#a janitor flipped a switch last night

[deactigayted]

i just had the worst nightmare about my new office job. IRL the building is set up as a big circle, with long halls lined with doors, bookcases, or tall desks, and i'm one of the last people there. in my nightmare i kept hearing things like someone ripping a piece of tape or dropping a book all the way at the end of the building and when i would go out in the hall i'd see a white, featureless head peaking out a door but if i went after it it would be gone. also after i would go to investigate the sounds would come from the other end. i've worked there four days and my brain is already perfectly capturing how dark the offices get and how sound echoes when the building is empty!

is this an omen lol

#a janitor flipped a switch last night #so that only the red emergency exit signs #and the lights of the city from the 35th floor #were visible and i thought i was gonna have a heartattack

[diaphragmjellyfish]

Robby NSFW Alphabet

not my gif

A: Aftercare

Robby’s aftercare is ON POINT. He’s a huge cuddler and loves to have the chance to take care of someone who really appreciates it and takes care of him in return. He will get a soft, damp cloth and clean you off before pulling you onto his chest and wrapping you both up in tons of blankets. He likes to pet your hair while you fall asleep, and hold you so that no one can hurt you while you’re in such a vulnerable state. He knows, realistically, that no one is gonna jump out of the closet and attack you, but it makes him feel needed. 

B: Body Part

His favorite body part of yours is your hands. He loves holding them up next to his and comparing, he loves holding your hand, and he loves when your hand is wrapped around his cock while y’all are in private. He can’t help but look at your left hand and picture a pretty ring on that finger, imagining the beautiful future he wants to have with you. His favorite body part of his is his butt. The boy works out, and he knows how much you like it. He honestly never noticed his butt before, whether it was nice or not, until you started pointing it out, and now he walks around in leggings just to get your attention!

C: Cum

He likes to cum in your mouth. Blowjobs make him feel like he’s in heaven, and when you swallow, it makes Robby feel like you’re accepting him and worshipping him like no one ever has before. He also likes to finish inside you (wrap it up) because of how intimate it is. Not part of the prompt, but he loves to make you sit on his face and cum all over his mouth, dirty boy. 

D: Dirty Secret

Robby has always wanted to try more public sex. The thought of getting caught riles him to no end, and he gets so turned on by the idea of holding his hand over your mouth in a janitor’s closet so people walking past don’t hear your moans. If you wanted to try it, y’all would start small, like your backyard, and work your way up, but if you weren;t into it, that’s fine with him too. 

E: Experience

He’s decently experienced. Robby had a one night stand or two before he met Mr. Larusso, when he hung out with those hooligans, but it never meant anything. With you, it’s his first time doing it with feelings involved, and he was blown away by how much better it was that way. He was experienced enough to not bust in T-2 minutes, but he still had a lot to learn about taking his time and making sure you both enjoyed it. With the other girls, it was always about doing it to impress his friends so he never thought much about how it felt, for him or her. You have to teach him that porn isn’t realistic, and that it takes time to feel good. He’s a fast learner though. 

F: Favorite Position

He loves a good 69, lying down or standing ;) bc he’s strong like that. He also likes taking you from behind while he holds you up against him by your neck, and his other hand playing with your nipples or clit. Add a mirror, and you have the hottest sex either of you had ever had. 

G: Goofy

He can be goofy during foreplay or aftercare, but Robby likes to keep it more intimate and serious during actual sex. He wants you to know that he takes you seriously, and thinks that you guys are goofy all the time, so he wants sex to be loving and heartfelt. Drunk sex can be goofy, but most of the time, he keeps it mature. 

H: Hair

He will shave it off every once in a while and let it get stubbly for a couple weeks, then shave again. Robby HATES ingrown hairs, so he doesn’t like to shave every day, but he thinks just trimming makes it look sloppy. He settles for shaving every couple weeks. He literally doesn’t even notice when you don’t shave, so obviously he doesn’t care about that. Like he’s so caught up in the moment that you could put a little blue wig down there and he wouldn’t notice. 

I: Intimacy

So growing up, Robby never really had people that cared a lot about him. Because of this, he lives for intimate moments. Just you guys lying on his bed playing with each other’s hair makes him swoon. He’s a romantic guy, and would definitely go all out with flower petals, candles, champagne, and bubble baths if it were a special occasion. He wants you to know that he loves you, and wants to make sure you know how much he loves you. 10/10 romance. 

J: Jack off 

He did it a lot before he met you, but now he prefers you. He really doesn’t feel the need to jack off because you guys are together so often. If he starts thinking about you in the shower or something, maybe he would, but he’d rather just text you to come over. 

K: Kink

So Robby is a switch. When he’s feeling more dominant, he loves to spank you with his hands, a paddle, or his karate belt. He gets off on the fact that you trust him so much to hold your pleasure and pain in his hands. He would never go too far, but he loves how wet you get after a light spanking. When Robby is more sub, he likes when you boss him around. Telling him how exactly to pleasure you, pulling his face further into your core. Making him get on his knees and watch as you pleasured yourself. He worships you. 

L: Location

At first, a bed. But after you guys have sex on a beach at night one time, he realizes that he wants to try tons of different locations. Just the possibilities of how he can position you, someone catching you, or someone hearing how good he makes you feel, really gets him going. His favorite so far was in an empty stairwell at a fancy resort that Sam invited you both to. 

M: Motivation

So like Hawk and Miguel, Robby is a teenage boy! He’s horny all day, every day. He loves seeing you in workout clothes, seeing other guys hit on you and then shrink away when they realize you’re his, teaching you karate, and watching you put your hair up. It reminds him of… certain things. 

N: No

He would never ever let someone else join you guys. Male, female, or other, he hates the idea of someone putting their hands on you in that way, and knows you would feel the same about him. Robby thinks you guys have such a perfect chemistry going, so why would you want to ruin that with another person? It would just be awkward and clumsy, and Robby does NOT like to share. 

O: Oral

So like I said earlier, he thinks porn is accurate when y’all first start having sex. He would go down on you for like 30 seconds, barely using any pressure or suction, and would then be confused as to why you weren’t finishing. He sat you down one day and talked to you about it, because he was scared you just weren’t attracted to him or something. When you told him that you needed more than what he was doing, he made you teach him right then and there. He spent a good hour and a half going down on you, making you tell him what was good and what wasn’t, learning how to actually give GOOD head, and now he’s pretty much an expert. He takes his time and takes cues from you. You were amazing at head right off the bat, and he’s such a simp for you when you’re between his legs. 

P: Pace

It honestly varies depending on the day and what mood you guys are in. He’s a switch in all respects, so he can be slow and loving, or fast and rough, or a mix of the two. He also loves when you start on top and set the pace, and then he will flip you guys over when you get tired and finish you both off. 

Q: Quickie

He likes a good quickie in those moments when you guys are out and get turned on all of a sudden. Robby likes to take you somewhere a little more private and get you both off, before resuming what you guys were doing and acting like nothing happened. You’ve seen him shake the hand of someone with the same hand that was buried in you 3 minutes before, acting like nothing was out of sorts at all. 

R: Risk

He will try new things if you want to, but is honestly pretty content with how you guys fuck right now. His philosophy is “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” But he’s more than willing to try whatever you want to try. Robby can’t say no to his girl. Sometimes, you guys just sit there and watch porn together, and will see something that looks like fun, so you decide to try it. 

S: Stamina

So I feel redundant for saying this on Miguel and Hawk’s too, but he’s a teenage boy! He can’t go for more than 12 minutes at first. He could go like 5 times in a row, but didn’t last very long. Now, he’s way better. He can last for a solid 30 to 40 minutes if he really wants to, but normally you’re satisfied before that and he can let himself finish. 

T: Toy

Robby loves to try toys on you. When you first told him that you had a vibrator, he immediately asked if he could use it on you. He’s fascinated with how different toys do different things, and he loves studying the difference in your reactions depending on what he’s using. He doesn’t really like toys being used on him though. He thinks it feels weird and he'd rather have your mouth or hand. 

U: Unfair

Robby can be a really bad tease if he’s in the right mood. He would hover his mouth over your pussy, letting you shake and cry before he touches you. He would finger you and bring you right up to the edge, before pulling his hand away and laughing as you almost sob. He likes knowing he has the power to make you writhe like that. 

V: Volume

He’s pretty quiet, to be honest. You had to tell him specifically that you wanted him to be louder in the bedroom. Once you did that, he started to let loose a little bit more, but still isn’t super loud. He would rather listen to you scream his name ;) 

W: Wild Card

He loves shower sex. Too many times have you guys both cum, only for him to carry you into the shower to clean off and eventually start round 2. The water, the soap, the nakedness, he’s a sucker for it. There’s no clean up involved, and he even gets a bathtub mat so you guys don’t slip and hurt yourselves. 

X: X-Ray

I said it before and I’ll say it again! Size! Does! Not! Matter! The g-spot is 3 INCHES IN so if he’s hitting it right it’s fine!!! But Robby is probably a solid 6 inches. 

Y: Yearning

Teenage boy! He could go at the drop of a hat. Robby wants you all the time, he just holds back until you want to as well. Which is also often, I mean look at him!

Z: Zzz

He doesn’t really like to fall asleep right after in case you need something. He makes sure he’s available to get you whatever you need: a snack, water, another blanket, a kiss. Robby also likes to hold you while you sleep, because it makes him feel like he’s doing his duty as your boyfriend and protecting you. 

#cobra kai #robby keene #tanner buchanan #hawk #eli moskowitz #miguel diaz #karate kid #robby x reader #robby imagine #robby smut

[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse - A special night

Prompt: Any Fandom | Any Characters/Pairings | Ordering a sweet treat to be delivered to the other person at home/work

Word Count: 2,136

Author/Team: LadyMonotone

Fandom/Original: Redacted ASMR (Gavin/Freelancer. Vincent Solaire/Lovely) 

Rating: T

Triggers: NA

Summary: Having an Incubus boyfriend comes with many perks. The Freelancer and Lovely really should have seen it coming. 

ConCrit: Y 

Well, I guess this can be a sequel to my previous oneshot, REDACTED verse - Those that stood above the rest. I really wanted to write the Freelancer and Lovely interacting after their first, proper meeting so this oneshot suddenly comes to mind! 

-

Exam week is the bane of every student, everywhere — even for the magical ones. 

An uneasy atmosphere lingers around D.A.M.N as the current semester hurl the students into an intense week of revisions, study groups, and extra classes; all for the upcoming exams. 

The seniors are frantically cramming for their final papers and projects under the watchful eyes of the lecturers. The Freelancer doesn't envy them one bit when they caught a Sonal Energetic screamed into his backpack for a solid ten minutes. 

His scream shakes the student lounge, and the windows shattered. 

Once he got that out of his system, he focused back towards his textbook, expressionless. The rest of the students around the Energetic hardly bat an eye over what just happened. 

On that day, the Freelancer learned to avoid a large group of seniors until the exam week blows over. 

"The tension alone in that lounge could make a Serenity Daemon hide underneath a bed." The Freelancer narrates their experience to Lovely. The two of them are currently having their own study session over at the Freelancer's apartment. 

It's a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and yet here they are - flipping through textbooks, reviewing and swapping notes and downing cans of coffee and Red Bulls from as early as 9 AM. "Even the janitor wasn't fazed by it. He just snapped his fingers, and the windows were good as new!"

That night after their proper introduction, Lovely and the Freelancer had become quite good friends, much to Vincent's annoyance and Gavin's pleased smirk when the Freelancer told him that Lovely would be coming over for their study session. 

"Aww, look you, Deviant. Arranging a little study date with that friend of yours," Gavin teased during breakfast this morning. They both woke up early to prepare meals that could last the Freelancer and Lovely throughout the whole day. When his Deviant absentmindedly replied, "Uh-huh" as they were busy chopping the vegetables, Gavin couldn't help but plant a fond kiss on top of their head. "Anyway, I'll be popping into Aria for a bit today. A few of my, ah, older brothers and sisters called for a meeting. Can I trust that you two won't be having too much fun without me?"

The Freelancer stopped chopping to gave their boyfriend a deadpan stare. "Gavin, we'll be studying." They explained. "Our first paper is literally next week. So I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but there won't be any fucking happening." They then stop themselves. They suddenly recalled something. "I don't want to be on that Solaire Prince's hit list too."

Gavin just cooed at their disgruntled partner, as if the genuine possibility that the both of them being shred to pieces by Lovely's possessive boyfriend amused him. 

Nonetheless, Gavin pulled his weight to ensure there was enough food and comfortable pillows and blankets in their shared apartment so that his Deviant and the Electro Energetic would be comfortable for their revisions. 

An hour before Lovely arrived, Gavin kissed the Freelancer goodbye and Rifted into his home dimension. 

And now we're back in the present. 

"I think those students around that guy were his classmates," Lovely commented. They take a quick sip of the lemonade that Gavin prepared to refresh their parched throat. Even in a simple pair of slacks, baggy t-shit, and hair pulled up in a bun, they still look as breathtaking as ever. "They reacted as if it was like a regular Tuesday for them. It's so crazy to think that we'll be seniors like them soon."

The Freelancer pours more lemonade into their glass from the pitcher beside them. Their books, notebooks and snacks are spread all over the dining table. A large and fluffy pillow is propped behind the Freelancer so they can lean back on their chair comfortably. "Urgh, mood. I can already imagine the coursework we'll be forced to do in our final semester." They groan. Their brain is fried from all the information and notes they've been reviewing since this morning. On top of that, the thought that they will be getting even more work once they hit their senior year is starting to freak them out. 

Seeing the Freelancer is having an internal crisis, Lovely quickly glance at the time on their phone and decides, "OK, I think we seriously need a break. You look like you're going to pull a stunt similar to that Sonal Energetic, and I don't think your boyfriend appreciates coming back to a half-destroyed apartment."

"Gavin can fix the apartment with his magic, don't worry." The Freelancer is quick to assure Lovely. "He did that after he and Vega trashed the place anyway."

"Uh, what? Who's Vega?"

The Freelancer snapped their attention back to Lovely once they realised the name that they accidentally dropped. "N-Nothing! I didn't s-say anything!" They laugh awkwardly, doing their best to brush off Lovely's concerned expression. "Anyway, break! Yeah! That's a good idea! Are you hungry? We can watch something on Youtube and eat in the living room. You're OK with that?"

Lovely gingerly nods; it's best not to comment or ask about this Vega person since the name alone made their friend jumpy. They push their chair back, stretch their stiff spine, and get up to help set the plates and cutleries while the Freelancer heats the lunch they made in the morning. 

They then move to the living room with a tray of food and drinks, where the couch and coffee table are surrounded by pillows and blankets thrown around messily. 

"You play video games, right?" The Freelancer asked after Lovely settle down on the couch with a blanket over their lap. "Do you want to watch a playthrough or something?"

"Sure! Do you and Gavin play video games too?"

"Gavin does, though he usually only plays those dating sim games for girls. It's a guilty pleasure of his."

"Oh, Otome Games? My respect for your boyfriend just levelled up. Has he ever played Hatoful Boyfriend?"

"Uh... I don't remember he ever mentioned that title. What is it about?"

"We're watching a playthrough of that game. Right now. You can watch it with me, but you can't tell Gavin anything, OK? I promise you're going to love his reactions."

Lovely's eyes light up with glee and grin widely as the Freelancer switch on the Smart TV. When thumbnails of pigeons with pink hearts in the background pop up on the screen, they immediately throw an incredulous look at the Energetic. 

"That top playlist is good to watch. Come on, sit beside me." Lovely pats on the empty spot on the couch beside them, unperturbed at the look the Freelancer is giving them. "I think you're going to like Okosan."

The Freelancer press play on the first video and kick back on the couch with the Energetic. What's better than having a break after a long study session? Hanging out with a friend with some good food while watching a crazy romance video game about pigeons! 

However, when the fourth video starts to play, the doorbell rings. 

"Uh... are you expecting someone?" Lovely asks curiously; their head is tilting towards the door. Their plate of eggplant pasta and buttered abalones are polished on their lap. The Freelancer internally preened when they enthusiastically complimented on theirs and Gavin's cooking skills. 

Anyway, the Freelancer moves their empty tray onto the coffee table and flip over the blanket to get up. "Not really. Gavin said he'll be coming back home at night." They explain and went towards the door when the doorbell ring once more. 

A delivery man greets the Freelancer with a stoic face, an armful of flower bouquet, and a thick, rectangular item wrapped in hot red packaging. 

"I, uh, think you got the wrong address?" They said, confused to hell and back. 

The delivery man blinks, unfaze at the Freelancer's greeting. "Good afternoon. Delivery for..." He pauses to read the card attached to the bouquet. "Deviant? We received a request from Gavin to arrange a flower bouquet and some... special chocolates. He also left a message for you: My Deviant has been working so hard lately~ So I got you something to... help you relax. PS: give some of the special chocolates to that gorgeous friend of yours and their boyfriend."

The Freelancer could only gape when the delivery man finished reciting Gavin's message. From the living room, Lovely is also doing an excellent mimicking of a goldfish. Their stunned expression made the man sigh tiredly. "Look, I'm not going to judge your... bedroom activities. Just take the packages already. I still have more stops to deliver."

"O-Oh my god! I'm really, really sorry about my boyfriend!" The Freelancer finally snaps out of it and stammers an apology. Their face is bright red. They hurriedly accept the flowers and package, shoot a quick thank you and slams the door shut. 

Lovely watches as the Freelancer stares into the bouquet with a mixed feeling, something between fondness and extreme embarrassment, before they scream into the large sunflowers. 

They patiently wait for the Freelancer to get it out of their system before Lovely delicately asks, "So, uh, does Gavin do these sort of things often?"

"No. This is the first time ever." The Freelancer replies. Their voice is muffled because the flowers are still pressed onto their face. "That's what I get for dating an Incubus, I supposed..."

"Aww, don't be embarrassed, dude! I think it's super sweet how much Gavin loves you. Flowers and chocolates? Boy got some serious game; might even give Vincent a run for his money, and you should've seen how we first met."

The Freelancer peeks through the petals and is relieved to find that Lovely wasn't put off by Gavin's forward nature. In fact, they are very accepting of the Freelancer and Gavin's relationship.

Feeling the warmth on their cheeks slowly disappearing, the Freelancer made their way back to the couch. The rectangular package is tossed onto the couch, and the bouquet is on the coffee table. The Freelancer figured they could put the fresh flowers in a water-filled vase later. 

"The guy said that Gavin sent you some chocolates?" Lovely reiterate as the Freelancer began to untie the ribbon and unwraps the box. 

"Special chocolates, and knowing Gavin, I kinda have an idea of what kind of chocolates they are." They admit and make quick work of tearing the paper wrappings. 

Apparently, Gavin ordered two types of chocolates for his Deviant. One box holds a fancy gourmet assortment of salted almonds dipped in rich Belgium chocolate, double chocolate raspberry truffles, vanilla pieces powdered with light matcha and some white praliné hearts. 

Lovely whistle, impressed over the spread. "Your boyfriend really went all out for you!"

The box below it contains rows of heart-shaped chocolates, but the short message written on the card of said box proves it's anything but ordinary treats. 

'These are homemade chocolates made by one of my close associates. She's a Succubus, by the way, and renowned for her aphrodisiac desserts. You can try some first if your Energetic friend doesn't mind being a voyeur.'

