his many, soft sweaters. Hated how easy it was to get lost in simple interactions like sharing his desk or any other mundane thing that they’d fifty times before.

Nothing was simple anymore. Every time Gaon got in Yohan’s space, Yohan was finding it harder and harder to concentrate. It was ridiculous because Gaon was the one with a crush. Not Yohan.

“Chief,” Gaon said, bursting into his office, at work, his coat flowing in his trail and his hair out of place because he was moving too quickly. Gaon moved too gracefully for it to be unpracticed. And yet, it was seamlessly natural to watch him move.

“What is it?”

Gaon turned to Yohan’s side, turned on Yohan’s laptop and started fiddling around with it to show Yohan something. But Yohan just couldn’t look away. This close, nothing else mattered, except the sheen line of sweat developing at Gaon’s hairline. If he was allowed, Yohan might want to lick it. Not all of it. Just a bit. Just a little.

“Chief,” Gaon said turning to him as their eyes met.

Yohan couldn’t move. He could barely breathe as he started into Gaon’s, beautiful eyes. They’d never ben this close. Never when looking directly at each other. And Maybe Yohan could have looked away or broken the moment. But then Gaon’s eyes dipped to Yohan’s lips.

“I’m sorry,” Gaon said, trying to move away.

But Yohan grabbed him by the chin and kissed him before either of them could even think about what was happening.

[ikevamp-shrine]

Thank you @yanderepuck​ for giving me the courage to post this😊❤

Please ignore the crappy drawing of her, but that's kinda what she appears like in my mind. I will be writing with her character in future posts.

Name: Elizabeth Tudor

Vampire Type: Lesser Vampire

Height: 5’4

Birthday: September 7th

Occupation: Former Queen of England

Appearance: 

Long, curly (and extremely thick) strawberry blonde hair, fair skin, red lips, and intense icy blue eyes. Her stance is strong, regale, and respectable. Her skin is littered with smallpox scars (only a few, very unnoticeable ones residing on her face, neck, and hands). Her expression is usually blank and unreadable. Her movements are controlled and polite. Her brows thick and stomach soft. Legs long and fingers thin and graceful. There are patches of freckles on her shoulders that mix with her scars causing a unique blend of color. Thick thighs and pale, maintained feet. Smaller breasts.

Childhood:

When her brother, Edward, was born from her father and his new wife, Catherine, her line to the throne was pushed back even further (she was declared third in line). Thankfully she was not neglected instead her father, known for his cruelty, treated all his children with affection and love. She became very close with her half brother and was said to be inseparable. She was also very close with and benefited from the love her step mother, Catherine, showed her.

When her brother, Edward, was born from her father and his new wife, Catherine, her line to the throne was pushed back even further (she was declared third in line). Thankfully she was not neglected instead her father, known for his cruelty, treated all his children with affection and love. She became very close with her half brother and was said to be inseparable. She was also very close with and benefited from the love her step mother, Catherine, showed her.

She was taught a rigorous education normally only given to male heirs and was applauded for her perseverance and memory. She became fluent in French and Italian which profited when conducting diplomacy years later. Her involvement with the Reformation shaped the course of the nation, but she held no interest in religion.

With her father’s death, her step mother married the lord high admiral, Thomas, which resulted in his decapitation due to his intent to rape and impregnate Elizabeth forcing her to marry him in order for him to rule the kingdom. He was said to be overly flirtatious and acting inappropriately familiar with the young girl when around her (which one of the reasons she doesn’t like Arthur, his flirtatious nature reminds her of her past).

She was raised around sexism and taught that women were likely to act on impulsion and passion making them unfit to rule. Men were taught the arts of war and told they are the ones who dominate women while women were urged to keep their head down, mouth shut, and attend their needlework. She had remained unmarried, her want to remain single overshadowing any thoughts of seeking out relations with a man. She was rumored to have burst out in tears when Queen Mary, her older sister, had proposed to marry Elizabeth to a duke. This became a national concern when Elizabeth became queen and refused to take a husband, going against the belief that a woman’s place was a wife. It also raised worries that she would die childless, ending her bloodline, and giving Elizabeth’s title to Mary, Queen of Scots, a catholic posing a threat to the Protestants of England.

