#I smudged all my nails trying to find an appropriate shirt to wear

[hioyourluv]

Being a teenager is so much fun until. The rage.

[kar-krashew]

my someplace is here [AO3]

Five times Alec gay panics at a bus stop (ft. umbrellas, jackets, and a bus driver who really isn't paid enough for this).

rated: T

for @rainyhuman and @peachygos (ily!)

This is so cliché and over the top and I have absolutely no regrets <3. Sometimes (always) Alec is a himbo who is in love and his actions reflect this entirely. I don't control these things.

One.

Alec Lightwood doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but the man across the bus stop is absolutely gorgeous, and he’s twirling in the rain like a goddamn movie cliché, and Alec’s first thought is holy shit, so maybe Alec Lightwood is an idiot, and love at first sight is definitely a Thing.

Alec’s second thought is that the man is an absolute maniac— because really, the dude doesn’t even have a coat on— but Alec’s the one with an insane urge to kiss a stranger in the middle of the street, so, whatever; They’re probably both maniacs.

Alec’s third thought is that he’s about to miss his bus. Shit.

—

Two.

For the record, Alec does not usually walk into bus stop poles while staring at his phone, nor does he usually yell out “Ow, shit — !” if the aforementioned event does happen to occur. He does, however, end up doing both of these things at once a week later, and the stifled laughter behind him informs him that someone at the stop has definitely seen him, and he’s never going to live this down, ever.

“I’ve personally found that walking around an obstacle tends to be much more effective, darling,” the someone says, and Alec supposes that was called for, but hey, rude. He looks up to face the speaker, preparing himself to be offended, and—

Oh.

It’s the beautiful stranger from last time.

The man smirks at him from the bench, drenched again, and God, he’s even prettier up close. Brown eyes, smudged eyeliner, water trickling down his neck, with a tunic open down to his navel and pants that look painted on— Alec’s brain is short-circuiting.

“Hit your head a little hard there? Or do you just see something you like?”

“Huh?” Alec glances up from where he’s been staring at the man’s collarbones.

“I asked if you saw something you liked, pretty boy,” the man repeats.

Alec opens his mouth, presumably to say something that would be considered appropriate and normal in this situation, but he somehow misses his own memo and instead stammers out: “I, uh, I have an umbrella.”

He prays the rain will have mercy and just drown him on the spot.

The man’s brow quirks upwards in amusement. “Excuse me?”

Alec, unfortunately, is still alive, so he must now suffer the embarrassment he’s managed to cause himself and find a way to explain whatever has just come out of his mouth. He ducks his head, trying to avoid eye contact as he speaks. “If you want it,” he elaborates, “I have an umbrella I can give you.”

The stranger just looks at him for a moment. Alec’s sure he’s going to be told to fuck off (which would be a perfectly understandable reaction and probably have been his own in this situation) but after another second, the man defies all of his expectations and grins, so wide that it steals a little of Alec’s breath away.

“Handsome and chivalrous, I see. Do you make a habit of offering your belongings to strangers?” the guy asks. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll need it later. Perhaps you should rescind your offer, I promise I won’t harbor any grudges.”

“I have a coat,” Alec insists, “and you’re. . .” —incredibly attractive, doing things to my brain function— “more in need of its services.”

He’s not really sure why he’s so adamant about this, especially since the man is right: he will be needing the umbrella later, but his pride’s involved now, and he hasn’t really been thinking things through for the past ten minutes anyway. He might as well argue about his dumb umbrella with a beautiful man at a bus stop.

“I suppose you’re right,” comes the man’s response. He taps painted nails against his chin as he hums. “I’m not in much of a position to refuse, now, am I? Though, I doubt I’d refuse any position with you involved,” he winks. “But, yes, if you’re being serious, I shall gladly accept your umbrella.”

Alec blinks. He honestly did not think that argument would’ve worked. (He chooses to ignore the blatant innuendo to preserve his sanity for now.)

“Well?” the man prompts.

“Oh! Yeah, sure.” Really, the whole zoning-out-while-staring-at-the-hot-guy thing is going to become a problem very fast if Alec keeps doing it every two minutes. He gathers his thoughts enough to fumble with the umbrella in his hand and give it to the man, who accepts it with a graceful flourish.

“I’m Magnus Bane, by the way,” the man offers. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

“I’m Alec. Lightwood. My name’s Alec Lightwood.”

Magnus holds out a ring-covered hand from where he’s sitting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alec. Short for Alexander, I presume?”

“Yeah,” Alec nods. He reaches out to shake Magnus’s hand, adding, “but no one really calls me that.”

Magnus’s smile turns into something incredibly flirty, and Alec can feel his cheeks heating up. “I like to be special, Alexander,” the other says, “and it suits you far better.”

Alec’s not really sure how to respond to that, because the way Magnus says his name is doing things to him, and that, combined with the fact that he’s still clutching Magnus’s soft hand in his own, is probably going to give him a heart attack. He’s about to say something decidedly stupid about Magnus already being special and perfect and amazing when the bus saves him from humiliation and pulls up next to them.

Alec releases Magnus’s grip to awkwardly gesture at the vehicle. “I should really. . . you know,” he trails off, and Magnus blinks at him for a second, surprised.

“Oh, right! You should get going, places to be and all that.” He waves his hand through the air dismissively. “I’ll return your umbrella to you next week, same time?”

Alec smiles dopily as he nods. “That sounds great.” He takes a step back. “I’ll see you soon, then?”

“Of course.” Magnus gives him a little wave. “It was lovely to meet you, Alexander. Safe travels.”

“Thanks, uh, you too.”

Having to walk home in the rain is so worth it.

—

Three.

Izzy laughs at Alec for the entire week when she finds out why his umbrella’s been missing, then makes it worse by telling Jace, who gives Alec an incredibly long-winded speech about umbrellas as metaphors for protection during sex or something. He also deigns to throw a condom at Alec’s face when he leaves to get the bus, which sends Izzy into another bout of cackling laughter.

They’re both assholes, and Alec is never going to cover for them at family dinners ever again.

So he’s scrolling through his phone at the bus stop, trying his best to ignore the increasingly obscene texts his siblings are sending him, when Magnus shows up, bright and beaming and decidedly dry this time, though he’s still not wearing a jacket despite the cold.

And dear lord. If Alec thought Magnus looked gorgeous while soaked in rainwater, this is something else entirely. Gold-streaked hair, unbuttoned shirt, immaculate matching eyeshadow— fuck.

“Alexander!” Magnus greets. He sits down beside Alec on the bench, and grins as he hands over Alec’s umbrella. “Finally a little dry, hm? Though I might’ve underestimated the cold and left my coat back home.”

“Yeah,” Alec says. “Not that you were wearing one when it was raining.” He’s trying his best not to stare at Magnus’s mouth, but the man is very close to Alec’s face right now, and he cannot be blamed if his gaze slips a few times, okay? He’s only human.

Magnus shrugs, drawing Alec’s sight to his shoulders instead. “Coats are irrelevant, anyway. I haven’t worn mine all week, so I might as well continue the trend,” he remarks, and Alec snorts.

“I don’t think that’s as impressive as you think it is. You sound like a petulant toddler. How have you not had, like, five colds by now?” he says. Magnus feigns a pout in response, and Alec stifles a laugh.

“Such cruelty, Alexander!” Magnus replies, “Ah, I suppose I’ll just have to suffer the elements until I’m finally back home again, since no one seems to harbor any sympathy for me. Woe is me, and all that.” He tightens his hands around his biceps, rubbing up and down to warm himself up while sighing dramatically, and Alec, well,

Alec gets a really stupid idea.

“Do you want my jacket?” he asks. “I won’t be out in the cold for that long, and I’m wearing a much warmer shirt than you are.”