The Freelancer promptly throws away the card and cues them, and Lovely shrieking in embarrassment. Neither of them expects the second batch of chocolates. 

"These are sexy chocolates? Like, legit aphrodisiac chocolates made with magic!? Oh my god, I didn't know they were a thing!"

"I didn't either! I was expecting sex toys below the chocolates!"

"Wait - didn't Gavin wants to give these to Vincent and me!? Dude, does he has a thing for Vincent? Because at this point, I should tell you: he noticed that Gavin was purposely riling us up when they first met, and he's been thinking that your boyfriend is out to get him. But, uh, not in the sexy way, but I'm thinking otherwise now. And if that's the case, then you can warn that Incubus to be ready and catch these hands."

The Freelancer groans and hides their face in their hands. "OK, you know what? I'm going to put the special chocolates in the fridge, and then we'll continue watching a few more videos from the playthrough and get back to studying."

"... You're in denial."

"I'm just trying to keep whatever sanity I have left. It's been a crazy year."

"Urgh, tell me about it."

-

That night, at Lovely's and Vincent's apartment: 

"Vincent, baby? I'm back. Look what I got!"

"Welcome home, Lovely. Dinner's ready if you're hungry. Hmm? What's that?"

"It's homemade aphrodisiac chocolates made by a Succubus. Gavin and the Freelancer gave some to us."

"...I'm gonna punch that Incubus in his smug ass face."

"...Does that mean you don't want them in the bedroom tonight?"

"OK, I'll punch him tomorrow. C'mere, Lovely. I've missed you."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

#redacted asmr #fanfic #they/them pronouns #gender neutral s/o #freelancer (listener) #lovely (listener) #gavin #vincent solaire

[emmanelson]

Chapter 2: Nose Rings and Nightcaps

you guys asked for a follow up chapter so here you go

takes place during 2x04: ...Had an Indian Frenemy

Devi tried not to let Aneesa get under her skin. And for most of the day, she was good at faking a smile or a laugh when she needed to. 

“We still on for tutoring this week?” Paxton had caught up to her in the hallway and Devi attempted to send him a smile.

“Yeah. But let’s go to your house. I think my grandmother has a crush on you.”

Paxton was glancing over at Aneesa and Devi saw red. 

“Saw you talking to Neese. She’s dope. You guys friends?” Not you too, Devi thought to herself in horror. Would Paxton call her Devi 2.0 as well?

“Yeah, pretty dope.” Devi muttered under her breath before turning on her heel and walking away with an eye roll. 

Not wanting things to end on such a bad note, Devi slowly walked back up to Paxton and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Do you want a quickie in the janitor’s closet?”

His pulse sped up as he blinked, staring at her in disbelief. “Aren’t you worried about being late to class?” People had begun to disperse, the hallways emptying as students ran in different direction and they were the only ones left that Devi could see. 

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I’ll see you later then.” Just as she was able to make a dramatic exit and turn back to give him a flirty smile, he had secured her wrist and pulled her back towards him. 

“Five minutes enough time?” 

‘If you can last that long.” The two stared at each other, equally cocky expressions forming as they practically ran towards the vacant closet trying not to laugh. 

“So what subject should we start with?” Paxton inquired as soon as Devi situated herself at his kitchen table. 

“Biology?”

“But with History, all you have to do is rap and suddenly it makes sense. Can you do something like that for me with Bio?”

“Look at biology in terms of swimming.” The look Paxton gave her was one of confusion and incredulous. 

“The last thing I want to think about is swimming while I still have this damn cast.”

Devi’s mouth opened only to close a few seconds later as she tried to change the subject, he made a valid point. 

Devi leaned up to an upper level in the pantry and Paxton was pretty sure he stopped breathing for a good minute or two when he saw her bare skin.  

“Are you good having a snack break? Our brains need food as well.”

He felt like shoving her against the door of the pantry and fuck her until her entire body was shaking, but his mouth felt like cotton so he found himself nodding. 

Devi moved further into the kitchen and made her way towards the fridge. She got out the filtered water, placing it on the counter and filled up two glasses before setting it back where it was prior. When she shut the door, her body jolted in response as two strong arms wrapped around her waist and turned her so she was now facing him.

Within the time that Devi had gotten the Britta back in the fridge, Paxton pressed his body against hers so she was placed between the firmness of his body and the sturdy metal of the fridge door. 

“Shouldn’t this wait until after we get through your assignment?” Devi murmured against his lips, exhaling a shallow breath as she fought to curve into his body and let school be damned. 

“Sex is basic biology isn’t it?” His breath was hot against her ear and her knees threatened to buckle out from under her. “A primal instinct. An animalistic urge.” He nipped at her collarbone, teeth and tongue switching off as his hands went underneath her shirt to cup her breasts. 

“Pheromones are detected through the hippocampus.” She shuddered against him as she spoke, the words coming out slowly as she struggled to level her breathing. 

“How do you make biology sound so sexy?” Her lips parted as he let out a low chuckle. She only buried her face against the fabric of his flannel, trying to hide the blush that now painted her cheeks. With his only good arm he lifted up her body and pushed her against the cool metal, an involuntary squeal slipping past her lips as her legs wrapped around his waist. 

“Say something else.”

“Hormones are produced and secreted by the endocrine glands.”

“Why is this turning me on?” Paxton grunted, his throbbing lower region rubbing against her core, only fueling her desires. 

“What can I say? I know what I’m talking about.” She never thought that being smart would lead to this kind of situation. 

“I need to learn how to apply this stuff right?” His voice dropped to a husky tone as Devi once again gulped, her brain turning to mush as her legs began to shake. 

“Where’s Rebecca? Your mom?”

“Work, and my mom is tending to her garden out back. She usually plays 60’s music or listens to Christian audiobooks.”

“So she won’t be able to hear us?” Her fingers toyed with the zipper on his jeans, his hard-on poking through the fabric. 

“Not if you’re quiet enough.” Her eyes widened at the tone his voice now took, it was almost demanding and harsh against her skin, the intensity of his gaze never wavering. 

Paxton almost scoffed at her doe-eyed gaze but then kissed her so he wouldn’t keep feeling like a dick. With that, his jeans dropped and he was pulling her shorts down, her underwear following soon after, the wetness seeping from it was felt on her ankles. 

Soon he was inside her and each time she lifted her hips to meet his, her shirt rode up and the cold hit her back, causing goosebumps to raise on her arms. She didn’t mind this kind of tutoring.

The following Friday, Devi and Paxton were texting back and forth while she sat with Aneesa and Eleanor in her bedroom. 

And they still texted as Devi got to know Aneesa and decided that she wasn’t all that bad after-all. Ben had stomped away from her after she had gotten her nose pierced, Eleanor and Aneesa were probably blocks ahead of her by now and all she wanted to do was sit down on the bench and listen to her dad’s voicemail until the sun came up. She didn’t want to go home, but she knew she couldn’t stay in an abandoned parking lot so she walked until her feet had carried her straight to Paxton’s house.

She had walked, rode by on her bike, and memorized every turn her mom took in the car for so long now that it was basically muscle memory. 

She hesitantly knocked on the door to his garage, and his face came into view as he rubbed his eyes. 

“Were you sleeping? Do you fall asleep in the garage a lot?” She furrowed her eyebrows as she took in his disheveled form. He still looked hot even in a T-shirt and sweats. 

“Nah, I was up playing Fortnite.” The glow from the TV hit Devi’s eyes as soon as she stepped in and he shut the door behind them. “Is that a nose ring?” He took a step closer to her and leaned in, inspecting the new piece of jewelry she was sporting. 

“It looks nice.” Devi was glad it was pitch black outside because she was surely turning beet red. It looked badass actually, but Paxton wasn’t about to be singing her praises just yet. He still felt like he was getting a bucket of ice poured on his chest whenever she came into view. 

“Did you come here for a nightcap or something?” He teased, eyes momentarily leaving hers as he scanned his phone to check the time. It wasn’t too often that she was even out this late, let alone showing up to his place in the middle of the night. 

She slowly leaned up and brushed her lips against his. She kissed him slowly, her lips moving against him as if she was burning and he provided the only source of water available. She wanted to savor it, but at the same time knew she had to stick to their arrangement. 

“Maybe more of a late night booty call?” She cringed at her own use of the word, but it brought a smile out onto Paxton’s face, and she would gladly take the embarrassment if he kept looking at her with that smile, with those eyes. 

“Do you always look this good?” He asked, upon seeing the outline of her skirt, how it was torn at the ends and how he wanted to rip whatever remained so it was off her body. 

“If you’re quiet enough, we won’t wake your parents or sister.” She repeated his words from earlier, a finger coming up to hover over his lips. He was about to ask about school, mention that they usually only fooled around when it had something to do with his grades, but he decided against it. She was here, wanting him, offering up her body to him. In the back of his mind, he briefly wondered if she was having a similar type of arrangement with Ben, but from the cold reception and snarky comments the younger guy was throwing her way, he figured he had gotten the better end of the deal. 

His eyes looking at her up and down, fingers playing with the zipper of her skirt as she pushed his shirt up and over his head. She lightly tugged on his hands, steering him towards the couch and climbing on top of him when they finally landed.  

Paxton was tracing the outline of her jean skirt with his fingers, dipping in and out of her inner thighs and her breath hitched. “Do you this could count as my PE credit?” 

“It does burn a shit ton of calories.” Paxton smirked in reply, moving a piece of hair behind her ear as he kissed any exposed skin he could find and peeled off her tank top. “I’ll write you a note.” Was the only response that he was able to form before flipping them over so she was wiggling underneath him. 

Her name vibrated against her own ear as he came, sweat sticking to their bodies as he slumped against her. He moaned her name in a way that felt like the first time anyone had ever uttered it. She had never heard it sound so beautiful. The tension and anxiety she had been feeling earlier in the evening was gone, replaced with a warmth that spread all throughout her body. 

“I should probably go.” She had checked her phone to see it had blown up with text messages and calls from Eleanor and Aneesa, asking where she was and telling her she needed to come back before her mother woke up. She slid her clothes back on with ease, unlocking her phone to see the full extent of the damage. Paxton only nodded in response as he slipped his boxers back on and stood up. 

“This is what you look like in the morning, after sex might I add?” She gawked, eyes hungrily scanning over his shirtless form. 

“Guess so.” He grinned, he couldn’t help his looks anymore than Devi could help the fact that she was naturally good at embarrassing herself at parties. 

“Not fair.”

“It looks pretty badass by the way.” Paxton complimented, biting his lip as he walked them towards the door. “The nose ring.”

“Thanks.”

“And thank you for the study help today. Or is it yesterday since it’s technically now tomorrow?” A look of confusion set in as Devi let a soft laugh bubble. 

“Thanks for the orgasms.” And before Paxton could search his brain for a reply, Devi had hurried out the door and didn’t even look back to see if he was staring at her retreating form.  

He totally was. 

#daxton fic #daxton #daxton fanfic #never have i ever #nhie #paxton x devi #devi x paxton #heatwavefic #heatwave

[radical-superstar-daycare]

*Giving him a final pat I enter back into the chamber and flip the thick black switch Lunar had mentioned. Just as I hunkered back down the phone clutched to my chest stopped ringing and clicked as though it had been picked up and well... I might die anyway. Might as well go out with a bang. I drop my voice to disguise it* Hello? Hello, hello? I'm looking for the night janitor. Last name Jazz, first name Hugh? Is someone by that name there? Could you check? It's very important.

[On the other end of the call, there's the faint sound of something clicking, before Fresh speaks, his voice devoid of it's usual lighthearted and playful tone]

Sorry pal. We ain't got a night janitor, much less one named "Hugh Jazz"

[He's quiet for a moment before he hums]

I'm gonna have ta ask ya ta call back some other time

[With that, the animatronic proceeds to hang up on you]

#isnt-that-something #asks #fresh speaks

[4haechie]

stuck with you

➵ request: can i request fluff + au #2 + trope #1 "enemies to lovers" + prompt #4 & #19?? thank you 🥰

➵ lee donghyuck x reader | fluff, enemies to lovers au, high school au | 2,760 words | “take off your shirt.” + “can you shut up for just two seconds?”

➵ warnings: cursing and one second of suggestive stuff

➵ a/n: thank u for requesting! i really hope u like it :D i added timestamps to avoid confusion, so this turned out longer than expected oops. if u want a part 2, please let me know!

want to request? check this post out!

present time – thursday, 6:30 p.m. 

you’re starting to wish time machines existed right about now. you’ll do just about anything to go back to two hours ago and avoid this mess.

you glance up at donghyuck, who’s put on his thinking cap apparently, and is trying to come up with a way to get you two the hell out of here. “do you have a hairpin? or a bobby pin?” he asks.

you shake your head, “donghyuck, that only works in movies.”

“y/n, i’m trying to come up with solutions here! or do you wanna live in this tiny janitor’s closet for the rest of your life?” he glares at you.

“if i did, i would’ve chosen someone else to share oxygen with. why would i choose you?” you glare back.

he rolls his eyes, indicating that that conversation is over. “whatever. try calling your friends again. someone must still be at school, right?”

you frown, “donghyuck, we had the student council meeting earlier, remember? that ended at six, and it’s almost six-thirty now. all the sports teams’ practice sessions must’ve ended, too. i’m telling you, it’s just us in school.” you shake a little as if trying to wake up from a crazy dream. no avail.

you’re stuck here–no, wait. someone locked you two in here. you’re going to have to trace back your steps to figure out who.

thursday, 4:00 p.m.

“the weekly student council meeting is in session. today, we’re going to discuss prom! i’ve put up a list on the bulletin board that says who’s going to do what. please take a look at it immediately.” you explained, gazing around the group of students in front of you.

you’re the president and donghyuck is the vice president. you two work together almost every day, you’re in the same classes, you have the same friends. but there’s one minor detail in your guys’ relationship: you two hate each other.

hate might be a bit too strong of a word, but it’s true. you and donghyuck, despite working together and being in the same class since third grade, have never gotten along. maybe it’s your guys’ competitiveness. maybe it’s your strong desire to one-up the other. but as long as you can recall, there hasn’t been a single time when he hasn’t made your blood boil.

anyway, you and donghyuck were in charge of planning your senior prom, and ensuring everything and everyone follows said plan.

while discussing the event, you realised you forgot to check with your school’s janitor if he’s free on the day of prom, or if he’s taking a holiday. either way was fine with you, as you were thinking of making everyone clean up after themselves. but just to be sure, you and donghyuck, unfortunately, decided to stop by the closet after the meeting had ended.

thursday, 6:05 p.m.

“i don’t think he’s here. it is after school hours, so i think he went home,” you said, peeping into the dark closet. it was pretty obvious he wasn’t there–the room couldn’t have been more than five feet by five feet. it’s a storage space, but the janitor keeps his bag here before starting work and picks it up right before leaving school.

“yeah, no shit, sherlock.” donghyuck reached around you to flip the light switch on. the lone bulb suspended from the ceiling blazed to life, setting the room alight.

then, suddenly, a figure pushed donghyuck into the confined space, which caused you to jerk inwards. it happened so fast, you barely had time to react, or identify the culprit. you heard keys jingling and fear danced around in your eyes.

donghyuck was still facing the door, while you were standing with your back against the wall. he tried his best to look out the little glass rectangle fitted in the door, but he turned around and shook his head in frustration.

“what the fuck just happened,” you said; it came out more as a statement, but anger resonated through your words.

“we, er, just got locked in here.” he deadpanned as if you couldn’t have figured.

you groaned and clenched your fists. “i’m gonna kill them. you didn’t happen to see their face, did you?”

he shook his head, “nope.”

“well, we know one thing. that person had the key–and only two people have the key to the closet. the janitor, who’s not even here, and the general office staff. but i’m sure they wouldn’t lock us in here.” you said.

donghyuck tilted his head, “okay, then, who...” he trailed off, allowing you to vocalise your theories.

 “somebody must have stolen one of the two keys.” your brain’s gears started turning, trying to think of someone who would pull something like this.

“it could be the janitor’s keys. the closet was unlocked when we got here.” donghyuck reminded you.

“yeah...but he never leaves the closet unlocked. he’s very responsible, so it can’t be his set of keys. it’s probably the staff’s set,” you countered. “they barely pay any attention to non-admin matters. that person must’ve stolen their keys, unlocked the door after the janitor left, and waited for us to come here, before locking us in. jesus, i’m so angry. this is so fucking childish,” you groaned again.

donghyuck nodded in slight agreement, surprising you. he never agrees on anything you have to say, but he didn’t have much of a choice in that situation. plus, your theory made sense. “do you think this whole thing was renjun’s idea? he was the one who suggested we check with the janitor about prom night.”

your eyes widened in shock. “oh my god...wait, but it wasn’t renjun’s idea. it was mine, actually–he just reminded me to do so.” you slowly dropped down to the floor and held your head in your hands. you couldn’t believe what was going on. the entire situation seemed to just hit you.

you’re stuck in a small closet with lee donghyuck, your number one enemy.

present time – thursday, 6:40 p.m.

“none of them are picking up. donghyuck, what if they’re all in on this together? kind of like a senior prank–except we’re the ones getting pranked.” you say, panic rising in your voice. you’re standing now, leaning against the wall with your phone clutched tightly in your hand.

knowing your and donghyuck’s friends, you’re sure you’re going to be here all night. they’re quite a bunch. you and donghyuck have a common friend group, but your friends find your ongoing rivalry extremely annoying. it makes perfect sense if they locked you two in here.

donghyuck digests your words quickly. “no way. that’s insane! why the fuck would they do that?”

“well, do you have a better explanation? i’m sure you don’t, considering i’m the only one who’s been thinking of possible theories, while you’re here giving me the only suggestion you have–your stupid bobby pin idea,” you say, breathing heavily.

“can you shut up for just two seconds? always telling me what to do, disagreeing with me, arguing and fighting with me. we’re locked in here, and you think arguing like little kids is gonna get us out?” he shakes his head in disbelief. “god, and to think i had a crush on you last year.” he must not have meant to reveal that little secret, because his ears turn red instantly.

you gape at him, “what–what did you say?”

“look at you, getting a big head again–!”

“donghyuck.”

“i liked you! there, you happy?”

“i like–liked you too, idiot,” you say in a low voice.

then, he laughs–a melodious sound, emitting pure joy and rainbows and sunshine. “some type of rivals we are.”

you laugh with him now, finding the situation so pathetically sad that it was almost funny. laughable. something to reminisce from time to time.

“you...you still like me?” donghyuck asks in a small voice you’ve never heard before.

“take a guess.”

“no?”

you bite the inside of your cheek, “take another guess.”

he grins at you, leaning against one of the shelves–which was a bad move on his part. he accidentally knocks over a bottle of...detergent? who knows, but it ends up uncapped and half-empty once it lands on the floor. luckily it was plastic, so the bottle doesn’t break. unluckily, the other of the liquid splashes on you, soaking your entire shirt. your plain, white, shirt.

donghyuck freezes, “um...y/n, i’m sorry–”

you hold up a hand. the god of testing people’s patience must’ve signed you up for some competitive exam today. “save it.”

donghyuck looks around hastily, trying to find a clean rag. he produces a small yellow cloth from the back of one of the shelves and hands it to you, “here.”

you don’t even say thanks. you quickly take it from him, free your shirt from your jeans, and start wiping and drying it to the best of your ability. you manage to make the shirt as dry as possible, but it was detergent that spilt on you. it was soapy–it was not water. 

you groan for the third time today and look at donghyuck, gritting your teeth. “i can’t possibly go out like this.”

he winces, feeling extremely apologetic. “take off your shirt and wear my hoodie instead. i have two layers on,” he suggests.

you give him a double-take, “what the fuck? no! why would i do that?” you exclaim.