Dislikes: 

her privacy being intruded on, loud talking, 3am, those who play weak and stupid or whine to get what they want, people who are lazy but still expect to reach their goals, women who chase men and believe they need a man to be successful in life, messy rooms, fake personalities and cheaters (in both games and relationships)

Likes: 

walks in the garden at midnight, the sound of the birds singing their life’s song as the warmth of the day’s first rays of sun trace her skin, reading, learning new things, burning candles, smiling faces, happy children, the smell of freshly baked bread, warm blankets, animals, the laughter of children, hunting, dancing, and horseback (bareback more often than naught)

Personality: 

She appears cold at first because of her bluntness and blank (almost annoyed) expression. Unreasonably serious with a strong sense of duty, responsibility, and morals. She is a firm believer in working harder than everyone else to achieve greatness. A highly intelligent woman that believe women are equal to their male counterpart. Extremely stubborn in a non-disrespectful way. She is adaptable, disciplined, dignified, and confident with a wit and tongue as sharp as, if not sharper, than any of the residents. She is blunt, doesn’t sugarcoat the truth, and is always honest. Focused, logical, and exceedingly loyal to those she decides to put her trust in. She is protective and straightforward but rather quiet. She tends to keep to herself. She is paranoid and distrustful when meeting new people but will not show it. She tries to work on it, but she can be very vengeful when it comes to people betraying her or hurting those she loves.

Preferred company: 

Theo, Leonardo, Isaac, Jean, Vincent

Relationships (platonic, romantic, etc.):  

Jean- platonic with a chance of something more

Has a deep understanding with Jean. They don’t really talk about each other to each other; their conversations mainly consist of stiff, dead toned jokes that you wouldn’t be able to tell they were jokes until specified. She is one of the few people that has actually seen a sober Jean smile. He is extremely protective of her and will stand behind her just so he has the peace of mind that her back is guarded. If she asked, he would show her what is under his eye patch, no matter what lingering emotions he has on the ‘ugliness under the fabric’. His blade is always ready, his mind perfectly clear, when it comes to the safety and well being of the woman he had found himself connecting to in ways no one had before. Often, they go horse back riding together, Napoleon will sometimes accompany but its only when her and the former solider are alone does she throw her head back, her laughs unrestrained while the wind rips through her hair and clothing. Jean will race her and chuckle at how free she looks, but of course she doesn’t hear. Spares with and helps better the woman’s defenses and attacks along with Napoleon  

Mozart- platonic

Sometimes Mozart look for her and demand Elizabeth to listen to his new piece until she raises an eyebrow, daring him not to correct his wording. He’ll swallow thickly and glance off to the side, a scoff on his lips as he apologizes. She’ll nod and follow him to music room. Mozart will stare at her impatiently until she gives her honest (and extremely blunt) opinion. He values her words and while alone the pianist will replay the slight quirk of her lips as she praised his efforts. He has a small obsession with her and it drives him insane

Vincent- brotherly platonic and Theo- they horny for each other but don’t want to cross that line of friendship so they dance around their feelings while making out every once in a while

Has a soft spot for Theo and Vincent because their relationship makes her think of her brother. She only sees Vincent as a brother and will only allow him to do her makeup when he asks to, but with Theo its completely different. She sees Theo as a partner, a man she shares many values and goals with. She respects him and their shared opinions on responsibility and productivity. They understand each other intuitively and can conversate with just fleeting touches and quick glances of their eyes. There is a thick sexual tension that builds between them overtime resulting in hurried, frantic, sloppy kisses in hallways where the couple battle for dominance by pushing each other against walls and gripping roughly at the other’s clothing

Napoleon- just housemates (not friends or lovers)

She can and usually feels uncomfortable when around Napoleon. She has chalked it down to the fact they are both the leader ‘alpha’ types that ruled enemy lands. Truly, they just don’t have much in common and find it hard to build a meaningful relationship. Spares with and helps better the woman’s defenses and attacks along with Jean

Arthur- just housemates

Can sometimes get too snippy with Arthur. While she does find enjoyment in his jokes at times, she despises the sexual aspects of the author. Finds his skirt chasing habits understandable but disgusting. Admires his intelligence but can’t stand how he is able to tell you where have been just by the dust on your hand (she likes her privacy). Will play chess and pool with him even though she knows she will lose just because she enjoys playing. Will sometimes have deep conversations with Arthur in front of the fire place, both nursing a glass of alcohol, their eyes never leaving the fire as to not break the imaginary protective barrier around the two that eye contact will shatter. Smirks at his quirks and jokes sometimes and it literally makes Arthur’s heart leap because ‘damn a queen just found amusement in my joke.’ He internally freaked out the first time he met her mainly because the mansion now had two previous rulers instead of one and the newest one scared the living daylights out of him.