Magnus’s lips part in surprise as something conflicted flashes behind his eyes. “I—” he starts, then clears his throat. “I wasn’t being serious, darling. That’s your jacket.”

“Is that a no?”

There’s a moment of silence before Magnus shakes his head. “No, it’s not. I, uh, I’d love that.”

Alec beams, and Magnus clears his throat again. “You’re horribly trusting of someone you’ve only met twice,” he says, voice a little strangled, but Alec just shrugs as he begins to wrestle the black fabric off of his shoulders.

“It’s just a jacket,” he explains, leaning closer to drape it over Magnus, “Even if I never got it back, at least you wouldn’t freeze to death on your way to wherever you’re headed.” He fixes the lapels dutifully, and smiles to himself. “Besides, you’ve already given me my umbrella. I trust you.”

“Is that so,” Magnus answers weakly, which prompts Alec to look up from his fiddling, and oh wow, their mouths are so close to each other’s.

If Magnus inches in just a little bit closer, then they’d—

They’d—

“Um!” Alec jerks backwards, face flushing, “Yes, uh,” he stammers, trying not to look overwhelmed. It’s not going great, because moving back means that he’s now being treated to the sight of Magnus in Alec’s jacket, and he’s having some issues thinking properly right now. It swallows Magnus’s wrists almost entirely and looks far too plain for his expensive printed shirt, but fuck. It’s possible that Alec didn’t think this through.

Magnus opens his mouth, hopefully to tell Alec to kiss him but also probably to tell him to fuck completely off for whatever move they almost pulled, but the bus suddenly turns the corner and pulls into view, cutting him off.

Alec’s not sure whether he’s relieved or furious about this.

“Next week, then,” he ventures. Magnus blinks at him slowly, then nods.

“Yes, of course,” he smiles softly. “Next week.”

—

Four.

“Remind me again, why your presence is necessary today?” Alec grits through his teeth, tightly gripping his umbrella as the rain pours down on them. Izzy punches his arm, not even looking up from her phone as she does so, where she is no doubt giving Jace a play-by-play of Alec’s every action as they walk towards the bus stop.

“Because I’m never one to miss out on good blackmail content,” she replies, which is true. She’s got about four folder’s worth of content of “embarrassing shit Alec has done” on her phone, most of it consisting of his painful attempts at being straight in high school, and Alec’s pretty sure she’s started a fifth, probably titled “Alec’s horrible attempts at flirting with men,” which isn’t that much better than the straight one. Alec is debating turning around and just walking to his destination so that his sister won’t be able to gain more content for her virtual blackmail folders, which is exactly when Magnus comes into Alec’s field of vision.

Alec freezes in his tracks. Holy shit.

Magnus is standing in the center of the street again, drenched from head to toe with his head thrown back . The streetlights illuminate him from above, highlighting the curve of his neck and the colored streaks in his hair as he laughs to himself, staring up at the stars.

He looks ethereal. Alec’s never been one for the romantics, but he’s pretty sure this is what poets mean when they talk about true love and angels and immortal moments in time.

“Oh, he’s hot,” Izzy whispers approvingly. Alec agrees, because, obviously, but he pretends he’s unaffected and straightens his face.

“He’s probably freezing,” he says instead. Izzy rolls her eyes— she gets that from him, he really should stop doing that— and then, before Alec can stop her, calls out.

“Hey! Hot Umbrella Guy!”

What the fuck.

“Are you insane?” Alec hisses. He was trying to look nonchalant and not like the totally lovestruck idiot he is, but now Izzy is waving at Magnus like a maniac and Magnus has noticed them and is walking towards them and Alec is going to die. He’s going to write Izzy out of his will and then he is going to collapse into a heap of embarrassment and gay panic right here, and it’s going to be his sister’s fault.

“Relax a little, hermano,” Izzy replies, and before Alec can provide her with an alphabetized list for every reason he cannot relax, Magnus is already standing before them, smiling as water trickles from his hair.

God, he’s beautiful.

“Hello, hello!” he greets. Alec suddenly notices that Magnus is wearing Alec’s jacket, which is, well. Something. (Izzy is never going to let him live this down, and also Alec is having a very hard time thinking any thoughts.)

Magnus seems to notice Alec’s wandering line of sight, following it and glancing down, eyes widening. “Oh my god, I was fully intending to return this to you, I’m so sorry. I got a little distracted. I’ll have it cleaned and returned to you next time, I promise,” he explains. Alec shakes his head.

“No worries,” he manages, cutting himself off before he says something even stupider like “it’s yours forever” or “marry me” or something, and Izzy snorts from beside him. Alec hates her.

“Thank you,” Magnus says, then turns to face Izzy, “And what may I call you, dear?”

“I like him,” Izzy declares, in what Alec assumes is meant to be a reassuring whisper but instead ends up being incredibly loud, “I’m Izzy, Alec’s sister. And I assume you’re the elusive Magnus I’ve heard so much about?”

“Izzy,” Alec warns. Magnus smirks and shakes her hand.

“The one and only,” he confirms. There’s a mischievous sort of glint in his eye as he glances back up at Alec, and Alec’s not sure how he feels about Magnus and his sister already getting along so well, but he’s sure it can’t lead anywhere good.

“Well, Isabelle,” Magnus says, “If I asked him, do you think your brother would join me for a dance?”

Alec chokes. “What?” he splutters. Magnus turns his grin to face him.

“If I asked, Alexander, would you join me for a dance?”

“I—” Alec starts, staring down at the hand Magnus has outstretched in front of him. There are so many reasons he should say no, and so many reasons this is a bad idea, but also the most beautiful man Alec has ever seen is holding his hand out for him to take, and what else is he supposed to do? “Yeah,” he says. “Sure.”

The first thing Alec notices is how soft Magnus’s hand is in his as he pulls him out into the rain, laughing as it hits his face again, and Alec can’t help but laugh along even as water soaks into his shoes and drenches into his socks. There’s something so childish about it; giggling and spinning in an empty street without any music, holding hands like toddlers, and Alec wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You’re thinking too much,” Magnus murmurs, then he tilts his head back and closes his eyes. “It’s about being in the moment.”

Alec smiles. If only he knew, all he’s thinking about is this moment: how the water catches in Magnus’s lashes, how he’s humming something entirely off-key under his breath, the way he presses against Alec’s chest. Fuck. Alec’s known this man for three days, and he’s halfway in love already.

He closes his eyes against the rain, too, and smiles at the thought: loving a man like Magnus Bane.

Yeah, he could get used to that.

—

Five.

When Alec reaches the bus stop today, Magnus is nowhere to be seen and Alec’s jacket is sitting in a bag at the bus stop with a little post it signed with the letter “M.”

It’s fine, Alec tells himself. Magnus is probably just busy with something else, and this has nothing to do with the fact that Alec froze up awkwardly when Magnus kissed him on the cheek last week, to the point where Magnus had to nervously laugh it off because Alec was too busy panicking.

It’s a flimsy argument, but it keeps Alec from losing his mind for about fifteen minutes until the bus pulls up early and Alec realizes that this is it. He’s not going to see Magnus this week— maybe not ever again, if Magnus has decided that Alec’s gay panic is not worth his time, and Alec wouldn’t even blame him.

God, he feels so stupid. If he hadn’t acted like a complete idiot last time, then he would’ve at least had some closure.

“Sir, are you getting on or are you waiting for another bus?”

Alec blinks, glancing up to see the bus driver raising her eyebrow at him. “Right, sorry, give me just a mo—”

“Alec!”

It can’t be.

“Alexander!”

Alec spins on his heel, turning to face whoever called his name, and oh my god, it’s Magnus. He’s running up to the bus stop, waving frantically, and Alec is overcome with such a large wave of relief that he forgets that the bus driver’s been waiting for him for like five minutes now and he climbs off and runs towards Magnus, only vaguely registering the sound of the bus leaving without him. He doesn’t even care; Magnus is standing right in front of him, panting heavily but still so beautiful and perfect, and Alec would walk home everyday if he got to see Magnus because of it.