“do you have any better ideas?”

you watch as he swiftly takes his hoodie off, revealing a loose tee clad on his body. you hate to admit how good he looks. he hands the item of clothing to you, and you tell him to turn around as you begrudgingly peel your shirt away. you take the rag once again, wiping off as much soapy liquid as you can, and pull the hoodie over your head.

it smells like him, you think. it smells like that expensive cologne he always seems to wear. you show no indication that you find his hoodie soft and comforting, and tell him you’re done. you roll the shirt, squeezing any remnants of detergent out, and stuff it in your bag.

he bites back the smile daring to form on his lips upon seeing you in his hoodie. “okay. now that that’s over, let’s try to get out of here, shall we?”

you nod. “i have our science teacher’s number. maybe i could ask her to help us? she’s always here late, marking papers and assignments.”

donghyuck snaps his fingers, “you’re right! yeah, give her a call.”

you scroll through your contacts till you find the name you’re looking for. you press the call button and set it to speaker mode so donghyuck can hear as well. she picks up after three rings, “hello?”

“hi, miss angela! it’s me, y/n. you see, um, donghyuck and i got locked in the janitor’s closet by someone, and we have no way to get out. are you still in school? if you are, is it possible for you to unlock the door from the outside?”

miss angela hums a little, as if in thought, “i just left, my dear. i could turn the car around if you’d like. i’m sure the office keeps an extra set.”

“yes! that would be great. thank you, miss angela. and we’re sorry for the inconvenience,” you nudge donghyuck with your elbow, who catches on immediately.

“yeah, we’re incredibly sorry. i’ll be sure to submit an extra report–!”

“save it, lee donghyuck. i’ll be there in five to ten minutes,” she hangs up with that.

you pocket your phone and look at donghyuck. “so.”

“so,” he repeats.

“are we going to act like we didn’t just confess to one another earlier?” you ask, biting your lip nervously.

“no, i don’t want to, um, act like we didn’t. i lied, y/n. i had a crush on you last year, yeah, but i never stopped liking you. i still like you. i don’t want to be your enemy anymore.” he nudges you. 

you smile shyly, “i like you too, donghyuck.”

just then, you hear keys jingling–an all too familiar sound. you get excited, thinking you’re going to be met with the face of miss angela, but when the door bursts open, you see the smirking faces of renjun and jeno.

“about fucking time!” renjun pulls you and donghyuck outside.

“what?” donghyuck demands. “it was your idea to lock us in there? are you fucking kidding me?”

jeno grimaces, “i’m sorry, it was the only way you two would confess your feelings for each other and stop fighting for good.”

“i can think of plenty of ways–!”

“wait, y/n, are you wearing donghyuck’s hoodie? holy fuck...don’t tell me you guys did it.” renjun looks back and forth between you and donghyuck.

“what? no, of course not!” you retort.

“then why do you have his hoodie on, dear y/n?” jeno asks.

“that’s none of your damn business, lee jeno!” donghyuck looks ready to pounce on him, but you place a hand on his chest, stopping him. his gaze drops down to your hand and it softens.

“there was a little accident...but the good thing is that we’re out. hooray. now, everybody, go home. i have to call miss an–”

“y/n, thank goodness! what happened?” miss angela emerges into the scene, looking a little worried.

you briefly explain the evening’s events to her, without mentioning the confession part. she doesn’t need to know that. you tell her it was a silly prank. nothing more, nothing less.

she visibly sighs a breath of relief. “well, at least it wasn’t some stranger. jeno, renjun, i didn’t expect this from you two. but i’m glad you’re all okay.” she takes her leave, after ensuring you four are on your way home.

jeno and renjun go home via jeno’s car, and you and donghyuck, living only a couple of blocks away from school, decide to walk the journey.

“all this... just so we could stop fighting,” donghyuck laughs. you’re walking side by side, hands occasionally brushing against one another. it’s like something out of a cheesy rom-com. you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“it worked, didn’t it?” you say.

donghyuck stops on the pavement, turning his body to face you. he stretches out a hand to push a strand of hair behind your ear, making you bump his shoulder shyly. he smiles; he wouldn’t have it any other way either.

“i guess it did. but what do we do now?”

“what do you mean?” you raise an eyebrow.

“like, do i walk you home first? do i ask you on a date? god, with you, it’s just so much more...different. if it was someone else, i would’ve gone with my gut, but with you, i don’t wanna mess it up. you know?” donghyuck finally takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. you feel his warmth radiate, you feel his touch bringing you safety and comfort. something way more powerful than a hoodie.

“donghyuck, i’m new at this too. i’m just as scared as you are. and that’s okay, trust me. i’m glad it’s me and not anyone else.” you assure him.

you gather up whatever courage you have remaining, tip-toe, and brush your lips against his cheek. you stay there for a moment, just breathing him in. when you pull away, his cheeks are a dusty pink shade.

“do that again,” he tells you.

“no, i think i’m good.” you start walking again.

“y/n!” he whines.

“okay, on one condition.” he raises a brow, “ask me on a date.”

for a moment, he’s bewildered. then, he gets down on one fucking knee, not caring about anyone who might be watching, and clears his throat. “y/n, i like you so much. will you make me the happiest man alive, and go on a date with me this saturday?” he looks up at you expectantly.

you chuckle at his antics and give him a nod. “i would love to, lee donghyuck.”

he grins, all big and bright, and leaps up to envelop you in a hug. his arms go around your waist and yours circle his neck. he whispers in your hair, “i guess we owe renjun and jeno a thank you?”

“i am not going to thank them for locking us up in a closet. in fact, i’m gonna double their prom duties.” you feel his chest vibrate as he laughs at your comment.

however, you are thankful that it was lee donghyuck you got stuck with. so, forget the time machine. you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

#haechan fluff #haechan x reader #haechan imagines #haechan drabbles #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck x reader #donghyuck imagines #donghyuck drabbles #nct haechan #nct donghyuck #lee haechan #lee donghyuck #mine #req

[kat-tamin]

never let me go

Jet sees Kat with Celine during date night. Kat realizes Jet is the only one she wants. Requested by @svufan9812

Ship: Kat x Jet

Warnings: Smut: grinding

Word Count: 1858

“Is that supposed to be a person or a snake?” Kat whispered in Celine’s ear.

Celine’s lips twitched, her teeth biting down on her tongue to suppress her laughter. “Maybe both? A snake lady.”

Celine had invited Kat to a showcase for one of her art school friends. Kat didn’t really want to go, art wasn’t really her thing, but of course she said yes. She likes spending time with Celine, who was beautiful and fun to be around. She had quickly become a good friend.

Friends with benefits, she should say, because they had been having regular sex since they met. Great sex.

Lately though, after Kat would leave Celine’s bed, she would feel incredibly empty. Celine’s touch didn’t bring her the same satisfaction as before. She wanted something more.

“That looks like tits,” Celine murmured out of the corner of her mouth, gazing up at a different sculpture, the metal twisting into two circles.

“Yeah it…” Kat trailed off, her eyes catching on someone new entering into the gallery space. She shuffled forward, squinting into the crowd. Was that…?

“Kat?” Celine’s voice faded into the background.

It was Jet. Kat could see her eyes looking around the space, searching for something. She was dressed in her signature dark colours, a black velvet dress with long sleeves. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, showing off her wide, brown eyes, and her sharp cheekbones.

Kat’s breath caught in her throat. She looked beautiful.

A hand on her arm brought her back to the present. Celine had a concerned frown on her face. “Kat? You alright?”

“Yeah, great.” Kat took a sip of her drink, the wine strong and sharp. She shot Celine a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Sorry, I thought I saw someone I knew.”

“Okay, but my friend is here,” Celine said, craning her neck, standing on her toes to look over the crowd. “We should go say congratulations.”

“Of course.” Kat gestured with her drink for Celine to go ahead. “After you.”

She followed Celine through the mob, catching snippets of conversations about the art.

“Beautiful.” “Thought provoking.” “I’m going to buy it.”

Everyone loved the sculptures, which had to make Celine’s friend happy. Kat ran through potential compliments in her mind. She might not know whether she liked them or not, but she could appreciate the time and thought that was put into the art.

“There she is!” Celine took Kat’s hand, tugging her forward, almost making her spill her drink. “Jet!”

Kat’s eyes widened, understanding hitting her. Celine had a friend that did sculptures. Kat also had a friend who did sculptures. They were the same friend. They were here for Jet.

Kat’s surprise was mirrored on Jet’s face, her mouth dropping open. Her lashes blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend Kat’s presence here.

“Jet!” Celine dropped Kat’s hand to throw an arm around Jet’s shoulders. She squeezed their faces together, making Jet cringe. “This is so amazing!”

Jet’s eyes darted between Kat and Celine, her brows furrowing. “Thanks for coming.”

“We wouldn’t miss it.” Celine grinned, jutting her chin towards Kat. “This is my friend, Kat.”

“We actually know each other.” Kat finally found her voice, though it was strangled. She took an apprehensive step towards Jet. “Through work.”

“What?” Celine’s dark brows shot towards the ceiling, but her surprise quickly turned to laughter. “Of course you do, I should have known. Small world, huh?”

“Yeah, small world,” Kat murmured, still not quite believing it. She took a long sip of her wine, letting the pause stretch into an awkward silence.

She felt guilty, like she had been caught doing something wrong. She and Celine were friends with benefits, but her and Jet…

It was complicated, to say the least. They hadn’t had sex, but they had hung out a couple times. Kat didn’t want to say they went on dates, because neither of them had called them that. But she and Jet had texted almost everyday since they met.

It was weird that Jet didn’t mention she was having an art exhibit. Kat felt a little disappointed that she didn’t. She would have come to support Jet, not to hang out with Celine.

“We just wanted to say congratulations.” Kat flinched at the word ‘we’ coming out of Celine’s mouth. Her and Celine weren’t a ‘we’. Celine had made that clear.

“Thank you,” Jet said again, her voice monotone. She wouldn’t meet Kat’s eyes, looking stubbornly past her to the groups crowding around her art. “Have a good night, guys.”

Kat watched Jet walk away, her heart breaking. Jet’s surprise had turned to confusion and then to heartache. It was apparent on her face, making Kat feel even worse.

“Hey, wanna get out of here?” Celine leaned close to Kat’s ear, her breath hot against her skin. Her voice was low and sultry, betraying her neediness.

The thought of going to Celine’s place made Kat’s stomach turn. She gave her a small smile, slightly shifting her body away from her. “Actually, I’m not feeling great. Another night?”

Celine didn’t seem bothered by Kat’s rejection, shrugging it off. Her gaze had already shifted towards the crowd, looking for someone else. “Of course.”

---

Kat couldn’t concentrate at work the next day. She made simple errors on her paperwork. She barely listened to the Captain’s briefing. Her mind was occupied by Jet.

She laid awake in bed all night, going over all the conversations she’s ever had with Jet. They never ran out of things to say, talking about everything from their work to the terrible horror movies they loved. 

She also thought about Jet’s face from that night, the way she walked away from her and Celine, her shoulders drooping, like all the air had been knocked out of her body. It had been a special night for Jet, and Kat had accidentally ruined it by being there with someone else.

She needed to let Jet know that she wanted to be there with her. She needed to let Jet know that she wasn’t with Celine, not like that.

As soon as Kat’s shift ended, she got into an Uber to the OCCB building. She worked the night shift, so she should have been exhausted. But the thought of talking to Jet sent adrenaline through her veins.

The Organized Crime squad were just arriving for work when Kat pulled up. She followed a pair of detectives up to the bullpen, her heartbeat picking up. This was her first time here, but she knew instinctively where Jet sat, as if she was a magnet.

Jet was at her desk, her face pale and drawn. She seemed to sense Kat’s presence, looking up from her computer, her eyebrow raising just a tick.

“Jet, I need to talk to you,” Kat blurted out as soon as she got close, out of breath. “Please. It’s important.”

A hush fell over the bullpen, making the hairs on Jet’s neck stand up. Her whole squad was watching the two women, even Stabler and Bell. 

“Not here,” Jet hissed. She stood, grabbing Kat’s sleeve. She dragged her friend out into the hallway, sending a dirty look over her shoulder in the direction of Washburn, who let out a low whistle.

Jet led Kat into a janitor’s closet, slamming the door behind them. She fumbled for the light switch, illuminating them with a click. “What’s going on?”

“We need to talk,” Kat repeated. She ran a hand through her hair, rumpling her ponytail. “I don’t like where we left off last night.”

Jet didn’t say anything, just flipped over a mop bucket, taking a seat. She crossed her arms across her chest, waiting for Kat to talk.

There was so much she wanted to say, but Kat didn’t know where to begin. She shifted from foot to foot, thinking. She landed on: “Celine and I aren’t dating.”

Jet just tilted her head, urging Kat to go on. She figured this out last night, when she saw Celine flirting with another girl after Kat left last night. Any anger she felt towards Kat turned to sympathy at that moment.

“I want to date you,” Kat blurted out, then gasped. Her eyes widened, and she pressed a hand to her mouth. That was definitely not what she wanted to say, but her mouth had other plans.

There was an awkward pause, Kat’s heart beating faster and faster against her ribs. She bit down on her lower lip, waiting for Jet’s response.

To her surprise, she smiled. “C’mere.” Jet raised her arms, asking for a hug. Kat sank to her knees, wrapping her arms around Jet’s middle.

They hugged for a long moment, their breathing syncing up. 

“Okay,” Jet murmured into Kat’s hair. “Let’s do it.”

Kat grinned, tilting her chin up to capture Jet’s lips in a kiss. Their kiss quickly turned heated, their tongues sliding against each other. Kat’s hand slipped under Jet’s shirt, rubbing the pads of her thumb against her ribs.

“I’m sorry, Jet,” Kat murmured in between kisses. “Forgive me?”

Jet leaned back, cupping Kat’s chin in her hand, tilting her face upwards. “Yes.” She kissed her, pushing her tongue into the other girl’s mouth. She pulled back, their lips barely touching. “But…”

Kat straightened up, ignoring the ache in her knees against the hard tile. “Yeah?”

Jet’s mouth twisted into a very kissable smirk. “You have to make it up to me.”

Kat knew exactly what she was asking, matching her smile. They met again in a lurid make out, their hands moving to take their pants off. Kat moved to Jet’s lap, straddling her bare thighs. Jet could feel the wetness seeping from Kat’s core, spreading her juices on her skin. The thrill of doing this at work added an extra urgency, Jet’s hips jerking up to meet Kat’s core.

They moaned in unison, their clits meeting. Kat began to grind down on Jet, her clit meeting her pubic bone. The friction sent electricity up Jet’s spine, her own clit rubbing against Kat. 

“Just like that,” Jet whispered, moving her hands to Kat’s hips, guiding her rhythm.

They rubbed against each other, their clits meeting in a delicious kiss. Kat had to bite down on Jet’s shoulder to keep herself from screaming. Jet’s breath hitched, her nails digging into Kat’s skin.

The friction added up quickly, Kat reaching the edge within minutes. She tipped over, the heat in her core exploding under her skin. 

The feeling of Kat coming against her set Jet off, reaching her own peak. Their juices mixed together in Jet’s lap, leaving her sticky and satisfied.

Kat clumsily got to her feet, reaching for her jeans. She pulled them on, breathing heavy. She leaned down to give Jet another kiss. “Call you later?”

Jet just nodded, still dazed from her orgasm.

Kat opened the door a crack, peeking into the hall to make sure no one saw her leave. She looked back at Jet, who was now on her feet. “Bye… girlfriend.”

Jet grinned, the pleasure from hearing that word from Kat’s mouth almost better than the orgasm. “Bye, girlfriend.”

#kat tamin #jet slootmaekers #kat x jet #tamaekers #svu #organized crime #fanfic #smut #*

[btschooseafic]

Hey you, what’s your dream?

Pairing: platonic!oc x ot7

Details: manager!oc, predebut/idolverse, partial BTS World!verse

Summary: Aviva struggles to keep up with all of her new responsibilities as a manager.

Warnings: This is a fictional story based on real events. The characters presented here are not the same as their real life counterparts. [Masterlist]

Track 9: New Responsibilities

Responsibilities- Thane, Anderson .Paak, BJ the Chicago Kid

“I ain't stressin' bout the future, take it day to day

It's a marathon baby I'm just learnin' the pace”

Aviva stared around at the graffiti on the walls of the private space she had rented for their first dance practice. It wasn’t much, but…

“Siljangnim?” Hoseok called out.

“Hobi!” She called back. “Stop calling me that!”

“But, you are our manager,” he said simply.

She blinked.

“Ah. Right.” She grimaced. He laughed.

“Did you forget?”

“No, I just… you could at least use ‘maenijeo’...” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Or should I call you Jung Hoseok-ssi all the time?”

He rolled his eyes at her formal address.

“Now you’re just making it weird... Have you heard anything from Jungkookie or Jiminie? I texted them, but they haven’t responded.”

She chewed her lip. “They’re not responding to me. Jungkook-ah always showed up to practice on time when I was with him in LA, but I haven’t worked with Jimin-ah that closely yet.” She looked at Taehyung. “What’s his work ethic like?”

Taehyung hummed. “Jiminie works very hard… but he also has trouble sleeping sometimes.”

“That’s understandable,” Yoongi thought.

Jin clicked his tongue. “Kids these days.”

Everyone laughed, although Aviva’s laugh was a little restrained.

“We’re almost out of time for the practice space,” she said worriedly. “Should I book another slot…?”

“Do we have the budget for that?” Yoongi asked bluntly. Aviva sighed.

“I guess we should start the practice without them.” She turned to Namjoon. “Namjoon-ah, you said you had some music you wanted to share with everyone?”

“Yeah.” He popped a CD into the player on the floor.

Taehyung bobbed along to the music. Jin made an uncertain face. Yoongi started arguing about the merits of local artists over international ones.

“Look, we can listen to both,” Aviva said, trying to calm them down.

“Yes, but the order we listen to them is important,” Yoongi insisted. Aviva massaged her furrowed brow.

“Listen, Yoongi-oppa—”

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Jungkook said, looking exhausted as he and Jimin walked into the room. They looked more than exhausted, they looked about ready to cry.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Aviva asked worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“We weren’t trying to be late…” Jimin said.

“That’s all okay!” Taehyung said cheerfully. “Come in, my friends!”

“You could’ve let us know that you were going to be late,” Hoseok commented.

“We were too freaked out to think about that,” Jungkook said.

“Freaked out about what?” Aviva pressed.

“You should have called to be considerate,” Jin agreed with Hoseok. “There were a lot of people waiting on the two of you.”

“Hey, it’s only one tardy! Let’s just let this one slide!” Taehyung suggested, smiling brightly. Aviva nodded thoughtfully.

“Only one tardy?” Yoongi said, giving them a cold look. He crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re not here to play around. Whether you meant to be late or not, you have obligations to the group.”

“I agree with Yoongi-hyung,” Namjoon said, crossing his arms too. “You don’t succeed in this industry with just hard work alone.” He sighed. “I’m disappointed. I thought you both were more dedicated to this group. Do you really want to be here?”

