#Stellar One Floor Plan

[gaurcity2022]

Stellar One Phase 2 is a residential project with better lifestyle developments, amenities, and well-defined connectivity. The residential project gives you all the comforts within 3 and 4 BHK apartments. 

[atsgreensproject]

Ivory County is a residential project with 3, 4, and 5 BHK apartments with a promising location at Sector 115. Noida. The residential project gives you some of the promising developments that add to a life of luxury and comforts. 

[ragingbookdragon]

She stared at them like they’d lost their minds. “What is this? A TV show? You seriously want me to dress up and go into this guy’s hideout all alone and flirt the information out of him? Are you fucking kidding me?”

The group shared a look, then Soap shrugged. “I mean, yeah, that’s the gist of the plan.”

With a sigh, she asked, “Do you at least have any dresses for me?”

“Already prepared,” Soap replied, lifting a bag.

“Gimme.” She took the bag from him and dropped it by her feet, toeing off her boots as she unbuttoned her pants and shoved them down her thighs; their eyes hit the ceiling to give her privacy.

“Uh…we have a bathroom.”

“And I have no shame,” she answered, yanking off her jacket, shirt, and tank top underneath. “Literally. I had a guy watch me shit when I was in basic. Had a full-on conversation with that man because he didn’t understand personal space in the head.” She picked out one of the dresses. “Didn’t even look away when I wiped. So, I, from that day forward, have never felt any sense of shame whatsoever. Because if you can have a conversation, with the opposite gender, while you’re shitting, you have no reason to ever be ashamed again.”

“I seriously wonder about your time at boot camp,” Price muttered, and she snorted.

“Pretty sure my entire group was nicotine depraved and crackheads.”

Soap had long lowered his eyes from the ceiling as he commented, “You know your underwear doesn’t match your bra, right?”

“Stellar observation there, Soap. No wonder you’re such a great shot.” She gestured to the red and plaid holiday bra and the neon green hi-briefs. “Forgot to pack before this mission and the underwear to the bra was dirty.”

“Why don’t you just stick with mil-issued?”

Her face pinched. “I’d rather use my hands as a cover for my tits and vag than use shit undergarments I can rip with my bare hands. And I have, in fact, ripped them with my bare hands before. And no, Soap,” she cut off, “you don’t get to ask why.”

She pulled the dress up her legs and slipped her arms through the sleeves, adjusting it to her body, then she frowned. “What am I going to church?”

“It has a slit in the side,” Soap offered, and she started walking around.

“My dudes, I can’t walk in this thing, let alone fight if things go bad.” Ghost, who’d been silent up until that point, walked towards her and she looked at him. “What?” he said nothing, and she backed up. “Ghost, what?”

He stood before her, reached down, and bunched the dress up in his hands, yanking it up her hips until everyone saw neon green. His fingers dug into the meat of her ass, keeping her in place even as she tried to recoil. Her eyes flashed with anger, and she let a knee fly up towards his groin—he caught it of course, also dodging the elbow she sent his way. Ghost gave a ‘hmpf’ and said, “Seems to me like you can fight just fine, love.” Letting her go, he smoothed the dress back down her legs and walked off, leaving her flustered in anger, embarrassment, and if she were being totally honest, arousal.

“Not. One. Word.” She hissed, pointing at the men who suddenly found the floor, the ceiling, and each other much more interesting than her.

As she stalked off in Ghost’s direction, Soap crossed his arms over his chest and muttered, “I’m not paying you money. They didn’t confess.”

Gaz smirked. “Yeah, but they’re gonna bone so it still counts.”

Price scowled at them. “You’re dogs…how much are we betting?”

[its-time-to-write]

Hi!! Thank you for all the amazing writing you do!!! My humble request is of a reader who brings Jamie to meet her family and he’s appalled that someone so kind and gentle is treated w such lack of love/respect (ex: first comment out of her granddad’s mouth is sm about her weight/job/look/etc) and it puts a lot of things about her into perspective. At some point he can’t take it anymore and defends her and then vows to her that he will undo all of that pain and will prove to her she is worthy of all the love:) sorry it’s a long one (got lots of personal experience lol) so no worries if u can’t but it would mean the world thank you!!!

Hi cutie! Here you go! I’m sorry that you have personal experience with this, families can suck sometimes. It’s definitely from Jamie’s POV, so keep that in mind😅 Boy’s a rambler.

stuck by you

Jamie sure knows how to pick them.

No really, he does. He’s always had stellar taste in girlfriends, except usually they have shit taste in men.

It’s different this time, he swears. Keeley swears, too. Swears she’ll break every bone in his body if he so much as looks at you funny, and Jamie… well, Jamie’s not actually terrified of Keeley, just respectful, like.

So he’s going to make sure he doesn’t fuck this up because you’re funny and gorgeous and brilliant and he's also those things, so you’re like a power couple. And when you beg- no, ask, because you only have to ask once- him to come with you for a family event, he says yes without a second thought. 

It’s off-season, but he’d do it in-season in a heartbeat (just with a bit of fear because Ted’s alright, but he’s a little gun-shy since the whole ‘practice’ thing).

It’s also fucking BOILING, so he’s going to wear his least-slutty shorts (it’s a family event) and a shirt that is not see-through. 

He’s not going to fuck this up, not with how sweet you are, how generous, how-

A football hits the side of his head, and he’s brought out of his thoughts. 

“You’re daydreaming, bruv,” comes Isaac’s voice. “What’s the point of a friendly if you can’t even pay attention?”

Jamie gives himself a shake, and he’s firmly in the present. He’s at the mid-off-season-Richmond-party or whatever, and football is a mandatory affair. He makes the mistake of glancing to where you’re standing under a tree in Colin’s backyard and fuck you’re sneaking sweets to the few kids who are flitting around the grass. Fucking Declan and his adorable children. You catch his eye and give him a little wave, and his heart jumps like he’s in primary school and not a world-renowned Premier League athlete. 

Yeah, he’s good and fucked. 

He makes a mental note to get you into bed tonight, he’s pretty sure it won’t be too difficult, but he’s going to have to convince you to leave early. But can you blame him?

(No, no you fucking can’t.)

—

Jamie isn’t nervous to meet your family. Seriously, he isn’t. It’s your family and a) he’s fucking greatwith families and b) he’s fucking great with you. He rocks up with you on his arm, and he’s already making plans for the sundress you’ve got on, mainly how to get in on the floor once you go home. 