Comte- there is nothing between them

Doesn’t trust Comte as far as she can throw him. She can see the darkness in his heart and his past behind his eyes. She can see the death he’s caused- the pain, and while she knows that she, herself, has caused the death of many, she still has a deeply rooted gut feeling telling her to stay away from the pureblood. He wants her trust but soon realizes her opinion on him is similar to Jean’s. She will not take any gifts other than what is necessary from him (ex. Dresses for parties)

Dazai- just housemates

Dazai tries avoiding her. He feels suffocated when around and the victim of her stare. He feels as if her eyes and actions pick him apart and leave his in his barest, rawest form, and it scares him to no end. She does find his window habit hilarious though and will give him a hand up when he falls

Shakespeare- they don’t get involved with each other

She can tell Shakespeare’s mind is being manipulated, by what is the question she has yet to reveal though. She can tell he is dangerous. One who’s actions are watched and controlled by another always are. His unpredictable nature and mysterious, secret filled smile is what causes her to feel uneasy around him. She doesn’t ignore him, but she doesn’t want to be involved with the playwright and his actions so she tends to just quietly leave the room when he enters. He is polite to her and compliments her when they do talk but his fancy wording sometimes annoys Elizabeth, especially when she just wants to get away from him. She believes he is a good man at heart lead astray by forces more powerful than him, but still finds his company rather unnecessary. 

Sebastian- they respect one another, are not friends but have decent conversations

Has an interesting relationship with Sebastian. She wouldn’t call him a friend, she has very few of those so it is understandable, but she does respect him for his work ethic just as he respects her for her accomplishments and standing in history. She let him interview him once and nearly laughed out loud from how excited he got. They always have a cup of coffee or tea in the morning together, Elizabeth not quite woken up yet so they sip in comforting silence. Sebastian usually asks how she slept and she responds by telling him about her dreams if she had one. She’ll end up helping him cook breakfast.

Leonardo- friends with a chance of something more

Elizabeth appreciates Leonardo’s straightforwardness and honesty, so they have a decent trusting relationship, but his matureness makes her feel like a little girl again and it bothers her. Her thoughts tend to be: she was a queen; she ruled a country with a strength that rivaled even the greatest men, she should not look at this chain-smoking man with admiration in her eyes like a giddy school girl, flustered over a boy telling her she is cute, while around the Italian. The start of their relationship was rocky, due to Elizabeth’s personal feelings on the man- Leonardo could have cared less, but soon enough they started to appreciate each other’s qualities. Leonardo is mainly the only one she allows to touch her hair. They often speak Italian together on the balcony as Leonardo smoke a cigarillo and Elizabeth reads.

Isaac- they have the chance of being more than friends but their relationship is mainly just comforting one another through their presence and (when needed) touch- they also trust each other whole heartedly

Adores Isaac and will purposely sought him out just so she can listen to his calming ramblings while he tinkers away, a book in her hand and two cooling cups of coffee on the surface closest to the pair. He gets so red around her; at times he turns snow white from the intensity in her gaze and how her eyes never stray from her company. They share an endless loyalty to each other. Neither knows when the bond form, it just happened on its own (and very suddenly). Isaac has lost control and bit her but instead of reacting in anger she accepted it and pulled him closer, shuddering with each frenzied suck against her neck, her nails gently scratching the scalp of a whimpering Isaac. When Isaac finally came to his senses, he tried pulling away, his voice thick with unshed tears as his panicked words rang through the air until Elizabeth grabbed him and held him close, shushing Isaac as he trembled with regret and guilt in her arms. They had held each other for hours until they feel asleep in each other embraces. Isaac will link pinkies with Elizabeth when he is being picked on without realizing it for support and something to ground him so his thoughts don’t run too wild. Elizabeth will just glare and clear her throat and Arthur will shut his mouth while looking at the former queen as if he was a kicked puppy. She has a habit of fixing his clothing or hair after he nervously pulls, picks, or twists at it- Isaac doesn’t even notice it after a while. His face does burn intensely though when she places a hand on his overactive, bouncing knee when he is anxious.

Fun facts:

Due to her makeup being poisoned by her undetermined enemy, which resulted in her death, she refuses to wear any cosmetics other than what Vincent personally makes (learned how to from Leonardo) and puts on her skin himself when going to events if he asks to.

