#then I can read for Thursday between work and class and then read again that evening before going to bed on time

[largetriangles]

:-/

[theemporium]

idk if you’ve seen it but there’s a trend on TikTok of playing a voicemail of a creepy guy in front of your boyfriend and I feel like brothers bff!reader would have to literally console quinn after trying that prank on him. boy would be murderous.

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

It was just meant to be a prank. 

A friend had sent you it, laughing at the compilation of reactions the video included to the fake voicemail. It was entertaining seeing how these men reacted differently, or seeing how many of them instantly became protective of the woman in their life who played the fake voicemail. 

You thought it looked fun to try out. 

It was some random week in October when you decided to fly out and spend some time with Quinn. It was reading week back in college and you had worked pretty well at staying on top of your classes, so you deserved the treat to fly out and spend some time with your boy. 

And other than the practices Quinn had to attend, he was practically glued to your side the rest of the week which made it easy to pull off the prank on a Thursday morning when you were sitting on the counter as Quinn made you both coffee. 

“Oh god.” 

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked, his back still facing you but the disgusted scoff gave him a clear understanding that you weren’t happy. 

“Nothing, just an annoying lab partner,” you murmured, pressing your lips together to try and hold back your giggles. “I think he left me a voicemail.”

Quinn didn’t get much of a chance to say anything before the voicemail started. You watched him closely, the way his actions paused as he began to listen. 

“This is the final chance I am giving you. You are being ridiculous, and like most women, not thinking logically. Consider this your last chance to put your emotions aside and think with your brain.”

The coffee was abandoned in seconds as Quinn whirled around, looking at you with an expression mixed between shock and disgust. He placed his hands on the counter, stepping towards you as he continued to listen to the voicemail. 

“I am a good guy, one of the best you are going to find. So, I suggest you stop playing this hard-to-get game because nobody is believing you. You won’t find anyone better than me, not at college and not in bed. I have reservations for Friday night at the Italian place off campus. I expect you there and—”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Quinn gritted out between clenched teeth, a disgruntled scoff leaving his lips as he reached for his phone. “Give me a name.”

You blinked, almost surprised by the expression on his face. You didn’t think you had ever seen Quinn so angry before, not even on the ice. 

“A name,” Quinn repeated as he looked over towards you, eyes darkened and jaw clenched. “That is…he’s a fucking pervert. And a creep. I don’t want him near you. I don’t want him in the fucking college.” 

“Quinn—” you started, but he was lost to his own anger now.

“I’m gonna make sure he’s kicked out and sent somewhere far fucking away from you. Better yet, we can get a restraining order,” he continued as he scrolled through his phone, his eyebrows furrowed together as he searched for something. “I don’t want you going back with him just walking around. Does Luke even know? Does anyone—”

“Quinn,” you said again, a little louder this time as you rounded the counter to gently take ahold of his hands. You slowly pried the phone from his hands, a sheepish expression on your face. “He isn’t real.”

He frowned. “What? Babe, you don’t have to protect him—”

“I’m not protecting anyone, Quinn, I—” You took a deep breath before you continued. “It was a prank I saw on Tiktok. People were posting their partner’s reactions and I thought it would be funny.”

“Oh,” was all Quinn seemed to say.

“I’m sorry—” But you cut yourself off when he launched towards you, wrapping you in a tight hug as he clung onto you. Your arms automatically wrapped around his torso, nuzzling yourself further into his chest.

“You’d tell me if something like that was really happening, right?” Quinn murmured against the top of your head. 

“Of course,” you answered honestly.

“Good,” he said with a small sigh, his arms tightening around you. “I’d kill any fucker that makes you uncomfortable.”

You snorted. “It was kinda hot seeing you get all protective.”

“I’m glad you think as much because even though I know it’s fake, my body hasn’t caught on yet so I am not letting you go for the next hour,” Quinn murmured, though you could hear the smile in his voice.

“I have no issue with that,” you replied honestly, biting back your own grin as he placed a kiss to your forehead.

.

[murdrdocs]

forced proximity with ethan? :3

stuck with you | e.landry

description. turns out, the reputation of your favorite elevator wasn't unjust, as it traps you with your mortal enemy

includes. GN! reader, making out wooo, sorta mean!reader, happygolucky!ethan (kinda), nothing too crazy

a/n: reading this, i hope you can tell that i recently watched lab rats, this was not supposed to be this long but yay !

word count: 1.6k+

The elevator in the Hopkins Building was notorious for being a little sketchy. Horror stories about the lift stalling, potentially trapping its riders within it, floated around campus, eventually making its way to your friend group.

"I swear to God, I was in there one day, just trying to go upstairs, and the fucking death contraption stops." Mindy had told each of you the exaggerated story, her hands waving around and the intonation of her voice working as if she was telling a ghost story at summer camp. Which, is mostly why you didn't believe her.

Yes, you didn't want to even think about being trapped in the older elevator, but you also didn't want to have to deal with the monstrous stairs in the Hopkins building. There were many a times where you'd almost gotten calf cramps from them, so the elevator was the better option for you. 

Unfortunately, the elevator also happened to be favored by Ethan Landry. Your (one sided) mortal enemy.

Just like any other Thursday afternoon, you wanted to use the mostly-frowned-upon elevator to go to the fifth floor, and due to its reputation you'd expected to be alone. Like you usually were. Your headphones were in, you were finishing off the last minute of one of your favorite songs, and the elevator door was sliding closed with the intention to take you to your class.

Until a white hand sticks between the metal doors, forcing them back open to reveal the brick wall of the corridor, and one flustered Ethan Landry.

"Oh," he says as he steps into the space. "Didn't know you were in here." The way he says it just oozes attitude, and yeah, you would've said the same. But it's only okay when you say it.

"No offense," he adds, as if it makes it any better.

You shrug, step over for him to press his floor, and turn your music up just a bit more.

As aforementioned, the elevator is old. It's slow. It shakes a bit. But it gets the job done. Usually.

You've spent months defending your favorite elevator. So why would it decide to slow down between the third and fourth floors? Why would the old-timey dial that shows which floor its on slow to a stop between the 'III' and 'IV'?

And worst of all, why would this happen with Ethan Landry, out of all people, standing to your left?

You can only blame it on bad luck.

"No, no, no, no." Ethan's already starting to freak out. You pull your headphones down, pausing your music, to watch Ethan frantically push the '4' button as if that would help. "Jesus, fuck, c'mon."

He starts to push the other buttons; open, close, three, two, ground. You roll your eyes, fighting off your own feelings of panic.

"The phone, Ethan."

He glances over his shoulder at you, his eyebrows furrowed before he nods. "The phone. Yeah. Right."

He reaches for the red phone, putting it to his ear and pushing the button with the firefighter helmet. You wait, playing with your fingers, twiddling your thumbs. But Ethan doesn't start speaking.

He pushes it again, waits. Nothing. He pushes it again, waits. Nothing.

"Ethan..." you start, your voice starting to sound worried.

"It's not..." He pushes it again. Nothing! Ethan slams the phone back onto the receiver, wrings his hair between his hands, and turns to face you. "It won't work."

It won't work. What are the fucking odds.

"So we're trapped in an elevator that doesn't have a working phone?" You know the situation is quite clear, but you're still asking for clarification.

Ethan nods.

"Fuck!"

You and Ethan tried ringing the alarm, but there wasn't another sound on the other side. You didn't even know if the alarm worked.

You knew the elevator was old, but you didn't know it was this old. Taking a look at the certification on the wall, you notice for the first time that the elevator wasn't serviced or checked in ten years. Ten.

"When we make it out of here, I'm suing Blackmore for all it's worth," you tell Ethan.

He snorts, and the sound shockingly isn't annoying to you. "Let me in on the case?"

You turn your head, hair sliding along the metal wall when you face him head on. "As long as our cut is equal."

"Deal."

It's silent for a few seconds. Ethan speaks first.

"Do you have any service?" You pull your phone out from your sweatshirt pocket, seeing that there was nothing but three dots in the top corner of your phone.

"Nope. You?"

Ethan shakes his head without checking his phone. "Nope. Plus my phone's on 10 percent."

"Who doesn't charge their phone before class?"

He shrugs, avoiding your eye as his ears turn a light hue of pink. "I was watching a 5 hour video essay about Victorious and fell asleep without plugging my phone in."

That makes you laugh. Maybe because the proximity, maybe because that's something you could see him doing, or maybe it's just because you like Ethan Landry more than you would admit without the circumstances.

"Was it a good video at least?"

"I wouldn't know. Fell asleep within the first 10 minutes."

It's weird how well conversation flows between you and Ethan when you're not holding onto a randomly formed grudge against him.

Topics switch at the drop of a hat, caused by a word or something brought up in a previous sentence. You find yourself smiling, cracking jokes, genuinely interested in the things that Ethan has to say. And you also find yourself sitting closer and closer to him, both of you sitting with your legs crossed, the proximity causing your knees to bump into each other occasionally.

The touch is nice. You don't mind it.

"You know," Ethan starts. You hum, turning to look at him. "Up until today I thought you hated me."

You hold in a laugh. "Well, that's because I do. I did."

His eyes widen a bit, a halfhearted smile threatening to stretch across the expanse of his pink lips. You find yourself staring at them, having to blink twice to bring yourself back.

"I knew it!" He seems overjoyed, as if he just discovered a 200 year old treasure and not that a member of his friend group has hated him for practically no reason.

"I wasn't really attempting to be discreet about it."

"Still, I thought maybe it was just me. The others said that's just how you were," nice that they would lie for you, "so I thought I was going crazy."

A beat where you're noticing how nice Ethan's lips are.

"Did I ... do something wrong? Something for you to hate me?"

They're so pink, and unexpectedly plump for him to be a White boy.

"Uh ... no."

What would it feel like to kiss them? Does he even know how to kiss?

"Then why did you treat me like that?"

Fuck it. Never know until you try.

You're pushing yourself forward, hands landing on his shoulders to keep yourself steady while you push your lips to his. It's chaste, nothing short of a longer, closed-mouthed peck. And as you're pulling away, you think about how stiff he was and how you should've asked first.

"Sorry," you're immediately apologizing, scooting a few inches away from him. "I should've asked first. I'm sorry."

You watch his reaction, watching how stoic he is, his lips still parted and his eyes unblinking.

You stand to your feet, just to do something other than sit there, and decide to walk over to the phone. You knew that it didn't work, but it's better than sitting there in an awkward silence that existed because of you.

You pull the phone off of its receiver, putting it to your ear, and immediately hear a dial tone. Your eyebrows furrow, your finger reaches out to press the firefighter button.

It rings, and rings. You wait, and wait.

"Hello?"

"Holy shit. Ethan, it's working!"

You hear shuffling, then you see Ethan's body from your peripheral. You talk to the firefighter, telling him about how you and Ethan had been stuck in the elevator in Hopkins Building for the past half hour, and a sigh of relief leaves your body when he tells you that someone will be out to help in the next 15 to 20 minutes.

The receiver is back where it belongs, you have a new sense of hope and happiness, and you turn to face Ethan with a smile on your face.

Before you can even truly realize it, his hands are on your cheeks and his lips are pushed to yours.

The time, he kisses you. It's soft, slow, gentle, a little shaky, but it's a solid kiss.

With his hands holding your cheeks, and his large body crowding your frame, you melt into the kiss. There's not a single thought, even a slither, of resentment towards Ethan. In fact, the only thought you have in your head is Ethan.

How his smell is just right, musky, sweet, a hint of something strong that soothes you. How his hands are oddly soft. How the heat from his body is comforting. How good it feels to kiss him.

However, you can't continuously kiss Ethan without needing a little more oxygen, so you eventually pull back.

Ethan looks a little shocked when you do, his hands reluctantly dropping from your face but you watch his fingers twitch as if he wants to be touching you again.

"Um..." he starts. You look up at him with bright eyes. "Would you wanna go on a date sometime?"

God bless the sketchy elevator in Hopkins Building.

[twinklelilstarkey]

Tutor: A Plan

Words: 4k+ Type: Angst (I guess?) Summary: The girls have a plan. Warnings: Fem!Reader. The angst isn't between Y/N and Rafe, you can breathe. Rafe isn't nice. The girls are annoying. Slight mention of alcohol and drugs (and being drunk). BUZZCUT IS HERE, BABY!

Tutor Masterlist

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

They aren’t sure why or how, but they cannot find you. The girls have put at the top of their priority list to talk to you as soon as they laid their eyes on you. They just didn’t expect it to not be able to do it for an entire week.

You did go to school and class, but it was as if you had disappeared into thin air as soon as the bell rang.

The girls did watch you when they could. Their eyes would scan throughout your body as you would walk into class with your usual dresses. And they would never find any bruising or a look on your face that could mean you needed to talk to someone. You were just there, in class, taking notes and sometimes looking at your phone under the desk.

They remember clearly how, for the entirety of the week, they would hear the bell ring, and you would just swiftly grab your stuff with your bag thrown over your shoulder and would just disappear into the crowd with a blink of an eye.