“Hyung… how can you…” Jimin was now unmistakably teary eyed. “How can you doubt something like that?” Jungkook patted him on the back, leading him to sit down. Jimin took deep breaths. Aviva frowned, noting the bloody stain on the knee of Jimin’s pants.

“Jimin-ah…” She kneeled down in front of him. “Tell me what happened—how did you hurt your knee?” A few of the older boys made noises of surprise behind her.

“I waited so long for our first practice,” Jimin said. “I was so excited I ran here. But I was dumb and fell down a flight of stairs…”

“I had to convince Jimin-hyung to go to the hospital, that’s why I didn’t think to call,” Jungkook explained.

“Hey, I’ve been excited too,” Aviva told him. “It’s not your fault you fell over—Namjoon-ah does stuff like that all the time.”

“Yah!” Namjoon cleared his throat, his face pink. Jimin laughed a bit, his tears interrupted.

“But I’m glad Jungkookie convinced you to go to the hospital,” Aviva continued speaking to Jimin, ignoring Namjoon. “What did they say?”

“They said it’s fine. Just disinfected it, and gave me a Band-Aid, but it’s coming off already…” Jimin frowned at his knee.

“Oh, I’ve got Band-Aids!” Aviva said, popping up and running over to her bag.

Namjoon chuckled. “You’re just as clumsy as I am, Avi-yah.”

“I’m not,” she disagreed, handing Jimin the Band-Aid. “Does it hurt, Jimin-ah? Do you need anything else?”

“No.” He smiled at her. “The Band-Aid’s enough. Thanks for worrying about me, manager-nim.” He took her hands in his. “But you keep up your health too, okay? Don’t overwork yourself.”

Namjoon frowned slightly as he watched them.

A couple of days passed, and Aviva was still worried about the group dynamic. They kept arguing about small things, like who should change the water cooler. Such arguments were bound to happen, Aviva figured, but the boys seemed to be disproportionately angry in relation to the issue.

Jin and Jimin were refusing to speak to each other, sending Aviva back and forth with messages.

Taehyung interrupted, pointing out that their time slot was over.

Aviva glanced at her phone. “I’m sorry, I’m running late! I need to go, please get home safely, all of you.” She ran out of the room.

That night, the boys accidentally ran into each other in the practice room. The older boys were impressed when they realized the younger boys had been staying late to practice, sleeping over to be able to make the best use of the time.

“Well, that, and we couldn’t find anywhere else to sleep,” Taehyung finished.

Jimin nodded, grimacing.

“You hyungs are still sleeping in the supply closet at the offices?” He wondered.

The rap line trio nodded grimly.

“Usually Avi-yah would’ve realized by now,” Hoseok thought. “Especially when her new office isn’t too far away from the supply closet. Maybe she really is overworked…”

“Is that why Namjoon-hyung lied to her about having found a place to stay?” Taehyung wondered, blinking at him. Namjoon flushed slightly.

“It wasn’t, a lie, exactly.” He ran his hand over his face. “The renovation announcement was so last minute, and she’s got so much on her plate already, I didn’t want her to have to worry about this, so I said I’d take care of it, but I haven’t been able to find a place big enough for all of us, and when she asked, I couldn’t exactly tell her that…” He felt guilt heavy on his chest when he remember how relieved she’d looked when he told her it was all taken care of.

“Look, what’s this?” Taehyung picked something up off the ground.

“It’s Avi-yah’s notebook.” Namjoon took it from him, smiling as he recognized it as one of the many he’d bought for her over the years. He started flipping through it.

“Isn’t that an invasion of privacy, hyung?” Jimin commented.

Namjoon’s smile turned sheepish. “I don’t think she’d mind.”

“She’s always writing in there,” Yoongi said, leaning over to get a look. “What does she write?”

“Um, everything.” Namjoon skimmed over cartoon doodles in the margins and hand drawn marketing graphs. “Our schedules, research on hip hop groups…” He smiled, pointing. “Look, she looked up both the international artists I suggested, and the underground local artists you suggested.”

Yoongi smiled slightly, shaking his head. “She does work hard, that one.”

“Right?” Jin agreed. “She’s only been here for a few years, but she’s already basically fluent in Korean.”

“Still, I bet she misses home sometimes,” Hoseok thought. “Did she seem happier when she was there, Jungkookie?”

“What?” Jungkook flushed. “Um, well, she seemed pretty happy, but she didn’t actually grow up in LA, so, I don’t think that’s… I think she was just happy to be able to speak English so much again, and to see Jenny-ssi.”

Hoseok grinned. “If you and Avi-yah’s little sister get married, maybe she’ll come live here too, and Avi-yah will be happier, and your older sister!”

Jungkook tilted his head. “I wouldn’t mind…” He waved his hand. “Not that I’m saying I’d want to marry Jenny-ssi—we’re not even really dating at this point, more like pen pals?” They all laughed. He huffed. “Anyway, we’ve got off track, we were talking about Aviva-noona.”

“I wouldn’t want her to be my older sister,” Taehyung said quietly.

“I wonder if this is really what she wanted—to manage a group of trainees like us?” Jimin said more loudly as Namjoon gave Taehyung a funny look.

Namjoon flipped through the pages, frowning at the color-coded blocks.

“Hey, Jimin-ah, did you know about this? Is that why you told her not to overwork herself?” He held up the schedule.

“Oh yeah.” Jimin grimaced. “I saw something like that the other day, when I was borrowing a piece of paper.”

“Speak to groups about getting members as featured artists and backup dancers, listen to lectures, hire instructors… and this is all after supervising our practice. How is she doing all of this in one day?” Namjoon shook his head. “When does she have time for sleep?”

“She needs to take better care of herself,” Yoongi thought aloud. Namjoon snorted. Yoongi frowned at him. “What?”

“Are you really the one to be saying that?”

Aviva rushed into the practice room, having gotten the keys from the janitor, after explaining she forgot an important notebook inside.

She felt around the wall for the light switch, but couldn’t find it. She let out a huff of frustration and used her cellphone light instead. She squinted her eyes at an oddly placed plant. Then she heard movement and squeaked, nearly falling over.

“Yah, careful!” A familiar voice called out. Aviva froze up as she felt the warmth of someone’s arms around her, holding her up. “The floor is hard.”

She shivered at his breath in her ear. “…Yoongi?”

“Wow, nice catch!” Another voice said.

“Taehyung-ah?” Aviva recognized his voice as well. She blinked as the lights flickered on. Jungkook and Jimin popped out from behind the suspicious plant Aviva had noted earlier.

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook wondered.

“Are you alright?” Jimin asked concernedly. “Manager-nim, are you hurt?”

“I’m, I’m okay,” she said a little shakily. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jin came over. Namjoon looked at Yoongi and Aviva and frowned. Hoseok looked back and forth between them and then smirked. “Thanks, Yoongi-oppa… you can let go of me now.”

“Yeah…” He let go slowly, frowning at Taehyung. “Why’d you scare her like that?”

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that!” Hoseok agreed. Taehyung pouted, stepping closer to her.

“I was actually trying not to scare you—I thought it would be scary if I was too loud, so I was trying to be sneaky—are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure,” she told him. “It’s okay, Taehyung-ah, I just get a little jumpy sometimes.”

“Oh, so you don’t like horror movies?” Taehyung wondered, sounding disappointed.

“Sorry, not really.”

“You don’t have to apologize… I was just hoping we could watch one together.” He sighed, but then quickly recovered his usual charming smile. “What kind of movies do you like?”

“Action,” Hoseok said.

“Mystery,” Yoongi said.

“Fantasy,” Namjoon said. They looked at her.

“I like all of those,” she said.

Taehyung nodded. “We’ll watch one of those instead, okay?”

She blinked at him. “Okay, that sounds good.” She frowned. “Wait a minute, what are all of you doing here at this time of night anyway?” They looked around at each other nervously. “Huh…” She rested her hand on her hip. “It’s nice that you guys appear to be getting along again, but you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Um… I left something here,” Hoseok said slowly.

“Oh yeah?” Aviva said, doubtful. “What did you forget?” Hoseok rubbed his neck. Aviva frowned at the pain patch on his neck, spotting another one on his arm. “Seriously, guys, what’s up?” She looked around the room, spotting a few sleeping bags in the corner. Her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’ve been sleeping here?”

“…I mean, it’s the first night for here for some of us,” Hoseok said, cheerfully raising his hand. He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “Though, we were… kinda… sleeping in the storage room before that…”

“…Fuck,” Aviva said.

“Yah!” Jin covered Jungkook’s ears. Jungkook shook him off, grumbling.

Taehyung grinned. “Manager-noona, I’ve never heard you curse before.”

“Yeah, I taught her,” Namjoon said, smiling proudly.

“This is all my fault,” Aviva said, rubbing her temples. “I’m so sorry, Joonie, I shouldn’t have left this all on you. I knew finding a big enough place nearby would be difficult, so I should’ve checked in.”

“Why didn’t you?” Yoongi wondered.

“I’ve been distracted,” she admitted. “But that’s no excuse.” She bowed. “I apologize, it was my responsibility to find you a place to live, and I didn’t.”

“Aw, manager-nim, no need to be so formal,” Jin said, patting her on the back.

She straightened up.

“Right.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Wait!” Namjoon called after her. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to find you somewhere to stay—and someone to stay tonight right away!”

“But you’re busy already,” he protested.

“Gone already.” Yoongi grimaced. “She’s quick.”

“That’s why I didn’t want to mention it to her,” Jungkook said, sighing.

Jimin smiled. “I think we’re in good hands.”

“Right?” Taehyung held his hands over his heart. “I’m touched.”

“I found a temporary spot,” she said, later that night. “The commute isn’t bad, and you’ll have access to a backyard, and the living room and kitchen are a little bigger than the last place, but it’s still a one bedroom so you’ll still have to share.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind!” Taehyung said happily, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest. “We’ve all slept in the same room before. I’m just happy not to have to sleep on the hard floor!”

Aviva shook her head.

“About that, Tae… it isn’t fully furnished either. I got them to throw in two and a half couches—“

“Half a couch?” Jungkook wondered. Hoseok elbowed Jimin.

“That’s for you, little Jiminie.”

Jimin scowled at him.

“So some of you can sleep on those,” Aviva continued, ignoring them. “But I couldn’t find seven beds on such short notice.” Taehyung’s face fell. “I’ve got two sets of bunk beds.”

“Even just that is impressive in a couple of hours,” Namjoon thought.

Taehyung nodded slowly. “…A couch is still better than the floor,” he decided.

“Yeah, at least bring a sleeping bag next time, dummy,” Yoongi muttered.

“Ah, Yoongi-yah cares so much,” Jin said, slapping him on the back. Yoongi frowned at him. Aviva smiled slightly.

“Anyway, I’ll text you guys the address, so feel free to meet me there.”

“Where are you going, noona?” Jungkook wondered. “Don’t you have a lot of other things to do tonight?”

“I finished the meeting, so I’ll postpone the other things,” she said. “The temporary unit I found doesn’t have any food, so I thought I’d grab some groceries for you.”

“We can do it,” Jin said. “Don’t worry, just continue on with your normal schedule.”

She bit her lip. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure,” Jin said. “I can make a dish out of anything, I’m not just a pretty face you know.” She laughed. He grinned at her.

“And I like grocery shopping,” Taehyung commented. “It’s like a treasure hunt!”

“Okay, I’ll see you later then.”

“Before you go.” Namjoon held her notebook out to her. “Don’t forget this again.”

“Oh.” She smiled at him. “Thanks, Joonie.” She waved and hurried off again.

“Thanks, Joonie,” Hoseok imitated in a high-pitched voice. “Hmmm… tell me again why you haven’t asked her out?”

Namjoon flushed slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. “What, you mean, besides the fact we could both lose our jobs?”

Hoseok nodded. “Yeah, besides that. People do break the rules and get away with it, you know. If you decide the risk is worth it…”

Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck. “Is it? I mean, we’ve both been working so hard for this debut, should I really throw it all down the drain just because Aviva-yah is so…?” He waved his hands inarticulately.

“Cute?” Taehyung suggested.

Namjoon frowned at him. “That she is!” Hoseok agreed cheerfully. “But Joonie’s acting pretty adorable right now also.”

“Shut up,” Namjoon muttered. “Anyway, even if I’d be willing to risk it, there are other people involved, Hoseok-ah and Yoongi-hyung especially, I wouldn’t want to ruin all your hard work.” Hoseok nodded, thumping him on the back.

Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“Let’s just go to this new place and get some sleep.”

#bts #fanfiction #bts x oc #ot7 x oc #bts predebut #idolverse #manager!oc #bts world #ot7 #my fics #hey you what's your dream

[tortillastar]

Ribs

She drags the shoe across the linoleum tendu à la second. The offending stockinged leg stares back from the mirror. The creased turnout - just shy of 180 - the lemon-peel crease at the crook of her knee, the tumor bulge of her kneecap, and the limp left toes, hung out to dry like Sunday laundry. Slight, like a pimple dotting one’s brow, yet enough to give it the look of a crooked branch.

She shifts her gaze to the leg and gazes detachedly as the flesh constricts, pulling and stretching into the same strange crests and valleys traced by shadow. A heaviness presses upon her knee, a directive to point is lost in translation, and only then did she realize her feet were numb.

A few streaks of light claw the studio floor, slicing her leg like a loaf of brioche. She nudges her phone with the frayed corner of her pointe shoe. 8:10. Two hours she’d been in the empty studio tucked at the end of the hall, only the hawk-eyes and bitter laugh of the mirror for company.

For the past month, she’d taken to running the exam combinations in some pretense of preparing for the winter final. In ballet, no amount of midnight cramming would shuffle the pecking order. Anna would top the list, Svetlana and Maria eating at her heels a few miles removed. She would powder the bottom, placidly hanging on the brink of expulsion as only one who’d lived bare-necked beneath the guillotine for five years and four months could.

She hadn’t gotten past the first set of pas de bourrées, engaged in a staring contest with the knee she’d hammer straight, the bones she’d melt and remold, the feet she’d shape into the neck of a goose.

She peers at the face in the mirror, fixed with a melted and molded smile, like a wax mask worn in the sun. The janitor would be making his rounds soon. He was a stubby hunchback who reeked of greasy bacon and cottage cheese and picked his teeth with the rusted keys on his belt-sized keyring - one she preferred not to cross.

She wobbles over to her bags and collapses by them, a boney addition to the hobo pile. Practiced hands dig out the knot and unravel the ribbons. They leave red tracks crisscrossing her calves - she’d tied them too tight. Her nails absent-mindedly trace the straw-like veins, some purple, some blue along her feet, peeling off millimeter by millimeter each patch and piece of toe-tape. They pull at her skin and reveal the scabs, the welts, the splotches of red. She slips out the studio, leaving a foot-width slit as the teachers did, a silent dusting of her tracks.

The two-minute trek back to the dorms was enough to stain her exposed cheeks crimson and numb the fingertips poking out of holes in her winter gloves. The knob gives too easily.

No Anna, but the heap of dress and stockings, shed like a lizard's skin at the foot of the bed, confirmed her lurking presence.

Stealing food again.

At this, the girl allows herself a haughty flick of the lead eyebrows smeared to the crown of her forehead. The fading desk lamp huffs out a sickly-yellow glow on the knots of hair, specks of dust, bits of paper, and the torn sole of an unwashed stocking poking forth from beneath the bed. They invaded the edges of her vision, rubbing a crude line around the corners.

The girl picks up a corner of the lilac leotard, the sheer purple skirt would clumsily about the waist and noted with a bitter cornrow twist of the lip the xs tag, the letters faded and cracked, but the jeer no quieter. Hers was two sizes bigger - two sizes too big. A fist-sized patch of sweat bloomed at the chest. She smells in its sticky sweetness, browned toast, and poached eggs. Hands bring the damp clothing closer to her hankering nose. She stumbles at the rusty stutter of the doorknob and flings the dress back atop the pile with a flinch.

Anna slips in, lithe as a cat. She flips the lock shut with a blind hand, balancing in the other a plate piled with the usual - tattered cheese squares and soggy folded between slices of flaking bread heels.

“Back already?” The words are puffy and thick. Two folded sandwiches balloon from her cherry-petal lips; a scrap of ham flags the corner of her mouth. The lilt fills in the rest - given up already?

The girl hums, letting the implication roll off her like a raindrop caught on an umbrella.

Anna flops on her bed, sidestepping the strewn clothes and bunched skirts on impossibly high relevé. A few sandwiches flop open, but no creak of the headboards. A few sticky stabs of the remote control and a projection flickers to life on the far wall, bathing her form in a hazy-blue hue. It flecks her hair, mud brown and unbrushed, but pretty in that careless way only those who didn’t care their appearance seemed capable of. A white collarbone peaks out the collar of her nightshirt, paper-strip legs from the mouth of flared pajama pants. A flat chest and masculine frame suspended her at that blissful age where the body seemed an insatiable black hole, vanishing the food she ate without a trace. The girl stares at the way her kneecaps vanished into the line of her leg, and the natural doming of her foot, even unpointed, and subconsciously shoved her numb toes and bruised legs further beneath her bed.

She was the same once - wolfing down oil-crisp fries and cheese-dripping burgers at the KFC beneath her ballet class, shoving a bag of chips to the tail of the conveyor belt, being chased around the house by her grandmother, begging her to down the last gulp of soup.

It had come about gradually, imperceptibly, like the callouses about her big toe. A few arched eyebrows, a few frowns, and a simple “Katia switch with Sofya” relegated her to the spot by the exit door. The ones who occupied it never stayed long - dismissed, or crushed under the pressure of digging themselves out.

Her fork lingered over the beefsteak, wound an uneasy pirouette, and stabbed into the neighboring mound of greens. That had been easy. The academy canteen didn’t serve much red meat in the first place. Fish was harder, especially the cuts of smoked salmon she slapped on everything from burnt toast to insipid spinach leaves. Eggs went because she forgot to grab one breakfast. Then milk, because the skim milk pitcher had run dry one morning, and if she wasn’t drinking milk anymore why keep up with the yogurt.

She forced down finger-sized carrots, bitter brussels sprouts, and broccoli florets that sunk into her teeth. First with leftover dribbles of salad dressing, then fruit, then nothing at all. She gazed at the squares of beef steak wedged in others’ mouths, trying to taste the greasy, crumbly juices in her raw cucumber slices.

She took to keeping food and water on her person at all times - an orange bulging like a tumor in her clutch, a thermos tucked in the rooster pouch of a holey jumper. It was to avoid starvation, the dull cramp in her stomach that tugged down the corners of her lips and inevitably followed by overeating. She never ate the food but kept bringing it along anyway - on the two-minute walk from her dorm to the academy, the few hundred-step walk from cafeteria to class.

Partly, she derived some warped pride from the fact that she could eat, but would not. Partly, she came to enjoy voicing with a breathy, bogged-down sigh, “I’m too full, anyone want this?” when she spotted a teacher turning the corner, and answering calls of “I’m starving, anyone got a snack?” with granola bars, and too-large apples shoved in her classmates’ faces, smiling an evasive smirk when they accepted.

She scanned barcodes and tallied up the calories, grinning in triumph when she dragged herself through the day at under a thousand - net, of course, she was careful.

“Want one?” She realizes she’d been staring, and by the arch of Anna’s single crow-bar brow, for too long. Without shame, the girl raises her eyes to meet Anna’s pitch-black orbs, poised before an eye-roll she would probably share with her bed lamp.