She tends to wear clothing that covers all skin other than her neck and face when leaving the mansion due to children being scared by her smallpox scars.

She usually never strays from wine unless her emotions become a little too overwhelming for her to just push the feelings down, only then will she drink something stronger.

Elizabeth is a quiet, peaceful drunk that tends to curl up on the couch, her shoes discarded on the floor, her hair loose and flowing over the decorative pillow she’ll grab and hug tightly to her chest.

She died a virgin and has remained one ever since her resurrection.

The former queen is hesitant to allow others to touch her hair from her past concerning the loss of said strands (a result of surviving smallpox), but if she trusts someone enough and knows they’ll be gentle she’ll let them style the curls, even if she is tense the entire time.

Prefers to braid her hair herself and wrap in into a bun due to the protective nature of the style.

Loves sleeping in but is often unable to due to insomnia.

She is highly particular when it comes to cleaning and organization. She has told Sebastian not to worry about cleaning her things or doing her laundry, instead she does it herself with up most focus and determination.

When she does open up or is around the boys long enough, they realize her heart is truly kind and nurturing instead of what she appears when first met (a cold-hearted woman with a resolve like steel). This is especially apparent when around animals.

She is very sarcastic and doesn’t mean any harm but usually her joking words sound hateful due to her dead tone and blank face.

Her voice is deeper and soothing, most times holding no emotion which creeps Dazai and Arthur out

Lives by “no pain no gain”

Doesn’t waste her breath on hate- if she doesn’t like someone or feels as if she can’t trust them then they just don’t exist to her. She won’t hesitate to cut someone off without warning.

Has a bad habit of bottling her emotions which causes her to explode when pushed over the edge resulting in one of the very rare moments where her anger creates an electric static in the room that demands the attention of anyone present. She doesn’t shout or scream but her words are sharper than a blade, her eyes burn with a fiery rage while she takes control of the room, overwhelming anyone (even Napoleon) and making them feel as if they are an ant beneath her boot.

Her eyes freak many people out- they feel as if the ice like orbs are staring straight into their soul, picking apart their insides, leaving nothing but shredded organs and an empty husk of what used to be a strong mind.

Can always tell when someone is lying. It’s a gut feeling, and her gut is always right.

She still wears her coronation ring on her wedding finger as a sign of her symbolic marriage to her people and country

[riverdale-retread]

Riverdale S5 E13 (Coyote Ugly)- 5 Things I loved/ 3 Things to consider

I loved a LOT of things about this episode, so I might have to cheat on my loved-it count. Indulge me, please. 

Things I loved

1. I loved that Tabitha totally belongs and fits in with these crazy OG Riverdale people.  Tabitha asks Betty, the crazy girl, to not “do anything crazy,” while doing crazy things with Betty, herself.   Why Tabitha does this, we don’t know yet, but she absolutely belongs with these people.  For fancy-school-educated beautiful Tabitha, with her neat puff sleeves and delicate frame, to go all in with Betty Cooper, fake FBI agent, trying to hunt down a serial killer is insanity.  To agree to open up her business premises and offer up her own body as bait for this known serial killer is insanity. To be aware that Betty has caught someone who was acting violent, but to go alone, and also unarmed and apparently without having told anyone, is insanity.  Tabitha is very, very interesting.  Oh and she drives the most amazing car.

2. “Reggie, You’re A Genius!!” and Veronica is not being even a little bit sarcastic.  Reggie Mantle’s air punches every time either he or Veronica close a sale really just cheered me up no end. He’s just so exuberant and physical.  He’s already stated that he is good with numbers and he has a lot of ideas and he’s finally, at Pearls & Posh, getting a chance to let those parts of himself bloom. I loved the beautiful jewel tones that Reggie and Veronica wear throughout the episode, and the way they become ever more color coordinated.  I just love the two of them teaming up and dismantling Hiram’s scam one brick at a time.

3. All the Cheryl things, basically, I loved them. 

-“Compulsion Thy Name is Kevin of Finland” is a line that had me hooting.    And the fact that Kevin, in the right clothes, totally has the body and jawline to be a Tom of Finland illustration is just icing on the cake. Cheryl has been keeping a very close eye on Kevin his whole life, honestly, like a dangerous sort of fairy godmother. Cheryl in a checked version of her little red riding hood outfit walking out of the misty blue forest!  What a beautiful shot. 