You would never be at the cafeteria or near your locker during lunch. One of the girls even checked the bathrooms, but they never found you. It got to a point where, on Thursday (just two days ago), they stopped by your house. They knocked at the door, only for no one to answer it.

One of your neighbors eventually appeared from behind their fence, as they had been there watching the whole time.

“Are you girls looking for someone?”

Kristy was sure that every neighbor knew who they were since they had visited your house many times. Yet the neighbors just don’t like to seem as if they know everything about the person that lives beside them - even though they very much do.

“We're looking for our friend!” Kristy would scream back at the neighbor, offering your name to him as well.

“Oh! She’s tutoring today. Her mother told me!”

And that only led to the girls walking back to the car, defeated. They would never find you at this rate, and they know it. 

Still, they did not give up.

Today, on Friday, they did everything they could. They tried to catch you in every class again or at lunch or after school, even when Kristy knew that you tutor on Fridays. It is fair to say that they weren't able to do it. Yet, their failure only led to another idea.

Due to your new friendships, the girls know there will be a larger possibility of them still finding you tonight. And because of exactly that, they searched to know what parties would be happening for the evening.

After knowing all of it, they planned their entire Friday night. Tonight will be the time they will finally get to talk to you.

From their source, there are a total of 5 parties tonight as school is just about to end, and some seniors care more about their beer than their finals.

Three parties belong to the Pogues, which they automatically scratched from any possibility of you being there with Rafe Cameron. And the other two are from the usual kook party planners. They had decided on where to go first and had everything planned out.

They all met up at Kristy’s house and got ready there. They had to wait for time to pass for a bit, as they didn’t want to get to the party too early or else there would be a possibility of spooking you away. 

When out of the house, they got to their first party fairly quick. There were so many cars at the front they knew there wouldn't be a problem hiding in the crowd. And before they went in, they split up to search for you throughout the party individually. 

The music was deafening due to how loud it was. There was smoke throughout the house due to all the sweet indoor smoking and tables which Kristy hated to find. All the tables were filled with all sorts of kooks, hovering over a small pile of powder, which only made her try to find you even harder.

All throughout the search, the possibility of you being home resurfaced time and time again, but Kristy pulled through. In a way, she did not want to find you a party at all. Kristy wanted you away from these tables and all the eating-face couples she had to elbow out to get through the crowd. She ignored all the guys that handed her out drinks as she passed through the kitchen and eventually found herself in the backyard without sight of you or your friends.

“Did you see her?” One of the girls asked.

“No.”

They waited for every other girl to appear. Kristy analyzed their faces before they could even say if they found you or anyone. They were always disappointed as they walked out, and in some way, that made Kristy feel calmer as the possibility of you being home grew and grew.

“Maybe we should stay and wait up in case they get here late.” One of the girls said to all of them, and they agreed.

Minutes went by, and Kristy checked the time on her phone every few seconds. She watched as the girls went in and out of the house again to try and find you, but with no luck. It must have been an hour into it that Kristy decided it was time to move along to the next party.

The next party would be much harder, and they all knew that before even going in.

It was supposed to be a small party that not all kooks knew about, and here they were: A group of girls who weren't personally invited and probably didn't know a soul inside that house.

The girls talked inside the car about the best strategy to follow. They thought of the possibility that they could go inside one at a time, yet they had no idea how small the party was. What if they went inside, and everyone just looked at them? What would they do then?

By the time minutes passed and no one had moved, Kristy jumped out of the car and went inside the house. Sure, her heart was almost jumping out of her chest, but she still did it. The girls watched her walk up the porch and open the unlocked front door.

Inside, there were a lot more people than Kristy expected. It was much smaller than the party before, but there are still around 30 people all throughout the house.

The music, this time, is much softer, and people aren’t screaming and spilling drinks everywhere.

Kristy closes the door behind herself and walks towards what she assumes would be the kitchen, trying her best to act natural and as if she knows what she’s doing. She pushes the door open and finds herself in the kitchen, but not by herself. Kelce, a known friend of Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton, is standing right by the counter, mixing up his own drink.

She assumes it is due to the time that she simply stood there watching him because Kelce looks up at her after a few silent seconds and stops mixing the liquid in his cup.

“Can I help you with anything?” He asked. His tone isn't too condescending, but definitely confused.

“Oh, no,” Kristy says, quickly snapping awake from her state of shock. “Sorry. I was just a little too focused on my own thoughts.”

She smiles at him, and Kelce simply does the grin one does to not seem rude. He picks up his drink and is ready to leave when an idea strikes Kristy.

“Wait!” She says right as he’s about to walk out through the door. “I actually do need help with something.”

Kelce turns to politely give the strange girl his attention and awaits her next words.

“Do you happen to know someone by the name of Patty?” Kristy asks, not exactly knowing how she remembered the name in the first place.

“Patty as in Patricia?” Kelce asks, sipping his drink in the pause, “That Patty?”

Kristy weighed down her options in a panic. What is she supposed to say? What if it is not Patricia and some random person that has that nickname?

“Yes, her,” Kristy says with another smile.

“Yeah, I know her.” 

Kristy looks at Kelce in silence, awaiting him to say something more, but all he does is look back at her and take another sip of his drink. Through the awkwardness, Kristy tries to make everything seem normal and her to seem collected and not insane in any way.

“Uh… Do you know if she’s here?” She points down to the ground, symbolizing the party.

“I saw her a while back, yeah. Not sure where she went.”

Kristy jumps at the opportunity, “So, she was at this party.”

“Yes,” Kelce says slowly, looking at Kristy as if she had gone insane for a second.

“Were her friends here too?”

Kelce eyes Kristy up and down, finding her the most suspicious person he has ever met. He can tell she is somewhat excited about the news, which makes him assume she must know Patty and is trying to meet up with her. But her hesitant tone and lack of names of other friends make him question if she’s even someone known to Patty at all. Can you be someone’s friend without knowing any of their other friends? Especially for someone like Patty?

Kelce decides to test her for it.

“Like who?” 

Kristy tenses up at the question. What if Patty, the girl she now knows you were texting, is just someone you met at a party? Not a friend of Rafe’s or even Kelce’s. Maybe Kelce only knows her name and nothing else. Kristy has to risk it because she knows he is finding her more distrustful by the second.

She begins with the easy name, saying yours first. But all Kelce does is look at her, awaiting more names, “Uh, and Rafe or Topper?” She asks quickly before adding, “Were they here too, by the way?”

Before he could answer, Kristy checks her vibrating phone, noticing the many messages coming from the girls that stayed in the car. All the messages unnecessarily asking her to tell them everything she is seeing. Kristy checks the time, and it is just a few minutes past midnight. Kristy has no idea how much time she has to find you.

“Yeah,” Kelce’s voice makes Kristy look up, “Actually. They left not too long ago. I’m sure Patty was with them when they walked out.”

“Oh, ok.” She says to him.

“Want me to say something to her in case she comes back?” He questions her, watching her every move.

“Oh, no. That is not needed. Thank you,” She says to him with yet another smile. 

Kelce smiles back at her and lifts his drink slightly as his way to say goodbye before leaning his shoulder against the swinging door and disappearing into the party. Kristy looks around the kitchen in defeat. She knows Kelce could’ve lied as he was already finding her weird with all her hums and weird silences, but what is she supposed to do now?

Kristy runs her fingers through her hair and sighs out loud, finding the vibrating of her phone irritating. She turns around and pushes the door of the kitchen open, using the door that faces the other side of the house as an advantage to lose Kelce.

She is quick and discreet with her steps, making her way out of the front door before closing it softly behind her. As she did it, she now thinks back on how she should’ve stayed a little longer to not raise any more suspicions. But it is too late now, leaving her to hope no one saw her.

Her eyes find her car, and through the windshield, she can see the girls’ widened eyes on her. She takes a deep breath before beginning to walk over to them, and, when finally by her door, she opens it right as she gets bombarded with questions.

She begins to explain everything only when she's sitting comfortably in the front seat. The girls listen quietly, never opening their mouths to ask anything until she gets to the end.

“Did he say anything about where they went?”

“No, but I also didn’t want to push him to say it. It was already awful from all the questions I had already made”

“Maybe they went home…?”

“At midnight?” A girl questions the other.

Kristy nods in agreement as they all find it too early for your night to end. The girls talk amongst themselves, thinking of the possibility of you changing parties or going home to hang out. Others said that you all went to get more drinks for the party. But the amount of liquor and convenience stores on the island made the girls give up further in finding you.

They had failed to find you again. If only they had started with this party.

Minutes go by, and the girls finally come to terms with the fact that they are done for the night. Kristy begins to pull away from the house in silence, and the girls all look outside, deep in thought.

“Could we go get something to eat before we go back home?” The girl in the passenger seat asks Kristy, getting the girls’ attention and silent agreement.

“Sure,” Kristy says with a small and sad smile.

The car disappears from the small driveway, and Kelce continues to stare out the window with a frown. With his phone over his ear, he curses himself silently for not even getting the girl's name before she bolted out of his house.

Everything about her seemed wrong. Even when she answered such an easy question correctly, the way the girl got out of the house confirmed it for him. She’s a weirdo.

“We’re almost there,” The voice on the other side of the phone says right as they pick up.

“That’s alright. Just wanted to ask you something,” Kelce says as he looks back at the party, “Do you know a girl with, like, brown and blonde hair?”

Patty laughs drunkenly on the other side of the phone.

“What? Maybe,” She says back to him. “Why?”

“Some girl came into my house asking me about you and then just got out without a word.”

Patty laughs again, finding what he said absolutely ridiculous. Kelce listens as she asks Topper about the girl with highlights, yet the answer is just as negative.

“Do Rafe an-”

“Hold on, let me put you on speaker.” Kelce sighs at Patty.

“Do Rafe and Y/N know her?”

“We don’t know.” Topper answers him.

“Well, can you ask?”

“They’re out of the car.” Topper says, confirming to Kelce that Patty’s ‘almost there’ is really ‘we haven’t even gotten out of the parking lot yet’. 

“Why are you so stressed about it?” Patty asks him.

“Because she was weird…” He comments to her, “And she said all your names when I asked her which friends she wanted me to know about.”

“Know about?”

“Yeah, she wanted to know where you all were. You two, Y/N and Rafe.”

They stay silent on the other side of the line, and Kelce is left to contemplate his own theories on who that girl could be.

“That is weird,” Patty says in a murmur after thinking for a bit.

“I know.”

There are more seconds of silence, and Kelce walks away from the window. He goes around the house, awaiting the two other people on the call to say something else, but they don’t even whisper.

“Is the food almost ready or what?” Kelce asks them.

“We don’t know. Rafe and Y/N went to pick it up,” Patty says to him, “But they’re still at the front. It might take a few more minutes.”

“Alright,” Kelce says as he sits back down with his other friends. “Text me when you’re on your way back.”

“Will do.”

(...)

“I’m hungry.” You groan out loud, leaning back on Rafe as you watch the restaurant’s door.

“I know,” Rafe says, “You’ve told me that many times.”

You turn around and wrap your arms around him, looking up at his face. Rafe stares back at you, at how your every emotion has just been intensified due to the alcohol you’ve consumed tonight - not his fault. Your smile grows as you watch him, and he has to hold himself back from smiling back right away.

“I like the buzz cut.”

“I know,” Rafe repeats himself. “You’ve also said that many times.”

“Good, because it’s true,” You tell him quickly before kissing his lips in a small peck and pulling away from his body. 

You walk over to the restaurant's door again, eyeing the inside as you watch the only people in the open kitchen work their asses off with the usual insane orders on Friday nights. You watch them cut up the ingredients and toss them into a pan on the stove. Rafe watches you as you watch the food, comparing you in his mind to some cartoon with hearty eyes only for food.

He looks over at the car where Patty and Topper are, seeing as Patty holds her phone in the air as she talks to someone, obviously entertained. 

You get back his attention when you step away from the door, and it opens in front of you. A guy holds up a white bag towards you, which makes you grab it, and he notices how drunk you are before deciding to direct his words towards Rafe instead.

“The rest of the food is almost done as well.”

“Thank you,” Rafe says back to him before the man disappears inside the restaurant again.

You walk back over to Rafe as you peek inside the bag, dying to eat anything inside the takeout boxes.

“I’ll take this bag to the car,” You tell him.

“Are you sure you can walk there safely?”

You send him a dramatic look, and his smile appears as you do it.

Even when refusing to let him be right, you walk very careful steps toward Topper’s car. You are very much drunk, but it does feel good to be so after a week of studying for your finals.

A car drives into the parking lot, getting your attention, but as soon as you have a slight difficulty seeing it in the darkness of night, you look away uninterested and get back to careful walking. Patty opens the car's door to welcome the bag of food, and you smile brightly at the equally drunk girl while holding the bag carefully in your hands.

You hand it over to her, and Patty does not even wait to open the first box at the top. Rafe watches from afar and chuckles as the two of you almost fight over one of the forks.

You happily take the fork from Patty’s hand after she has her bite, and you take yours. You practically feel your heart exploding with love for the food.

After swallowing, you take another bite and give the fork back before beginning to walk back to Rafe.

“Was it good?” He questions you.

“What was?”

“You didn’t eat?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” You say with a shrug.