“Alexander,” Magnus huffs, gathering his breath. He absentmindedly reaches out to grab Alec’s shoulder, and Alec immediately wraps his arms around his waist to stabilize him. “Oh lord, one second, I ran all the way here.”

“I thought you were gone,” Alec says, still holding onto him. “You left the jacket and I thought—” he trails off.

Magnus frowns. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “I thought I’d made you uncomfortable last week and didn’t want to make it worse, but I didn’t realize how rude not showing up would be. I know you probably don’t feel the same way but perhaps we can still be friends? I can be completely professional about it, though you seem to have just missed your bus—”

Alec grabs Magnus’s tunic (because he’s still not wearing a jacket, Jesus Christ) and kisses him.

Magnus blinks at him when they pull away. “Oh,” he says, a little breathless, and Alec smiles.

“I don’t want to be professional about it,” he admits.

“Oh. . .”

Magnus still seems shell-shocked, so Alec makes a move to let go of him, shifting his arm away from Magnus’s waist, but then Magnus leans back in and presses his mouth back to Alec’s and oh, nevermind then.

Alec’s not sure how long they spend there, kissing like handsy teenagers under the roof of the bus stop, but he’s aware of a few cars passing (and possibly another bus), so he’s not ignorant of the fact that it’s definitely been a while when they finally pull away for more than a second. Magnus is staring at his mouth when they part, though, which is not helping Alec’s resolve to actually have a conversation about this.

“We should talk,” he manages, and Magnus nods, still staring at his mouth.

“Right,” he agrees. “That would be a wise course of action.” His eyes flick upwards for just a moment, and something flickers behind them before he beams. “My place is two stops away, if you’d like to talk there. Perhaps we can wait for the next bus together, since we seemed to have missed the one I usually take? It might take a while, though.”

Ah. Alec swallows back a grin of his own. “Of course,” he replies, “I don’t suppose you know any way to keep us busy till then?”

“I’m sure I could think of something.”

(The bus comes late, and they still somehow almost miss it. Alec refuses to take any blame for this.)

—

+ One.

Alec Lightwood didn’t believe in love at first sight, but the man standing at the bus stop is smiling softly at him as he approaches, twirling an umbrella between his hands as he waits, and Alec’s first thought is holy shit, so maybe Alec Lightwood was an idiot, because what else could it have been?

“Hello, stranger,” the man says when Alec finally reaches the stop. He glances down, taking in Alec’s rain-soaked button down and slacks, and grins. “Forget your umbrella back home?”

Alec laughs. “My coat, too,” he agrees. “I got distracted this morning.”

Magnus hums, leaning in to kiss the rain off of Alec’s mouth, and Alec smiles into it, tasting the faint wax of lipstick and the salt of the rain. “Must’ve been a pretty good distraction.”

“Yeah,” Alec says. He leans in again, because he can. They have time. “He is.”

Magnus’s lips have got a lovely little tilt to them by the time they pull away, tint slightly smudged from Alec’s attention, and he’s never looked more beautiful, even with the dingy lighting of the shitty bus stop they’re standing under.

God, Alec loves him. He feels a little stupid with the feeling, and he can’t help but step back out onto the rain, holding out his hand.

“Hey,” he murmurs. Magnus’s eyes light up with understanding. “Care to join me for a dance?” And sure, Alec’s shit at dancing, and sure, they have to get on the bus sopping wet minutes later, but they’re both giggling like idiots and clutching the umbrella together between their intertwined hands and Alec’s got a little ring box in his pocket just waiting for the right moment, so what else matters?

They’ll probably have to invite the bus driver to the wedding, though. It’s only fair.

[izzyfandoms]

Chosen - Chapter Five

(This is a Gender-Swapped Sanders Sides high school au)

SUMMARY: Logan Berry, Dee Ceite, Patricia Foster, Virginia Picani and Regina and Rena Prince are all 16-year-old high school students. They live relatively normal lives, with ordinary lessons and ordinary crushes and ordinary families, until one day a monster shows up and attacks them after class, and everything suddenly changes.

SHIPS: Moxiety, Logince, Dukeceit

WARNINGS: Sympathetic Remus, Sympathetic Deceit, swearing, siblings arguing, sexual implications

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @ajdraws0430 @phantomofthesanderssides @creativity-killed-thekitten @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game

CHOSEN TAGLIST: @coasting-on-a-wave-of-apathy @littlestr @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear

Masterpost

FIRST CHAPTER | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“And then Regina was like ‘what? I don’t have a crush on Logan!’ which is super silly ‘cos they’re so obvious and she’s told me that she likes Lo so many times!” Patricia rambled on.  

“Mmm,” Virginia hummed in agreement; she was painting Patricia’s nails with a pretty, dark purple nail polish. “It is pretty silly.”

It was Sunday, and they were currently at Virge’s house, in her room, sat together on her bed.

“Yeah!” Patricia blew a raspberry.  

Virge tapped her girlfriend’s knee. “Stop moving, you’re gonna mess up your nails.”

“Oh, sorry, honey!” Pat stopped moving. “Anyway, Logan totally likes her back, right? I mean, she’s basically told us. And Dee and Rena, too! They’re super-duper in love, I just wanna take their faces and smush them together until they get married and live happily ever after!”

“As entertaining as that would be,” Virge said, finishing Patricia’s left hand and moved to the right one. “We shouldn’t meddle. Let them deal with their own shit.”

Patricia tutted lightly. “Language.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Virge said. She examined her own nails – pastel blue, painted by Pat earlier – double checking that they hadn’t been damaged, though they were already dry. “You know I’m right, though. You’re always telling me not to interfere, no matter how often I want to tell them. They’ll figure it out on their own.”

Pat sighed. “Yeah, I know.” She then giggled. “Doesn’t mean we can’t still complain, though.”

Virginia hummed in agreement again, and the two sat in comfortable silence for almost a minute, as Virge finished painting Pat’s nails. Once she was done, the pigtailed girl looked over her hands appreciatively.

“Yay! Now my nails are your favourite colour and your nails are mine! It’s perfect!” Patricia giggled, beaming.

Her girlfriend gave her a small smile. “You’re adorable.”

Patricia giggled again, softly, a light blush on her cheeks. She leant forward, careful not to smudge either of their nails, pressing a kiss to the tip of her girlfriend’s nose. Virge waited a few moments, watching her girlfriend adoringly, before she pounced, the shorter girl falling back on the bed, the taller almost on top of her.  

Pat spluttered with laughter as Virginia tickled her sides, the purple-haired girl grinning mischievously as she did so.

“Ah, Virge!” Patricia exclaimed between laughter. “You’re gonna- you're gonna make me mess up my nail polish!”

Virginia finally stopped the onslaught of tickling, pushing herself up so she was hovering over her girlfriend, and shaking her head to get her hair out of her eyes.  

Patricia wrapped her arms around her girlfriend’s neck, pulling her down to kiss her properly and closing her eyes.  

Virge kissed her back eagerly, her hands at her girlfriend’s waist. Pat’s lips were soft, as usual, and tasted vaguely sweet, like strawberries – she switched up the flavour regularly, so it was always a bit of a surprise. Virge’s lips, by contrast, were always slightly chapped, as she tended to chew them when she was especially anxious, but, in Patricia’s opinion, that didn’t make kissing her any less enjoyable.

“Ewwwwww!”

The two teenagers pulled apart immediately, their heads turning sharply to face the door, which was now open. Virginia’s eleven-year-old sister, Anne, was standing in the doorway, making a grossed-out face. She was wearing one of her sister’s old black-and-grey hoodies, and she had eyeshadow smudged under both eyes – she'd never admit it, but she was absolutely copying her older sister’s style.