“No thank you.” Creaks the automatic reply. “I don’t eat bread.” She adds to strengthen her conviction, though nobody would spare a glance at her plate at lunch to check if she’d kept her word.

“Your loss.”

A buoyant, techno tune draws her gaze to the projection. For the night, Anna had passed up the flabby American rom-coms she inhaled under the pretext of learning English. Instead, flappy, armless sleeves, squirming tuber dresses, and pendulum purses paraded down coffee-stained roads, easily avoiding the few puddling gulps dotting the curbs. Towering lampposts, shop signs, wobbly curbstones, each leaf bleached grey. A flap of bat’s wings and the occasional lilting bird whine completes a pretend eeriness ruined by the too-matte paint, the too-smooth roads, the too-new metal benches.

The camera whirled about, favoring a bottom-to-top shot that lent full view to jutting, crooked knees, and bowed legs. The girl frowns at their pastry-thin shoulders, chicken-wing spatula, and pigeon-toed walk. She sees in bed-sheet expressions not aristocratic coolness, but contemptible misery - a silent plea on weighted lips.

“You can become a model if you’re dismissed.” Her smacking lips pork chop the words, her mouth brimmed like her suitcase, its zippered mouth perpetually open in half-hearted surprise. She tears open the final sandwich, nails pressing crescent-moons into the holey bread pockets. The girl lifts a corner of her lip in a wan smile.

The words pick at hardened scabs, no more than a tickle. She’d been suspended on the chopping block from the moment she was accepted, and the sense of urgency had long since worn thin. The studio hours after class was fulfilled out of habit, not any imminent fear of dismissal.

The girl thought it was Anna’s brand of helping - disaster prevention through repeated exposure. They walked the no-man’s-land between friend and stranger on a scaffolding of convenience and pity.

“They have it easy. Just starve themselves, look miserable, parade around clothes slapped with some expensive brand name. And people shower them with praise.” She sucks the tips of her fingers with a pop.

“We have to starve ourselves and look happy doing it.” She stands up with the empty plate. A few dark specks had already seized on the leftover crumbs.

“You’re showering first.” A phrase stranded between question and demand.

The door croaks shut, and her wobbly “Yeah” sinks in the empty room. The bed groans as she stands. She wants to peel off the bark and tear the baseboards but glares dully woodgrains for a few beats before grabbing her shower duffel from the doorway.

The shared bathroom is conspicuously empty. The others had showered after class, she assumed. She twists off her jumper and lets the cold prick at her bare arms, observing each pimpling goosebump. Slowly, she peels off the lilac leotard and rejoices at the wrinkle of fabric bunched beneath the armpits. Cold fingers trace along the ribs, revealed one by one, pressing a chill to each angled, protruding bone. In the mirror - lustrous despite the grimy tiles and cracked sinks, copper wire lips bend into a smile.

#ballet #writing #short story #fiction

[hermannsthumb]

Prompt: Newt rolled his eyes. "You're such a baby! What, do you want me to kiss it better?" Hermann looked at him with big puppy dog eyes. "Would you?"

cute........CUTE...

--------------------------------------

The lab is pitch-black and oddly silent when--one otherwise average morning--Newt walks in for his usual work shift. And he really does mean both pitch-black and silent: no fluorescent lights flickering overhead, no computer screens, no green glow of his specimen tanks, no scratch of chalk-on-chalkboard, not even any of Hermann’s grumbling Newt has long since filed away as the customary sights and sounds of the k-science lair. It’s weird. Unsettling. And, frankly, a little alarming.

It makes Newt stop in his tracks, one foot in the doorway. Is the generator busted? Did a janitor shut everything down when they left last night? Are any janitors even still brave enough to venture into the lab? Even if that was the case (Newt realizes), it’s way past the time Hermann (the perpetual insomniac) would’ve gotten to the lab--nearly a full hour past--and it’s not like he would’ve let things stay shut down for very long. Right?

There’s a small shuffling noise from somewhere in the direction of the center of the room. A low groan. Newt’s heart skips a very small beat. “Hermann?” he calls out in a whisper.

Another groan. “Leave me be,” Hermann finally croaks out.

Oh, okay. Not kaiju organs come back to life then. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“I said leave me be,” Hermann says. “Shut the bloody door. You’re letting in the light.”

“What, are you a fucking vampire all of a sudden?” Newt says. He flips on the light switch. Immediately, one of Hermann’s dorky saddle shoes comes hurtling at him across the room; he's not quite fast enough to jump it, and it hits him square in the shin. “What the fuck, dude!” he yelps.

Hermann is draped across the lab couch, arm crooked over his eyes, comically large bag of ice settled atop a towel folded on his forehead, blanket tucked up to his chin. His free hand begins groping around on the floor for--yep, the other shoe. Newt preemptively shields his face and cowers against the wall. “Get out,” Hermann hisses, “you wretched--”

The shoe lands in Newt’s half of the living quarters, smacking into his guitar and sending it toppling to the ground with a dull, echoing thud. Hermann winces visibly. “Have you lost your fucking mind?” Newt says. “Fine, fine! I’m shutting it off!”

He does, for the most part: he stills needs some light to be able to see where the hell he’s going, so he leaves on the small lamp closer to the neutral space of the lab couch. This seems to placate Hermann. At least temporarily. “Thank you,” he says, calmly, and sags back against the cushions. “Now please leave.”

Light sensitivity--sound sensitivity-- “Oh,” Newt says. “Migraine.” Duh. Of course. Hermann hasn’t had one of these spells in ages--he’s been overdue for one. Except usually Hermann suffers them out in the solitude of his bunk, with all the flair of a Victorian maiden dying from consumption, not in the middle of the fucking lab.

“Migraine,” Hermann echoes, with a deadly calm.

Newt shuffles his feet. “So. Uh. Any reason you’re...doing this here?”

“Air conditioning,” Hermann says.

Newt furrows his brow. As if sensing his confusion, Hermann heaves a great sigh and continues.

“The air conditioning in my quarters,” he says. “It’s too noisy. Too difficult to override without overriding the entire hallway’s. I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Yeah, but,” Newt says, “the A/C here is pretty loud too, it’s not...”

Newt suddenly realizes why the lab is so stuffy, and so exceptionally quiet, today.

“Goddamn it, Hermann,” he sighs. “You know what maintenance said. If you pull shit like that one more time they won’t accept our tickets anymore!”

“They said the same thing when you set your millionth fire in the microwave,” Hermann says in a grumble. “I’ll fix it tomorrow. They won’t know a thing.” He wriggles away from the solitary lamp. “Now, are you finally going to leave?”

Newt would like to leave--love to leave, frankly--but he has a date with a hot chunk of kaiju stomach that’s getting riper by the second, probably millisecond, actually, considering the fact that Hermann fucking unplugged his tanks for more darkness, and so he folds his arms and stands his ground. “No,” he says. “I have work to do. Have you taken your prescription? Or at least, like, Advil?”

A grunt of affirmation. Good; the worst symptoms should be letting up soon, then. Newt steps very, very carefully over to the side of the couch on which Hermann’s settled his head against the armrest, and very, very carefully lifts the bag of ice from his forehead. Hermann immediately grunts again, this time in displeasure. “I’m going to massage your temples a little, okay?” Newt says. He did it the last time Hermann had one of his spells, and--after getting over the initial embarrassment--Hermann seemed very grateful for it.

“If you must,” Hermann says.

He hisses in pain Newt’s first few attempts to find the right spots to touch, and, evidently having grown impatient, rips his arm away from his eyes to level Newt with a heated glare. They’re a bit bloodshot; Newt wonders if yet another all-nighter brought his current state on. “It’s not working,” he says.

“You’re such a baby,” Newt snaps. “What else do you want me to do? Kiss it better?”

A very strange expression flits over Hermann’s face: where there’d previously been nothing but annoyance and at least mild contempt, there’s suddenly something akin to wide-eyed shyness. Hermann blinks at him once, twice. His lips are parted slightly. “Would you?” he says.

Not exactly the reaction Newt was expecting. He opens his mouth a few times, too shocked to say anything, and then leans down and presses a small kiss to Hermann’s forehead. “There,” he says, ignoring the hot flush rising up the back of his neck and pretending he can’t see a similar one coloring Hermann. “All healed. Now can I do my work?”

Still wide-eyed, Hermann nods.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

[paodequeijofeliz-blog]

I would do it all again

Ride or Die Fanfiction (characters and main story belongs to Pixelberry Studios).

Pairing: Mona and MC (Annie)

Information: this takes place after the first book.

Summary: After what happened at the parking lot, each member of the crew tries to build a new life, following the “every man for himself” motto. But Annie doesn’t agree with that and tries to pull them back together, especially Mona, who she has been waiting for too many years.

Warnings: some Angst talk about not being good enough. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

I would do it all again - Part 6 (ANGST)

“Whatever you choose is fine.” Mona barely glanced at the phone, mumbling the words as her attention was focused on fixing the toaster. Annie kept the screen pointed at her for a few seconds, hesitant, before taking it away and scrolling around the options again.

“Okay…” she sighed, going back to the living room. “I’ll order burgers then.”

The last couple of months were so hard on their relationship. They seemed to be building such a high level of trust before, but something happened in between, and the teacher just couldn’t find out what. Her girlfriend was flipping from distant and rude to extremely loving all the time, each day a surprise. Sometimes, she would go outside to answer a call and come back so cold, quiet, that Annie was too afraid to ask who was on the other side of the line. But then, in the next day, things could change again. Mona would wake her up with a kiss and go back to her normal self.

That cycle was not healthy. Not at all.

Annie tried to talk about it, but the subject was too sensitive. She could tell there was something bothering the Lebanese. The mood switches, short answers, those weird phone calls… Perhaps the parole and the auto shop were too much pressure on her shoulders. The teacher convinced herself that was the reason, there couldn’t be any other explanation. So, she tried to make things easier, to address the parole issue carefully, spend more time at home than at work, help Mona around even if she had no idea of how to fix stuff. Just to be there, hoping her girlfriend would eventually talk about whatever was wrong with them now.

That night, the teacher was patiently sewing a button back on her favourite shirt when a noise captured her attention. Annie thought she heard voices downstairs. It was late, but Mona had been cleaning the shop for hours that day, maybe it was just Toby or Ximena on a videocall. She happily slipped herself inside a robe and went there to check, maybe even convince her girlfriend to finish it tomorrow and come to bed. It was no fun going to sleep on her own, not when there was a gorgeous woman walking around the house.

Slowly, Annie followed the sound to the back of the shop, where they had a small kitchen recently reformed. It was her idea to keep it, so no one would need to go upstairs every time they needed water or coffee. Considering how lazy Toby and Mona could be, that was a smart thing to do.

But before she got any close to the door, an unfamiliar husky voice started talking. It wasn’t a videocall.

“Bullshit and you know it!” A woman. She sounded angry, frustrated. “Why are you lying to yourself, M.? I know you better than this. Don’t be so dumb.”

The teacher swallowed hard in the hallway. That didn’t seem like a nice guest. And it didn’t matter who it was, nobody would talk to her girlfriend like that. She marched towards the kitchen door, furious, ready to put up a fight…

“You don’t love that stupid girl, sweetheart.” Said the husky voice again.

Through a crack on the door, Annie saw the strange woman holding Mona by the waist, pressing her against the kitchen counter.

That sight made the teacher freeze in the hallway, unable to move or say anything. Just listen. Listen to a tall, strong, and hot stranger in a leather jacket saying the meanest things there could be. Arms still involving Mona, their faces so close, it made Annie feel a bad taste on her mouth.

“Go away, Ada. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But the woman didn’t move an inch, only tilting her head to force their eyes to meet. Mona wasn’t fighting but didn’t seem to enjoy the proximity either. She was just standing there like a tense statue, hands inside the pockets.

“I know you. And this… Place? This hole you’re trying to fix, that’s a joke, M. Are you seriously convincing yourself this is what you want? A steady job as a low paid mechanic in an old dusty shop with two ex-convicts? Earning the bare minimum to live here? You’re a woman for luxury, hon. Sports cars, jewels, fancy dresses, the best hotels, that’s your thing, that has always been your thing. Is this dump gonna give you enough money to afford it? No, the real question…” Ada got even closer now, lips brushing against Mona’s. At that point, Annie already had her vision blurred by the tears, so she wouldn’t be able to tell if they kissed or not. “The real question, babe, is why on earth are you dating a woman that can’t give you what you deserve? And a fucking teacher. Seriously? The most boring thing ever? She’s not even hot enough to explain it.”

Annie fought against the tears, desperate to see what was happening, but she couldn’t make them stop coming. Her hands went to cover the mouth, afraid to make a sound. Something inside of her wanted to hear the whole thing. Some sort of hope, whispering, it will be okay… Mona will defend you… At any moment now…

“I know that sooner or later you’re gonna get bored of this cute marriage role play going on here.” Ada had icy green eyes, piercing through the Lebanese like a hypnosis, dragging her back to the worst memory of her past. “I took care of you when we were in prison. I will take care of you now. It was our agreement, you gave me your word when we killed that girl. Now, let’s go home. I can give you exactly what you want.”

Silence. A long, hurting, meaningful silence.

That was it. Annie still had the shirt on her hands, and the touch of the fabric made her feel like the most stupid woman in the world. Everything around her, every single object, even the walls, it was all making her believe she was an idiot. A dreamer. A child. A naïve woman who did it all wrong. She had six years to plan their lives and even with all that time, still managed to screw it up. Whoever the stranger was, her words glued in the teacher’s head, mocking her feelings.

It made her feel small. Like a little toy a kid was tired of playing with.

Anna walked away from the door. Her heart couldn’t take another word. Tripping and stumbling along the hallway, she finally reached to the old car. Her chest was burning in pain when she turned the engine on, opening the new electric gates with the remote control. When Mona heard the sound and got to the front of the shop, the car was long gone, driving in full speed down the road.

“No, no, no, no!” she kicked an empty trash can, hands roaming through the hair, trying to think faster. Suddenly, Ada was there too, a cocky smile on her face. “Get away from me.”

“C’mon, what’s with all the drama? Let her go. Good for you. Now we can continue from where we stopped…”

“Get the hell away from me!” Mona’s voice had a dangerous tone. Without waiting for another word, she just left Ada behind and went to the one person who could help solve the situation.

Dominick woke up with the sound of someone banging on his door. His heart raced as he took a bat from under the bed, glancing at his son’s room with concern. The left hand was holding the weapon tightly when the right turned the knob to open the door, but both relaxed when he recognized Mona’s face. She was about to make fun of his Monsters Inc. pajamas, but there was no time to waste.

“I need your car. It’s an emergency. Now.”

“What happened? Is Annie ok?”

“Now, Dom! I don’t know, probably not, don’t make difficult questions, damn it!” her eyes scanned the living room, then she jumped to take the keys from the table. “I’ll bring it back before dawn, I promise!”

“Wha…”

“No time to explain!”

Every second was counting. Mona had a few ideas of where Annie could’ve gone, but the more time she wasted, the worse would it be to fix this mess. When the Lebanese drove past the auto shop, Ada had disappeared already. At least, for now.

Think, you idiot. Think. Her fingers flexed and held the steering wheel again. The adrenaline was making everything a blur. What’s the first place she would go? The library? It’s closed. The park? Too dangerous at this hour. She’s crying, so it has to be somewhere calm. Where would she feel safe…?

Then, it her. So obvious.

Mona turned the wheel to take an exit on the right and stepped on the gas. The road was desert, making it easier to speed, but it had some dangerous curves that forced her to be more careful.  

Half an hour later, she was parking at the back of the university. There was no student or teacher in that darkness, only two securities, a janitor taking out the trash and…

Harold. Annie’s old silver car parked just a few spots away.

I’ll fix it. Said Mona to herself, taking a deep breath. I’ll fix it all.

#mona x mc #choices: ride or die #i am so so so so sorry this took so l #the next part is the finale #I just can't write angst easily but needed to make this one #besides my mind is on other things right now HAHAHAHA #someone is distracting me and I might switch and stick with smut with a while you know

[somuchfrstardust]

Calm Nights (Jesse Lypin x Mason)

M!Detective x Mason

Apox wc: around 3k

Feel free to read it on ao3 here! Or under the cut for easier convenience! 

Worn fingers card through a messy head of brown hair, coffee colored curls folding around the fingers in slight knots before they’re pulled away. A sigh passes Jesse’s lips, his darkly colored gaze holding the reflection of the computer in front of him. It was an older model, blocky and colored in a sickly shade of cream, making plenty of noise as it processes what it needs to. It’s similar to his car in a way, old and beaten up and in well need of retirement. Yet, as usual, the male can never seem to let them go, or anything really, which would explain his mess of an apartment filled with old knick-knacks and outdated furnishing.

His computer makes a distinct whirring noise to pull him from his thoughts, as though telling him to pay attention and get through this last bout of paperwork. It’s a grueling task, really, one that Jesse finds himself doing. He knows Tina doesn’t have the attention span to do it, and Verda is crammed enough as it is. Douglass and the other few officers they have are too young to want to throw themselves into, or are just too oblivious to care.

He blinks himself more aware, straightening his posture as his gaze flickers from the paperwork in front of him and the digital copy displayed on the green tinted screen. Just a few more things to fill out, and then he can finally pack himself up to leave the office. Faintly, he remembers telling himself that hours ago when Tina stopped by his office to say goodbye for the night. When was that? Eight, nine o’clock? And thinking about it, he’s pretty sure he saw the janitor pass by the window of his office and right out the door after turning off the foyer lights.

“Shit…”

He breathes out a deep sigh, flipping his left wrist to glance at the old silver watch adorning his fair skin. The watch only clicks in response, the smallest hand moving at every second with a faint click. The other hands are placed accordingly to tell the time, Jesse cursing to himself as it was well past midnight. This isn’t the first time that he’s found himself staying in the office way past normal closing hours, and the regular overtime hours. If Tina or Verda knew he was still in the office, he would get a scolding earful from the both of them. He can practically hear Tina’s fretting voice and see the sad, yet sympathetic gaze Verda tends to give him.

Ever the workaholic, they call him, working harder than most in the department.

Yet it’s not the daydreaming of angry and upset coworkers, or the exhaustion wearing down his bones that finally gets Jesse out of his seat. No, instead, is the familiar sound of movement outside his office. Ignoring the dizzy spell he feels when he shoots up out of his seat, he moves with narrowed eyes to the slightly open door of his office.

No one should be in the office at this time, and to his knowledge, he’s the only one that’s still inside. His hands reflectively reach for the sturdy handle of the handgun he always has on his body, holstered on his belt. There’s a small click as he removes the safety, both hands holding the gun in a comfortable hold as he uses his foot to slowly open his door further. He peeks his head out of the doorway, only seeing small pockets of light from the dimmed ceiling lights. Behind him is the hallway leading down to Verda’s area, and he knows that’s not where the sounds came from, so he positions with his back to the empty hallway behind him and continues with careful footsteps down the other end of the hallway. This leads past Tina’s office, the kitchen, and out to the front area of the building where Douglass spends his day playing video games rather than working.