You’re both looking fucking fit. Jamie hopes a little bit that someone sneaks a picture of you two and it ends up in the press because this look CANNOT be wasted. 

He almost misses the way your grip tightens as you walk up the steps. He tilts his head in your direction, assessing your expression. 

“You okay?” he asks and receives a tight-lipped smile. 

“Yup,” you reply. “Let’s fucking do this.”

Not the response Jamie was expecting, but he’ll roll with it. You push open the door and walk into the family room and the first thing out of your granddad’s mouth is, “Oh, there she is! Bold of you to wear that dress with the way you’ve been eating, my dear,” and Jamie half-expects you to say something. 

Or for someone to say something. 

Except no one does, they just carry on, and an aunt comes up to you to make a snide comment about your job. 

“You absolutely must be struggling financially dear, but aren’t we all? I just wish I could screw a footballer and have my rent paid.”

She’s gone before Jamie can say anything, and he only needs one look at your face to understand exactly what’s going on. 

You’re not sweet and kind because your family is sweet and kind. Oh no. 

You’re the way you are out of sheer willpower, out of spite; kindness born the way of a weed in concrete. Out of a refusal to die. A decision to be different. 

And it pisses Jamie off. 

He squeezes your hand once, twice, in reassurance, letting you lead him to your parents. He recognizes them from pictures and still retains a vague hope that they’ll be like you. 

Vain, vague hope, but still. 

He catches the way your mum’s lips tighten into a line at your approach, and the way your dad barely suppresses a scoff. 

“Oh look,” your mum says without an ounce of inflection, “you’re here. That’s wonderful.”

“Good to see you mum, dad,” you say with more grace than Jamie would have if the roles were reversed. Your dad holds out his hand to shake yours, barely acknowledging Jamie. Jamie opens his mouth to say something but you clock it, and shoot him a warning glance. 

He freezes and meets your gaze. You shake your head almost imperceptibly and mouth don’t and he almost ignores you, but you’re begging him with your eyes and he swore you’d never have to beg him for anything. 

So he turns away and doesn’t say anything, because he won’t be responsible for breaking you today. 

And it’s just… like that. All day. It’s relentless and he feels powerless to do a single thing except watch as you refuse to let your armor crack, barely letting it dent the surface. 

How did he not know?

It comes to a head when your cousin (a banking twat who Jamie’s certain had a shriveled dick) manages to comment on your weight, (supposed lack of) beauty, and finances in one fell swoop. 

And that’s it. Jamie’s done. 

They want to be pricks? Well, Roy’s been calling him the Prince Prick of all Pricks for fucking years, so let’s fucking go then. 

“Fuck you, you giant limp-dicked twat,” he says with a smile on his face. You freeze, and so does your cousin. 

“What did you just say to me?”

“I said,” Jamie repeats loudly, taking a step closer, “fuck you, you giant. Limp-dicked. Twat.” He punctuates each word with a poke to this arsehole’s chest and fuck, does it feel great. 

He loves you, he’ll respect your wishes moving forward, but he’ll be FUCKED if he lets your family’s behavior continue. What would mummy say?

The entire room has gone silent, and you’ve gone pale. 

But Jamie, Jamie loves an audience. 

“Fuck you all, actually,” he sing-songs, and there are audible gasps. 

Jamie doesn’t give a shit. “You’re all fucking arseholes to my girl, who, by the way, is the fucking best, except you’re all too fucking busy taking shots at her to notice. Don’t know what the fuck she did to all of you, but you can all piss off with that. We’re fucking leaving.” He grabs your hands and pulls you toward the door. 

It’s not like you need much prompting, you’ve been counting down the minutes since you walked in the door. 

“Oh,” he says turning around one last time. “Don’t bother calling. Or writing, or whatever you old twats do, unless it’s an apology for however fucking long you’ve been this shitty. I’ve only got one shit parent, can’t imagine the hell it’s been having two.”

And with that, he ushers you out the door. 

“Jamie,” you gasp as soon as it shuts behind you. “What was that? What were you thinking?”

There’s a strange tightness to your voice, one Jamie’s having trouble placing. 

Or maybe it’s the fact that the sun is setting and it’s tingeing your skin with gold. 

Either way, it’s starting to get to him. “Dunno,” he says with a trace of belligerence. 

You gape at him for a moment before saying, “Can we get in the car, please?”

Jamie says, “Yeah,” and then helps you in, suddenly aware of every bone in his body. 

He swore he wasn’t going to fuck it, and he did. Christ, Keeley’s going to skin him alive. 

He drives in silence the whole way home. You’re just staring straight ahead, and he can tell you’re still processing. Still replaying. You’re better than any VAR, that’s for sure. 

“Jamie,” you say slowly once he’s parked in the driveway. You’ve unbuckled, but you’re still in your seat. “Why did you say all of that?”

Jamie says again, “Dunno,” but you don’t believe him. 

“Why?” you ask again, voice cracking. “It’s not worth it, I’m not worth it.”

And just like that, Jamie understands. 

“You are,” he replies forcefully, except that just makes you cry. 

(He’s pretty sure they’re good tears, though, so he tests it by reaching for your hand. You don’t pull away, which is a good sign.)

“You are worth it,” he says again, in case you didn’t get it the first time. “Shit family’s… it’s shit, babe. I get it, I really fucking do. I’m sorry about them, I really am. And I’m sorry about me, too. Didn’t mean to say ‘fuck’ so many times, suppose I’m around Roy too much.”

That succeeds in lightening the mood, and you smile ever so slightly. 

He says, “They don’t deserve you,” which just makes you laugh. 

“I know,” you reply. “I just always wanted them to be a good family.”

Jamie hesitates. He knows what you mean. 

Finally he says, “People don’t change like that, love. It’s almost- hardwired into them. They get fucking stuck and you can’t change them, no matter what you do. Sometimes you just gotta let them go.”

You nod and take a deep breath. Easier said than done, you suppose. 

Jamie cups your cheek. “I’m with you, babe. It’s you, me, and whatever family we can put together. We’ll put in the work, yeah? Be different.”

“Yeah,” you echo, “we’ll be different.”