“Get out my room!” Virge screeched, turning red. She sat up and grabbed one of her pillows, chucking it at her sister.

Anne dodged the purple projectile and ran off, laughing. “Mom, Virge and Pat are kissing again!”

“Leave them alone, Dear,” Emily half-scolded from across the hallway, though she was still smiling pleasantly. This was honestly the harshest she ever got with her daughters. She walked up to Virginia’s bedroom door and gave the two blushing teens a slightly apologetic smile. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” She teased, shutting the door.

“Mom!” Virge whined, before turning back to her girlfriend. “I’m sorry my sister’s such a brat.”

Patricia poked her shoulder teasingly. “Don’t be mean.”

Virge rolled her eyes, but pressed a reassuring kiss to her girlfriend’s forehead. “I’m not being mean; this is just what it’s like having a sister. Ask Regina or Rena, I’m sure they’d agree.”

Pat pouted a little at that. “I wish I had a sister. You’ve got Anne, and you’ll probably have Dee, too, soon.”

“You can bond with Logan about it, I guess,” Virginia shrugged.

The pigtailed girl gasped, her eyes brightening. “Logan can be my sister, then!” She pulled out her phone, careful not to mes sup her nail . “I’m gonna go tell her, right now.”  

CATS

Patricia

Logan!!!!!!

Logan!!!!!!!!!!

Logan!!!!

Logan!!!!!!

Logan!!!!!!!!!!

Lo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dee

I should’ve muted this chat.

Logan

Patricia, you now have my attention.

Patricia

Logan!

Your my sister now!!!!!!

Logan

*You’re.

Also, what?

We do not share any parental figures; how can we be sisters?

Regina

God ofc you use perfect grammar in texts ilysm

Logan

What do ‘ofc’ and ‘ilysm’ mean?

Rena

it means she wants to fusdjjkfhfjshfkldjfdkshfjdhfdjfhsdkhfksdlfhsdfh

Virginia

oops guess renas been murdered

Logan

What?

Dee

Ignore her

Regina probably just tackled her

Regina

ur right!!!!!!!!!!!

gina did take my phone!!!!!!!

but I took hers and now im locked in the bathroom!!!!!!!!

i can say whateva i like!!!!!!!

REGINA IS TYPING

Dee

Oh dear

REGINA HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM ‘CATS’

RENA HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM ‘CATS’

Virginia

using my admin powers for good

“Virge!” Patricia exclaimed, poking her girlfriend’s shoulder disapprovingly.

“What?” Virginia shrugged. “Do you want to hear everything Rena has to say about what Regina and Logan wanna do with each other?”

Pat wrinkled her nose uncomfortably. “Well, no... but it’s mean to remove them!”

“Fine,” Virge sighed. “But if Rena starts talking about sex, I’m going to remove her again.”

PATRICIA HAS ADDED REGINA TO ‘CATS’

PATRICIA HAS ADDED RENA TO ‘CATS’

Virginia

rena if you talk about anything inappropriate from either your phone or reginas im blocking both of you

Regina

I finally got my phone back!

And I agree

Pls don’t do that  

Rena

:(

what counts as inappropriate tho

Virginia

anything that would upset pat

Rena

boo!  

boring

“I’m going to fight her.”

“Honey, please don’t.”

Logan

Patricia, what was it you were trying to tell me at the start? Your statement about us being sisters was factually (and grammatically) incorrect.

Patricia

Were the only people on the chat without sisters!!!!! That means we should be sisters now so were not alone!!!!!

Logan

*We’re and *we’re.

And that does not make sense.

Besides, Dee doesn’t have any siblings, either.

Patricia

She and Virge are gonna be sisters soon right!!!!!!!

And youre my sister now sorry I dont make the rules!!!!!

Logan

*You’re and *don’t.

You were the one who made this chat. You do, literally, make the rules.

Virginia

(just go with it)

There was almost a minute of no texting, though everyone appeared to still be online, and Patricia shifted closed to her girlfriend in the interim, practically seating herself in the taller girl’s lap. Finally, Logan started typing again.

Logan

Fine.

Patricia

YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m going to spam you with heart emojis now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Logan

Please, don’t.

Patricia

Okay I won’t!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dee

I hate to interrupt

But my mom just got a message from Remy

Apparently, she and her parents are inviting us (and Mr Thomas) and any of our parents who know about the monster shit (her words not mine) to this fancy party at her place next Saturday . We need to dress kinda fancy, like dresses or fancy shirts and trousers, as it’s like tradition or something to hold these parties for each generation of chosen ones

Mom says she can tell any of your parents who don’t know the truth that you’re all at my house

But she also recommends you tell your parents whats actually going on

Virginia

ew party

Rena

ew telling dad the truth about the monsters

Logan

I didn’t think you were one to shy away from the truth, Rena. Wouldn’t it be easier to be honest with your father?

Rena

normally i wouldnt care

but if dad finds out about all this he could get all protective and shit and try to stop us from fighting monsters and all that other ‘dangerous’ stuff

Regina

Ugh, I can’t believe I acc agree with u

Patricia

Im still tryna figure out how to tell my moms!!!!!!!  

I might ask Miss Emily to help me but idk

Virginia

she would she loves u

Regina

Wait lol pat arent you at virges house rn why r u texting  

Patricia

Because I love all of you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

RENA IS TYPING

Regina

Before you speak

Is it appropriate?

Rena

no

Virginia

then dont

Rena

):

Virginia

dee can u get ur mom to text my mom the details  

Logan

Mine, too, please.

Dee

Sure

Regina

Me and rena will have to ask dad later hes busy rehearsing lines rn

Rena

acc hes probs just txting the dude he went out with yesterday lmao

he wont tell us anything bout it and got kinda awkward when we asked bout the guy he went out with

so im assuming they fucked

Regina

I hate you so much

Stop saying that

Fight me

One day Im acc going to fight you and it is going to be brutal

Rena

i will win

Patricia

Hey now!!!!!!!

No fighting!!!!!!!!!!!!

“This won’t end well,” Virge said dryly, rolling her eyes.

Patricia hummed quietly in agreement, her brow creased. “I wish they wouldn’t argue so much, it makes me sad.”

Her girlfriend opened her mouth to respond, but she was cut off by the bedroom door opening again. They both turned and watched as Emily stepped inside, giving them a smile.

“Patricia, your moms are here.”

“Oh, okay!” Patricia pocketed her phone and wiggled out of her girlfriend’s lap, jumping up and stretching. She took a step in the direction of the door, before pausing. She glanced up at her girlfriend’s mom with a slightly sheepish look. “Um, do you think at some point you’d be able to help explain the chosen one stuff to my moms? I’d like to tell them, but I’m not sure they’d believe me straight away.”

Emily’s expression softened; she put her hand on Pat’s shoulder supportively. “Of course, dear. In fact, I’m having dinner with Harriet on Wednesday. Would you like me to tell her then?”

“Yes, please! That would be super helpful, thank you!” Patricia beamed. She then turned on her heel, back to her girlfriend, and leant forward to kiss her quickly. “Bye, Honey! I love you so much!”

“Love you, too, Pat,” Virge responded softly, a little embarrassed that her mom was there to witness this, but still smiling slightly.

[vernonfielding]

Don’t be a fool don’t throw it all away

Story No. 13 of my Season 7 Countdown Project.

Summary: “I was walking home and I passed a pawn shop. And then I went into a trance.”

Charles buys an engagement ring. Takes place during Full Boyle. (Read on AO3.)

He cancels the plane tickets.

It breaks his heart – no, shatters it, like his heart was a fragile, beautiful thing that is now just millions of shards of glass, piercing his chest from the inside. And suddenly he can’t breathe, he’s clutching at his shirt, loosening his tie, gasping from the pain of it. He stares at his phone, and he knows the cancellation button must be staring up at him but he can’t see it for the tears welling in his eyes.