There it is again, a slight shuffle, and then a click. His brow furrows in slight confusion, but lifts his arms with the gun. An easy breath passes his lips as he steps into the front room, tired eyes seemingly sharp and aware as they scan the dark for any kind of movement or figure. He shivers as his eyes look through the front windows of the office, hoping that there isn’t going to be another issue with thralls or something of the like. With just him in the office, he knows that he wouldn’t stand a chance against a group of supernatural intruders, even with his good shot. For a fleeting moment, he wishes Unit Bravo was here with them, a pit of tangling wanting settling in his stomach as the image of grey eyes protrude in his mind.

And as if summoned, a small grunt comes from the corner of the office, another click following as a small flame is produced. An orange glow warms Mason’s face, cigarette dangling loosely in his lips that are curved into a grin at the sight of Jesse. The same eyes he was thinking of moments before, now staring at him from across the room with a glint of play vigor as they jump from his face and to the weapon he holds. There’s a deep chuckle that follows as the flame finally goes out, only after lighting the cigarette now.

“Surprised to see me, detective?” Mason sounds lazily from his side of the room with a teasing edge to his tone. A chuckle soon follows after Jesse groans, frustration coating his face as he lets his arms drop. The safety to his handgun is clicked back into place and the weapon is returned to the holster at his hip. “What the fuck, Mason?” is Jesse’s automatic response, heart stammering in his chest for reasons he can’t quite understand himself. Mason only grows more entertained with the reaction he gets from the detective, as well as with the quickened pace of his heart.

But Jesse turns a blind eye to him for the moment, left hand sliding along the wall until he feels the light switches, flicking them on to shower the front room with white light. His attention goes back to the vampire in the corner who still manages to have shadows cast over them, like they follow him or something.

He can’t help his eyes trailing over Mason’s built frame, the other dressed comfortably and casually with the addition of a leather jacket. His wandering gaze stops on the others face, Mason fixing him with a knowing look himself, before Jesse’s eyes narrow on the cigarette hanging between his lips.

“You’re lucky no one’s here,” he grumbles in a small moment of defeat as he pinches the bridge of his nose. Usually he would rip into Mason for smoking at all in the building, but he was too tired to get into an argument with the strong willed individual. Though there’s a questioning gaze that he fixes on Mason, “what are you doing here so late?”

He gives time for Mason to answer but makes a small gesture to signify that he’s moving back down the hall and to his office. He still has paperwork to finish after all. He can hear heavy footsteps following close behind him, the scent of smoke trailing along with them that causes Jesse to grimace slightly. As he goes into his office and around his desk, Mason hangs in the doorway of the office for a moment, an unreadable gaze looking to Jesse’s pinched expression. Mason sighs and pulls the cigarette from his lips, pinching the end of it without any issue and then returning it to the pack in his pocket.

“You weren’t at your apartment,” Mason finally says, as though what he says is a suitable answer. The confusion is pretty obvious on Jesse’s face when he hears the response as he moves to sit back in his chair.

“You were at my apartment?” He asks perplexed, and somewhat annoyed as his gaze moves back to the tinted screen in front of him. The only noises that accompany the two men is the whirring of the computer and tapping of the keyboard in front of Jesse.

“Yeah,” Mason replies with a slight shrug as he finally moves into the room and takes a seat on one of the chairs in the room, “and I figured you were here.” He cringes a bit after saying this, Jesse sighing.

Apparently everyone thinks he’s a workaholic now, huh?

“Yeah, well, someone has to do the work around here,” he replies a bit curtly, eyes narrowing in tension as he works more diligently at the desk. Only Mason seems to get him so worked up with such simple words or actions. Not even Douglass can get Jesse annoyed so quickly, even with the insufferable beeping that always accompanies the games he plays on his phone.

No- dumb, irritable, and insufferably attractive Mason has to be the one to get him this way.

As though he can hear what Jesse is sitting, Mason shifts from where he’s sitting on the other side of the desk and lets out a low chuckle. His intense gaze stays on Jesse from the other side of the computer screen, and Jesse bristles under the attention he’s receiving.

“What do you want, Mason?” He speaks out in an exasperated tone after a few moments of intense silence, the air in the small office now thick and the attention from Mason causing him to feel warm all of a sudden.

“You, detective.”

“What-”

“To take you home. I’m surprised you’re still conscious, it’s almost one in the morning.” Mason sounds incredibly smug at the moment, while Jesse is practically fuming from behind the monitor in front of him.

’You, detective.’

Jesse wants to punch him right now, his face hot from the words as he can barely focus on the work in front of him. He’s starkly aware that he’s not going to get any work done with Mason sitting in here now. So, instead he sighs irritably and turns off the computer, the sudden disappearance of the whirring computer plunging the room into silence.

“I don’t need you to babysit me,” he doesn’t sound as confident as he wants to, instead voice breaking halfway through the sentence as he desperately wills his face to return to its natural color instead of the red that it must be now.

“Well, it doesn’t look like you can take care of yourself anyway.” Mason quips in an annoyed tone of his own, “I think you’re the one who was kidnapped by a rogue vampire.”

“That’s not my fault! You were right there too.” Jesse exclaims, his usual calm demeanor gone now as he stands from his seat.

“Yeah. Protecting your ass from the thralls trying to kill you,” Mason growls out, standing as well now, and fixing Jesse with a hard glare.

“Well- at least I got away on my own. I didn’t need your help then, now did I?” Mason seems to react to his words, his harsh gaze moving away from the others face with an eerie sense of brooding. Jesse suddenly feels very guilty for plunging them into an argument that he wanted to avoid minutes ago. A storm of thoughts and emotion must be brewing in Mason’s head as he doesn’t turn to look back at Jesse until he places a hand on the tallers arm. That gets his attention real quick, his steely gaze looking to him in shock.

Jesse holds his gaze, heart hammering in his chest, and very aware of how closely intimate the two of them are at the moment. Then he sighs, lips curving into a small smile as he pats Mason’s arm.

“Drive me home?” Mason’s still shocked expression causes Jesse’s smile to grow with a certain fondness only seen when he’s with his mother, or around Verda and his family. “You said you were here to take me home, right?” And just like that, the realization seems to hit, and Mason finally gets a hold of himself. His eyes soften for just a moment before reverting back to their teasing state accompanied by a grin.

“Are you eager to get me alone?” He teases, Jesse slightly shaking his head as he removes his hand from the other's arm.

“We’re alone right now,” he quips back as he moves around his desk again, sorting the loose documents he was working on before. He lifts his head to look at Mason, eyes widening as he sees the wicked expression the other has. Blush creeps its way up Jesse’s neck as he hurriedly finishes sorting, turning out the lamp on his desk, and grabbing his coat from where it hangs on the back of his chair.

“Well if that’s what you-”

“Mason!” His voice sounds more high pitched than it should as he shoves his way past Mason, turning the light out in his office in the process.

“Your desk is big eno-”

“So help me God, if you don’t shut up right now-”

“Or what?” The shit-eating grin on Mason’s lips should be illegal with the way he’s looking at Jesse right now. But the detective can’t look at him long before he’s in the front room of the building, turning off the lights there as well. He goes out the front door and stands by it, choosing not to meet Mason’s eyes as the taller walks out behind him. Though he does notice the way Mason purposely rubs against on his way out. Fumbling hands struggle to get the keys hanging from Jesse’s belt off, his face a warm mess with hasty breathing as he tries to get the right key into the lock of the door in front of him.

Suddenly there’s warmth at his back, large arms wrapping around him as Mason takes the keys from Jesse’s hands, easily getting the key into the door and locking it.

“Th-thank you,” he sounds breathless when he speaks, body frozen where he stands with slightly widened eyes that can only focus on the familiar hands in front of him. His pupils dilate as he feels the warmth of the others chest pressed up against his back, his breath warm by his neck.

“Mmm, you’re welcome,” Mason’s voice sounds husky, deep, and incredibly close to his ear. Jesse shivers and he swears he can feel Mason smile from behind him. “You're nervous.” He purrs into Jesse’s ear, lips ghosting over the top of his ear. Another shiver courses through his body, a small gasp coming from him when he feels Mason’s lips trail down from his ear and to his neck, light kisses being speckled along his neck. Jesse’s eyes fall closed, teeth toying with his bottom lips as Mason continues to kiss him. He feels the others hands fumbling with the ring of keys and Jesse hastily takes them back into his own hands. Mason’s own promptly moves to hold Jesse’s hips, looping his fingers under the fabric of the button up shirt he wears. His fingers are cold against Jesse’s now heated skin and he suppresses a moan at the feeling of it.

“Fuck-” Jesse speaks in bated breath as the affection continues, the others warm lips leaving a trail of soft kisses along the back and sides of Jesse’s neck. In a brief moment when the kisses stop, Jesse turns himself around in Mason’s small embrace. He holds the others gaze with a half lidded one of his own before Mason ducks his head and resumes his kissing, pressing a fierce one to Jesse’s lips before leaving an onslaught of them along his jaw and front of his neck.

His body feels hot now as he subconsciously presses closer and closer to Mason’s larger frame, the others hands trailing further and more sensually up Jesse’s side, the cold air of the night hitting Jesse’s bare skin as his shirt is pulled along with Mason’s hands.

A sultry noise comes from Jesse just as Masons kisses turn more erotic, gently teething his skin in a blissful action. His fangs juts a bit at the elevated flush of blood coursing through Jesse’s veins, elevated heart rate spiking with pleasure. Mason’s hands grip tighter at his skin, his kissing turning more aggressive and needy, and-

A sudden noise shocks the both of them, Jesse’s hands raised and shaking as he stops mid-air, having gone to wrap around Mason’s neck. His hands are empty now, and he realizes that it was he who caused the earth shattering noise to scare the both of them. His keys sit on the pavement beside them, glistening in the light the moon is giving them.

And Jesse’s high falls quickly, an almost sad sigh passing his lips, when he finally gains his senses back. This… is not something Jesse often finds himself doing. In actuality, stolen kisses between the two of them is much more secretive and lucrative than it is right now, out in the open in front of the station for anyone to see if they pass by. Even if it’s close to one in the morning, there still may be people who come outside or pass by in cars. A flush of embarrassment is what causes Jesse to shove Mason off of him, pushing his wandering hands off of his skin as he fixes his shirt and jacket.

“We- we should go. Now.” Jesse says in a nervous tone, needing to avoid Mason’s eyes or else he’s afraid he’ll be putty in his hands once again. He doesn’t get a response from Mason as he hastily bends down to pick up his keys and then walks to where ol’ faithful sits parked. He only gets something when he goes to get into the driver's seat, Mason suddenly at his side and taking his keys from him. He gives him a pointed look, one that Jesse doesn’t feel like arguing over, as he moves around the car to sit in the passenger's seat instead.

“Damned thing,” Mason grumbles as he gets into the car, having to slam the door a few times in order for it to properly close beside him. Jesse flinches with each slam, wearing an apologetic expression as he runs his hand over the dashboard of his old up car.

The car starts with a bit of a jump before lurching into motion, the two sitting in silence as Mason drives. Not even the radio plays to give them solace, and Jesse doesn’t make a move to turn it on and instead turns his attention to gaze out the window.

The exhaustion hits him at once in the comfortable ride, his body sagging in the seat as he rests his head against the window of the passengers door. His heart is still beating rapidly, and he can see Mason give him a few glances as he drives, but he feels comfortable in the moment. Flustered, sure, but still comfortable. The longer he sits in and out of a daze in the seat, the more at ease he feels, and the more his body and mind seem to calm down and shift out of the pleasurable state they were in moments before.

At some point during the short ride, Jesse had fallen asleep, for the next time he opens his eyes he’s met with the familiar decorating of his simplistic apartment. He can feel Mason’s hold on his body and his head lulls against the others chest, warmly enveloped as Mason carries him through his apartment and down the hall to his bedroom.

“Move it,” Mason mutters, and Jesse thinks he’s talking to him at first until he hears the soft mewls of unison as his cats stare up at the two of them, moving against Mason’s legs as soon as he shrugs open the door to the bedroom. The two cats jump onto the bed as Mason lays Jesse onto it, a pair of curious green and brown eyes looking up to him.

Mason ignores them easily as he pulls Jesse’s shoes off of his feet and pulls off his jacket, then moving the blanket over the smaller male. It’s touching really, to see Mason in such a domestic setting. Jesse blindly, still in his haze of sleepiness, takes hold of Mason’s wrist as he gets up to leave. Grey eyes immediately look to his own and he can feel his face flush and he tugs weakly on his wrist.

“Stay.”

Mason’s expression gives a moment of surprise before going back to it’s normal, unreadable state. Jesse worries that Mason will refuse to, the action not new to them unfortunately, but instead Mason sighs and pulls his wrist from his hold, and just like that Mason shrugs off his leather jacket and lets it fall to the floor. Jesse can’t really see what he does next but there's a bit of shuffling before Mason appears on the other side of the bed, sliding in next to him. The cats regard him warily for a moment before making themselves comfortable at the end of the bed. Meanwhile, Jesse turns onto his side and moves over, his hands reaching out slightly to grab fistfuls of Mason’s t-shirt, effectively pulling him in closer.

He can faintly feel Mason sling an arm around him, but his consciousness seems to slip. There’s a soft hum of Mason saying something, but he can’t make it out, but it’s followed by a soft feeling on his forehead before he finally falls asleep again.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #wayhaven #wayhaven chronicles #seraphinitegames #detective x mason #choice of games #hosted games #nisha writes #nishas ocs #jesse lypin #twc detective

[kryptored]

Glomp (pt.4)

Squishy and velvety

Adrien was highly baffled of this new development with Plagg. One night, he vehemently refuses to come close to him. The next, he’s “just experimenting,” or so he claims to be doing. This so called experiment? Kneading on his cheeks. Fascinating, really.

“Uh…Plagg?”

“What is it, kid?”

“Not that I’m complaining, but…what started this?”

“Oh, you mean this?” The kwami replies with matching enthusiastic kneads to his left cheek.

“Yeah, that. I thought you wanted nothing to do with cuddles?”

“Now, wait just a minute. One, this isn’t me wanting to cuddle you. Not ever, really. Two, who said I was doing this for pure enjoyment on my part? I need answers, and you just happen to be the only one I’m allowed to be seen with.”

“I feel insulted.”

“As you should be. Your cheeks are as hard as rocks!” Adrien lets out a whimper.

“They are not!” His eyes travel to the kwami floating in front of him, hands slowly lifting to touch his cheeks. His fingers consciously poke them, as if trying to reassure himself that they were not indeed rocks. “I would’ve been less insulted if you actually called them ‘chiseled,’ but rocks? I think not.” He pouts in indignation, but Plagg doesn’t take notice of it.

“Say what you want, kid. But they aint as soft you think they were.”

“And I’ll ask you again – what brought this on?”

“Eh,” Plagg subtly tilts his head away from his holder, “just got bored and curious. Also, I don’t want to get rusty with my kneading.”

“What – kneading – you don’t get rusty with kneading!”

“That’s what you think, but you’re not a cat.”

“You’re a kwami that happens to look like a cat.”

“Semantics.”

The kwami floats to the couch in front of the TV, lounging at one of the pillows where a box of Camembert was placed at. He takes a piece and bites into it, humming in satisfaction. Adrien, on the other hand, is still bewildered of the actions of his kwami and keeps his sight on him while he takes a seat on the opposite side of the couch. He grabs the remote on the coffee table and turns on the TV, flipping from channel to channel to find a good show to watch at such an hour (it was pretty late, but he’s used to it at this point).

Almost half an hour passes by, with Adrien fully engrossed in the show while Plagg has now moved and curled up on his right shoulder. The black cat-sprite also has his eyes glued to the lit-up screen in front of them, but his attention isn’t as absorbed as the blond. In fact, his thoughts are running wildly.

‘Big bug is definitely made up of dough. All that flesh couldn’t possibly be as human as everyone believes.’ Plagg’s eyes shifts to his holder’s face, or to what he is able to see from his angle. Suddenly, an idea comes to him. An idea so devious, so mischievous, he can’t help but allow the grin to spread across his velvety cheeks. If one were to look at him now, they would think him deranged with how wide his grin is, eyes and canine teeth glinting in the dimly lit room of his chosen. ‘This will be fun.’

The next morning while Adrien is busily putting his clothes on, Plagg floats right behind him where he is within hearing range. “You know, Adrien, last night had me thinking.”

“And did it hurt much?”

“I’m going to choose to ignore you being a smart mouth.” This gives the teen a laugh and a corner of his mouth lifts. “I’m glad you find this amusing. Anyway, back to what I was saying. Since you’re not the softest of dough out there,” the teen grunts in disagreement, “I do think there’s someone who is.”

“Oh? And who exactly does?” He has his back to Plagg, so it prevents Adrien from seeing the dangerous smirk plastered on his kwami’s face. “Do pray tell, who is the special person I must fight the title for?”

“Oh, just pigtails girl.” This stops Adrien from rummaging inside his bag, gradually turning back to the kwami.

“Wha…Marinette?”

“Yeah. Why, you jealous?”

“N-no! I just wasn’t…expecting that.” His eyes drop to the floor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t know just how soft they really are,” a lie, “but that’s what I think.” Plagg is confident to admit that when squinting hard enough, he sees the miniscule blush spreading across his holder’s face. The seed is planted, he now only needs to wait for it to grow into a fruitful harvest.

Skip to class hours, and Plagg once again finds himself inside big bug’s bag (heh, I had too much fun with alliteration) with Tikki. They’re both curled up against each other, enjoying the comfort of each other’s presence and taking a (cat) nap. He hears the teacher announce that she’s leaving the room for a few minutes to talk to someone, leaving the class to talk amongst themselves. Their murmurs gradually become louder like the buzzing of bees. He glances at the ladybug kwami, who is currently deep into dreamland. He carefully detaches himself away from her side, guilt twinging within him when he sees Tikki try to make up for the lack of warmth he was once providing her.

Promising to make it fast, his head pokes out of the small opening and peeks up to watch his plan unfold. Down to where he is, he sees Marinette talking excitedly to someone standing beside her with bright red hair, the previously akumatized Evillustrator, their sketchbooks opened and in full display in front of them. He then looks to the other side where his holder is, who actually looks to be surreptitiously stealing glances at big bug. It wasn’t too noticeable that the screeching banshee from the opposite row would call him out for it, but it was if one knew to look out for them. 'Plan is progressing.'

Akuma attack. Hawkmoth had no sense of taking a breather and thought of making another akuma during lunch break. This, of course, did not exempt Collège Françoise Dupont seeing it has become an infamous akuma – targeting school, much to the chagrin of staff and students. Outsiders, however, didn’t think too much and assumed that the villain terrorising their villain is just too fond of the school out of pure convenient manipulation.

Adrien, who is still highly entranced and distracted by the sight of his dearest friend’s cheeks, snaps out by just a second before flying debris hits them, accidentally tripping backwards and falling inside the open janitor’s closet with Marinette safely tucked in his arms. Before the chaos began, they had been standing close to each other nearby by ‘pure coincidence’ (which was the model secretly and subtly following around his friend) in front of the open closet. Neither of them notices something whizz in and out of the door as it closes, an object from the outside most likely hitting it from the outside with a loud thump. The impact and close physical contact between them allow Adrien to throw whatever personal space may have been allowed before the chaos and – softness. If someone were to ask Adrien what the first thought that came to him about the softness called Marinette’s cheeks, it would be, “like a squishy toy, so irresistible to touch and squeeze!”