[alienpossession]

"Ohhh fuck bro, yeah, get inside of me," said the newly promoted investment banking analyst as he let his small intergalactic friend slipped right back in through his anus after blowing his cock. Cristobal entered UPenn through scholarship as a talented soccer player, so no one expected him to not only ace his college soccer career, but also graduating in the upper rung of his Finance degree. Not like it's very hard or anything, but Cristobal, or Chris in its anglicized version, is never known to be a rather bright student. Even his GPA in the first two semester were not stellar or anything. Of course he didn't disclose the fact that a small-yet-brilliant, intergalactic being with light-years ahead computational abilities and civilization beyond human comprehension slid into him during one of his away game. That little bundle of brilliance turned around Cristobal's fate as it cohabited with the handsome Latino stud, and life went so much smoother for the suddenly very studious Cristobal.

And with every milestones they achieved together, as a way to show his gratitude, Cristobal would feed his little partner with his blissfully tangy and creamy spunk that looked like the elixir of the deities in the creature's folktale. A double promotion is certainly worthy of copious amount of cum, that's why Cristobal already planned an explosive night where he will have a threesome with one of the Assistant Vice President (in IB, AVP is like, middle management, nothing really high or anything but still a rather powerful position) and his wife. Well, it's a dinner for starter, but the little fella already aimed at the hunky DILF ever since Cristobal seen him changing clothes in his office after his morning workout on the ground floor's gym and also the encounter during bathroom break where the AVP gingerly smiled at Cristobal as they make eye contact while he stuffed his definitely fat cock into his suit pants after pissing in the urinoir

He's going to make the move tonight and put that hunk and his wife under its alien mate control, sharing the blissful devotion to serve the brilliant intergalactic being

If the AVP already under its control, maybe the little creature can spread across the AVP rank and then proceed to climb higher within his influential investment banking leadership to see how much control it can exercise not only over the company, but to the global financial landscape as it sees fit. After all, it's been a rather lonely few years for the little creature, maybe its time to call some of its friends to Earth and reap some more bliss in life from the oblivious human.

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

this is halloween || han x reader

Summary: You weren't happy about getting detention, but getting to be around Jisung almost feels like it could make it worth it at first. At least, until you realize that there's a killer on the loose in the school, and that he plans on getting rid of all of you.

Word count: 6.3k

Genres: high school au, slasher au, thriller/mild horror

Warnings & Tags: angst, class clown!han jisung, final girl!reader (gender isn't specified but that's the vibe), graphic descriptions of violence happening inside of a high school

A/N: Last (late) installment in that Halloween mini-series. To reiterate, this contains description of violence and murders occurring within a high school, which can be triggering to some, so do exercise caution.

I.N. · Seungmin · Felix

It was never supposed to go that way.

For starters, you should never have gotten detention and, mind you, you'd still insist that it was totally unfair that you'd gotten it in the first place. Any reasonable teacher would have looked at the facts, which were your test results, as stellar as ever, and Nari’s test results, stellar as they never were, and assumed that she’d cheated and used you to do so.

Your physics teacher could not be described as ‘reasonable’. He’d called the two of you to his desk, using the one mistake you’d made that she had, of course, written word for word on her test as proof, and he’d given you both detention. You would have tried to defend yourself, had your eyes not immediately filled with tears. When Nari had started rising her voice, accusing you in the same breath, you’d known your efforts would be wasted anyway. You’d hung your heard low, and you’d gone back to your seat.

The first detention you’d ever gotten in your life, and it had to happen on the very last year of your time in this dreadful place. God, you couldn’t wait to get out. Yes, college entrance exams were looming terrifyingly above your head, but there was still freedom at the end of the line, freedom at least from your peers. You’d take that as a win.

At the end of the day, having only gotten a fifteen minutes break to spew your venom at your understanding best friend, you dragged your feet to detention. A confused Ms. Kim had greeted when you’d gotten there, all the more so because you were a few minutes early. As you’d handed her the detention slip, however, she’d had no choice but to let you in, though she had patted your shoulder as she did.

You were not the type of student to get detention. You were the one who got straight As, who never raised their voice, who had painstakingly managed to make one friend who you had clung to since your first year here. If you could avoid drawing attention to yourself, you’d take it. You only raised your hand in class if the teacher had been waiting for someone to speak for the appropriate amount of time, tried to make yourself be forgotten the rest of the time. It did not work quite as well as you would like, but you had stayed out of trouble so far.

The same cannot be said of the students who enter the room after you. Nari runs in right as the bell rings, looking sheepish. She mouths a ‘sorry’ in your direction, like she didn’t try to throw you under the bus after the teacher caught her. She’s quickly followed by Hanseok, the school star athlete, who looks like he’s trying to shrink himself, which is no small feat considering how wide his shoulders are. He keeps his eyes on the floor, and you wonder what could have landed him here. He’s not known for getting into trouble.

Next is Taewoon who walks in nonchalantly, like he does that every day, which, to be fair, he probably does. Known troublemaker, you have no idea why he’s here tonight, but he’s regularly caught doing wild, stupid shit nearby. Ms. Kim shakes her head at him and he just shrugs. Last but not least comes Han Jisung, fashionably late, class clown and another regular. As he walks in, he leans on the desk, grinning at Ms Kim.

“Is that a new hair cut? It looks great!”

She rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide a smile in return.

“See, you’re here so often you notice that kind of things.”

“Of course I’d notice!” he protests, sounding offended as he’s weirdly good at doing — to be fair, it does still get him out of trouble most of the time.

She gestures for him to go to his place, but she doesn’t seem too mad, and he has a satisfied smirk on his face as he does. It’s as he’s doing so that he spots you, and his eyes go wide. He looks around like he thinks he’s gotten the wrong room, before altering his course to let himself fall down on the table next to yours

Your heart is beating like crazy in your chest and you do your best to smile at him the right way — you know, not too briefly so he doesn’t think you’re rude, and not too long so he doesn’t think you’re interested because, ahah, that’d be ridiculous, that’d be soooo embarrassing, there’s no way that would happen.

You may or may not have a raging crush on him.

Look, he’s funny. He’s cute. He looks at you when he makes a clever joke to see if you’re laughing. You don’t hang in the same circles, and you know it’s stupid to entertain your thoughts about him, but you just can’t help them. You wish you could quash your feelings before they hurt you. Because they will. Undoubtedly. Been there, done that. Love hasn’t worked for you, and you’d rather not delude yourself into hoping it could this time.