Rafe smiles at you, and you walk back over to him, wrapping your arms around him again. And, in the distance, the girls watch the two of you.

In shock, after they had spent so many hours looking for you, they lay their eyes on you now, and relief hits them before any of the helplessness. You were safe and happy. Yet they cannot reach you now. Not when you're with him.

They are too distracted amongst themselves that they never turn off the car, which does sound suspicious to someone standing in an empty parking lot at night, such as Rafe. He looks over his shoulder to check out the car, half-parked in a spot with the engine running and lights on. And it has been there for some time now.

Due to the lights, Rafe cannot see who could be inside the vehicle, but those in it can see him and what he’s doing clearly.

The girls inside are discussing with each other about their next move, torn between the choice of risking going there while Rafe is right beside you or letting you go and leaving this for another day.

The discussion eventually escalates into arguing, and one of them steps out of the car before the others could reach for her.

The door is slammed closed, and the girl's silhouette appears on the side of the car. Rafe has stopped looking at the strange vehicle since you moved away from him and are now telling him all about your plans for tomorrow.

Kristy, who is still inside the car, realizes that she forgot to turn it off and does it now as they watch their friend approach the couple.

As she gets closer, the door of the restaurant swings open, and a man looks over at you. You grab the plastic bag full of food handed to you, and Rafe pulls out his wallet for the tip.

The girls impatiently watch as you say something to Rafe and begin walking toward a car. By doing that, you unknowingly create a larger distance between you and the approaching girl.

As the girl begins to change route and go toward the car you’re heading to, Rafe turns around to do the same. Yet something stops him, and his eyes go from the girl to the now turned-off vehicle, making every girl freeze on their spot.

He stares as the girl who was casually heading over to his girlfriend now simply stands before him and watches him in return. He looks over at you as you get further away from her with complete innocence. His eyes go back to the car for just another second, and he slides his wallet back into his pocket.

“What?” He asks her plainly.

The girl opens her mouth to speak but then shuts it right back up. Rafe watches her do it, and how her eyes go over to try and find you. You’re too distracted talking to Patty to even notice her.

“We want to talk to Y/N,” She forces herself to say.

“She’s busy,” He says before pointing towards the car, “Having dinner.” 

The girl stays quiet.

“Care to leave a message?”

Her silence is enough of an answer.

Rafe begins to move, and the girl turns towards Kristy's car. Anger is boiling underneath her skin as she looks over her shoulder, watching as you turn around to face Rafe. Your smiles and high-pitched voice as you excitedly speak to him. All while completely unaware of what has happened.

It doesn't take much of a thought to know that Rafe will never tell you, drunk or sober, what has happened and who has wished to speak to you. And that only angers the girl further.

She hops back inside her car and shuts the door behind her. No one dares to ask her what happened or what he said, so they sit silently and look outside.

Rafe opens the car door for you and lets you hop in as they watch. And before he goes in with you, he makes sure to have another look at the car and the girls inside it.

Rafe is a meany, y'all.

I know it wasn't much, but I hope you enjoyed this <3

[thestoryofella]

hi ellaaaa !!! :] im here requesting another steve harrington (or fred weasley if u want variety !!) drabble type thing again lol ! i was wondering if u could write smth abt the reader going to visit him at work and they're in an arm sling and he's just generally shocked ? u don't have to of course, i was just curious cause i fractured my elbow yesterday after trying to skateboard and i fell really hard on the concrete 😭 i got an arm sling today and i don't need help but people keep offering it (i appreciate it but i can do things fairly normally !!)

tysm !! -☄️

thank you for requesting; I hope your arm feels better now! <3

warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, swearing

steve harrington x reader ✿ 1025 words

You had tried not to fall; you really had. After seeing Max skateboard across town on a beat-up skateboard that never left her side, you decided it would be of utmost convenience to be able to glide in between houses and stores on a similar board. It was only a bonus that you might look cool doing it. 

Thus, you find yourself practicing riding a skateboard on a hill entirely too large for your skill level. You had meant to stop at the stop sign, which usually signaled the end of your block, but you found yourself rapidly gaining speed, flying past the stop sign, and then flying down a hill that resembled a mountain–or a children's slide if you were being realistic. 

Given your speed, you rapidly hurtled down the hill, and any efforts to stop were futile. You crashed into a storm drain and were quickly thrown backward. Your elbow, unfortunately, took the brunt of the impact. After a tearful phone call to your best friend and a doctor's visit, you found yourself in an arm sling that was entirely too embarrassing to mention to your boyfriend.

Steve was cool, aside from his seeming default dad-like poses, and you couldn't bring yourself to tell him about your accident or show him, for that matter. You were committed to doing everything yourself and not having to recount your fall. 

With your busy college schedule & Steve's job at Family Video, this was easy for a while. You resorted to texting him during the week, praying that your injury would be healed before the weekend came, and you both would undoubtedly want to spend lazy afternoons together to make up for the lost time. 

During the week, you buried your head in books, took acetaminophen to reduce the pain, and faithfully elevated your arm to reduce the swelling–which previously made it resemble a turkey leg, the flesh around your elbow ballooning to uncomfortable levels. 

It was Thursday when you got a text from Steve that read: You better come into Family Video. The movie we rented on Friday is due for return! At that moment, you knew that your antics had ended. Plus, given your student budget, you couldn't afford late fees. 

When you read the message, you sent a silent glare to the VHS that sat woefully unaware, tucked underneath the TV in your college house. If you just had a few more days to heal, you could've been out of the arm sling before Saturday. But no, the VHS return you procrastinated upon injuring yourself the day after your movie night had come to bite you in the ass. 

Even worse, morning classes had made it impossible to avoid Steve at Family Video–though deep down, you knew the news would've spread to him through the source of his chatty coworkers. Begrudgingly, you walked to Family Video, mirroring the form of a wounded animal, the VHS tucked into a spare tote bag that sat loosely on your undamaged arm, head hung slightly in defeat. 

By the time you reach the store, the only thing keeping you calm is the gentle tweets of birds that flutter in and out of your hearing. You also feel increasingly guilty for keeping this from Steve. It probably wouldn't have done much damage to your reputation in his eyes. However, the thought of his doting getting more excessive made heat creep up your neck and into your ears–which may constitute one reason for your antics. 

Walking inside the store, you fight the urge to curse as the bell above your head dings, immediately alerting the workers to your presence. Usually, this was helpful for quick service. But now? You want to crawl into a hole and stay there. 

Looking upwards as you walk towards the counter, you meet Steve's face with a sheepish grin. Taking in your form like he usually does before seeing you makes you think all is well until his eyes fall on your arm. Upon seeing your sling, his eyebrows lift incredulously to his forehead, and he develops wrinkles that better suit a man twice his age. 

His mouth opens and closes a few times before he manages to sputter out, "What happened to you?" It's a tone laced with shock, not anger, but perhaps a twinge of amusement. Although he doesn't find your misfortune funny, he thinks it's characteristic that you have managed to hurt yourself since the last time you saw him. 

You laugh at his tone before rubbing your face with your good hand. "Okay, I'll tell you, but you can't laugh because it's really embarrassing." You decide that making a bargain is your best bet and scan his eyes for trust before continuing. 

He offers his pinky as if to say: I promise I won't. But, he truthfully doesn't know. 

You breathe in before unleashing your story. "So, last weekend–"

He cuts you off, "Last weekend?! You've had your arm in a sling since last weekend?" 

You give him a pointed look, a warning to stop interrupting you before telling the rest of your story, including your ambitions to look as cool as Max riding her skateboard–which probably could have been excluded. 

Surprisingly, Steve keeps his word and doesn't laugh once as you recall the events. Although a glint of amusement shines in his honeyed eyes, he feels more sad than anything he didn't know sooner. When you've finished, he walks around the counter to pull you into his chest. 

"I wish you would've told me sooner; I would've come to your place to care for you." He emphasizes his point by pressing a kiss on your hair and a frown on his lips. 

"It was just so embarrassing to have to say out loud," you mutter into his shirt, the cotton material pressing against your cheek. 

He pulls away to grab around your shoulders, offering you a stern but kind look. "I would never judge you, even if you didn't successfully learn how to skateboard." 

He's so sincere it almost makes you laugh. You smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I know," you respond, and you're telling the truth.

[piratefalls]

i'm back! between work and trying to write my first fic for this fandom i've been falling really behind on reading, so for now these are going to be a more bi-weekly occurrence than weekly. in any event, there's truly a little bit here for everyone, so enjoy this week's mix of a+ works!

masterlist

you and me, babe, how about it? by @myheartalivewrites

Alex sits in the back of their Secret Service approved, PPO driven Land Rover, excitement thrumming through his body. The leather squeaks as he fidgets incessantly; his skin burns where Kieran’s shoulder is pressed into his, despite the layers of fabric between them. On the other side of Kieran, he can see Henry’s fingers twitch on top of his own knee, playing an imaginary piano, flicking out and squeezing in before releasing and starting again. Like he’s so fucking desperate to reach out and touch the leg next to his he’s having to muster up all of his self-control, draw on all the years of keeping himself restrained, just to not start things too soon. Alex can’t believe they’re actually, finally, doing this.

you know i can't be found with you by stutteringpeach

“He’s cute,” Alex declares on the first day of class. Liam doesn’t even bother to look up from his laptop. “Uh huh.�� “The professor.” Liam makes a non-committal noise. “I’m gonna fuck him.”

Longer Than Most by happinessofthepursuit

“Oh,” Alex says. “Sick.” Henry can’t help but grin. He can’t believe he’s so bloody gone on a man who says sick and dude, who he’s slept with all of one time and proceeded to knock him up. Henry’s a cliche, honestly. “It is, indeed, sick, as you say.” Alex rolls his eyes, but his cheeks darken a shade, giving him away a bit. “Listen, the closest I get to poetry is your fucking face. Excuse me if my vocabulary doesn’t quite compare to yours.” Or, Alex and Henry have a one night stand. That is, until a baby’s involved.

Baby (Let Me Put On a Show) by SatinBirds

It’s been five months, and still Alex is never completely prepared for Henry’s performances. Private or otherwise. Or, Henry is a night dancer, and he’s everything Alex wants.

Sun Salutations (Waif for Me) by @duchessdepolignaca03

He repeats the movement five or six times, his body heating up with each repetition, loosening the hangovers’ grip on him through very effective breathwork. Wanting to open up his hips a little bit more, he settles into a wide-legged forward fold. He holds the pose, enjoying the delicious stretch on his lower back and virtually all the muscles of his lower body. Then he just about jumps out of his skin when he hears, “Mmm, breakfast is served.” Or: Alex parties hard on a Thursday night and has some deliciously anonymous sex with the glittery blond he calls Waif. When he wakes to do his naked sun salutations, he learns that Waif is a very, very hungry, 'temporarily unhoused' boy whom Alex quickly invites to live rent-free in his head.

secret, scars, and trust by viciouslyqueer

He trails off and Henry takes the opportunity to cup his cheek, gently swiping his thumb over the smooth skin. “Hey. We don’t have to do anything. We can stop right now if you want to, or cuddle for a while. I can put on a movie if you’d like. I don’t mind either way.” Alex’s smile grows and he leans into the touch, pecking Henry’s lips again. “Thanks, baby,” he murmurs, and Henry has to fight the urge to react at the pet name. “But it’s not that. I want to keep going, if you want it, too. I just have to tell you something before, okay?”

make it five by anincompletelist

“Fifty bucks says I can get that guy’s number.” Popping the bubble of cinnamon-flavored gum Alex had just blown, he glances up from his phone to look at where Nora’s pointing. Just over the soles of his shoes, crossed at the ankles and propped on the flaking black wood of the shop’s front desk, there’s a man with broad shoulders lingering by the far wall. Alex hadn’t even heard the guy come in. “Nora. He’s literally looking at one of the biggest dildos I’ve ever seen,” he deadpans quietly. + alex works at a sex toy shop. it's usually a pretty easy job — if he could just stop daydreaming about the blonde guy that keeps coming in to buy literally all of alex's favorite sex toys.

talk by smc_27

Henry records himself for an audio erotica app. Alex finds it. And listens.

Got a ticket for two by clottedcreamfudge

Henry likes his apartment - he has done since the day he moved in a year ago. The light in the sitting room is gorgeous at all times of day thanks to the ceiling to floor windows which lead out onto a south-facing balcony, only just large enough for the plethora of plantlife his flatmates care for. The kitchen is always stocked with his favourite tea, everyone keeps to their allotted cupboard and fridge space, and the bathrooms are kept meticulously clean. There's a rota for chores stuck to the fridge with magnets from Rhode Island and Minnesota, London and Milan, with everything typed up neatly so that nobody has to squint to read someone else's awful handwriting. His flatmates themselves? Well, they're a little… strange.

Far Away From the One That I Love by allmylovesatonce

It's been an agonizing two months of Henry being in London and Alex being in New York. When an opportunity to finally be reunited with Henry comes his way, Alex jumps on it. But things don't go quite how they expected after so much time away.