Irresistible they were, not to mention the very thought of them had been – ahem, Plagging him since this morning, the teenager could no longer keep his impulse in check and reaches out. He does so ever so slowly, it makes the girl in his company catch him in the act. Him with his hand caressing the skin that almost felt similar to the rich velvet from the finest fabric store his father would sometimes bring him along with (which was rare). Completely absorbed with the sensational (get it? Hahaha…haha…ha) distraction his friend unwillingly provides, he –

“Adrien? W-what are you doing?” 'Gosh, even her voice sounds so soft.' “A-Adrien? Hey, are you okay? You’ve been acting distracted the whole day.”

It takes a few more fond nuzzlings of his hands to her cheeks before he wakes up from the hazy diversion, and he shakes his head for a clear mind. “U-uh, yeah. I’m fine. Okay. I-I’m s-so sorry, Marinette.” the model stammers, his blush taking over his entire face in quick succession. He suddenly realizes that his actions were far more…intimate than he’d ever initiated with her, with anyone! “I-uh… I don’t know what came over me, Mari! I really don’t –”

“H-hey, hey! It’s okay, really. Believe me, Adrien, I wasn’t e-expecting that, myself. But don’t beat yourself up with it, okay?”

“O-okay, Mari.”

Both teens are trying to look anywhere than the person they’re stuck with inside the janitor’s closet, and all they can do while they straighten up is convince themselves that the peeling paint from the walls and the dirty mop water in the bucket is far more interesting.

“So… an akuma, huh?” Adrien asks, but the voice in his mind says, ‘well that was a stupid question, you big dumdum.’ At this point, he doesn’t even question why the voice sounds like Plagg.

“Uh…yeah.” His good friend answers. His eyes eventually find the courage to look up, and he sees her holding tightly onto the strap of her purse. They’ve opted to not turn on the only source of light inside the closet, so he can see as far as the darkness and the night-vision he’d acquired from his miraculous (not that Marinette needed to know he was Chat Noir) provides him. Still, he can perfectly see how uncomfortable his friend is acting. what, with the way she’s currently switching the weight of her body from her right to left foot, her shoulders stiff, and – sweet mother of cats, the way she was pouting and puffing her cheeks like the hamster squishy he bought was litterally making her look paw meow apurrable than ever befur. ‘Wow, that’s the most puns I’ve made in a single sentence.’ A feat, and all in the name of the squishy and velvety – “A-Adrien?”

“Y-yeah?” He cringes when he hears the crack in his voice, cursing puberty silently and clears his throat. “I mean – yeah? Something wrong?”

“N-nothing, I’m just wondering if Chat Noir will be able to handle the akuma.”

“What about Ladybug?”

“I just have a feeling that she’ll be delayed today.”

“I dunno, Mari. Chat Noir might be stuck somewhere, too.” 'Like in a janitor’s closet with a cute friend.' He hears Marinette hum, unsure if she’s in agreement or not. He sees her step closer to the door, wary of her surroundings to avoid knocking over anything and making any noise to attract the akuma rampaging nearby. She leans her head on the door, listening for signs of the akuma’s presence.

“It sounds pretty quiet outside, but I can’t be too sure. We didn’t really get to find out what kind of akuma they were.”

“You’re right. Do you think we should take a peek at least?”

“Yeah, just let me find the door knob.” He sees her hand slowly going down to where the door knob is, and carefully takes hold. She steadily twists it, only for the door to remain closed. “It… I don’t think it’s locked, but something’s definitely blocking the door from opening.”

Cats Almighty, he’s feline screwed at the meowment. Not that he doesn’t enjoy Marinette’s company, but an akuma needs to be stopped as soon as pawsible. And in order to do that, transfurming without outing himself was mandatory. But if they had no way of getting help from someone outside without risking them getting caught, he’ll have no choice but to do it in front of her and expose himself. He feels Plagg scurrying in his overshirt pocket, but ignores him.

“Okay, Marinette?” she looks up from the turning of the door knob, eyes looking troubled.

“Right now, we’re stuck inside the janitor’s closet and we can’t exactly risk calling or texting for help from our friends without endangering them. So, I’m going to do something that I’m trusting you to keep to yourself. Can you do that?”

Her eyes widen, hearing the determination in his request. “Uh…okay. You can trust me.”

“Alright, Plagg – ”

“Is here to make his famous biscuits!” The kwami says, bursting out from Adrien’s overshirt and barreling himself towards the big bug in civilian in a blur of black.

Both of them come to a standstill, neither of them uttering a word to each other. Plagg, on the other hand, was all too busy to get his nubby paws onto the acclaimed dough. Adrien Agreste, who also goes by as Chat Noir, has just been outed by the very being who provides him the privilege of a superhero identity. Not that he was already planning it, but this didn’t really make it better.

“P-Plagg! What are you doing?” He gestures to his kwami’s behaviour. Without saying a word, the kwami does nothing but carry on with the kneading (which was completely adorable, he has to admit) and turns his head to face his holder. And with all the self-satisfaction a cat-sprite could ever have, he grins ever so widely with teeth showing, eyes narrowing in mischief. Adrien has never seen his kwami look more pleased with himself until now. Plagg, in a show of defiance, goes ahead and turns his head back to Marinette.

“What’s up, big bug? Did you miss me?”

The girl in question is frozen in shock, mouth gaping and hands tightening their grip on her purse’s strap. “U-uh… I don’t know what you’re talking about, Plagg.”

Adrien looks to be pondering about something; something that his kwami said. “Wait… you know Plagg?”

“What?! No, I don’t! I don’t know a Plagg or any other kwami!” She realizes her slip-up too late and puts a hand on her mouth, as if it would prevent anymore secrets to come out. Marinette’s eyes are opened wider now, which Adrien is willing to mirror on his own face.

“M…M’lady?” he watches as the girl he now knows as Ladybug start to crumble, trembling in anxiety and eyes widely looking anywhere but him. He sees his kwami cackling as he continues with his kneading, and a small red head with antennae is peeks up from inside Marinette’s purse, big blue eyes glaring at his kwami.

Before he can even ask what ladybug’s kwami’s name is, a red blur shoots out from the purse and tackles the cat-sprite.“I can’t believe you just instigated that, Plagg! And stop hogging Marinette’s cheeks! I was the one who introduced them to you, so scram!”

Marinette’s face has never been redder until now.

#Marinette Dupain-Cheng #adrien agreste #plagg #tikki #squishy #velvety #fanfic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #plagg being a little shit #Adrien wants to be called chiseled #Adrien's voice crack #fluff

[theladyofdeath]

10 Things I Hate About You {1}

An ACOTAR fanfiction. 

Nessian. Feysand. Elriel. Elucien.

Story inspired by the 1999 classic, 10 Things I Hate About You, and a prompt from anon.

Summary: Cassian gets dared to convince the university’s notorious bitch to attend the Greek winter formal with him. Elain is conflicted between her lifelong crush or the boy with the hazel eyes who makes her feel like more than just a pretty face. Feyre finds herself captivated by her school’s new janitor, but little does she knew that he’s not employed there by choice.

Warning: Rated M for mature.

Author’s Note: WELCOME. Get ready for a hell of a ride. I love to know your thoughts! + comment or send an ask if you want to be tagged.

Nesta loved music.

There was something soothing about a song that could completely enthrall an average person within the first few notes. Nesta would close her eyes, lie on her bed, and listen for hours.

In her studio apartment, she had built floating shelves along one wall, that ranged from the floor to the ceiling. Vinyl records and cds were organized in alphabetical order, by genre.

No one else was allowed to touch them.

Not that she had that many visitors.

But, it was why she had left her last roommate and begun to live alone.

An old, beat up piano and an acoustic guitar sat in the corner, between what served as her kitchen and her bedroom.

There were many days when Nesta wouldn’t even step out of her apartment, or days when the only time she would leave would be to go to the old record store on the corner.

At least, that’s how it was during the Summer months.

Now, it was September and the first day of her senior year at VU had approached. One more year. All she had to do was get through one more year, and she never had to step foot in an educational facility ever again.

It was about damn time.

Nesta had always hated school. Unfortunately, many believed it was necessary for future success.

Nothing like getting into debt that is forever impossible to pay off, just so you can one day make enough to, hopefully, survive.

It was a fucked up system, but Nesta endured it, nonetheless.

One day, she was going to open up her own music store. She was going to be a business owner - a successful one, unlike her father.

Her father stupidly ran his own business into the ground and was so devastated that he neglected to take care of his three children.

She would never be like her old man.

Nesta dropped her towel in front of her mirror and looked at her body. She was much too thin for her liking. She practically had the ass of a twelve-year-old boy. Tilting her head, she took a deep breath in through her nose and let it out through her lips.

Maybe she should start eating more.

Too bad food was so damn expensive and she had just spent five hundred dollars on books for the semester.

Fucked. Up. System.

Nesta pulled on a pair of jeans and decided on a long-sleeved black tee. She hated how college boys neglected to hide their wandering eyes, so Nesta dressed to avoid such altercations at all costs.

After grabbing her book bag off her couch, she was walking through the warm Velaris streets, her hair still damp from her shower.

She glanced at her phone screen. She had ten minutes to make it to her 9 a.m. class.

After a short curse, she picked up her pace.

She had lived on campus for the first two years but wasn’t a fan of it. Campus life typically revolved around idiot boys pretending to be men and girls who snuck out after hours. Her roommate, the one who touched her records, had a squeaky bed with heavy movement.

It squeaked often.

Although it was more expensive, Nesta decided to live alone just outside of campus. Her apartment was convenient - next to campus, next to the diner in which she worked, and walking distance to the music store. Although she had a car, she rarely used it.

But as her legs began to grow tired, she wondered why.

Her 9 a.m. class was on the far end of campus, so she hurried through a series of courtyards before finally reaching the old, looming brick building.

She pulled out her phone and pulled up her schedule as she entered. British Literature 1. Room 303.

There was a line at the elevator, so she took to the staircase.

She had two minutes to get to the third floor.

And she would have made it if it weren’t for him.

“Hey,” he said, stepping in front of her when she made it to the third floor. “Greek night is tonight. Come?”

Nesta tried to step past him but he followed her lead, handing her a flyer.

“Move,” she snapped.

He grinned, and she met his eyes for the first time. Hazel, bright. His shoulder length hair was a deep, dark brown.

His smile was beautifully dangerous, beautifully horrid.

“I’m going to be late, asshole,” she scowled. “Move.”

He folded up a flyer and stuck it in the side pocket of her backpack. “Fine. See you later.”

“No, you won’t,” she mumbled, knocking into his shoulder as she hurried past him.

She could hear his laughter follow her until she walked into room 303.

~~~~

Rhysand entered Amarantha’s office, already wanting to puke.

She was sitting behind her desk, her red-gold hair in a tight braid. Her eyes met his and she grinned.

“Ah, Rhysand,” she crooned. “You’re late for your first day on the job.”

Rhys shut the door but stayed near it as he replied, “Considering school has been in session for an hour, I assumed it would be okay.”

She raised a brow. “I’ll allow it, just this once.”

He gave her a curt nod.

“Here are your keys,” she said, tossing a ring across the room, which he easily caught. “There is a closet by the gym with all of your supplies. I expect you here from eight to five every day, Monday through Friday. Any step out of line, Rhysand, and you will be sorry. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” he replied, through gritted teeth.

She smiled, charmingly. “So uptight. I like you better relaxed.”

“Is small talk a part of my job description?” he asked, irritated.

“No,” she said, smile unwavering. “You may leave.”

“Fine,” he said, opening her door.

“And Rhysand?”

He stopped, but didn’t turn.

“Say goodbye before you leave this afternoon,” she said.

Rhysand shut the door quietly behind him.

He attempted to reel in his emotions as he strode through the silent hallways. Three years ago, he had been a senior at North Velaris High. Three years ago, he thought he’d be nearing the end of his college career at twenty-one. But, now, he was a janitor.

It’s not that he had anything against janitors.

He actually respected them greatly. They had to clean up some pretty horrible shit, after some pretty disrespectful teenagers.

But, he had never imagined himself as one.

Until now, he was going to VU for psychology. He had worked his ass off year round, even taking Summer classes.

But then, Summer came, once more, and Amarantha…

Knew.

She knew, and she held it over him. She hadn’t been his principle, she was only a few years older than he was. Rumor was, her father got her the job. It was her first year, and she had taken Rhysand with her.

She was keeping him close, keeping him near so she could watch his every move.

And he wouldn’t have done it unless he had to, wouldn’t have taken the job and abandoned everything else if he didn’t believe her threats.

He was caught up in a dangerous game.

A game he hadn’t even wanted to play in the first place.

Rhysand found his way to the janitor’s closet by the gym. After attempting half the keys on his key ring, he finally managed to get it open.

It was filled with supplies, ancient supplies, all that had been used by his father. He stepped inside and flipped on the light switch, brushing his fingertips along the broomsticks and the rags that lined the shelves.

There was a schedule posted on the wall in familiar handwriting.

Handwriting that Rhysand had grown up seeing.

Handwriting that belonged to a man he’d never see again.

Without giving it too much thought, he slipped the coveralls over his sweatpants and teeshirt before tending to his duties.

~~~~

The day passed quickly for Elain Archeron.

She was so busy prepping for Greek night that she’d barely made it to her afternoon class, and when it was over, she ran to Greek Row and into the house of Alpha Delta Pi, greeting her sisters before grabbing a clipboard and beginning her checklist.

It was nearly half an hour after four when two familiar faces showed up on the lawn.

Elain grinned, running to the curb. “So? I just hung the banner. What do you think?”

Feyre nodded in approval as Nesta glared at girls in passing.

“It’s beautiful, Elain,” Feyre smiled. “You did a great job. Sorry we couldn’t make it here earlier, tryouts went longer than I thought.”

Elain had almost forgotten that Feyre was trying out for the varsity soccer team. In her will to get everything set up, it had slipped her mind.

“How’d it go?”

“Good,” Feyre beamed. “They’re posting spots tomorrow. They also let me into two art classes this semester, since I finished all my math credits last year. And we got a hot, new janitor. So, overall, not a bad first day.”

Elain huffed a laugh. “That’s great, Feyre. Only one more year until you’re here with me.”

Nesta hadn’t said a word.

She hated the Greeks and everything they stood for, hated that Elain had spent three years in ADPi, even if their mom had been a part of the same sorority during her time at VU.

“I’m going to go see if anyone needs help,” Feyre smiled, hurrying across the yard.

“She’s brainwashed,” Nesta mumbled.

“Don’t be so hard on her,” Elain scolded. “Just because this isn’t your thing doesn’t mean it can’t be hers.”

“She only wants to join because of you and mom,” Nesta said, crossing her arms. “I mean, look at all of this. You’re all working your asses off to have a bunch of wannabe's ask you a million questions in five minutes, then leave.”

“If you don’t want to be here, why’d you come?” Elain asked, refusing to get angry, but growing frustrated.

“Feyre wanted to come,” she shrugged. “I’m not letting her walk around a college campus alone.”

“She wouldn’t be alone. She’d be with me.”

“You’re busy,” Nesta said. “Aren’t you going out with Vanserra tonight?”

Nesta couldn’t help the way she was. Or, maybe she could and just didn’t want to.

The way she said Vanserra made his name sound like filth.

“Yes, and I’m very excited about it, so it’d be nice if you were excited for me, too.”

“Excited about what?” Nesta scoffed. “Going out with a guy who only wants to take you to dinner so he can leave before breakfast?”

Elain’s brows furrowed. “He’s not like that. He’s not like the rest of them.”

“They’re all like that,” Nesta snapped, before pulling out her phone and sitting on the curb.

Elain sighed, catching the glimpse of a visitor.

He was wearing his typical, black jeans, which had rips in the knees. His boots were old, dingy, falling apart. He wore a plain black tee with a plaid button-down tossed over his shoulder.

Nesta looked up from her screen, fury igniting. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I see you came,” he winked. “It was because of my flyer, wasn’t it?”

Nesta chuckled. “You’re in a fraternity? Seriously?”

He didn’t answer her question. Instead, he looked up. “Hey, Elain. Lovely to see you, as always.”

Elain smiled, even though she felt the need to roll her eyes. “Hi, Cassian. All set up for the night?”

“Nothing fancy,” he shrugged. “Although, there is a party afterward. You should come.”

“I have plans,” she said, politely declining.

Cassian smiled down at Nesta. “How about you?”

“I’d rather bathe in gasoline and jump into a fire,” Nesta spat.

He chuckled and walked away, hands in his pockets.

“He doesn’t look like he’d be a frat boy,” Nesta said after he left.

“Kappa Sigma,” Elain said. “Party frat. We don’t take them too seriously.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, probably wondering why someone would take any fraternity or sorority seriously.

“You know, you probably would have liked it if you finished rush week freshman year,” Elain noted, before crossing her arms and walking toward the house. “At least I made it.”

~~~~

Nesta sat on the curb for a long while, watching as hopeful freshman went from house to house on Greek row.

She had been in their shoes once. Four years ago, she had walked the same walk on Greek row, excited to follow in her late mother’s footsteps.

She hadn’t made it through Rush, though.

She had left.

Had secluded herself.

Had begun to push everything and everyone away.

That week had changed her.

Feyre plopped down next to her on the grass just as the sun began to set. “I think I’m going to stay for a little while. I can get a ride home from one of the girls. You don’t have to wait for me.”

“It’s a school night.”

“Have I ever proven that I’m not responsible?”

Nesta glared at her youngest sister.

Feyre glared back.

She wasn’t wrong. Feyre was probably the most reliable out of all of them.

“Fine,” Nesta said, standing to her feet and brushing off her jeans. “Make good choices.”

Feyre lifted a brow. “Fine. You too.”

Nesta walked back to her apartment, alone, as the Velaris starlight made its appearance.

~~~~

Chapter two coming soon.

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @photofeesh @mariamuses @queen-archeron @agel-yan  @julesherondalex @rhysismydaddy @poisonous00 @katshrev         @girl-who-reads-the-books @a-trifling-matter @kickassunicorn  @illyrian-highfae @light-in-the-shadows72 @abimomeopectore @cjcraiggchiefofstaff        @empress-ofbloodshed  @outofstyles13  @overgrown-bat @thebitchupstairs @breccia-domain    @ladyblackstairs  @nish247  @my-fan-side  @panda3506 @awesomethreedragons  @hawkingeloise @feysand-dot-acotar  @darknessinthediamond @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @illyrianbae99      @i-look-like-a-mess  @my-parabatai-is-a-herondale @justacatastrophe @sofyyyd  @sannelovesreading  @kylizzles @kiss-my-maas @inrealliampain     @alien-from-pluto-writer @corpdemarvel @lorcanswife @aelinsaesthetic @illyriangarbage 

#tacmc TTIHAY #TTIHAY #nessian #feysand #elriel #elucien #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm

[bananashemmo]

Soccer Boy (Part 2)

Pairing: Y/N/College!Football!Calum

Rating: All

Request: No

Words: 3.500+

Summary: Freezing cold and out of place, Y/N steals a hoodie that appears to be football and college boy Calum’s while she’s watching her first game at the college football field.

“And let’s not forget. Coffee isn’t the replacement of sleep. 8 hours a day keeps the dark circles under your eyes away.”

You rolled your eyes deeply and pushed the doors open to the hallway. Who decided that Smilla Gilbot was going to announce the morning news every morning over the speakers and adding a bit of ‘charm’ to the end with her great advice.

Throwing the finished iced coffee from Expresso House into the trashcan you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. How ironic.