All these good resolutions vanish when Han leans towards you.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, sounding so confused. “Did you get lost?”

You sigh.

“I was accused of cheating on a test,” you mumble, trying to sound casual about it and not like it makes you want to cry.

“What?” His eyes look like they’re trying to pop out of his head. “That’s ridiculous.” Then he leans closer, conspiratorially. “Want me to try to get you out of here?”

Your heart is beating so fast.

“No,” you squeak despite trying not to. “It’s fine. I guess that’s— part of the high school experience, right? I should live through that at least once.”

He looks deeply confused for a second, then chuckles as he settles back in his chair.

“You’re the only person who’d think that way,” he says, and you think he sounds fond as he says it, but you know that your brain is prone to wishful-thinking. Then, with a regain of interest “Tell me if you change your mind, it’s not too late.”

He settles comfortably on his desk, resting his head on his backpack. It’s already dark outside, as it usually is at this time of the year. Cold, white streetlights have turned on over the football field, and the cloudy, starless sky gives the school a gloomy vibe. It doesn’t help that it’s eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that you’ve only heard when you’d lingered too long in the library. Lively halls are empty now, as are the classrooms. On this last night before winter break, no one has stuck around. Even clubs have taken pity on their members and let them escape tonight. It’s only the six of you left in the building, and maybe a few lingering staff members and guardians.

You glance around at what others are doing, trying to figure out what you’re even meant to do in here. Jisung has closed his eyes and is clearly intent on taking a nap. Nari has pulled out a notebook and is writing in it dutifully. Hanseok is looking out the window with a blank look on his face. Taewoon seems to be sleeping as well. Finally, Ms Kim is reading a book — romance, by the looks of it —  and seems to have no plan of acknowledging your existence until the bell rings and frees her of your presence.

With a sigh, you start pulling out your books. Jisung opens an eye. With his face smooshed against his backpack, his cheeks look even rounder.

“I can still get you out,” he whispers.

You smile, but shake your head.

“It’s fine. It will all be over in an hour anyway.”

Ms Kim clears her throat to remind you to stay quiet. You jump at it, and she gives you an apologetic look, but you’re already back to burying your head in your books, trying to be small and inconspicuous and most importantly, not to anger anyone. That’s what you do after that, even once the room gets quiet again, and that’s where you still are, half an hour later, when the lights suddenly go off.

You look up, startled, and for a second you can’t see a thing, until your eyes get accustomed to the unexpected darkness. In the meantime, someone stands up, not far from you, and surprised shouts rise in the room.

“Everyone stay where you are!” Ms Kim shouts. Phones are starting to come out, lighting up the room, and soon you see that Jisung’s standing next to you, with one hand on the back of seat. He’s so close he’d brush against you if he moved just a little to the left. “It’s either the electricity or someone forgot we were still here. I’ll go see what’s happening and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Can’t we just go home?” Nari whines. “C’mon, there’s, like fifteen minutes left.”

“Make it thirty,” Ms Kim corrects sternly. “Everyone better stay here. Anyone who leaves will get detention for the first week when we’re back in class.” When protests erupt, she raises her voice. “I’ll let you off the hook if there’s an issue with the electricity, but for now, you guys need to stay there.”

She leaves the room as more people are protesting, not paying one ounce of attention to it. It looks like it’s not the first time something like that has happened to her.

Her footsteps in the hallway have barely faded that Taewoon is already getting up.

“Fuck it,” he says, making a whole show out of it. “I’m not sticking around.”

“You’re going?” Jisung asks. Clearly, he’s thinking of doing it as well. He glances around at the rest of the group. None of you have moved from your seat. “What about you guys?”

“I can’t miss practice,” Hanseok says.

“I’ve got a part time job, I can’t lose it,” is Nari’s answer.

That leaves you, and it takes you a second to realize that Jisung is looking at you and waiting for an answer.

“I— I don’t want to get detention again,” is all you can manage to mumble. It sounds pathetic to your ears, but he nods all the same.

“What are you doing?” Taewoon asks him again.

“I’ll stay behind this time,” Jisung sighs dramatically. “Live your life to the fullest for the rest of us, okay?”

Taewoon snorts.

“Sure. Enjoy yourselves here. I’ll see you after the break.”

You feel envy as he escapes the room. You wish you could care this little about all the trouble you’d get into. At the same time, being in your shoes brings advantages that you quite enjoy. Just not particularly tonight.

Then, Jisung pulls his chair to come sit next to you, setting his phone on your table so you can both see each other’s face, and you change your mind.

“You should have taken my offer,” he smiles at first, before his expression shifts to a more serious one. “You okay? It’s happened before, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m fine,” you answer, maybe too quickly. Mostly, you’re wondering why he feels the need to tell you that and if you look so fragile to him that he thinks this would send you into a breakdown. “Does it usually come back on?”

He shrugs.

“Yeah, most of the time. Sometimes there’s a tree that’s fallen somewhere it shouldn’t and she lets us go.” He glances out the window. “It’s pretty windy tonight. Maybe it’s the case.”

As you look out, you see Taewoon crossing the football field, before disappearing under the bleachers, from where he can reach the parking lot. At least one of you has gone free, you think, feeling bitter about all the things that have kept you in this spot.

“Hey, you’re getting the full, five-star high school experience,” Jisung’s voice brings you back to the present. “I can get you in trouble more after that, if you’d like.”

A small laugh escapes your lips.

“I think I’m good.”

“You could see the boys’ locker room from the inside,” he insists, and you laugh again.

“That does not sound like a good experience!”

“The inside of the teachers’ lounge,” he offers as you roll your eyes. “Steal exam questions. Change your grades. Give lower notes to your rivals.”

“What rivals,” you protest, though you’re grinning from ear to ear at this point.

“Are you saying that no one’s good enough to compete with you? And here I thought you valued my intelligence, wah, you think you know someone—”

His chatter takes your mind off your situation. There’s something about having Jisung’s undivided attention, about him clearly having noticed how down you were feeling and trying to cheer you up, that makes you feel all fuzzy inside. You’re not used to someone’s eyes staying on you for that long, certainly not his eyes. And yet he’s choosing to use time that could so easily be spent doing something else with you. Your heart beats so fast you think it’s going to fall right out of your chest.

Ten minutes go by before Nari’s voice interrupts your talking.