Charles fumbles a thumb for the button even as one fat drop tickles down his cheek and he swipes at it with his other hand. Well, he thinks, at least the tickets were refundable. And it’s not like they can’t go to Rome some other time.

(‘Like tomorrow,’ his brain supplies, instantaneous. ‘You could take Vivian to Rome tomorrow. Or Dubai! You were just talking last night about what a tragedy it is that you’ve never tasted grilled camel!’)

Still, the loss is acute. He was going to give her Rome, and now he’s walking home alone, and Jake is back at the restaurant, explaining that he’s having a bathroom emergency. Charles stuffs his phone in his pocket and sniffles, and he rubs his hands over his eyes, and through his blurred vision he sees it: a sign. It’s flashing neon and two of the letters are burned out and his heart is suddenly beating again, the broken pieces reforming into an organ more powerful, more full of love than ever before.

The sign says: PAW HOP. Charles steps into traffic without looking, and when a taxi screeches to a halt mere feet away he just waves distractedly and keeps walking. He doesn’t stop until he’s at the window, nose nearly pressed to the smudged glass, and there, right in front. It’s like it was calling to him. A ring. Platinum, princess cut diamond, bezel setting. It’s screaming “Vivian” at him. His ears are ringing with it. He can’t hear a single other sound – not the traffic behind him or the people pushing past him on the sidewalk, not even his own pulse thumping in his temples or his panting breaths.

Charles keeps his eyes on the ring as he steps to the side and pushes against the front door, which is a pull, so he pulls it instead, yanks it open, and only then (and only very reluctantly) does he tear his gaze away.

“How much for the ring in the window?” Charles calls out as he walks down the narrow center aisle to the counter at the back of the store. He’s fishing for his wallet in his back pocket. “I can pay you $2,000 right now.”

The woman sitting at the counter is filing her nails and she just stares at Charles for a long time. Her hair is pink and tied up in a ponytail on top of her head, and she has a tattoo on the side of her neck. It’s a dragon holding an umbrella in its tail.

“Which ring?” she says.

“The one in the window!” Charles shouts again, and points over his shoulder. “The engagement ring!”

“Uh huh,” the woman says. She blinks at Charles. “It’s $200 if you pay-”

“Sold!”

“-in cash,” the woman finishes.

“Oh.” Charles butterflies open his wallet. He pulls out all of his cash and lays it on the counter. He has $52.

“There’s an ATM down the street,” the woman says, nodding her head to the right.

“And risk someone else coming in and buying it out from under me? I think not,” Charles says. “How much if I put it on a credit card?”

The woman sighs and sets down her nail file. She pulls a keyboard toward her and begins punching at it one-fingered. Charles is bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet and trying to decide if he should propose tonight or tomorrow. His body is thrumming with such furious electricity that he’s not sure he can wait more than the 15 or 20 minutes it will take him to buy this ring, but his heart is singing at him too, that he needs this to be perfect

Is it possible to rent the entire top of the Empire State Building and have the ring delivered by helicopter? Should he arrange for the ring to arrive by ferry under the Brooklyn Bridge at midnight? He could cling to the bottom of the ferry and crawl up the sides and surprise her – does he have time to learn how to scuba dive?

“It’s $500,” the woman says.

Charles practically throws his credit card at her.

+++

He knows Jake is right. As he stands over his kitchen sink pouring goat milk into his eyes, which are still weeping from the pepper spray exchange, he can admit that now.

Charles loves fast and he loves hard and he wouldn’t have it any other way. When he connects with someone, he commits. He’s all in. He doesn’t actually understand how people can be any other way. If someone is important to him – if someone is Jake, or Eleanor (before it all blew up), or Vivian – he wants to be the best version of himself he can be for that person. He wants to be with that person all the time, and learn everything about them and experience every part of life through their eyes. And he wants to do everything in his power to make that person’s heart burst from the same joy and love and lust (as appropriate) that he feels when he’s with them.

It’s simple, really. But he does understand that somehow not everyone feels that way, and that some people might find him – overwhelming. He understands this because he’s been told it’s true, even if he doesn’t quite get it.

Charles goes to bed that night with a tea towel soaked in milk draped over his burning eyes. He dreams of Vivian. She is wearing a golden caftan covered in pink and purple flowers and her hair is flowing, and she is feeding him bites of camel. On her left hand a ring catches the sun, and the glint of it is blinding.

Charles’ heart sings in his sleep.

End Notes:

Title is from Focus on the Game (Bash Brothers).

@fezzle saved my life by catching a dumb error in this story – y’all, betas are the f-ing best. Hug yours close tonight. (Or just tell them you love them. Tomatoes-potatoes.)

I’ve always loved Charles’ description of falling into a trance and accidentally buying an engagement ring. It turns out it’s kind of hard to write someone in a trance, though.

Re: eating camel in Dubai. While researching this story to make sure that people do eat camel in UAE, I found this whole interesting history about a famous stuffed camel dish that maybe doesn't actually exist? The dish is described as: eggs stuffed into a fish, the fish into a chicken, the chicken into a sheep, and the sheep into a camel. Which is SO TOTALLY something Charles would go to Dubai for, yes? I actually had a whole long reference to this mythical dish in the story and then was like, okay, this is quite the tangent. Let's just leave it at camel. But apparently I wanted to share it anyway.

[lavishedinjimin]

Taehyung (prompt) - The Dark Horse

#10 - “Can you pretend to be my boyfriend real quick?” #40 - “Sit on my lap”

Word count: 2.0k 

thank you so much to the anon who requested! 

masterlist, prompt list, request submissions

“Taehyung, can you come with me?” you nervously asked through the phone, biting your nails. It was 10 in the evening and one of your friends that you weren’t even close to invited you to this really unholy club. It was nothing like you’ve ever seen before. This time, there was more kissing and grinding bodies, more high people. The clubs you went to weren’t even this hyped. They were all chill and you preferred that more. People here were dressed very minimally, eyeliner smudged, and their hairs down. You could perfectly see that everyone was drunk as fuck. The music was literally pounding into your heart so loud that you were afraid that it would do something to it. 

You knew you had woken up Taehyung, his deep and sleepy voice echoed through the line. “What? Where are you?” You couldn’t lie, but hearing his voice like that made you shiver. It was a soft spot for you. Taehyung was your best friend. You met him at your first year of college and he was the kind soul who offered to show you around. He was sweet and kind, and a little bit mischievous which you liked. You both had the same course, which made it easier for you to get to know him.

Taehyung liked you, and you liked him too. But none of both sides ever admitted.

“I’m at The Dark Horse.”

“Y/N? What the fuck? Who are you with?” Taehyung immediately stood up from his bed, hurriedly finding appropriate clothes to wear. He grew nervous for you – because he didn’t expect a girl like you to go there. He couldn’t lie, but he went there a few times already. He didn’t drink excessively or grind into anyone, but he was there for the drinks. The drinks there were awfully better than any club. 

“I’m with Chaewon. She’s nowhere to be seen though!” The music was getting louder and louder so you decided to go and hide in the girl’s bathroom. After passing through the maze of sweaty bodies and into the restroom, you sighed in relief as you saw no one.

Taehyung, on the other side, was already finished dressing up in a black ripped jeans and a black button up shirt. He kept clenching at his jaw at the thought of what might happen to your frail little body in that club. He wanted to get to you as fast as he could. “I’m about to go. Y/n, stay where you are.” 

“Okay. I’m at the—” he ended the phone call before you can state where you are.

No girl should ever be alone at the Dark Horse—Taehyung thought. From his past experiences at that club, he had seen many women approached by men who were five times older than them and offered a dance. But, they didn’t protested, though. But in Y/n’s case, that girl doesn’t like to dance – not with a random dude, at least. Taehyung was trying to calm his nerves down as he started the engine in his car.