You were met by voices, tired morning yawns, doors opening and closing as well as people moving past each other. Their feet were echoing against the floor that was shiny and clean marble. The janitor must have been working hard this weekend.

Monday was impressively, apart from Friday, the most active day at college. If you divided the week into categories, you would usually see a pattern from student to student.

Tuesday was the day where people had grown tired and already regretted they met for classes on Monday. Wednesday was little Thursday where the parties would start to be hosted, some that were large and some there would only be served beers with less than 3% alcohol.

Thursday was always considered little Friday. If you weren’t partying on little Friday what were you even doing with your life? Not that you could relate, you didn’t even party on Fridays.

Friday was the ultimate day where everyone would meet. Not because they wanted to attend classes or because they wanted to learn something intellectually. It was basically their one-way ticket to get everyone invited and also getting the attention of those who weren’t. It was all about being seen and heard at River Falls College.

Saturday was the starter pack of hungover but with the replacement of just getting drunk again. This was where all the Fraternities held parties, knowing they would be even bigger than on Saturday.

If you weren’t full on hungover on Sunday, what did you even do the whole weekend?

You walked past the few students who were sharing cigarettes in between. They knew the school’s laws, smoking had to be past the fence. But nobody said they weren’t allowed to trade in between.

You stopped in track in front of the water foundation and looked at your reflection into the mirror having above.

Who wanted to look at yourself when drinking water? You didn’t understand why in the world they had decided to hang a mirror there. It was filled with stains from the water splashing.

Your hair bun had already gone lazy. It was still large and puffy, but hanging against the rest of the hair that was fighting a hard battle to escape from the dark brown elastic band.

No surprise you were in a rush this morning. You had fallen asleep still in your clothes, you had been studying for the whole night. Not because you had a test this morning but because the book was so exciting you couldn’t stop.

You did stop though when your eyes grew too tired. You hadn’t even noticed you had fallen asleep before the morning sun was rising through your window. Your lamp next to your bed was still on and burning in your face.

It was in such a rush you barely thought you would make it to first class. Your dorm was like, at least a kilometer away from the middle of campus. So much for living in one of the expensive ones. You just didn’t want to share a community kitchen with four others.

You yawned quietly and headed towards your locker. Pretty simple, 124. Nothing you needed to remember or write behind your ear.

What you hadn’t expected was getting a locker again. Since college you had always been disgusted by the lockers, they were filled with either mold or cobweb. You didn’t understand how those small bastards aka spiders managed to crawl into your old locker.

These were brand new and white with a black border edge. You had a lot more space and you were also able to hang your coats at the top because of the hook.

You dusted off your leather jacket from the small droplets of water that had fallen during the rain. It was like the rain never stopped in Sydney during Spring.

You looked over your shoulder to see Smilla walk out of the office room with a satisfied smile on her face. She probably assumed everyone had been listening.

You never understood why she wanted to meet up before she had classes. Nobody was ever listening to the news - especially not at college. It was rare they were fully awake to listen.

It just sounded like mumbles in the corners of the hallway where the speakers were positioned.

Today was easy. You only had one class and it was with the sophomores which, according to you, weren’t really on the same level as the freshmen. It was like your year just knew their shit better considering they had only been through half a semester.

You hung your leather jacket into your locker and shut it afterward. There was no reason to carry it around, you had just thrown it on so the hoodie you were wearing wouldn’t be wet.

There was nothing worse than sitting in class with your clothes completely wet. That stinking smell of wet clothes would carry you for the rest of the day and you wanted to be prepared.

You were actually in such a great time considering you were late. There was still 15 minutes left until it started and you would be sitting in the exact same spot as you always did.

Second row, fifth from the left.

It was a great spot because you could catch up with what was going on, but not necessary sit in front where all the aspires were sitting.

You liked it because you could stay quiet when you wanted without being noticed and be active in class if something was completely out of control.

You just managed to switch your books when you were met by a huge smile. And just a little shock going through your mind but you tried to shrug it off by not having wide eyes.

“Do you like it?”

Your mouth opened, yet you couldn’t form a proper sentence that wouldn’t sound like a lie.

You were a horrible lier.

“I uh-, I think it’s a change.” You managed to stutter, trying not to hurt Cassie’s feelings.

Short but detailed introduction. Cassie, alternatively known as Cassandra Goodfield. Your best classmate at college and she was aspiring to become a real state agent as well. You were having the same classes and saw each other every day.

You had been speaking to her yesterday but she just hadn’t mentioned the small detail about her hair.

“I dyed it myself. I know I’m not a professional but I think it went pretty well.” She looked into the dirty windows, wanting to see her reflection.

You glanced carefully at her. Now your eyes were wide because you didn’t want to ask if she had made mistakes. Her hair had always been pretty and long.

Before, a beautifully chestnut honey colored brown hair with a natural glow that could almost compare to Nina Dobrev’s role as Katherine Pierce in The Vampire Diaries.

Now, platin blond with a shine of urine color in which you almost felt attacked. Maybe your eyes were too sensitive.

“I thought I needed a change you know, breaking up with David was kind of harsh.” She ran a hand through her hair with her long fingernails, they were shining just as much as the hair but luckily in a lovely Bordeaux red color.

Harsh enough she needed to burn her scalp with bleaching?

“It’s different.” That was the first thing that came to your mind when she opened her locker diagonally opposite of yours.

“And you know I like a difference.”

She smiled all over her face and you returned it. Or you just imagined you looked really awkward because that was how it felt lying.

“So, have you seen Oscar today?” She asked and glanced towards the left. You followed your gaze to see Oscar Flane stand with his back facing you.

“I have now.” You said in a singing voice like it wasn’t obvious and sighed.

“Seems like he’s given up,” Cassie commented, staring at him almost in confusion.

Oscar was from the economy classes in which you sometimes shared classes. It was like he was attracted to being rejected. You couldn’t do anything without him being almost in your heels and almost every single day he had a new pickup line.

He was sweet you had to admit. But there was just something about his attitude that made you just want to put a paper bag over your head that said ‘no, thank you.

But today he wasn’t even standing ready to welcome you.

You noticed that he was looking weirdly towards your direction. Almost as if he felt prevented from approaching you. You didn’t want to invest your time in wondering why he was acting differently. You just changed the topic instead but Cassie came before you.

“You read today’s pages?” She asked, running fingers through her hair. It was like the curls, in the end, had gone missing and replaced with straight lines. Weird how changing your hair color could change the texture.

“So much I fell asleep. This is my attire from yesterday.” You nodded down at yourself and she furrowed her eyebrows.

She stared so much you were starting to grow confused. Were there stains on your shirt? You hadn’t been eating anything with sauce yesterday or something that could leave spots.

“What are you-,” You looked down at yourself and looked at the black hoodie. That was when the realization hit.

Oh my god.

She was quick to flip you 180 degrees, pressing your chest against the lockers.

“Shut up!” She mumbled, but twice. Second time louder.

“Please, no.” You almost wanted to whine out loud. This couldn’t be happening.

“You’re wearing Calum Hood’s hoodie!”

You knew she didn’t do it on purpose but it was said so loud it was like you caught attention on the whole hallway.

“Cassie!” You whisper-yelled, trying to stay low-key. God this was such a mistake of yours.

You didn’t know it was his when you put it on last night. Or you were aware, but after you had put it on. It was laying on your chair by your desk and it was black you assumed it was yours. When you had put it on you didn’t want to take it off because it didn’t matter and nobody was around to see.

But being in such a rush you hadn’t noticed the ‘Hood 25’ standing on your back.

“It’s no big deal.” You were trying to calm her down. She was beyond excited and you didn’t even understand. Last week you didn’t even know who he was and she was treating him like a celebrity.

“No big deal?” She questioned like you were insane, “It’s a huge deal! We’re talking about the Calum Hood who is left center-forward on our football team!”

You talk like I’m supposed to be impressed?” You weren’t trying to be harsh, but she knew your relationship when it came to football. Sports in general. The only thing you would do is run.

“I am impressed, fuck your opinion.” She said the last bit with a wink and stuck her tongue out.

“Do you know what that means-,” Before Cassie could continue her question, she was interrupted by Lara standing a few lockers away.

“Oh hell no.” Lara mumbled under her breath in disbelief. Her lips turned into a tight line and with a harsh smack, she closed her locker.

“Run, run, run.” Cassie repeated with wide eyes but you were both standing still.

Lara had never seemed like the intimidating one. But inside she was a true devil. It wasn’t just that she was a part of the cheerleaders and represent for the newspaper club. She was everywhere and if something didn’t go her way, you would hear for it.

She didn’t push you, you distanced yourself and accidentally connected to the lockers. She seemed so intimidating you just reacted from her actions.

You weren’t the one to judge but since she was wearing a cheerleading uniform, you already understood what kind of class she was coming from. It was too easy stating that college didn’t have groups and classes of people with the same interests.

Not that you didn’t know who she was. Everyone had heard of Lara, not because they were talking about her but because she was making sure everyone remembered her name.

“Where did you steal that, Y/L/N?” She questioned, crossing her arms.

You were pretty surprised she even remembered your last name. She never really seemed like she cared you were walking past her around campus.

“I didn’t steal it?” You answered. Okay, a little bit of a lie but you were allowed to wear it now.

She scoffed loudly and rolled her eyes. You looked over at Cassie who stood with wide eyes. She was even surprised Lara walked over to you in the first place. She must have eyes of a hawk since she noticed the hoodie.

“How did you get it?” Lara asked instead, thinking you were dumb.

“Why the sudden interrogation?” You didn’t understand where this was going and you were tripping.

“Because I need to know!” She sounded desperate, you were trying not to laugh.

You had no idea why the sudden fuss but she wasn’t leaving until she got her answers. You were still standing with your back pressed against the white lockers. How could she be so intimidating and only being 5′4?

“Looks who’s already far up in your ass.”

You both looked towards the sudden sound of Calum, watching him approach you with a smirk spreading on his face.

Lara took a step back just in reaction and placed a hand to her hip. You weren’t sure what was going on through her mind but it wasn’t just græshopper.

“I’m not far up in her ass.” Lara was quick to disagree and Calum crossed his arms.

“I see you all over her. She hasn’t even done anything.” Calum explained and stood next to you, deciding to lean against the lockers as well so it wasn’t that intimidating.

“She’s wearing your hoodie!” It was like she was trying to use it as an argument but it came out weak.

“Yes?” Calum answered in question, “Because I gave it to her?”

“But,” Lara seemed frustrated, almost wanting to rip out the strands of hair from her ponytail.

“I never got the chance to wea-,”

“Lara, find someone else to comment on.” Calum stopped her from finishing her sentence and crossed his arms.

Lara opened her mouth again, not caring about what he said. She never took orders from anyone unless her lead captain of the team was in charge. That way, you would see her make honors when getting instructions.

She was about to open her mouth again but Calum silenced her just by looking at her.

“Lara.” Calum looked at her with serious eyes, “Leave.”

Lara’s mouth shut close and she looked at Calum angrily but still obeyed to his demand.

She flicked her hair as she turned around and disappeared down the hallway.

You looked up at Calum who couldn’t help but laugh, his eyes adverting down to yours.

Cassie bit her lip excitedly and started to back away. You looked towards her with wide eyes because why did she have to leave at such an intense moment like this.

“See you later, Y/N.” She mouthed and started to make body motions that made your cheeks turn red. You almost wanted to yell for her to ‘cut it’ but it would cause Calum to look over his shoulder and you definitely didn’t want that to happen.

“I feel like I’ve seen that before,” He commented and grabbed the hem of the sleeve.

You looked down at his hand that was actually tattooed and glanced back at him.

“I acquired the hoodie.” You sounded so serious, probably not intended and the way you were looking at him he couldn’t help but laugh.

“I assume you’ve been given stares all morning,” He casually said and started to walk. You didn’t know why but your feet carried you away before you could think.

“Is that why people are looking at me?” You asked as a joke, “I just assumed I had mascara below my eyes.”

“Well, also that.” He answered and you stopped in track.

“What?” You asked and looked up at him. You hadn’t noticed when taking a look in the mirror.

“I’m just kidding.” He smiled, “You don’t have anything.”

You silently breathed out in relief. You didn’t want to look like a fool, you felt just leaving the shower behind this morning was enough. There was nothing like being addicted to washing your hair.

“Is this my queue to say you look pretty cute in it?” He asked, catching your attention again.

“Stop, I’m allergic to compliments. Seriously. Deathly allergic.” You answered and he quivered an eyebrow with a smile.

“You know you’re pretty funny, Y/L/N.” He opened the door to one of the gardens that were placed around the hallways. You both walked outside and stopped by one of the rose bushes.

“I’m calling myself a human party bus.” You almost said it in monotone and he laughed again.

“Is this the time for me to return it back? I mean, people won’t talk to me while wearing this apparently.”

“Who won’t talk to you?” Calum lifted an eyebrow and leaned his long body against of the outdoor tables.

You bit down on your lip and shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t even know if you’re familiar with Oscar Flane.”

“Champagne socialist? I know him.” Calum nodded his head, “You can see his white Ralph Lauren shirt ironed from meters apart.”

You furrowed your eyebrows by the name he gave Oscar but shrugged it off. That was a time for another story.

“He’s kind of-, I don’t even know what he’s onto or if he’s crushing on me but he wouldn’t even speak to me this morning. He was just glancing weirdly.”

Calum suddenly understood what was going on and licked his lips.

“You don’t know about the boy codex at River Falls?” He asked and you shook your head.

There were so many intern rules at this place you couldn’t keep along. It was hard trying to understand if people took it seriously or just shrugged it off unless it came to their benefit.

“It’s this old rule meaning that if a girl is wearing a football hoodie by one of the college players’ she’s a territory. Meaning every other boy trying to talk to her in any sort of romantic flirtatious way will break the bro code. It doesn’t matter if they’re popular or not. Many of the boys know.”

You widened your eyes and felt how it was getting a little bit hotter suddenly wearing the hoodie. You weren’t sure if your red cheeks heated the rest of your body.

“So as long as you’re wearing mine. It’ll keep you safe.”

It was weird thinking that a piece of fabric would have such a connection. It wasn’t just the fact that hearing the rules made it special. You already felt protected just by wearing it in general.

You looked up at Calum and watched him smile gently. There were no intentions behind this. He was pure, polite and sweet.

You looked down at your phone and your eyes widened realizing the time.

“Shit,” You cursed, “I have to get to class.”

You almost had to push past him to get inside, hurrying towards the hallwasy but not before watching him over your shoulder smiling. 

#THE LONG AND WAITED PART 2 #FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED #And requests for part 3 if wanted!! #5sos #2019 #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #5sos fanfiction #5sos fanfictions #5sos smut #5sos smuts #5sos preferences #5sos preference #5sos blurb #5sos blurbs #5sos series #5sos scenarios #soccer boy #college!5sos #football!5sos #college!calum #football!calum #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer preference #5 seconds of summer preferences #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer smut #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #luke hemmings

[destielstuffandthings]

Body Language

For my @daisyannewinchester who is feeling a little blue- A Sastiel ficlet

“Cas!”

The scream echoed through the bunker.

Dean looked up from his laptop and paused mid bite of his cherry pie.

“CAS!” The voice yelled again.

Dean heard footsteps pounding down the hallway. A very angry, very ruffled angel entered the room.

“Hey Cas. I think Sam’s lookin’ for you,” Dean jerked his head towards his brothers room.

“I AM Sam!” not Cas yelled.

Dean shook his head and laughed. “Dude, how much did you drink last night?”

“This isn’t funny Dean! I woke up and,” not Cas pats over his body, “I---I look like Cas now!”

Dean pushed his plate away and sat back in his chair. “Tell me somethin’ only Sam would know?”

“What? Dean now is not the time to play games!”

Dean raised an eyebrow.

“FIne. Um, in ninth grade you skipped class to make out with Sherry Rogers in the janitors closet.”

Dean scoffed. “Like that’s proof--”

“And with Taylor Peterson.”

“Shit, SAM?!” Dean gasped.

“Yes, damn it, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Not Cas screeched.

Just then Cas/Sam walked into the room. “Um, I think---there seems to be a problem.”

“Ya think?” not Cas sighed. “What the hell happened? Why am I in your body? And why do I feel--,” he pinched his eyes shut, “I feel tingly?”

Cas/Sam nodded. “That’s your--my--ugh. It’s grace. You’re feeling grace coursing through your body.”

“Whoa, cool,” not Cas sighed, holding his hand out and staring at his fingers. “This is so cool. You feel this all the time?”

“Not so much. You get used to it,” Cas/Sam shrugged. “Just don’t try to fly. Who knows where you’ll end up and if you can get back.”

Dean leaned against the table and chuckled.

Not Cas put his hands on his hips. “This is funny to you? What if we’re attacked? Or have a case? We need to get changed back as ASAP, Dean.”

Dean laughed harder. “I’m sorry, it’s just fuckin’ funny. You,” he pointed at not Cas, “look hilarious. You look like Cas but you’re DEFINITELY acting like Sam. And you,” he pointed to the man wearing his brothers face, “I’ve never seen Sammy so serious.” He furrowed his brows and lowered his chin. In a mocking tone he said “Don’t try to fly.” He laughed again. “Oh, man. I think this is my favorite day.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, not Cas and Cas/Sam are nose deep in lore books, looking for anything that might change them back.

“Maybe we should call Rowena,” Cas/Sam suggested.

“That might work, but usually somethin’ like this,” he waved a hand between them, “is for a reason. Or a spell.”

“We haven’t left the bunker in a week, Dean,” not Cas sighed.

Cas/Sam rolled his head back and cracked his neck. “I don’t know how you do it. My body....it hurts. All the time.” He pushed his flannel shirt up to his elbows and rubbed his forearm. “I think---did you break your arm at some point? It didn’t heal correctly.”

Not Cas chuckled. “Yeah, a few years ago. Just threw it in a sling and let it heal. Still works. Why do you always wear this coat?” Not Cas pulled at the sleeve and shrugged out of the coat. “It’s so hot and stuffy.”

“I like my coat,” Cas/Sam defended.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I cannot stand this,” Cas/Sam groaned. “How many times do you go to the bathroom a day?” He stood up and walked down the hallway towards the restroom.

Dean snorted into his cup of coffee. “Alot,” Dean called out.

“Dean, what’s this?” Not Cas stormed in, throwing a book down hard on the table.

“Uh, looks like a book.”

Not Cas flipped the book open and slid it towards Dean. “A body switching spell. I found this under your bed.”

“What were you doin’ in my room man? Not cool!”

Cas/Sam reentered the room. “What’s wrong?”

“Seems like Dean decided to play a prank on us,” he huffed, pointing to the book.

Cas/Sam picked up the book and read it slowly. “Dean, you didn’t--”

“What? Come on guys, it was funny. We haven’t had a case in forever and I thought---”

“Switch us back. NOW,” not Cas yelled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean tossed the last ingredient into the bowl. “Switch tergum eorum,” he chanted.

Yellow and blue whisps bled through their fingertips and into the air. THe two men watched as their energies returned to their own bodies. Sam flexed his fingers and rubbed his arm. Cas promptly put his jacket back on and rolled his shoulders.

“There, good as new,” Dean grunted. “You babies happy now?”

Cas and Sam looked at each other.

“Wanna get him back?” Sam asked.

Dean’s eyes widened.

“Absolutely,” Cas smiled.

#supernatural #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #prank #body switch