“Shouldn’t Ms Kim be back by now?”

Her expression is composed, she’s leaning back in her chair to look at you, but her voice is at a higher-pitch than usual. A glance at your watch tells you that she’s probably right and a cold hand comes wrap around your heart to squeeze it, before you shake it off. No need to feel that way. There’s likely a completely fine explanation.

“Maybe she’s run into Mr Park,” Jisung offers, smoothly. Then, with a gasp, “Maybe they’re having a quickie in the principal’s office.”

You chuckle quietly, but Nari’s not amused.

“Shouldn’t someone go look for her?” she asks. When no one volunteers, she continues, “She’ll never believe me if I go and I really can’t lose my part time job, but, you know, maybe if it was someone else…”

You know where this is going, and she’s not exactly wrong, yet you worry about getting in trouble all the same. Stupidly, you’re afraid you’re going to get yelled at. You hate getting yelled at. You’d probably cry if that happened.

“I’ll go if you go,” Jisung says, eyeing you, saving the day once more — saving your day at least.

“Okay,” you reply, and you surprise yourself at how quick and easy that was. You blame it on the relief you feel for not having to go out there alone. “I’ll come.”

He smiles at you when you say that. It’s kind of embarrassing how it makes butterflies take off in your stomach.

“Everyone be good,” he chastises the other two as you open the door. “Nari, you’re in charge while we’re gone, okay?”

She sticks her tongue out at him while Hanseok scoffs. Still, they’re both grinning as the two of you venture out into the quiet, dark high school.

You’re not one to believe in supernatural creatures. You like logical, provable, tangible things. Still, out there, irrational fear seizes you, wrapping its tentacles around you. Your footsteps echo loudly in the hallways, and the measly flashlight from your cellphones are nowhere near enough to light up the entire place. No matter how your orient them, there remain dark patches all over.

“It’s kind of cool,” Jisung comments as you’re starting to bury yourself in your thoughts again. This time, you don’t know if he’s doing it for your benefit or if he doesn’t like it when things stay quiet for too long. “Who knows, maybe we will see her with Mr Park.”

“I think they’re both very much married,” you reply, and some of the worry washes away when you hear your own voice. Suddenly, you’re not in this unfamiliar place anymore, but back in the halls of the high school that you walk in every single day.

“Like that’s ever stopped people,” Jisung grins. “C’mon, he’s not bad-looking for his age.”

This time, a very genuine laugh bursts out of you.

“That’s not an image I needed!” you protest.

“Like you’ve never thought about it before,” he teases, and as you let out noises of disgust, his flashlight sweeps over the floor. “What do you think? Do we start with the custodian and the principal’s office, or do we go for the basement? That’s where she’d be if it’s a problem with the electricity?”

“She’s probably in the basement if she’s been gone all this time,” you reason, but you really do not want to venture down there at the moment. Even with Jisung by your side, you don’t think you’d enjoy this small of a space with no lights other than your own. Just thinking about it has your throat becoming tighter. “But, uh, maybe we can start with the principal’s office?”

Jisung agrees to that with more enthusiasm than it warrants, and then you listen to him dramatically offer possibilities about how Ms Kim and Mr Park could have gotten together. You laugh more than you should, more than you would were you with anyone else in the same situation, and it’s not the right place nor the right time, but you know you’re falling in love with him. You’ve always suspected that it was just a matter of spending more time with him, always told yourself that it was therefore not a good idea. But here you were now, and there was not a thing you could do about it.

“Okay, here we are,” you say, interrupting a truly wild scenario in which the teacher and the principle are Russian spies who got married as a cover but were actually high school sweethearts. “Should I, uh, knock?”

Jisung shrugs, moving past you to try the handle. As he does so, you’re struck by how quiet it is. There’s no way she’s in there, we’ve wasted our time, you think.

Then, to your surprise, the door opens. Jisung walks in. Then freezes in the opening.

“What’s going on,” you ask, taking a step forward to look over his shoulder, “don’t tell me they’re really—"

But you’re not met with the sight of two lovers. Instead, your eyes first find Mr Park, slumped on his desk, something that you can’t identify sticking out of his back. On the floor, right in front of Jisung, is Ms Kim. She’s lying on her back, her eyes wide open and her pupil still and empty. It takes you a second to realize that the angle her head is at with her body is wrong, and a second longer to understand that that’s because her throat’s is nothing more than a wide, gaping wound. Underneath her, a puddle of blood that you realize you’ve stepped into. She looks so pale, compared to how she was just a few minutes ago.

You open your mouth to scream. Before you can, though, Jisung’s hand comes to cover it, and you only let out a whimper as your eyes search his. For the first time tonight, he’s lost his nonchalant confidence.

“Someone could still be there,” he whispers to you. “We shouldn’t stay here.”

With one last look at your teacher, he closes the door.

Things are blurry after that. You remember him grabbing your wrist as he drags you away from the scene. You remember him trying a few doors before pulling you into an empty classroom. You remember him vomiting in a trashcan and self-consciously wiping his mouth afterwards. You remember sitting on a table in silence for you don’t know how long.

“We have to get out of here,” he says at some point. He sounds sure of himself again.

“We have to— we have to go get Nari and Hanseok,” you answer. As soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel guilty for not having thought of them immediately. Shit, they must still be waiting for the two of you to return. Someone could have— someone could have already—

You’re on your feet before you think. It’s unlike you, but it says a lot that your brain doesn’t harp on that in the moment. There’s an urgency in your chest that you’re not used to feeling.

“We need to go get them.”

Jisung studies you for a second, then swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

“Okay,” he says. His voice is weak. “Okay. We’re getting them and then we’re going out of here, right?”

You nod. Guilt and fear are battling within you, but both feelings are directed towards the people you’ve left behind. You think it would kill you if something happened to them that you could have stopped.

The walk back to the detention is faster, but it feels like it take ages. Jisung keeps close to you, checking behind you while you keep your eyes on what’s in front of you. You see nothing, hear nothing. Just like earlier, the high school feels empty. Unlike earlier, you know it is not.

You’re almost there, starting to breathe again, starting to think you’ll make it, when you hear the screams. Terrified, you back into Jisung, who wraps his arm around you.

“Light,” he hisses, “light out, now.”