- I did not love Tabitha having to say,  “Hot Ladies, dancing on the bar, fully clothed, of course,” but I *did* love Fang’s groaning in response, just so put upon. I did this simultaneously with the character, so I appreciated that.  I did love the glorious amount of cleavage that Cheryl the minister and cheerleading coach insists on putting on display while IN a high school.  Her sartorial choices felt like a vengeful commentary on the mores of American television.  I would much prefer to see tits on my TV than blood & violence, so the fact that an entire severed leg, a ghost of Christmas past with bullet wounds, and a man getting his face smashed in by a furious fit young man armed with brass knuckles can be shown in full but hot ladies dancing on a bar must be fully clothed irritated me. 

So yes - I said a whole bunch of words to fancy up the statement that I loved seeing Cheryl’s cleavage.

Sidebar: Also why does it gotta be only ladies?  I think Fangs was fishing for an invitation.

- “I caught them (Moose & Fangs) having wine & cheese” - “Ew that is diabolical.” OK so when you’re in that mindset where you want to ‘win’ the break up but you’ve lost, this sort of hyperbolic reaction is exactly what you want from your female friends, and Cheryl doubles down with, “You did nothing wrong.”   Why has Kevin never declared best friendship with Cheryl? 

4. I loved that  the show gives me permission to do what I’ve been doing already, which is that I absolutely despise Uncle Fucking Frank.  That asshole, who claims to understand battle trauma and love dogs, brings home a traumatized dog which deserves to have stable people look after it and be aware of its issues, and doesn’t tell his housemates who aren’t even getting basic mental healthcare, one of which is a nephew he is mooching from for room & board, about the dog’s potential problems.  Absolute failure garbage human, and I am elated to have this affirmed.  Everything Frank does makes Archie so much worse, and Archie does not trust Frank fully either.  Loved this too.  Archie lies to Uncle Fucking Frank about ‘Bingo.’ He was a dog, he says, and then says that Eric does not like to talk about the dog so Frank won’t go mentioning him to Eric.

5. I loved the musical numbers, each for a different reason.

- Coyote Ugly Bar Top Dance:  These terrifying, formerly terrorized children of Riverdale thrill me and break my heart.  Everyone just tosses themselves at danger.   Cheryl, Veronica, and Betty are all women who’ve had the experience of being hunted, terrorized, gaslit, stalked, sexually assaulted, having to fight for their lives while under attack from a much bigger assailant, etc  - just *all* the bad things, really - but with the promise of a good time (lyrics actually say: How Can I Resist?) they will make themselves live bait for a serial killer. 

- Everything Is All Right from Jesus Christ Superstar. I love Kevin’s singing, always.  I also adored Penelope Blossom hating the musical interlude, she’s great.  This song is also meant to be ironic, in the show, from my memory, because in context things are NOT all right. Mary Magdalene was wrong.  They’re showing Kevin and Fangs making up, they’re showing Veronica and Reggie making a sale, Jughead was not in this episode at all, so this was quite arresting from a show perspective.  The song is disquieting, with minor key elements, and so it’s a little uneasy, you know?  Things are not all right, at all. 

3 Things to Consider

a) “This award is a painful reminder of all that I haven’t accomplished.”  Kevin breaks my heart but not in a campy tingly way.  The feeling that I’m supposed to be somewhere better than this, doing something more than this - it’s so painful and real. I’m you, Kevin.  “This can’t be my life, it just can’t be.”  This seems to be the theme of the post time-jump Riverdale, but it feels more visceral because of what’s happening in the real world on the date of airing (Fall of 2021).

b) Bingo being a person, not a dog, puts an entirely different and devastating cast over the dream-dialogue between Eric and Archie.  According to Archie’s subconscious, Eric is basically saying, “Leave the other man for dead, and save me and only me.”  In the football field dream,  Eric was transformed into Jughead, who just needed a little help, and had to be fireman-carried to touchdown.  Eric insisting that he be prioritized over the unfortunate Bingo goes some ways to explaining the bond between Eric and Archie as well. 

c) Archie Andrews is terrifying, and this adult Archie is fascinating and arresting to me. “I don’t want this scumbag arrested! I want him hurt” is the most honest thing Archie has ever said on the show.  And when he says, “I’m trying to save this town, but it’s so corrupt,  broken, full of awful, despicable people.  I think there’s nothing worth saving here,”  Archie is very reminiscent of the Dark Hood/ Hal Cooper, actually.  Archie scares the worthless Uncle Fucking Frank so much that U.F. Frank can’t even say, “Nobody asked you to save the world, Archie, just save yourself.”