It was moments like these were Tae was always so protective of Y/n. He sees her like a little girl who you constantly need an eye on. Of course, Taehyung trusts her, and he knew that she needs space, but would he not do anything in this situation though? Obviously not.

He had arrived at the club, immediately trying to spot you in the crowd. He grunted in annoyance, not remembering how awfully crowded this place was. “Taehyung!” a girl’s voice yelled his name. He saw that it was Chaewon, with a guy hugging her back like a fucking koala. He stepped closer to her with furrowed brows. “Where’s Y/n?”

“Mmm, Tae, you should calm down.” Chaewon lifts one of her hands up to rub his shoulder, making him roll his eyes. “Relax for a bit, yeah?” she tried to sound seductive, but he wasn’t giving into her. “Answer my fucking question.”

“Whoah, whoah, dude. Sure, I’ll say it.” She tilts her glass at him, “I left Y/n somewhere. I left her somewhere so that a man can go and fuck her already. She’s such a normal and boring girl that she needs some spice in her life, you know? Oh, and she’s a virgin, so it’ll be a much more better experience for the dude to –” 

Taehyung, full of rage, gripped her jaw and made her face him. Her eyes grew wide as he saw how furious Tae has become. “Shut the hell up, you piece of shit.” He growled, “I know you’re drunk as fuck right now, but I want you to stay away from her.” “Sure, that aint a problem. She’s uninteresting anyways.” He sighed and closed his eyes, trying hard not to do anything to her. He just gave her a glance and turned his back, continuing his search for you. 

After a while of calming yourself down, you went out of the bathroom. You immediately spotted his luscious hair and you smiled in relief. “Tae!” He whipped his head in your direction, giving you his biggest smile. He walked towards you, passing through the crowd until he was directly in front of you. Your heart skipped a beat when he gripped your waist with his hands. His smile turned into a slight frown, “Why did you agree to join her?” 

You lowered your head, “Um, I don’t exactly know. She had no one to go with so I agreed to be her, well, companion.” 

 He caressed your cheek, looking into your eyes. “Don’t talk to her again. She left her ‘companion’ to be a prey for disgusting men. Let’s go to a quieter place.”

He led you into a room full of booths and a much bigger bar. It was at the back of the club and it was like a secret place that only a few people knew it existed, including you. “So how many times did you went to this place?” you asked, trying to get comfortable in the leather seat. Taehyung sat in front of you with his hands crossed, eyeing you up and down. He smirked to himself, thinking how chaste you looked, only wearing a fitted high waisted leather shorts and a white tucked in long sleeve shirt. He looked at you longingly as you tucked back a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“When we were in the first year of college, me and my friends would commonly go here. But I wouldn’t be drinking and dancing like crazy, though.” He laughed, “In fact, this place changed a lot. People back then weren’t this insane.” 

“Oh.” You looked down. “Im sorry.” He furrowed his brows, “Sorry? For what?” He held your hand across the table, looking at you. “There’s nothing to feel sorry about. Just don’t go to a club like this with a person you’re not even close with, okay?” You smiled and nodded your head. You suddenly stood up from the booth, “Do you want anything, Tae?”

“Like, a drink? No, no, I’m good—”

“Please, let me treat you. I promise I won’t get anything crazy.” You winked at him and he smirked back at you. You made your way to the bar, sitting on one of the stools.

“Good evening miss, what can I get you?” the bartender said as he smiled at you. “Sea breeze and white wine please.” 

“Coming right up.”

The both of you talked for a little while, laughing and remembering memories together while enjoying your drinks. It was a while that you hanged out together alone, because of all the schoolwork that needed to be done. You missed him. Something about him always made your insides to flutter. You didn’t know if it’s the way he smiles, his calming voice, his eyes, personality, probably everything. You didn’t know when you’d tell him how you really feel, but it’ll probably come at the right time.

Taehyung suddenly brought up the topic of Chaewon and what she said to him earlier. All those stuff about you being boring, uninteresting, and virgin didn’t even bother you. “Well, first of all, she was drunk –” “Right.” “But second, if you really look at it, I kind of do appear as boring or uninteres—”

“No, don’t say that. You know, Y/n, to me you aren’t.” he said wholeheartedly as he kept his gaze on you. “And who the fuck cares if you’re a virgin? You wait for the right person and not unlike her who just fucks whoever person she sees.” That sentence made you laugh silently. You thanked him for making you feel better. And to be honest, Chaewon’s words really don’t affect you. You knew who you truly are and you don’t settle on what a person thinks about you.

Suddenly, Taehyung’s eyes widen as he fixed his gaze over your shoulder, making you confused. “What’s wrong?” You asked, turning your head to the direction he’s staring at.

You saw her, Chaewon, trying to walk her way over to you with an evil smirk on her face. You looked back at Taehyung who had a worried look. You didn’t know where it came from, but you had an idea. “I have an idea.” 

You smirked cheekily at him. You motioned for him to move closer to you and you whispered something in his ear that made his eyes go wide. “Can you pretend to be my boyfriend real quick?”

Taehyung smirked at you, already knowing your plan. You weren’t that drunk, but you felt very good. The drink that you ordered gave you some kind of confidence, and Taehyung had that too. He bit his lip for a moment, noticing that Chaewon was slowly getting near. “Sit on my lap.”

His request made you gasp a little, but you obliged and you stood up, walking around the table to carefully sit sideways on his lap. You wrapped your right arm around his neck as he held your other hand. He giggled as he bounced his knees, your body bouncing as well. “So cute.” he whispered, pulling your hand up to his mouth as he placed a tender kiss to it. “Tae...” 

“What? I’m your temporary boyfriend now.” he whispered in your ear as he placed kisses on your jaw, trailing down to your neck. You bit down on your lip, prevented a moan to escape. 

You glanced over to Chaewon only to see that she had her mouth agape and her brows creased. She couldn’t believe the sight that she was seeing. 

Chaewon only went at the back of the club to follow Taehyung and to work her drunken magic at him but what she saw made her baffled. She didn’t expected that you’d be sitting on his lap, receiving kisses from him. She coughed, making her way back out -- completely annoyed. 

“I-it worked.” you breathlessly said to Taehyung, but he was still distracted in kissing you. You whimpered as he adjusted your body so you were straddling him. He looked up at you with big eyes, smiling. “I don’t want to stop.” 

He moved his hands down until it reaches your hips, gripping it firmly. “Let me be yours, please.” 

The warmness in his voice, paired with his lips sucking the skin on your neck once again made you moan quietly. You knew what he meant, and it made your heart to flutter. “Let me be yours completely. I really like you, Y/n.” 

You held a hold of his head, staring at his face. His eyes were full of love which were exactly what you needed from him. 

“I-I like you too, Tae. I really do.” 

He smiled at that, giggling. He pulled you even closer so that your lips were grazing against his. In a flash, he pulled your bottom lip with his teeth, tugging it for a moment then letting it go, snapping back to its original place. The movement turned you on but it made you shy, cheeks turning a shade of red. He chuckled, “Would you let me kiss you, jagi?” 

“Yes.” 

And with that, he pressed his mouth on yours. 

~

Hello! this is the part of my writings where i say how horrible it is :’)  jk luv urself luv myself 

enjoy this gif where tae originally says jazz but i see it as sex lmao sorry not sorry 

[artificialqueens]

Mrs Needles, Thank You 2/? (Shalaska) - Josie

AN: alright i’m so sorry for the wait, i’ve been super busy. again, this fic has already been posted on ao3 under the account SharonsFemVoice. hope ya’ll like it<3 it’s kinda short but i find the more i write the longer they get.