You’re too scared to do anything other than what he suggests. It overtakes your whole body, freezes your muscles into place. His chest is pressed against your back as you stay perfectly still, and you can feel his heart beating wildly, betraying the fact that he’s in the same state as you. In the distance, a door slams open.

“Don’t leave me here!” Nari screams.

In the dark, someone that you have to assume is Hanseok rushes past you. He’s fast, powerful. Whoever you hear after him is fast too, footsteps squeaking in the hallways, and all you’re thinking is that Nari is wearing heels.

At least Hanseok’s making it out is the thought that follows — for a second at least, because it isn’t long after that there’s a shout of frustration and the sound of someone struggling with a door. Then screams, intercut with disgusting, wet sounds that you can only imagine are what a knife produces when it’s brought down into someone. Tears stream down your face in silence. The front door’s locked and Hanseok— Hanseok is—

“Nari,” you whisper, choking on the word.

Jisung nods and pulls you forward, but by the time you get to the detention room, it’s empty. You check for a body, turning your cellphone’s light back on, terrified you’ll find one, and you can breathe again when you don’t find her anywhere.

“Now we have to go,” Jisung insists.

“But she’s—”

“We’ve done what we could. C’mon, we have no way of knowing where she is, she could be out by—”

The speakers creak horribly.

“Attention, students,” a man’s voice comes through. It’s loud and booming, but more than anything, it’s even. It doesn’t shake, doesn’t have the hysterical accents that you’ve heard in movies. If anything, it sounds like he’s playing the role of a school announcer, and the thought makes you sick to your stomach. “Lee Nari. Han Jisung. Kang Won— Ah, no, I suppose that’s been taken care of, hasn’t it. Im Taewoon.” Then he pauses for a second, before reading your name, and you feel overcome with helplessness. Before that, it felt like it was— You’re not sure what you were feeling, but it didn’t feel targeted. Now, you think that even leaving the school might not make the nightmare end. “Well, you might not be who I’m looking for,” the man chuckles— he fucking chuckles — after saying your name. “We’ll see. If you’re good, I’ll consider letting you off the hook. The rest of you though… you won’t cause trouble again.”

This is like a bad slasher movie with a stupid premise, something you’d make fun of if you weren’t caught in the middle of it.

“Windows and doors are locked,” he announces dramatically. “Breaking out only means that I’ll come get you, so do yourself a favor and surrender, hm? I promise to make it quick.”

Then he hangs up.

“What do we do?” you whisper to Jisung. “You— you love horror movies, right? What should we do?”

He stares at you.

“Yeah, I— I do. I didn’t think you’d remember.” It’s not the moment, but for a second — less than that, a fraction of it — you’re no longer a terrified prey but a teenager again, feeling like you’ve just exposed your crush. “I— one of us should leave.”

You shake your head.

“He said he’d hunt us. He could show up at our parents’ house—”

“I know,” he interrupts you. “But that’s— that’s why one of us should stay here.”

Again, you shake your head, more vehemently this time.

“No. No way. We’re not— We’re not doing that.”

He grabs your arms, the motion gentle instead of forceful, like one more attempt at comforting you as he looks straight into your eyes.

“Listen. One of us needs to leave. I— I think he’s probably watching the windows. He must know that we’d try to leave, right? So he’s— probably ready to give chase.” He swallows thickly. “If he— If he has a rifle or something— But that’d give someone else time to escape, if he leaves too. If not… Someone could go get help. Nari might have called the cops already, but that— that doesn’t mean they’re coming right now.”

“No,” you repeat, because you think you know where he is going with this.

“I’ll— What do you want to do? I— I think I should go.”

He’s close enough that you can see there are tears in his eyes.

“You should— you should be ready to leave from the other side when I do,” he whispers, and you want to cry too. “I’ll distract him.”

You shake your head, but you don’t think you can change his mind.

“Hey, I can be really fast, okay?” His tone gets lighter. “Maybe I’ll outrun him.”

You’d be more inclined to believe that if the man hadn’t been able to catch up with Hanseok — though you suppose that he wouldn’t have on open grounds, and that gives you some hope that you desperately cling to.

“You better,” you hear yourself say.

Jisung lets out a long, deep breath, then turns around to face the window. It’s true that they’re locked; they always are at the end of the day. But they’re not known for being particularly solid. As a matter of fact, they regularly get broken by football players. You wonder if that’s what got Hanseok in trouble, then shove the subject as far down as you can, because it reminds you that he’s— he’s—

“Okay,” Jisung mumbles, grabbing a chair and getting ready to swing it at the window. Just as he lifts it above his head, though, he stops himself and sets it down to face you.

Something passes between the two of you. It’s hard not to think that this might be the last time you see each other, however his escape attempt goes. Jisung swallows thickly.

Then he’s grabbing your shoulders and pressing his lips against yours. It’s brief, kind of clumsy. Nothing about it is how you envisioned your first kiss. But his lips are soft and warm, and he’s holding on to you like he never wants to let go.

He does anyway, looking at you with wide eyes.

“F–For luck,” he mumbles.

“Sure,” you choke out in response. “No, uh, no problem.”

You’ll die of embarrassment at that later on, if you don’t just die tonight.

His chair smashes through the window, the sound unbearably loud in the silence of the school, and he doesn’t stick around to see what happens. Cutting his hands on the broken glass, he jumps out while you back out of the room to go crouch in a dark corner. You peek to see him sprinting through the football field, waiting with baited breath to see the killer following after him.

He doesn’t.

You wait longer.

Still nothing.

And you realize you’re stuck in the building with him.

“Well, well,” the voice in the speaker says, right as the realization settles, as calm as it was the first time. “Seems like we’ve had an infraction. Too bad. Seems I’ll have to go hunting once I’m done with you.”

Then it cuts again. For a while, you can’t hear yourself think over the terrified thoughts that fill your mind. You think of following after Jisung, but you have no way of knowing if the killer would let it slide twice. Truth be told, with Jisung gone, you feel your old patterns of thinking catching up with you. You’re too scared to go, and the more you wait, the more you think it’s now too late to go. Your anxiety has you in a chokehold, with no intention of letting go.

What does get you to move is the greater fear that the killer could come inspect the place, now that Jisung’s left. He must have noticed that only Nari and Hanseok were in the room — if he thinks Taewoon was still here, probably because he was murdering Ms Kim at that point, that would have to mean the three of you were together, in his mind. It begs the question of how Taewoon got out, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he had his ways of doing it, even with the windows closed.