If We're Caught in a Wage (I Will Carry You Over) by @sparklepocalypse

There it is, up ahead – the small island just offshore, with Alex’s favorite broad, flat stone outcropping, perfect for sunning himself in seclusion. He splashes into the shallows and dives in when the water’s up to his knees, and it’s a matter of maybe a minute’s swim to reach the island. Alex finds his footing among the sand and pebbles, pulls himself upright, and shakes the water out of his hair, then pushes it back from his face. He can practically hear the outcropping calling to him -- you know, if inanimate rock could speak. Alex stretches, his mid-back satisfyingly popping, and then skirts his way between some larger rocks until his sunning rock is in view. Except – there’s someone already on the outcropping, their short blond hair shimmering in the sunshine, the upper slant of their shoulders visible from where Alex is standing. (Movie or Bookverse AU; Alex rents a remote beach house and Henry is a cecaelia.)

Protect Your Solitude by graceofgrayskull

At the 2016 Rio Olympics, Alex stumbles onto Prince Henry crying in a storage closet and is forced to rewrite his perception of their first meeting.

Out For A Bite by everwitch

Henry's eyes fly up, zeroing in on the reflection in the mirror. There, behind him. The man from the bar. He looks different in the fluorescent bathroom lights. Sharper. There’s a look in his eyes that has Henry shivering all over again. It's greedy. Hungry. He’s staring right at Henry. Henry's throat feels dry. His heart beats madly. He's heard whispers of this place, and more importantly of its patrons. He thinks he knows what this man is.

each time we touch / i wanna take too much by @firenati0n

my fingers slipped and now there are fingers in mouths. wrote this in one sitting at 5am today. please forgive any egregious errors, i wrote it without my glasses on and on no sleep lol. hope you like it. <3 title from New Girl by FINNEAS

you took the time to memorize me (my fears, my hopes, my dreams) by coffeecatsme

The tour guide has a small bisexual flag pinned to his chest, right next to where his name is scrawled in big, bold letters. Alex, it reads; simple, to the point. The name tag rests on a red and black flannel, and underneath is a white t-shirt with Georgetown’s name stretched on the front, reminding Henry ever so starkly that he’s thousands of miles away from what he calls home. The flannel stretches over broad shoulders leading up to a strong jaw, all in contrast with the bright, dimpled grin stretched over a beautiful face. Henry thinks there isn't a place on the world far enough away from his grandmother to escape her clutches - even after transferring to Georgetown. Then, his tour guide extends a helping hand and shows him otherwise. Or, 5 steps Alex and Henry take to memorize each other and 1 time they realize they already do.

Praise & Supplication by NoCoastPosts

Alex is always moving, always going, always seeking. He is defiance and brashness tinged with anxiety, but not in these moments. Henry pins him down with a gaze as heavy as his touch, and all of Alex’s motions cease. He is calm, he is obedient, he is pliable. He knows he’ll be broken apart piece by piece, sending waves of heat deep into his core. or When Alex gets stuck in his head, Henry helps him let go.

Another Door Opens by 14carrotgold

Henry takes a long drink. “If it makes you feel any better, my dad's dead. He and my mum had the type of love straight from the storybooks and it got cut tragically short, so what is the point in finding something real if it's just going to hurt you?” Alex bites back a smile and shakes his head. “How in the fuck was that supposed to make me feel better?” He waves his hand awkwardly. “Oh, I just thought we were both sharing the trauma that impacted our romantic relationships.” - Henry and Alex first meet when Henry reveals their partners are cheating on them with each other.

Fifteen Hours Till Forever by inexplicablymine

“I would say that in this life, we aren’t granted many chances at true happiness, at the unadulterated freedom and joy that comes to the lucky ones. I would say that I know right now only fifteen feet apart, fifteen hours till forever, and somehow the universe has decided I ought to be one of the luckiest there are.” “But tomorrow,” he continues, “when we are saying our vows, when we are promising ourselves to one another forever, I want you to look me in the eyes and know that you are it for me.”  OR The year is 2025, and the world doesn't know they are getting married. 

home by rizcriz

For a moment he fears Henry’s been outed against his will somehow, but he scrolls down to find a video clip. Unable to trust himself to watch the video, he scrolls a little further to read the transcript. He learns that Henry had come out during a ribbon cutting, of all things. He’d stood in front of a crowd of a couple hundred people gathered for the opening of a new youth shelter, and he’d told his truth. Alex is tempted to watch the video, to examine his body language to see if it was planned or not, but he reads further and one sentence stands out to tell him it wasn’t. There is no comment yet from Buckingham Palace. -- or, six months after Henry rejected Alex at Kensington Palace.

The Way of Things by writerkenna

Henry and Alex have been very much enjoying the life they’ve managed to carve out for themselves. They’ve had to compromise and work and change to maintain it, but it’s worth it. Henry finds himself pregnant, though, and everything they’ve built starts to turn on its head. as always, let me know if you want to be tagged either because you're a writer or a reader (or both!) and i'll see you next time!

My life is a cosmic joke and you're not a real person by lizzie_bennetdarcy

Alex plans to be a lot of firsts in the world. But this absolutely isn't the kind of first he was thinking. He stares wide-eyed into the mirror at the letters on his shoulder while June whines to be let in. Alex finally unlocks the door and June bursts through. “Show me!” Wordlessly, Alex turns to show her his back. "What the actual fuck?" June exclaims, then claps a hand over her mouth. "Sorry, that was rude, but — is it more than one person?" Or: Five times Alex doesn't find his soulmate, and one time he does

tagging: @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels @midnightsfp @sarahjswift omg i feel like i'm missing someone

[dullgecko]

(Journalist Riz)

When Riz gets nominated for an award, he gets a plus one to the ceremony. Who do you think Riz would invite?

As much as he loves them all, I think Riz would probably either pick Sklonda, Adaine or Gorgug; depending on who is available. Maybe Fabian, but it all depends. Fig and Kristen are no gos.

Riz had gotten home before his mom that day, stopping by the mailbox in the lobby of the appartment to grab their mail before heading upstairs. It was mostly junk mail, a couple of bills (which he pocketed so he could pay them himself before his mom saw them) and weirdly enough a letter addressed directly to him.

It was suspicious. No one ever sent him letters. Riz flipped it over in his hand to look at the back (no return address, hand delivered obviously) before he felt the envelope between his fingers. Noting the weird texture and thickness of whatever was inside before giving a slight bend. Whatever it was had multiple pages enclosed plus at least one or two pages that were shorter than the edges of the rest.... this warranted some investigation. He wasn't about to open a weird letter without checking it for traps first.

Once he was securely in his apartment he placed the envelope on the kitchen table, first trying detect magic before starting on the usual trap-detection routine he had to go through every time he got an info packet from his rogue classes. The goblin found nothing. It was just a normal, untrapped, suspicious letter.

Now that he was relatively sure it wouldn't explode in his face he ripped it open, Riz digging one of his sharp claws under the flap an tearing a neat line along the top so he could access the contents. He slid the thinner pieces of paper out first, surprised that he was holding two glossy VIP tickets to an award ceremony in Bastion City in his hand. The letter that accompanied them getting unfolded and read quickly as he searched for the reason why.

Oh.... well. Wow okay.

He glanced at the tickets again, quickly digging out his crystal so he could bring up the website for the ceremony and scroll through the list of nominees. Yep. There he was. 'Riz Gukgak - nominated for his piece exposing the unethical hunting of sapient species for level grinding in the Mountains of Chaos'.

There was a fairly substantial cash prize if he won too and he honestly didn't think he'd ever held that much money in one go before (saved for the cursed coins in Kalvaxus's hoard, and that didn't count in his mind).

The rogue flopped heavily onto his couch, still clutching the letter and tickets in one hand and his crystal in the other while he stared at the ceiling. Sure he was aware his article had been popular, the Bastion City Newspaper having bought it from him for a decent amount of money, but he didn't think it was that good. He'd written it on a whim, something he'd discovered incidentally while working a different job for the LPRTF that had left him with a lot of information buzzing around in his head but nowhere to put it other than into an article. This was... wild.

He glanced at the letter and tickets again, holding them up and snapping a photo before sending a text with the picture to his mom.

//Hey. I've been nominated for an award. You free Thursday night next week? They sent me a ticket for a plus one.//

//Honey thats amazing! Of course! I'll let work know I won't be free. We can discuss details when we get home. I'm so PROUD of you.//

Riz laughed, flicking over to the group chat as well to update his friends and getting a swarm of similar texts, though they were more packed with emojis than his mothers had been. It had been Fig that noticed the second ticket, the archdevil reposting the picture into the chat after circling the extra ticket in red.

//Omg who are you taking as your plus one?! Do you have someone you want to ask out maybe? >:3//

//No. Dude. I've already asked my mom.//

//Lol figured. You'll have to tell us how it goes! Down to the second updates.//

The next few days had been hectic. Between school and work he had barely any downtime as it was but Fabian had insisted he get a new suit for the ceremony. Riz had protested that his normal suits were fine but he apparently had no say in the matter, the half elf saying it was a gift to congratulate him on his success and basically dragging him from store to store in his quest for the best. The girls had kidnapped his mom though, something he found out after he got home (arms overloaded with a new suit, and shoes, and socks, and cufflinks) and found his mother in a similar state of overwhelemed overshopped exhaustion surrounded by her own pile of clothes.

And so the day of the awards ceremony came, Sklonda getting a little teary eyed on seeing Riz in his outfit because he looked so much like his father. They were hustled quickly into the dark theatre once they arrived, the pair of them sitting through nearly an hour of speeches and awards before Riz's own catagory was announced.

He felt a little out of his own body when they announced that he'd won, heavy feet making their way up onto the stage to accept his award and cheque and got ready to make his speech. The rogue blinking in surprise when he noticed his party seated near the far back of the room waving wildly at him as he gave them a confused look.

Of course they were here. He shouldn't have ever doubted that they WOULD be. Between Fabians connections and Figs ability to get into places she shouldn't there was no way they'd miss out on this.

Riz shook his head in amusement, giving them a small wave back before clearing his throat to speak. Having to take a few seconds before he was finally able to get the words out.

[psblooms]

love you a latte

park jongseong x fem reader mini series smau

previous - masterlist - next

a latte without milk (word count: 985)

thursday mornings are one of the hardest days in the coffee shop; not only was the time you were scheduled for the opening shift which meant getting up earlier and taking all your stuff for the classes after your shift. but also the fact that every customer in that window of time was not in the best mood since it was so close to the weekend and that meant getting a break, but it was also the end of the month so more people were willing to come to the shop to treat themselves.

part of you was happy that you had more clients, it meant more tips and better daily wages. however, it still bothered you the fact that the shop was still clearly understaffed, so between the few people in the kitchen and the cleaning staff, it was only you and another girl in barista and register duties at least until gaeul arrived in an hour.

you have had your fair share of experiences working in customer service nothing can ever help you get used to how rude people can get while waiting for their orders, you usually get it, it is normal to expect fast and perfect service doesn´t mean they can put you at fault when the order takes more than 10 seconds on morning rush hour. and with everyone being done with life your mood was matching those vibes as well.

so after a group of ladies came in and ordered 5 frappes and croissants to go, you just were so done with work at early 10 in the morning.

"hello, sorry I have a big order to make," someone said while you had your six minutes of peace doing inventory, turning around with your best 'I'll help you out´ smile you saw a young man around your age in formal attire and sunglasses.

"sure, good morning I can take your order," you said

as you were busy setting up the register pad the stranger who is also known as jay park was feeling something drop to his stomach and his ears getting hotter just for the mere fact of seeing someone really pretty (aka you). he was not someone who felt for someone just by looking at them. still, there is a first for everything, and even though from afar you were fitting his unexistent ideal type his mind short-circuited. the only thing he could think of was running away as fast as possible to not embarrass himself in front of someone as pretty as you.

did he know you? no, he was only aware of your name thanks to the sticker in your apron but as much as he wanted to get to know you he didnt know what steps to take for that, there must be some rule book on how to flirt with the barista in front of you and he wasn't aware of that book.

there was silence in the shop and some customers were starting to line up behind him which he clearly was not aware of.

"are you ready to order?" you said finally looking at him and pulling him out of his inner thoughts     

"right," he said trying to not voice out the sheer nervousness he felt. he looked at his phone for the first few orders but as the list went on he wanted to keep looking at her so after the three iced americanos he started to talk more confidently while you were writing down the order.

"then it would be two hot chai lattes, one with whole milk and one with almond milk, three cappuccinos with whole milk, one chamomile tea, and a lavender latte without milk," he said happily after remembering the order only to see you stop writing and looking at him confused.

"what was the last item you said?" you asked kindly, and seeing your face again while questioning him made him get nervous again.

"a lavender latte," he said, less confidently.

"with what type of milk?" you asked him.

"without milk," he said trying to read your expression of confusion, he had a ringing in his ears thanks to them getting hotter from the eye contact and he was getting self-conscious because maybe he said something wrong since his tired and confused brain was not working at its best.

"sorry, but lattes have milk," you said softly trying to not embarrass him with that note.

"do they?" he asked while getting redder from embarrassment, he knew that, he is not dumb but he must´ve mixed up the notes "ummm, right" he mumbled while picking up his phone to check again.