“Sharon, please, not here doll- they’ll hear us, c’mon,” Alaska couldn’t breathe. Sharon was in the shortest dress you could possibly label as appropriate that clung to her wide hips and round ass. Her legs looked so damn good in those heels, and Alaska couldn’t stop staring at them. They were in the middle of her office for Christs’ sake, and Sharon was sitting in her lap and kissing her neck. She’d been jealous of Russell for a long time. The constant flirting and gazes at Alaska’s ass and tits had officially made her snap, making her come into her office at noon on a Tuesday to finally show him Alaska was hers, and no one else’s. Alaska’s hair was tangled on her shoulders from Sharon fucking around with it, tangling her fingers through it while Alaska tried to work. She was so wet she could barely concentrate, knowing that there very well could be a mark on her pants from it. She was a slut for neck kissing and Sharon knew it, pulling out all her tricks; playing with her hair, nibbling her ear, rubbing her side. She knew Sharon could tell she was turned on and she wasn’t going to give up now. “After this email, baby, hold on okay? But we have to be quiet, or he’ll hear us. You know that. And we can’t fuck every time you come to my office! This cannot be an everyday thing.” Alaska squeezed her words in between tiny sighs, trying to keep herself from moaning so she doesn’t get in any more trouble with Sharon. It was going to be hard enough already to keep quiet. The hem of her shirt was moving up a little bit, Sharon playing with the soft skin underneath it, tickling Alaska just enough to turn both of them on. She was typing frantically trying to finish the email that had to be sent so she could fuck her wife who still hadn’t stopped playing with her hair and her shirt’s hem. Her lips were brushing over her neck so soft, just slight grazes every few minutes. Alaska let out a sigh of relief as soon as she pressed the send button and closed her laptop, moving it to the other side of the desk before pushing Sharon off of her. “Baby, I need you,” Sharon nodded and grabbed at the back of Alaska’s thighs before kissing her roughly and sitting her up on the desk. Her lips moved to the side of her neck where it was stained a cherry pink from Sharon’s lipstick. “Please.” Alaska shivered as soon as she said it and Sharon nipped at the skin on her neck, opening her mouth wider and kissing her rougher. She let her fingers move to Alaska’s buttoned shirt to undo the top three buttons, letting her lacy black bra peek through at the top. Sharon’s eyes watched how Alaska moved, squirming under her touch and slightly rolling her hips. Her boobs were pushed together when she bent down to remove her heels when Sharon stopped her. “Leave them on. I like them.” Alaska’s eyes flared up curiously as she looked into Sharon’s brown ones, watching her pupils dilate a little more. She smiled at her and nodded, lifting her hips up while waiting for Sharon to pull them off. Sharon’s fingers pulled at the waist and she yanked them hard down Alaska’s thighs and her matching black lace panties came into view. Her ass was splayed out on the desk and her hands were holding her up behind her, Sharon standing in between her legs. Her hands ran up and down her bare thighs, staring at Alaska’s barely visible cleavage and bra straps. She leaned down to kiss her and caught Alaska by surprise when she picked her up again and carried her to the wall that was against Russell’s office. The walls weren’t exactly soundproof, but Alaska couldn’t be quiet with Sharon touching her ass and thighs like she was, running her fingers along them and slightly letting her nails dig into the soft skin, making Alaska sigh out little moans. “You know the way Russell looks at you, even though he knows you’re mine, but he just won’t listen, doll,” Sharon whispered into her ear. Alaska inhaled sharply, stomach twisting from how turned on she was. “If I fuck you right here he’ll know, and he’ll leave you alone, and I won’t have to worry about it anymore, huh? Do you want me to fuck you right here? In your office?” “Yes, please, fuck me,” Alaska’s breaths were heavy as she leaned against the wall with Sharon completely clothed and still pressed into her. Her wife’s tits were rubbing against her own, except she wasn’t wearing a bra, and her hard nipples were visible through the thin fabric of her black dress. Her hips bucked up involuntarily at the sight. “Are you gonna take your dress off?” “Fuck no, we’re in an office.” Sharon whispered back while kissing her, her mouth still pressed onto Alaska’s collarbone. Alaska giggled until Sharon moved her hands down to her underwear and shoved the fabric to the side, rubbing her slit but not dipping her fingers in until she was whining for more. “Make noise, doll. Let him know you belong to me.” Alaska let out everything in her with a moan and Sharon finally plunged a finger into her, letting her thumb rub her clit as she fingered her with one finger. She got onto her knees in front of Alaska and lifted her leg over her shoulder to give her more access. Alaska’s moans were filling up the room and Sharon shoved another finger in her wife while putting her mouth on her clit instead of her tongue, sucking and nipping at it every once in awhile. Alaska was almost crying at this point, so close to coming. “Come for me, you look so pretty when you do, baby,” Sharon said, looking up at her. She put another finger in and continued fucking her, curving her fingers to hit her g-spot with every thrust. Alaska was shaking and her toes were curling inside her heels, head leaning against the wall with her mouth open letting out the dirtiest, sluttiest moans Sharon could imagine. “Are you close, cupcake?” Alaska came at the word cupcake, shivering and sweating everywhere. Her come got on Sharon’s face, practically covering the whole bottom half from where her nose was still buried deep into Alaska’s pussy. She was still fucking her hard with three fingers. Alaska’s mouth was wide open panting deep moans into the office. If Russell couldn’t hear her before he could definitely hear her now, if not the whole office. “Sharon, please stop it hurts now, please. Stop!” “You wanna eat me?” “Yeah, please, god let me eat you,” Alaska would beg if she had to, she knew Sharon didn’t like to give in easily. “Why do I want to let you eat me, doll?” Sharon stood up and played with the neckline of Alaska’s shirt again, looking disinterested. The constant use of the pet names had Alaska almost wet again. “Because I want to make you feel good.” She answered confidently. Sharon leaned down to her neck again and whispered. “So do it. Don’t waste my time.” Alaska pushed Sharon back to the desk seat immediately and sat her down, pushing the chair away from the desk to kneel on the grey carpet. She was going to have red marks on her knees from the tough material. Sharon wasn’t wearing any underwear so all she had to do was pull her dress up to her waist a bit. “You’re so fucking wet, it’s so hot.” She said breathlessly before kissing the inside of Sharon’s thighs. Sharon whimpered from the slight dirty talk. Alaska buried her face in her after a few moments of looking, her tongue flicking small circles at her clit and dipping into her every few seconds. Sharon’s thighs tightened around Alaska’s head, muffling the outside world as Sharon came quickly. “Laska.” “Yeah?” “I have to go, and you have to get back to work.” “Oh, work. Right. I don’t want to work, though.” Alaska said with a pout. “You have to. I’ll see you at home, okay, doll? I love you.” “Love you too.”

Sharon walked out of Alaska’s office with messy hair, smudged lipstick, and her fingers in her mouth. Russell was on the outside of her office, meaning to say something, but he closed his mouth when he saw Sharon giving him the death stare with her fingers still in her mouth. She could still taste Alaska on them when she left the building.

[yoireverse]

a night in

((hello all!!! wonderful to be back. hope you all enjoy this installment of the series, are continuing to enjoy the reverse AU!! ♥♥♥ i took a poll to see what ppl wanted to see, and this was the result! enjoy~~

happy 2k on the blog!!! thanks for joining us, everybody! ♥ :’O))

summary: Usually, Yuuri has a very strict menu for himself and Victor to adhere to. It's mostly for his own benefit, because he's constantly concerned about staying in shape, what with his decision to come out of retirement and all. Still, he and Victor hadn't spent a lot of time together in December because of skating competitions. He sends Victor on an errand to get him out of the house and rolls up his sleeves. Yuuri is going to stun his fiancé today. word count: 1.5k rating: t ✮read on ao3 | ✮reverse fics | ✮reverse art →my personal tumblr | →em’s art blog

Generally, Yuuri makes both of them lots of vegetables, fruits, and scatters nuts and odd protein-filled meats and beans into the menu whenever he can. Victor doesn't find all of the meals delectable, even if Yuuri is obviously talented, but this what they have to do to get their proper nutrition.