You don’t turn your light off, listening closely as you cross the hallways. You’re aiming for the kitchens, though you haven’t actually stopped to think about it. All that your mind can supply with as a justification is that you need a weapon. Realistically, you don’t think it would do you any good. You probably wouldn’t be able to use it against anyone. But who gives a fuck about realism right now? You might die here tonight. Three of the people you used to see around every day are gone forever already. If finding a knife makes you feel better, you’ll get yourself a knife, dammit.

You regret it when you make your way through the cafeteria. Because of how it’s situated, there is more light coming from outside in here than there was elsewhere. You’ve already started to see the dark as an ally, and leaving it makes you feel incredibly exposed. Despite that, you run through it, bent in half, trying to stay behind the tables, and get into the kitchens.

You’re searching through the drawers for a knife when the most terrifying sound you can think of right now resonates behind you.

The door. Someone’s opened the door.

You crouch behind one of the many kitchen isles. Silent tears are running down your face, but adrenaline is keeping you from completely giving up — for now, anyway.

“Who do we have here?” the voice asks, and you press a hand against your mouth so you don’t accidentally give yourself away. It doesn’t just echo in the cafeteria though, no, it comes out through the speakers as well. Like he wants the survivors to know that he’s gotten one of you, and that they never had a chance in the first place. “I’ll be very disappointed in you if it’s you, (Y/N). If you’d stayed put, you might have had a chance. Now, I have to wonder if you helped your friend leave, too.”

Glancing over the corner, you see a man in a mask slowly walking through the kitchen. Slowly, you start backing up, careful not to make a sound. If you run, maybe you’ll get to the door. If you get to the door, maybe he’ll lose you and you’ll be able to hide better.

Please. Please. You just want to make it out of here. You want— you want to go to college. You want to ask Jisung what that kiss meant. You want to get home to your parents.

It’s as you’re getting up that you bump your head into one of the drawers that you’ve left open. Once it happens, you’re on your feet in an instant, making a dash for the door, but the man intercepts you before you can get away. You fall on your back when he pushes you, and he shakes his head at you.

“I thought you were better than that,” he sighs. “It truly is a shame that you got caught up in this, but I suppose you weren’t as good as you made yourself out to be.”

He raises the knife. Tears blur your vision.

Then there’s a loud smack. Nari appears behind him, a bent plastic tray in her hands and tears streaming down her face.

“I’m s–so sorry you got detention because of me,” she sobs out, chest heaving, and all you can do is stare — though a part of you that right now is very far from the surface appreciates the sentiment. You note, vaguely, that she’s barefoot, probably having ditched the heels when she realized they would only get her in trouble.  She holds her hand out, and you take it without hesitation, pulling yourself to your feet just in time to see the man rise again behind her. He’s rubbing the back of his head, but he’s nowhere near unconscious, and he’s close. You pull Nari away, but his knife still slashes across her back and she falls forward, screaming.

You back up, but his eyes aren’t on you. Instead, he goes to stand above Nari. She tries to crawl forward, crying, and you see him lowering himself above her.

If you don’t want to watch her die in front of your eyes, you need to find the fucking knives.

The first two drawers you stumble into as Nari struggles and desperately hits at the men are empty.

The third one has knives.

You can’t afford to think as you rush back towards them. The man raises his knife once, and Nari catches the blade with her bare hand. You try to tune out both the screams and the sounds. Then he grabs her wrists with the one hand. Raises the knife again.

You’re out of time.

You stab him in the chest, and he lets out a sharp, horrified gasp. You push him backwards while his blade catches at your arms, the adrenaline too strong to feel it for now. You drive the blade into him, again and again and again, until he’s fallen and his knife has gone still, and all that fills the room are Nari’s tears and whimpers of pain.

It’s only as your own pain catches up with you that you admit what’s just happened.

You did it.

You lived.

 They take Nari and Hanseok to a hospital first, both of their wounds being much more significant than your own. Hanseok’s condition, from what you’ve heard, was ‘critical’. You’d felt hope at that, at first, but the looks people had exchanged had soon quashed that.

They weren’t optimistic.

As they leave, you stay wrapped in a blanket, sitting in an ambulance as your arms are being disinfected as the cops search the building. All of your limbs ache like you’ve just run a marathon, but you can’t make yourself look away, no matter how hard you’ve tried. Staying there, you hear, vaguely, that the killer was a former member of staff that had been let go earlier in the year. He’s alive too, for now, because you hadn’t known where to aim when you’d attacked him — ironically, that’s the same reason Hanseok’s still breathing. His exact motive was being debated still, but you found unable to care. Why would you give a shit about why he'd done that? All that mattered was that he’d done it.

You’re sitting there, stewing in those thoughts, when Jisung appears. You don’t think they were supposed to let him through, but it looks like he managed to sneak in. He’s clearly been crying, his eyes all red and his face puffy.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking as he chokes on the words. “I didn’t think— I didn’t think I’d be leaving you alone in there with him. I— I did as fast as I could, I promise, but they— they thought it was a prank call and I—”

“It’s—” You want to say ‘It’s fine’, but the words refuse to come out of your mouth. “It’s not your fault,” you manage to say instead. “You had no way of knowing. I’m— Nari and I should both be fine. You did— You did the best thing you could have done.”

Nari had mentioned, as you were lying with her on the cold floor of the cafeteria, that she’d seen you walk in, soon followed by the man. She hadn’t found herself able to stay away. Who knew, if she hadn’t felt so guilty, maybe she wouldn’t have gone in. Maybe if it had been Jisung, he’d be gone by now. Maybe if you’d left through the window, the killer would have followed you.

There are too many what ifs to let him blame himself.

“I’m glad you made it,” you say softly, trying not to cry again.

He nods, opens his mouth, then shakes his head as tears flow once again, and just comes to sit next to you. It’s not so often that you see Han Jisung so completely quiet. You rest your head on his shoulder, trying to bring him what comfort you can, certainly taking all that you are able to from his touch.

You know, in that moment, that the consequences of tonight would likely follow you for the rest of your life. You don’t know if there will be a single day in the future where you don’t think of it. But right now, the thought that maybe, just maybe, not everything that comes from tonight has to be horrible and dark and crushing helps you to just keep breathing.