"yes but it's okay if you don't want milk I can add the lavender syrup to an espresso or an americano," you said while trying to help him out. it was clear he was sent to make an order and that he was just going along with what other people said.

"no, it's okay let's keep it a latte with almond milk please," he said looking at the countertop.

"okay!" you said smiling "are the ten drinks everything?" you said while typing everything.

"yes, sorry for the trouble," he said hoping it was over soon so that he could run and never step a foot back here after today.

"it's fine, can I get a name for the order?" you asked him as the last part of the protocol.

and jay wanted to die, he forgot that they asked for his name, could he make up a fake name just so you don't associate his with the face of the man who just embarrassed himself in front of you? yes but the nervousness inside him and also the fact that he is a terrible liar made him tell you his actual name for the order.

he felt like there could not be a worse thing in the world, of course, he was just being dramatic.

taglist: @str4wb3rryc0ww

[philtstone]

jaime/claire -- holding the other's chin up

after literally one million years i finally finished this. this is not technically an om-shanti-om au but it's not not one, either

On Wednesday morning, Jamie and his Ghost had a row.

It is now Thursday afternoon, and Jamie is sitting in a hospital room, covered in muck from head to toe and wondering if this isn’t God’s great punishment for daring to leave his bloody flat.

He’s not sure when he started referring to the Ghost as his. Traditionally, if you’re the sort to believe in such things, ownership of ghosts runs through 1) ancestry or 2) a familial home. His aunt Jocasta, for example, had an ornery old Frenchman in the cellar of the MacKenzies’ old brick tower who had no relation to any of them, but wouldn’t let the damned house go generation after generation; Jocasta claims the bastard had been the mysterious lad who seduced that one grand-cousin of theirs into batting for the other side, which led to his divorcing his wife and moving to Cuba – and who is Jamie to have his doubts, really, when he’s got a ghost of his own.

The argument could be made that Jamie’s ghost has taken up residence in his flat — hence his turn of phrase. But he’s only renting after all, and more than that, he’s got a weird feeling she never snooped through the previous tenants’ bookshelves or sock drawers or anything either.

Now she won’t speak to him. It is four months to the day Jamie moved in, and, not two hours later, made her acquaintance while having an angry cry on the toilet. It’d been a rough go of it – between the accident and Jenny and Da —

Jamie had, at that time, resigned himself to the inevitability of his flunking out of graduate work before he’d ever started it. He’d barely been making it to his physio appointments when the Ghost appeared, let alone his classes; either he wouldn’t answer Jenny’s calls or she wouldn’t answer his; and in the twenty four hours he’d been in his new flat, the upstairs neighbours had already had audibly angry sex twice, which was two times too many for Jamie’s fragile mental state (not to mention his resounding lack of girlfriend). It was amidst all of this that The Ghost materialized.

The Ghost glows like a firefly, speaks like she stepped out of a World War Two-era black and white film and can’t seem to stay in one spot long enough for Jamie to see her face properly. She hasn't got a name, has given no indication of a family, and won’t tell him how and where she died. She’s miserable when she isn’t cracking laughs out of him by snooping through his old copy of Descartes and wondering aloud whether he actually reads the books he owns. She herself has no patience for reading (though she accidentally knocked a lamp over exclaiming at his battered copy of Lord of the Rings), endless patience for his sporadic monologues on morphological theory, and a complete fascination with his mobile phone. Also, the soapy mess that is Grey’s Anatomy, which was playing on the telly once. 

“How old were ye,” Jamie asked one day, blowing on his instant noodles, which the Ghost had been eyeing with great skepticism for the latter half of the last fifteen minutes. He supposed she had every right to judge, if she were once a twentieth century housewife, but very little about her suggested an abundance of housewifely skills.

“What are your thoughts on knitting?” asked the Ghost, apropos of nothing.

“I asked first.”

“Did you.”

“When ye went, I mean. How old were ye?”

For a moment it was hard to look directly at her, because she was suddenly far less clearly formed than before. Then, quick as a wink, she was young and mostly corporeal again.

“Terribly,” said the Ghost. “I had white hair and everything.”

He mulled this over. “I can imagine it must’ve been quite somethin’ tae behold,” he says. “Sorcha.”

She smiled, all brilliance, all tenderness – very different from the sadness that lingered around her otherwise. Slowly she floated over, under his silent observation, and with hands that were not fully there and made of the stuff of nightlights cupped his face, lifting his chin. There in his sad little kitchen she glowed. Jamie kept blinking behind his glasses, like maybe if he did it hard enough, he could finally see her. Did she have a husband she missed? Jamie thought. Was it paining her something awful to be stuck in his sad little studio, with the two plants left living and the little grey cat no one in the building would properly claim ownership of? 

Then, “Knitting,” she said. So Jamie confessed what little his Mam had taught him as a kid.

She knows all the scientific names of the bones and ligaments and tissues in his body that were damaged in the accident, and – perhaps due to her ghostly nature – can preternaturally guess when each thing is paining him. It upsets her to realize that her hands are not solid enough to sooth the hurts, and gladdens her when he assures her companionship is taking his mind off things a bit, before – incomprehensibly – she looks miserable again. She swears like a sailor and would probably fart in her sleep, were she not an incorporeal being with a transmutable form not in need of traditional rest.

She’s the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen. Nevermind he can’t really see her; Jamie just knows. Her hair is one large amorphous cloud of curls and she stares at him with such unspeakable sadness and makes a little humming noise when she’s at rest, like the singing of a hundred little stones. And there is a soft sort of buttery halo around her, which was enough to stun him into silence at their first meeting and has become oddly soothing now, enough that he gives her that silly little nickname, and he’s lonely, something feckin’ awful. 

It’s not like he’s not self-aware. Problem is, now she might be gone forever, and it’s all his fault.

He keeps playing it over and over in his head. He might’ve been a little churlish, sure – he was tired from his early lecture, he’d kept his contacts in too long, the anniversary of Da’s passing was coming up on Friday and Jenny kept insisting that he ought to come for a visit …

That was it, wasn’t it? Jamie didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to go home, and the Ghost in all her sort of sad floaty care for him snapped in the way of a brittle little twig. She had an awful temper sometimes. He’d heard her yell at the kitchen wall once when she found she couldn’t float through it. 

“James Fraser,” she said in her posh little accent, “are you going to continue wallowing in this miserable fucking flat or are you going to get up off your arse and face the bloody world like a man?”

Jamie found this somewhat infuriating. He had left his flat, thanks very much – he went to class now, and he was making real progress in physio, and, well, sure, he’d turned down the lads the last few times they invited him out for a match, but maybe he’d go this time – there was no proof he wouldn’t! So it wasn’t feckin’ fair of her, to talk down to him so. Jamie refused to be called a coward in his own flat.

By a ghost, no less.

“It’s no’ like you ever leave either,” he’d snapped in response, the discomfort of being seen rankling under his skin and sharpening his tongue into something rude. 

“I’m dead,” said the Ghost.

“Aye,” muttered Jamie mutinously. “Well.”

“Don’t be an arse.”

“Ye’d be fair lonely wi’out me here tae keep ye company, would ye no’?”

“I’d – read your books,” she defended, unbelievably. “You – you just – don’t you want a happy and vibrant life?”

“What do you think?” he picked up his books, which were strewn over the living room couch, for something to do.

“Well, I don’t know! You keep hiding!”

“I’m no’ hiding!”

“Yes, you are!”

“Mary, Michael and – why do ye care so much, ye irritating apparition!”

“I care because I bloody well have to!” 

Had he not been so caught up in his own irritation, he would have noted the odd strand of desperation in her voice. 

“Fine,” said Jamie, waving about An Introduction To Language And Linguistics, Third Edition with finality. “Well. I’ve plenty of reasons to be a homebody, ken -- right ones, real ones. But if that’s the case, then yer whole existence is sad.”

“I beg your pardon,” said the Ghost. 

“Aye,” Jamie was really working up to something, he’d thought, “Ye clearly havenae anywhere else to be, hangin’ about this dump.”

“Where else would I bloody well go?”

“I dinna ken, do I?” He couldn’t see her properly – the details of her face were always a mystery, but now she kept glowing in and out of focus as a general ill emotion build within her in the far corner of the room, “as ye tell me nothing about yerself and spend half the day actin’ like a time traveller and the other half the day lookin’ at me like ye’re about tae cry! I don’t think I’m the one wallowing here, Sorcha, and at least my presence is wanted by the feckin’ landlord! No one asked you tae show up!”

Perhaps he had gone too far; something about the Ghost’s presence blanched, like he’d given her a true fright. Then, after an awful moment of strangulated silence … she snapped back.

It devolved pretty quickly from there. In between the mutual screaming, Jamie got the feeling that she would have thrown things, could she have gotten her incorporeal hands on them properly enough to harness physics.

At some point, he had run out of steam, stormed out, and slammed the door behind himself, intent on finally taking up the offer of rugby with his friends.

Too bad about the torrential downpour. Too bad Rupert tackles like a giant lout, and Jamie slid five feet on the grass before slamming down directly on his shoulder and popping it out of socket.

He sighs, miserably. The hospital room is cold, mostly because he remains so thoroughly damp; his hair is plastered to his forehead and his jeans cling to his legs. So much for going out and partaking in the wide human world like a man properly recovering from a year’s worth of back to back traumas. Hmph. Jamie sniffs and wipes at his glasses (smudged) with his free and un-dislocated arm. He supposes he is recovering, sort of. It’s been easy to miss, given how simple the Ghost has made everything feel, but he feels exceptionally more human now than he did mere months ago. Jamie of September would never have dislocated his shoulder, because he was too busy being depressed.

He squirms in place. He ought to go home and check on the Ghost. What if all the yelling caused her to simply vanish? What if she’s hiding from him, indefinitely? He doesn’t think Edinburgh local business bureau has any reliable sort of ghost hunting service listed on its website. When Angus stopped by to pick up Jamie’s laptop so he could at least get his readings done for class tomorrow via hospital room, he responded to Jamie’s possibly-deranged Ghost-related line of questioning with an honest, “I’ve looked everywhere, mate. Cannae see hide nor hair of any ghostly lassie. D’ye think she’s gone tae her sister’s, perhaps?”

Even if this were a helpful question, Jamie hasn’t any idea whether the Ghost has any siblings at all.

Shite. He groans. It’s bad enough the shock’s worn off, and his shoulder is starting to properly hurt now. He hangs his head and leans his forehead against his uninjured wrist, squeezing his eyes shut against the mess everything’s become. He’s still facing the ground with his eyes shut when the faint sound of heeled footsteps swells louder and turns the corner, entering the room with a neat swish of hospital bed paper and curtain.

“Mr. James Fraser, is it?” says a light, distinctly British female voice, evidently scanning over whatever chart they’ve got set up for him, “that’s a nasty glenohumeral dislocation you’ve got there. You wouldn’t have happened to be playing rugby in the rain like an idiot, would you?”

Jamie cracks his eyes open specifically to roll them. He doesn’t get very far: the doctor standing in front of him is a tall young woman, with a mass of thick, dark curly hair tied out of her face, wry laughing eyes and an upturned little mouth that makes it very clear they are both supposed to be in on whatever joke she’s trying to make. She has a slender neck, a very competent set to her brows, and could be described as somewhat twiggy in figure save for her wonderfully curved arse, which Jamie gets an unexpected view of as she leans over the chair in the corner to close the bed’s curtain properly.

Jamie unsticks his throat with a bit of effort. “Hm?” he says, very eloquently.

“I asked, are you feeling dizzy at all? Nauseous?”

“No, I feel fine. ‘Tis just my arm, Sassenach.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Between the dislocated shoulder and the woman in front of him it could really be anything that’s causing his complete discombobulation – enough to put his foot in it, it seems – but something about the tone and inflection of her sharp little question has Jamie’s head spinning more than the rugby tackle.

“Er – Doctor Sassenach, I mean. Or rather – jest Doctor, but I didnae mean it as an offense – it was just an observation. Granted, we’re in Edinburgh, so it wouldn’t – but I’m from – that is, my family, I grew up far North, so …” he trails off; she is now very industriously poking and prodding at his collar bone. Oh, right – he does remember her saying she was about to do that. “I meant no offense,” he concludes.

“No offense taken,” says the Doctor. She sounds like she’s on the verge of laughing, this time at him.

“Ye’ve got a very gentle touch,” Jamie says, like a right idiot.

“Thank you,” says the Doctor. “Now, I’m going to reset your arm – there’s nothing else for it, it’ll hurt like hell for a minute. But you’ll be alright Mr. Fraser.”

They go through the motions together; Jamie follows her instructions, marvels at how strong and precise she is with skinny arms and small hands, and only blacks out a little when his shoulder pops back into place.

“God,” he gasps, blinking. In front of him, the Doctor is looking over him with concern. 

“Everything alright? How are you feeling?”

“A little bit like someone’s punched my lights out, I willnae lie.” She laughs, but her hands remain on him, gentle first on his chest, then neck, pushing him upright.

“An expected feeling,” she says. “Hold still a moment, I’m going to properly check you for a concussion.”