Their careers depend on them taking care of their bodies, and both of them are admittedly a little obsessive about it. That doesn’t mean they can’t take breaks - that Victor can’t enjoy ice cream on some weekends, and that Yuuri can’t dig into a whopping steak every once in a while - but they do try to eat clean.

Still.

“Victor,” Yuuri keeps his voice fairly low while he’s washing dishes from breakfast. “Could you head over to Mila’s place for me, please?”

The silver-haired man sits up on the couch, hair spilling in his bleary blue eyes. “You want me to go now?” The sun is barely up, and even though Victor is characteristically the happy morning person in their relationship, even he doesn’t feel like socializing at six a.m. when the sun has barely risen. “Is it urgent?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri insists, taking his hands out of soap water to wipe them on his stained apron. “Sorry to ask, but I asked her to get something specific for me, and it’s going to be a little heavy. Can you help her bring it back to our place?”

Victor raises a brow, more than a little curious about whatever Yuuri could be alluding to. “What are you going to do?”

“The chores,” the older man clicks his tongue and Victor is appropriately cowed by the words. He’d skimped on cleaning the bathroom, his usual responsibility, because he’d had leg cramps like mad the night previous. “If you’re alright with that?”

“Yeah,” Victor answers quietly, hanging his head. He gathers his belongings before waving to his coach, and Yuuri puts a hand to his chest, slowly exhaling.

He could tell by the suspicious glint in Victor’s eyes that he’d almost been caught. Yuuri waits for ten minutes until he’s sure that Victor is far from the apartment to hurry down to the grocery store.

Yuuri had jauntily sent Mila a text, asking her to get some crotchety old typewriter from an antique market and that he was going to send Victor over to pick it up. He’s entrusted her with keeping his fiancé busy while he makes an early dinner for the two of them on their day off, trying his best to seem romantic.

It’s not his specialty. Truthfully, a year ago, he’d never even considered dating seriously, but now? He wants to do something kind and sappy for Victor.

They hadn’t been spending a lot of time together since Yuuri had been working on going back into the competitive circuit, so today, he’s going to cook for the younger man.

Specifically, he’s going to make all of his favorite dishes, with recipes handed down from his mother.

He’s determined to wow Victor with his technical prowess in the kitchen.

//

Mila texts Yuuri at three o’clock to let the man know that she can’t stall Victor a moment longer and that he’s on his way home. It’s too late for lunch and too early for dinner, but Yuuri is pretty much finished by the time the text arrives, so he heads for the bathroom.

After he takes a shower, he shies away from using the hair gel, as is his reflex. Today is special. He’s just going to comb his locks, which are frankly getting a bit long for his tastes, and wear one of the nicer outfits that Victor had picked out for him.

Yukachin licks at Yuuri’s damp heels and the man hisses at the dog, trying to slip into a pair of dark slim-fit jeans and cursing all the while. Victor comes home, rattles around in the landing with the typewriter, among other things, and is floored to find that Yuuri has a candle lit in the room. Mila quickly waves goodbye before Victor can utter a word, finding the brunette seated at the table, smiling softly.

“I, this, huh?” Victor blinks for a moment, a flush creeping onto his cheeks. “Mila didn’t even say hi to you - wait,” after a pause, he scowls. “Did you plan this? She dragged me all over the city to find this, and made me look at pictures of Sara for an hour, trying to stop me from taking the train back while lugging this. We even bought new clothes.”

“Sorry,” Yuuri shrugs, nervously fiddling with his hands. “I’m sure you’re tired. Do you want to eat?”

Victor sucks in a deep breath, then really takes in the sights.

Yuuri looks truly beautiful, and the food is still warm. Steam is rising from most of the dishes, all of them foreign looking. They have a hodgepodge set of ceramics, some pieces bought and others donated to them by Lilia, Nikolai, and Mila. The older man has a worn out look himself, but he’s wearing a baby blue pinstriped shirt and dark washed jeans. His bangs are down, slightly curly from being improperly dried, and Victor’s mouth becomes dry.

“What’s...” The younger man coughs and continues, “What’s the occasion?”

“I just figured we hadn’t spent much time together,” Yuuri answers him, standing up with watery eyes. “Is this okay?”

“More than okay,” Victor says suddenly, taking long strides to bundle his coach in his arms and squeezing him until Yuuri complains of lack of air. Once he realizes that he’s suffocating the shorter man, Victor loosens his grasp and lets out a long sigh. “This looks fantastic, Yuuri. Thank you. I feel underdressed, though.”

“No, not at all,” Yuuri murmurs, flushing. “I just. Wanted to spend some time together, since we haven’t been able to lately. I hope you like Japanese. These are all home recipes.”

“Yes,” Victor says, holding Yuuri’s gaze in a meaningful way. “I love it.” He kisses the brunette on the forehead before rushing to take a seat. Instead of sitting across from Yuuri at the rectangular table, he moves his chair as close as he can to Yuuri, undoes his ponytail to let his hair fall and sighs with relief. Once he settles in, he moves his leg to play footsie with his coach and the older man gives Victor a half-hearted glare.

“Stop that,” Yuuri whispers, trying not to smile. “Eat your food.”

“What’re we having?”

“Ochazuke,” the older man easily pronounces the name of the dish, then moves on to explaining it before pointing to the others. “It’s like, rice, green tea, and seaweed, along with spices. Then, I made some squash, fried fish, something like potato salad, and I have some beer, if you’d like?”

“No,” Victor shakes his head. “We’ve got practice tomorrow, so I think I’ll stick to water. Once I start drinking, I can’t stop.”

“Same here.” Yuuri says, passing Victor a pair of chopsticks before pressing his hands together. As soon as they say their thanks, Yukachin pads around the table, begging for scraps, and both men have to ward her off carefully while they enjoy the food.

Victor eats it all with a happy flush, stuffing his cheeks. “All of this is amazing! I didn’t know you could cook like this.”

“Terrible for you, all of it,” the brunette replies fondly. “But hey. It’s our day off.”

They eat in relative quiet, Yuuri flicking his eyes from his food, to the panting poodle at his side and back to the beautiful man sitting at the table with him.

Victor wipes his mouth when he’s finished, lazily grinning at his partner. “What are you staring at?”

“Nothing in particular,” Yuuri quips back and Victor rolls his eyes, standing up and putting a hand on the older man’s shoulders.

“So I’m nothing now, is that it?” Victor’s voice is tinny as he encourages his coach to stand up and leave the mess on the table behind. “I’ll clean everything up later, Yuuri. First, come here.”

“What is it, nerd?” Victor slowly walks Yuuri to a wall and puts a hand on Yuuri’s slightly chapped lips. Yuuri slowly smiles, breath coming quickly. “You been watching too many dramas?”

“Maybe just a few,” Victor breathes, letting his gorgeous eyes fall closed as he leans down. “Could I have a kiss?”

“Of course,” Yuuri answers him by putting his hands over Victor’s shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his sweater.

Their lips meet for several moments before they pull away, Victor’s hand cushioning Yuuri’s neck against the wall. In a daze, they slip out of the hold, both parties grinning like fools. Yuuri watches Victor clean up from the couch, still dazed that this is his life.

Before things can be truly peaceful, Victor whispers, “I’m still mad about the typewriter, by the way.”

His fiancé chuckles and rubs Victor’s chin. “I’m sorry. I really do love antique typewriters, so I’ll probably get it fixed and use it.”

The mental picture of Yuuri hunching over the keys and smudging his fingers with ink is enticing, and it abates some of Victor’s irritation for the moment. Once he relaxes, sighing against Yuuri, he gives up the frustration entirely, enjoying the moment.

They feed Yukachin and cuddle in front of the television until it gets truly late, dozing off with fingers interlaced, gold bands warm on their hands.