And before Jamie can protest that he’s fine, she has taken his chin in both hands and gently tilted his face up towards her, so as to better shine the little flashlight into his eyes.

It’s as if a giant multi-metric tonne train has slammed into Jamie at twelve hundred kilometers an hour. The nice Sassenach doctor is glowing like a firefly and eyeing his ramen with skepticism and asking him about knitting and crying and yelling and touching him so gently because now her hands can actually touch him and he knows her, he swears he knows her deep deep deep in some inner place inside of him and quite possibly he is in love with her, and maybe has been, forever.

Jamie comes back to Earth. She is making an altogether undignified face as she moves his chin back and forth and examines his reaction time. Her tongue sticks out a little. Bits of frizz have popped out of her ponytail and are decorating her hairline like a halo.

“Hi,” Jamie says breathily, like a fool.

She stills, and looks over to meet his eye, and for a moment they stare at each other like that, nose to nose. 

“Hello,” she says. 

Then she pulls away and marks something on her notepad; the interaction is all but over. Off to her next patient, probably. “Alright. Well, no concussion, from what I can tell. I’ll ask you to self-monitor, though, and I’ll prescribe you some pain meds for the shoulder. I’d go home and get some rest if I were you,” she hesitates, and in a curious sort of way adds, “is everything alright, really?”

“Fine,” says Jamie. “Only, just now I felt like I’d seen a ghost.” He laughs, and it’s an overall strangled sound, which can and should be forgiven. “Ye ever felt anything like that, Sassenach?”

She is halfway to the door already, and he’s sure she will call him a nutter on the way out, even if in that wry way of hers. But she stops. Turns back. Smiles at him – not quite radiant, nor tender, but curious and familiar.

“You know … I think I do?”

“Aye?” 

“It’s Claire, by the way.”

He blinks. “Your ghost?”

“No,” and now she really is laughing at him. “My name. Dr. Claire Beauchamp. But if you must call me an outlander, James Fraser whose family lived in the North, then I suppose I am alright with that, too.”

She leaves Jamie grinning more widely than he has in months. He’s got the odd feeling that whenever he gets home, his flat will be empty. Strangely, this is not an upsetting premonition. He’s more concerned with somehow getting Dr. Claire Beauchamp’s phone number – and somehow, he’s pretty sure the Ghost would approve.

[yikes-em]

Nap Away

For @astrangersummer week 2: afternoon nap

steddie | 976 words | gen/no warnings | college/modern

Read also on ao3

Tuesdays and Wednesdays are Steve’s weekends. He’s a hairstylist, a junior one at that, and works Thursday through to Monday. He and Eddie have no overlapping days off, Eddie’s from the bar falling on Sunday and Mondays, but Steve has his Tuesdays and Wednesdays. He goes grocery shopping, gives the plants of his their weekly watering should their routine require, doctor and dentists appointments. This Wednesday so happens to be Steve’s rare empty day. He’s already run the dishwasher and laundry, both audibly going in the kitchen. The bathroom is clean, they’d already agreed on pizza for dinner so no need for prep. Everything was right in the world. One glance at the clock told Steve, nested into a pile of blankets and pillows on the couch with a book, that Eddie should be home from his noon class shortly. The sound of keys in the doorknob confirmed that fact not even five minutes later.

“Heey, Stevie,” Eddie hums, bag dropping to the ground by their door as he toes his shoes off.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Steve muses back, dogearing the page. He pushes his glasses to the top of his head. “How was class?”

Eddie holds a finger to his lips with closed eyes. Steve understands. “I’ve gotta be back on campus in a few hours.”

“How many?”

“Three.”

“Right, thank you,” Steve hums. He adjusts his body to make room on the couch and tucks his book under the pillow beside him. “Sorry I forgot. How can I help you?”

Eddie blushes, kicking his feet up a little as he steps further into the living room to the beat of the music Steve’s got playing through the TV. He speaks through a yawn-- “I dunno.”

“Sleepy?”

“Yeah.”

“Hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Need to do any work before class?”

“Surprisingly, no,” Eddie grins when his shins hit the couch. Steve reaches up for Eddie’s hips with both hands, holds him firmly, and presses a gentle kiss through his shirt just under Eddie’s belly button. “Whatcha reading?”

“Still trying to get through Watership Down.”

“Fuck yeah, baby, let me know if there’s anymore words you need help with?”

Steve nods. He moves his hands from Eddie’s sides up to grab his hands, tugging down at him. Eddie understands, sitting where Steve’s made space for him. Eddie yawns again and goes where he’s pulled until he’s flush against Steve’s body. The warmth on the couch grows as the shifting sun hits the front window just right and flashes rainbows through the lounge. It’s beautiful and safe and most importantly, theirs.

“How’s your day been, love?”

“Calm,” Steve hums lightly as he cards his fingers through Eddie’s hair. The dark green block of color taking up the left half of his bangs would be ready to be colored in the next few weeks, with his roots grown out a half inch already, but currently it was a tonedeaf and seasick teal. Sometimes Steve would find himself overcritical of his work, particularly on Eddie. Now, like it had been in the short months they’d been living together, his mind was quiet. Steve picked apart a few curls that clumped densely together.

“Good,” Eddie says, yawning yet again.

“When do you need to leave?”

Eddie takes a peek across the room at the same clock Steve had. “Class is at 5, I’ll be out at 6:15, I think. So leave around 4:30?”

“I’ll drop you off, we can leave quarter till. Go on and nap a bit, Eds.”

“You’re so chivalrous,” Eddie grins like a dope up at Steve. He nuzzles into Steve’s shirt, nose poking through the space between the buttons. Steve lets out a breathy giggle and pushes his face back. “I’m so lucky!”

“Yeah, you are.”

“You sure you’re comfortable?” Eddie asks, voice turning soft and genuine.

“Well, here, hang on.” Steve slides out from under Eddie with only a few grumbles, returning a minute later with a fresh glass of water and a small bowl of pre-cut strawberries with powdered sugar on top. Eddie whines again when he’s forced to hold himself up enough for Steve to return to his previous spot, but is quickly soothed by a few strawberries and a kiss on the head. “Alright, now we’re good. Nap away, my love.”

“I need to be up by 4 at least…” Eddie mumbles, all but a whisper. Steve nods as he wraps his arm around Eddie and pulls him close. He doesn’t wake Eddie until 4:15, a solid two hour nap in Steve’s opinion, with a kind nudge of his knee and kiss above Eddie’s ear after returning Watership Down to the coffee table. Eddie rouses slowly with a pathetic whine.

“Steeevieeeee,” He cries, wriggling around on Steve’s lap. “Sleeeeepyyyy…!”

“I know, baby,” Steve hums and shifts again so Eddie has no comfortable resting spot anymore. He sits up and rubs aggressively at his eyes. “Come on, tie your hair up and we can take a quick shower before I drop you off.”

“Hot?” Eddie peeks out from behind his knuckles.

“Yeah, Eds,” he laughs softly, already reaching for the hair tie around Eddie’s wrist. “Now, hop up, let’s go.”

Steve doesn’t even have time to dry his hair before they have to rush off, Eddie making it to class exactly on time. If they’d gotten a little carried away in the shower, who can blame them? But by the time Eddie returns home again there’s a hot meat lovers pizza on the coffee table, an episode of Jeopardy queued on TV, and Steve perched yet again in the middle of a blanket puddle on the couch. There’s no disagreements when Eddie further investigates and finds Steve in one of Eddie’s old band hoodies and just his boxers, limp hair sending thin clumps of waves over his forehead. Yeah, Eddie’s a lucky guy.

[katebeckets]

☁️

I’m so tired. The thing about being hospitalized is that it wasn’t some abrupt crisis that escalated quickly. The entire week built up to the crisis and I remember it so vividly. That week is burned into my brain and the whole thing is hard.

October 6 was a Sunday. I saw Idina for the last time that week with my friend who had been staying with me that week.

October 7 I had class and work, then I went to dinner with my friend who left that night.

October 8 I had therapy before my friend and I went to see Anastasia. Someone in the cast reminded me of Bernadette Peters, which made me hyperfixate on Bernadette, my then-therapist. I freaked out about the attachment.

October 9 Bernadette wanted to talk on the phone because whatever message I sent the night before during my freak out was a little alarming. I was on my bed crying for 3 hours. She called between clients and spent a total of at least two hours on the phone with me. My friend spent the night with me and Bernadette emailed my emergency contact to let her know what was going on.

October 10 was a Thursday. I saw my emergency contact and made it through most of the day. Then I went home and was again inconsolable. The same friend babysat me again.

October 11 I went to classes and work and cried literally every moment in between. I cried between classes, I called Bernadette and left messages, I went home and cried and cried and finally called my emergency contact. None of us had been able to reach Bernadette. She had to follow my safety plan and would call the team if I didn’t go to the ER willingly. I went thinking they’d scoff at me and be like “you’re fine, you said you aren’t going to hurt yourself, go home,” and then I’d be home again but I’d have appeased everyone. They put me on an involuntary hold and literally no one involved was surprised except me.

October 12 they transferred me to the psych ward. My sister got engaged and I felt guilty about ruining it. I spent the day mostly crying and sleeping. Bernadette called. I begged her to convince the psychiatrist to sign off on ending the hold since I wouldn’t be alone. I had to manage not to lose it with the psychiatrist but I did it. I’ll never forget the brief exchange I had with a boy who was being admitted as I was discharged, the sadness we both shared.

I literally went straight from the psych ward to my sister’s engagement celebration and I did what I do so well.

And maybe it wouldn’t have been so traumatic if not for the aftermath, but then my worst nightmare came true. The reason I had always refused help—Bernadette left. I didn’t process any of the hospital for almost two years because we went straight into the grief and regret and anguish of loss and my worst fears coming true.

Five years on, I’m doing better, I really am. I worked through a lot of it after a couple years, but it truly is one of those markers. There’s a me before that happened, and I mourn her sometimes. It’s not something I can fully articulate, but I’m not the same. My heart breaks for that girl. I’m also a better therapist because I worked through this. But this year is especially hard. I feel heavy, I want to cry and cry but am also so numb, I miss Bernadette more than I remember her, and I’m angry that I’ve started to heal from the loss because it was all I had left connecting me to the time I did have with her (the best year of my life, truly).

Maybe I’ll delete this, it’s essentially just a journal. But I sometimes struggle with journaling because I need to know someone read it, someone heard me. I feel just as alone when I write down my thoughts if they aren’t shared. Even though I’ll be horrified by sharing them.

And… that’s what’s going on. The SI is worse, unsurprisingly. I wonder if it really matters that I’m here. Would you notice if I stopped posting? Or maybe you’d notice because I post a lot, so then the question is would it matter? Would anyone remember me or miss me?

[yizhou-time]

ANEWZ RADIO [PREVIEW]

MASTERLIST | RELEASE DATE: TBA

Synopsis: Watch the friendship between your schools news anchors and radio broadcasters, Yunho and Y/N, blossom as they begin working together. Neither thought much of each other until meeting so this unlikely friendship has their school stunned.

STUDIO A: ANEWZ BROADCAST #2 [14:18]

“If you’re wanting the highest amount of extra credit feel free to speak to our prized fighter himself, Choi San, and sign up! As stated previously due to the nature of the club the extra credit is high so don’t miss out!” You read from the script in your hand, dropping the paper once you were done and leaning back.

Yunho picks up his own before continuing on smoothly, “Can’t find San? His right hand man Jung Wooyoung will be available Tuesday lunchtime and after 2pm on Thursday’s.” He says before dropping it on the soundboard, the rest of the desk filled with other parts of the script you’ve both already read.

He looks over the script and muffles a laugh as he realises what he said, Wooyoung specifically asked not to be called that. ‘IT’S A MANAGER!’ You both hear him in your head, imagining him point a finger at you accusingly.

As Yunho finishes you sit up once again, glad this broadcast is almost over. “Any other club sign up sheets will be on the bulletin board outside our office, sign up if you have the time! It’s 2:25pm and lesson starts at 2:30, get to it people.” You lean over the desk to read.

“We’ll see you at the end of the school day with bus times and detention notifications but up until now it’s been your hosts Jeong Yunho and Na Y/N.” He says.

You both look outside the booth and wait for Hongjoong to give you the signal to say your final line, it takes him a moment but he eventually sticks his thumb up.

“Anywhere, everywhere, ANEWZ! Have a nice day!” The pair of you say before you hear a switch click, letting you know the broadcast is over and you can both relax.

Simultaneously you guys take off your headphones and slip down further into your chairs, letting go of any tension you had in your body. The two of you just looked at each other with nothing to say. This had become a routine for the two of you at the end of every broadcast. Sinking and staring.

The dim lighting and black sound proof sponge made the room so cozy until you really took in the state of it. Wires tangled, annotated scripts everywhere, a trash can almost overflowing, empty water bottles dotted around and all of it signified your hard work. Hours upon hours were spent in this room and sometimes you had to stay overnight due to the work load. This was much more than the school board told you about however it was too late for you to stop now.

Yunho’s eyes wandered around the room, his face changing to one of disgust after fully taking in the room. Your shared office was much more cleaner than this so there was no excuse for the state of this studio (you both spend more time here than there, you’re both aware and have done nothing to change that). Soon enough you were back looking at each other, silently agreeing to clean it up when you had the chance.

The silence was soon broken by Hongjoong opening the door to the recording section of the studio, “You guys shouldn’t preach people getting to class on time and not going yourselves. Come on.” He states, encouraging you to get up.

At the same time you both fix your posture before standing up. “Ah, here.” You say to Yunho, passing him the blazer that he let you borrow. You straighten out your skirt as he puts his jacket back on. Hongjoong takes this as his sign to also pack up, closing the door behind him.

“Bring your jacket next time. You don’t usually forget things, I never have to remind you of anything.” He replies, picking up his back and throwing it over his shoulder before picking up yours and handing it to you.

It was true. You had to remind him of everything (that you applied to) from meetings with the school board to making sure he showed up for events you were needed at, sometimes even getting him to come to the studio was a task, but you never had to be reminded.

Both of you walk to the door, Yunho opening it and waiting behind allowing you to go first. In this time Hongjoong had clearly packed his items too, this allowed the boys to leave together for their lesson while you went to your own. “Thank you for today Hongjoong, and for the next few days. Let us know when Bumjoong will be back and you’ll be free to go.” He says and you all laugh.

Once again Yunho reaches for the door, this time you also step back to allow Hongjoong to walk back first. He thanks both of you and you follow, thanking Yunho for holding the door twice and letting you go before him. Since he’s last out you pass him the studio key.

“I’ll keep hold on this, that way I’ll know to come.” Yunho exclaims as he locks the door, following with a shake of the knob to make sure it’s really locked. Once he’s sure it is Hongjoong wraps his arm around his friends shoulders to hurry him up.

“See you, Na.” He waves, beaming.

“See you in a bit, Y/N.” Hongjoong does the same.

Quietly you wave back to both of them with a small smile.

When you see them reach the end of the hall you turn around yourself to go to your lesson. You put your hands together, that timid personality creeping back as you walk away from the studio. Host Y/N was an extrovert, student Y/N is an introvert.

You look back down the hall once more and sigh. “I don’t know Yunho, I don’t know why you’re reminding me of things I already know. Just, please, do it again.” You mumble before reaching your classroom door and pushing it open.

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC Lucien's Through Thousands of Mirrors event translation (Day 1 -Thursday)

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT ⚠️

This post contains a HEAVY SPOILER for the event that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Through Thousands of Mirrors Event | Day 1 (You're here!) | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | HS/Uni SSR Story: Monochrome Scenery

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[Tidbits: I don't wanna break the flow so I'll put some information here first 😂. Dr. Lawson is Lucien's post-grad professor. Before, he also appears in UR MQ Distant Similarity. During his post-grad he has three seniors Colt, Elliot, and Caroline.]

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[Math]

Seeing the particularly puzzled expression on the classmate next to him, Lucien starts to consider whether he should offer some assistance within his capabilities.

For instance, he thinks about telling the classmate that the topic currently being discussed on the blackboard is not from the same chapter as the one in the textbook he's currently reading.

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[MATH/BIOCHEMISTRY]

After the vending machine devours Lucien's one dollar and twenty-five cents for the third time, and with only three minutes left to get to his next class, he begins to seriously contemplate whether he should try some mysterious repair method—like giving it a good smack or a swift kick.

-

[BIOCHEMISTRY]

Lucien coincidentally runs into Colt by the sports field, just as Colt is about to attend a cricket practice session.

Upon realizing that his senior from the lab is not only managing coursework and a significant project workload but also juggling a 20-hour weekly part-time job and daily school cricket team training, Lucien begins to contemplate whether there is any room for further optimization in his own schedule.

-

[PREVIEW/COMPUTER SCIENCE]

During the brief half-hour period, Lucien typically uses the time to prepare for the upcoming class or visit the library to research and gather information.

In any case, that time should not be spent on arguing and explaining to people, like the enthusiastic campus volunteer in front of him.

"No, thank you. I'm not a high school student attending a summer camp. This is my student ID, and I'm indeed a student here, a graduate student. Yes, I'm not lost, and I need to get to my class. Can you please let me go?"

-

[COMPUTER SCIENCE]

Lucien presses the enter key, intending to ask the teacher if he can leave early once his coursework is done. However, the error message on the screen deters him from that thought. So, he sits back down and begins to examine it again.

But that's okay, he does understand the commonality between computer science and experimental research: it's often hard to know right away if the thing at hand will work, why it's not working, or even why it's even working.

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[LAB]

Come on, come on, come on. After moving this box, there's another.

And after moving that box, there are three more to go.

The prospects for the future and the shine in one's eyes are often taken away by the God of research in such necessary yet mechanical repetitive work.

-

[LAB]

Lucien goes out to get some water and returns to find a school burger on his desk.

Colt, with dark circles under his eyes, waves at Lucien and saying, "No need to thank me, newcomer. Have some food, we might be staying here today."

Lucien quietly eats the burger, hesitant to tell Colt that he has spent more time in the laboratory than in the dorm.

-

[LAB]

When Dr. Lawson enters the laboratory, what he sees is a scene where his graduate and doctoral students are sleeping and sprawled all over the place.

On the laboratory whiteboard, several words were written in large letters: "Publish immediately! Guaranteed to be published in Nature!!"

Dr. Lawson retrieves small blankets from the cabinet, covering each of these research madmen.

He proceeds to organize the data and take over the finishing work on the project. Of course, when it comes to authorship in the paper, not a single one of these kids' names can be left out.

[mywingsareonwheels]

1974.

Morse is interviewing witnesses to a murder at one of the colleges, and one of them is strikingly familiar. He's a man in his early twenties, a recent medical graduate back visiting friends before heading off to move into a totally different career. He has a posh accent, a friendly smile, warm brown eyes.

Oh he's truly, desperately familiar, and Morse isn't looking too hard into his own motives when he lets the younger man talk him into a drink out, and then a one-night stand, and then something rather more like a friendship played out over Scotch and crosswords and literary quotations.

[More behind the cut....]

He does mention, briefly, that his new friend reminded him of someone else on first meeting. And somehow that turns into a discussion of ancestry, and the young man discusses with some glee the skeleton in his family cupboard: the fact that his paternal grandmother when barely eighteen had a dalliance with a working-class ruffian of the same age from Mile End, of all places. That she'd got pregnant, but her parents wouldn't let her tell the lad, but instead got her engaged to a somewhat stuffy friend of theirs called Richardson.

"Dad hates to talk about it," says Morse's friend, "he's rather a stuffed shirt, especially for a surgeon. But Granny used to love telling me stories. She did come to love my Granddad, I think, but she missed that boy from Mile End all her life." He chuckles, but a little shakily, because he has yet to learn the effortless-seeming confidence he'll spread before him one day. "I'd give anything to meet him."

Morse swallows, heart suddenly in his mouth. And something in his face makes the young man carry on, more intensely.

"Granny told me that she named Dad after him, though he doesn't know. So that's what I have: Frederick, from Mile End. Fathered a child around 1930 when he was just a lad and doesn't even know he did." He laughs, wryly. "Not much to go on, is it."

"Douglas," says Morse, and his voice is shaking but there's a smile in his eyes. "I... I'll need to look into this, but I think. I mean. I think I can help."

The postcard is of York Minster, which is only a half hour drive from where three exiles from Oxford have settled. On the back it reads just:

"Sir,

Un bel di, please could we talk? There's someone I think you should meet. Bring 2 rounds ham and tomato sandwiches. --"

At the day and time thus ordered, Fred Thursday finds Morse standing admiring the rose window, and follows him out to a bench in the Minster gardens. He's torn between confusion and shame, though above all trying to hide how overjoyed he is to see the rusty curls and those haughty, sea-green eyes again. When Morse explains, and introduces the young trainee pilot with a face Fred remembers from his mirror as a long-lost grandson... well, it's good he's already sitting down, is all.

The years past, and they are gentler than they might have been.

Fred lives to see his grandson a captain, to meet his great-granddaughter. To introduce his grandson to his uncle and step-grandmother and eventually even his aunt. To become friends with Morse again, even if quietly, and for the most part only by letter. To relish that Douglas and Morse, despite occasionally enraging each other beyond reason, seem to be friends for life. (He suspects that they might once have been more than that; if they aren't going to tell him though, he's not going to point it out.) Something healed in him that day in York, and it never breaks again.

When Captain Douglas Richardson puts down the bottle, in an attempt to salvage something of his career and his relationship with his daughter, perhaps it's partly because he's still grieving for his grandfather, dead some ten years now, but most of all because he's still grieving for his friend and one-time lover, and doesn't want to die so young himself.

When First Officer Douglas Richardson meets his new captain at MJN's portacabin in Fitton, he's a little strikingly familiar too. He's shorter, and more pompous, and vastly less good at word games, but there are rusty curls and haughty sea-green eyes.

He's no relation of Morse's at all though, it turns out. This is, eventually, rather a relief.

[cyansadness]

Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince

i was going to post this thursday but then ep.5 came out. but, it's here and i'm so excited for y'all to read.

also @cherrybb-ily thank you for listening to me, helping me plan this, and for being awesome (i finally posted) the literal best.

i see all of your requests and everything is under wraps along with a certain fic that is currently in the works but i'm here to feed into this fandom.

also the most important thing. go watch grease: rise of the pink ladies

word count: 3021

Jane walked up the bleachers steps to the top where the T-Birds and The Pink Ladies all ate lunch together. Out of every person in her English class, she had to be partnered with Buddy Aldridge. Why did her class have to be full of socs?

“Hola mi corazón.” Richie smiled, kissing Jane’s cheek as she sat down next to him. She smiled before leaning her head against his leather-clad shoulder. “What’s wrong, angel?” He asked, reaching over to grab Jane’s hand.

“I think Mr. Daniels has a grudge against the Pink Ladies.” Jane sighed. “What did that fink do now?” Nancy asked as now that the rest of the Pink Ladies and the T-Birds noticed Jane’s arrival. 

“We have an English project and Mr. Daniels put me with Buddy of all people.” Jane complained to the group who all reacted in a shocked way. “What?” Richie asked, making sure to keep his jealousy in check.

“Can you just switch partners? Daniels can’t be that much of a hardass.” Cynthia tried to help. “My class is full of socs. I’ll just be replacing one problem with another.” Jane buried her head in her hands.

“Look, just ignore him. Do your project and get the best grade like you always do. Remember, you’re Jane. He doesn’t matter.” Richie reassured as he grabbed her chin gently and turned her head towards him.

He leaned in, kissing Jane softly. He felt a book smack him on the leg, making the two separate. “You two know the rule, none of that while the rest of us are trying to eat lunch.” Olivia scolded, hitting Richie again. Richie pushed his sister away as the two started to go back and forth.

Jane smiled at the siblings’ antics. She could do this. She could ignore Buddy. Just get the project done. Nothing more, nothing less.

~~~lil’ time skip~~~

Whoever told her she could do this was lying to her. Maybe Mr. Daniels did have a grudge against the Pink Ladies. 

Buddy, as always, was trying to talk to Jane. About anything at that point. He’d ask about anything unrelated to the project that Jane just wanted to get done. 

A majority of the time, Jane just kept her head down and worked on her side. If she had a question, she’d cut him off, ask, then went right back to ignoring him.

It works for her. Besides, as soon as the bell rings, Richie is right there waiting for her so they could walk to lunch together. Usually, Buddy ended up using the same route so he could meet up with the socs.

Buddy had enough. He couldn’t handle Jane just ignoring them like nothing ever happened between them. 

Buddy had been calling Jane’s name about 1,000 times by that point. She ignored every time, giggling at something Richie said. They were rounding the corner of the bleachers when Buddy reached out and grabbed Jane’s wrist.

Immediately, Jane shrieked before turning around and tugging her wrist back into her chest, a deer in headlights look on her face.

Richie saw red. He started walking towards Buddy until he felt Jane’s hand around his bicep. He looked back as she shook her head. If Richie was going to listen to someone, it was going to be Jane.

“Don’t touch her Aldridge. You had your chance already.” Richie said, wrapping his arm around Jane’s waist. The Pink Ladies and The T-Birds, hearing Jane’s yell, came down from the bleachers. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” Olivia asked, going to check on her friend. “Everything is fine, can we please just go to lunch?” Jane said, a pleading tone evident in her voice. “Everything is not fine.” Richie corrected.

“This jerk just grabbed Jane after tailing us.” Richie explained, still glaring at Buddy. “Look, I didn’t mean any harm. Jane, can we just talk?” Buddy asked, trying to not add any fuel to the fire. 

“Well, she doesn’t want to talk to you so beat it.” Cynthia told Buddy, the girls right next to her. “Well, I was talking to Jane, not you so shut it.” Buddy snapped at Cynthia. 

“Don’t talk to her like that.” Jane snapped back at him. “You know what? You never used to be like this.” Buddy said, making Jane scoff. “They” Buddy looked at the Pink Ladies with disgust. “changed you. They turned into something you’re not. What happened to my Jane?” Buddy continued. 

“Your Jane?” Jane asked. “You mean the girl who you got rid of the second you lied about us? She’s gone.” Jane let out a dry laugh. “No. They poisoned you against me.” Buddy glared at the Pink Ladies who were all positioned right behind Jane.

“Don’t talk about them like that. It’s not their fault that you are not a good guy Buddy. I won’t stand you and let you insult the only people who were there for me after you ruined my life!” Jane’s voice had raised and she was nearly shouting as she stepped closer to Buddy. 

“Jane, I gave you an option.” Buddy kept his voice calm and even. “You wanted to date me in secret because you thought dating me publicly would ruin your chance for reelection.” Jane rolled her eyes.

“Wait, what?” “Bastard.” “He’s asking for a beatdown.” The girls chorused behind her. Jane didn’t even have to turn around to feel the harsh glares Buddy was getting the Pink Ladies. 

“Stop pretending like you’re the good guy. You aren’t the good guy. So do us all a favor and leave us alone.” Jane’s voice had lowered but that fire was still strong in her eyes. 

Behind her, both gangs stood with a mixture of both shocked and proud expressions on their faces. Jane walked back to where Richie was standing when he wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. “Look at you go, putting ese ​​cabrón in his place. I’m proud of you.” Jane blushed as she smiled. 

The couple started to follow the rest of the group up the bleachers when Buddy called out to them. “Hey Richie, have fun with her. Butter her up with some attention and she’ll do whatever you want. She’s real easy like that.” Buddy sneered. 

Jane felt herself tense up and lean closer into Richie. Richie had turned around to look at the football player, seeing red. He wasn’t the only one. The Pink Ladies had quickly turned around and stormed down the steps.

Olivia and Nancy immediately lunged towards Buddy only to be held back by Gil and Potato. “You guys realize that McGee hates you guys and might actually expel you for fighting.” Gil said to Olivia who was trying to break Gil’s grip around her waist so she could strangle Buddy.

Cynthia had gone next to Jane as Richie made his way over to Buddy. “Hey, don’t listen to him. He doesn’t know a thing.” Cynthia tried to comfort her but it all sounded underwater. The only thing she could hear was her heartbeat in her ears. She felt the tears pricking her eyes and blinked them back. Her breathing became quicker, more shallow as Jane tried to fight back her tears. 

Richie stormed over to where the girls were. Buddy saw him too late. Richie swung and nailed him right in the eye. The socs who had gathered around Buddy gasped and went to help him. 

“Don’t say a word about my girl, you hear me Aldridge.” Richie yelled before turning around and walking to where Cynthia was trying to calm down a near hyperventilating Jane.

Richie sent an appreciative smile towards Cynthia before she went to calm down the other two members of the girl gang.

“Jane, baby, it’s me, it’s Richie.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, bringing her into a hug. Jane wrapped her arms around his torso, burying her head into his neck.

“Can we please just go?” Her voice was shaky and a little muffled as she tried to fight back her tears but that was becoming increasingly more difficult. “Of course.” Richie kissed the top of her head before whistling. He jerked his head towards the main building. 

He started walking with Jane under his arm, the T-Birds following closely behind. The Pink Ladies hung back. “Watch your back Buddy Aldridge.” Olivia threatened before the three girls ran up to catch up with the others.

Both gangs found refuge in the empty auditorium. Jane was next to Richie, leaning against him as he placed his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. The girls surrounded Jane’s other side while the T-Birds sat in random spots around the stands.

“Don’t listen to him Jane. He is just mad that he missed an opportunity with one of the best girls in Rydell.” Olivia tried to reassure. Jane gave her a small nod, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

Richie looked at Olivia and Olivia understood the message. “We left our stuff outside. I don’t know about you guys but I don’t trust those socs.” Olivia said as she stood up.

The others looked at her with blank stares, not understanding the message. “Ugh, let’s go.” Olivia rolled her eyes before grabbing Cynthia and Nancy by the arms and dragging them out, the T-Birds following behind.

As they heard the door close, Richie turned towards Jane. “He is a bastard who doesn’t deserve you Jane. Don’t listen to him.” Richie said, rubbing circles on her arm. “Maybe he’s right.” Jane muttered, moving away from Richie. 

“What if he’s right and everyone knows it and I just keep denying it to make myself feel better about the truth. That I’m just some slut.” Jane rambled, gripping the fabric of her skirt so tight that her knuckles turned white.

She felt the tears prick her eyes again but she didn’t try to fight them this time. She let them fall down her face. When did her vision get so blurry? Were those sobs coming from her?

Richie pulled her into her arms, stroking her back as she sobbed into his neck. Eventually, Jane would stop crying and the others would return and they would start their plan to get revenge on Buddy.

But until then, Richie held his girl in his arms as she cried. 

~~~lil’ time skip pt.2~~~

The weekend couldn’t come quicker. In an attempt to cheer Jane up, Olivia decided to host the Pink Ladies sleepover at her house. 

Currently, the girls were all splayed out around Olivia’s room. Nancy and Jane were on the floor while Nancy did Jane’s nails. 

Olivia was leaning against her headboard while Cynthia was the opposite way, head laying over the edge of the bed as they discussed revenge plots.

“Maybe we should actually lace his milk with castor oil.” Cynthia suggested. The other three shook their heads no. 

“We can get the boys to mess with his car.” Olivia said, a smirk forming on her face. “Too illegal.” Jane said for the 100th time that night.

“You can’t say everything is too illegal Jane. Takes the fun out of it.” Cynthia sighed, flipping onto her stomach.

Nancy finished Jane’s nails and Jane started to blow on them. “Administration will pin anything on us, we can’t give them more chances to make us look like the villains.” Jane reminded the girls.

This is why Jane was the leader of the Pink Ladies. What she lacks in confidence, she makes up for in intelligence that keeps them out of trouble.

The brainstorm session continued the same until it was interrupted by a knock at the door. Olivia rolled her eyes as she went to open it.

“Richie, I told you already. You can’t steal Jane so you two can go suck face in your room. Olivia said, blocking the entrance to her room.

“Come on, I just need to talk to Jane. 5 minutes promise.” Richie asked his sister. Olivia rolled her eyes before relenting and moving out of the way.

“If she’s not back in 5 minutes, I’m picking your lock.” Olivia warned. Richie smiled before holding out his hand. Jane took his hand, a bashful smile on her lips as he led her to his room.

He held the door open for her as she walked in. Jane liked Richie’s room. The walls were full of pictures and posters, there were some clothes strewn on the floor but it wasn’t horrible.

His T-Birds jacket was hanging off a hook and his dressers had a bunch of pictures. “Lots we can do in 5 minutes.” Richie commented, wrapping his arm around Jane’s waist. 

“Yeah, I guess there is.” Jane smirked as she pulled him by his collar into a kiss. Richie’s grip on Jane tightened as Jane’s hands went into his hair. Jane started to pull him towards his bed, lips still interlocked. 

Jane fell back with Richie on top of her. Richie started to kiss down her neck, his fingers running up and down the outside of her thigh. Jane tightened her grip on his hair as he kissed over her pulse point.

Richie sucked on the skin of the pulse point, smirking at the high pitched gasp that escaped her lips. When he detached himself from her neck, he rubbed his thumb against the red mark that stood prominently on Jane’s pale neck. 

He kissed Jane again, continuing their makeout session when someone banged on the door. “5 minutes Richie. We want Jane back.” Olivia’s voice was muffled by the door. The two begrudgingly pulled apart as Richie stood up to open the door. 

Olivia’s eyes widened at the sight of her brother’s tousled hair and flushed appearance. Cynthia and Nancy who were behind her looked around Richie to see Jane’s own disheveled appearance. 

“Jeez, look at the size of that thing on your neck.” Cynthia commented, pushing past Richie to get into his room. Richie tried to protest but was interrupted by Olivia and Nancy doing the same.

Jane stood up as she went to the mirror on Richie’s wall. “Richie.” She whined as she saw the mark already starting to bruise. “Hey, you never said I couldn’t leave anything behind.” He defended himself with a smug grin.

Jane groaned as she threw her head back. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you cover it up. And maybe find you a boyfriend who isn’t a leech.” Olivia joked as she threw her arm around Jane’s shoulder, ignoring Richie’s offended look in her direction.

~~~lil’ time skip pt.3~~~

Monday morning was spent in the school’s parking lot 10 minutes before school started in the T-Birds car. Olivia was working to cover up the dark purple mark on Jane’s neck while the others were hanging around.

“There. Good as new.” Olivia smiled with pride as she handed Jane her compact. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Jane gushed. “Come on. We should head it.” Cynthia told the group. 

Richie handed Jane her jacket that she took off when Olivia started to fix her neck. She smiled at him as she put her jacket on and kissed his cheek. As the two gangs walked to the school, they were met with the usual stares that came with being in a gang.

The group broke apart to go to their lockers and respective classes. Richie walked Jane to her locker, leaning against the locker next to hers as she got her books. Richie looked at something behind Jane and his face dropped.

Confused, Jane turned around and her own face dropped when she saw Buddy standing in front of her, a purple bruise bright on his cheek. Jane rolled her eyes and turned towards her locker. “Jane, can we please talk?” Buddy pleaded with her. 

Jane ignored him, still grabbing her books. “Back off Aldridge. Leave.” Richie told Buddy, stepping in between him and Jane. Buddy sighed before walking away, not wanting another bruise.

It continued like this for two weeks, Buddy trying to talk to Jane and her ignoring him and getting shooed off by whoever was with her. Buddy decided to write a note. This way, Jane could at least read his apology. He slipped the note in Jane’s locker before he walked to the field for lunch. 

Jane went to her locker to grab her lunch and saw the folded up piece of paper fall out. She quickly picked up the paper and opened it. She barely got past the first line before she folded it back up and made her way to the bleachers.

She ran up the bleacher steps, effectively scaring both groups. Jane held out the note for them to see. “It’s from Buddy.” She didn’t even try to hide her grin. The girls mimicked her smile as they urged her to open it.

The group read over the letter, laughing at every other line. “Oh my, this is hopelessly pathetic.” Olivia laughed, leaning on Gil’s shoulder. Jane, who was under Richie’s arm, couldn’t stop laughing to get a full sentence out.

The gangs’ loud laughter ultimately caught the attention of the socs. Buddy caught sight of the letter in Jane’s hands and paled slightly. Susan ordered Rosemary and Dotto go up and figure out what was going on.

“What’s so funny?” Rosemary asked as her and Dot stomped up the steps. Jane was about to say nothing so they would go away but got an idea. She looked at the girls, a devious glint shone in her eyes. 

“Give it to them.” Olivia said first before more verbal encouragement came from the others. Jane wordlessly handed over the letter to the two soc girls. The two ran back to the field, letter in hand.

The two gangs watched as the socs read over the letter and gave Buddy the dirtiest look. Susan walked over and slapped Buddy right across the face. The two gangs collectively gasped before bursting out in laughter again.

“We told you to watch you back, Aldridge.” Cynthia yelled to the quarterback. Jane leaned against Richie’s side. No matter what happens, she has him and her girls.

She’ll be just alright.

[flame-x]

Kittens Week

So!! I have got the details!!

Kittens week will be taking place from Sunday the 9th of April to Saturday the 15th of April. I apologise for the short notice, but I will be too busy in the weeks after that.

Sunday the 9th - Victoria

Monday the 10th - Jemima/Sillabub

Tuesday the 11th - Pouncival and/or Carbucketty

Wednesday the 12th - Etcetera and Electra

Thursday the 13th - Tumblebrutus and/or Bill Bailey

Friday the 14th - Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer

Saturday the 15th - Swing and/or OC kitten

As my timezone is GMT, I will be reblogging a post when I see it, whether the post is about the character whose day it is or the character from the day before.

Please tag your post so I can reblog!! The hashtag we will be using is #kittensweek. You are also welcome to tag me in your post! In fact, please tag me in case the hellsite is being weird!

General notes: - All types of submissions are fine! You don't need to be a writer or an artist to paticipate! Fics, art, headcannon posts, gifs, photos, edits, walls of text, just nattering on about a character, etc. - Considering it's a kittens week, all these characters are being classed as kittens. If that doesn't fit with your interpretation of the character, that's absolutely fine - you don't need to participate. I don't want to hear about discourse over this. - Along the same vein, this is a SFW event. These characters are kittens. - Although participation for all the days would be amazing, you can of course pick and choose characters to participate for. If Victoria is your cup of tea but you don't think about Tumblebrutus much, feel free to take part on her day and not his! - Please make sure the focus of your work is the character you are posting about! While it is of course ok to include non-kitten characters (it is in fact encouraged - I love to see other people's thoughts on relationships between characters specifically) the focus must be on the kitten in question. Otherwise, you've missed the point. - Multiple posts are a yes!! That would be wonderful!!

And again, just to reiterate - your work about the kitten in question must be focused on when they are a kitten, not when they've grown up. It is a kittens week, after all.

Hope you enjoy the event!!!

(and again, apologies for short notice - the alternative would be waiting until june ssjdskfhl)

and also thank you to @carbuckety for reading over this to make sure i dont sound nonsensical!!