Jisung’s fingers quietly rub circles on your skin. He presses a kiss into your hair, mumbles ‘Thank you’s to no one in particular.

Finally, you allow yourself to close your eyes.

since this is different from what I usually write (and gets brutal), I'm exceptionally not using my taglist.

i enjoyed writing this and wrote almost 4k for it today, so, uh, sorry if it stops making sense at around 3k in. something that i particularly enjoy is breaking genre expectations by jumping into another genre. here, the first half is inspired by your typical high school movies, before veering into a thriller/horror movie, which i quite like (but it can also be disorienting and i'd get it if you didn't enjoy it). anyway.

if you've made it to this point, I hope you've enjoyed this series and this installment of it! don't hesitate to comment or reblog, honestly any feedback or support is appreciated. i'll see you all again for the hyung line in December (and maybe even in the meantime with other projects, who knows). take care!

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Tap on My Window, Knock on My Door

I'm Bright Baby Blue, Falling Into You

Chelsea!Roy Kent x Coach's Daughter!Reader

1.4k words

Warnings: Language, lying/sneaking around, no Ted Lasso characters except for Roy, fluff & flirting, heavy kissing

The next couple of days were a blur of making eyes at Roy on the pitch and lying to your parents about your whereabouts as you ran out the door to meet the midfielder for takeaway, movies, and snogging. Finally, your dad reminded you that it was Tuesday night; family dinner night. You plastered on a smile and assured him that of course you remembered, you’d never forget Tuesday night dinner. Once your dad seemed satisfied, you scurried upstairs and made a quick call to cancel your plans to meet Roy. Your heart couldn’t help but swell at the disappointment that he couldn’t hide from his gruff voice; Roy Kent wanted to see you as much as you wanted to see him.

The thought had you smiling all through dinner and offering short, dreamy replies to your parents’ and younger brother’s conversations. Your parents exchanged looks over their plates, but you barely noticed. Not when Roy Kent was on your mind.

After you and your brother cleared the plates into the sink, your dad pulled out a deck of cards; another Tuesday night tradition. As your dad began to deal out the cards for a game, you wondered what Roy would think of a family dinner. Not that you were thinking of inviting him over or anything anytime soon; this thing was so incredibly new, and you weren’t even sure what this thing was. Most of all, Roy didn’t seem like the family dinner type of guy; he seemed much more comfortable sneaking around for clandestine meetings. And you had to admit it was kind of fun too.

In your bed that night, you turned on your bedside lamp and tried to read. You really did. But your mind just kept wandering. It was like you were a teenager again, thinking about some beautiful boy. But this wasn’t some guy in your class; this was a gorgeous, famous footballer who, for whatever reason, decided he wanted to spend his time kissing you. It was more than a bit mind-boggling, if you were being honest.

Trying to figure out what your love life had become was interrupted by your mobile ringing. You snatched it up quickly, not wanting the sound to wake your parents.

“Hello?” you whispered into the phone, not needing to check to see who was calling. It tended to be one person these last few days.

“What’re you doing?”

That growling voice had you smiling into the receiver. “Reading,” you answered quietly. “You?”

“Waiting for you to open the fucking window.”

With a perplexed frown, you stood and went to your bedroom window. Sure enough, Roy Kent stood in your backyard, mobile to his ear and grin on his face. He offered a small wave when he saw your figure.

“Open the window,” he hissed into the phone. “’m coming up.”

Scoffing, you hung up and did as he asked. It was a fucking sight, watching Roy Kent climb the giant tree outside your window and tumble into your childhood bedroom. He winced when he hit the carpeted floor with a small thud and offered you an apologetic smile as you closed the window. After stuffing a t-shirt under your door to muffle your voices and double-checking the lock on your door, you turned to Roy, who still sat on the ground.

“What’re you doing here?” you asked incredulously as you perched on the edge of your bed.

He shrugged. “Wanted to see you.”

The smile you wore was pure dopiness, but you didn’t care. Not when those brown eyes were sparkling at you.

Roy stood, rubbing the elbow he’d landed on in his less-than-stellar landing. “Your dad cuts those branches too short,” he grumbled. “Almost broke my fucking neck.”

You stuck your chin out haughtily. “I used to use that tree to sneak out all the time as a teenager,” you gloated. “And I never had a problem.

He narrowed his eyes at you before he began strolling around your room, looking at your walls. “Well, I spent my teen years training for a football career, not climbing through pretty girls’ windows. Gimme a fucking break.” He stopped in front of a Chelsea poster, smirking at the sight of himself and his teammates. “You kiss this before you go to bed?” he teased.

“I use it for dart practice,” you snarked. “Can’t you see the holes in your face?”

Roy let out an annoyed huff as he sat beside you, the bed giving the softest creak. “Oi, be nice. I did just climb a fucking tree for you, you know.”

“I suppose I could cut you some slack, just this once.” Your heart skipped a beat when you realized how close your faces were, how Roy’s smirking mouth was just a whisper away from yours. “Hi,” you murmured.

“Hi,” he hummed back. He cupped your face and closed the gap between your lips.

You sighed against his mouth and closed your eyes, letting him guide you onto your back and climb on top of you. His hands gripped your hips as his mouth explored yours, swallowing the soft groans you tried to hold back. Roy’s tongue was dizzying as it danced with yours, making you wonder how it would feel in other places. Your legs tangled together as you both brazenly began to grind softly against each other’s bodies, unashamed of your need for the other to provide friction.

“Fuck,” you whimpered against his cheek as his mouth made its way to your jaw.

He gently shushed you. “Is everyone asleep?” His breath was hot on your skin and sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded as your hands roamed his back. “Yeah,” you assured him quietly.

He continued to press sloppy kisses to your neck, eliciting soft gasps from you. When your back arched off the bed, he smirked against your skin. For a while now, you’d given in to your curiosity and read all about Roy Kent, the already legendary lover, in trashy tabloids. And if his kissing was anything to go by, every single rumor was one hundred percent correct.

Deciding that you needed to collect more evidence, you slowly slid your hands down his back and around his front, until you found the button on his black jeans. He let out a small, curious hum and shifted; when your hands followed their target, he pulled away from your neck, eyebrows raised.

“And what do you think you’re doing, young lady?”

Your face was furiously hot as you stared up at Roy, whose eyes were dark and lips were already swollen. “I want you,” you whispered, too desperate for him to feel an ounce of embarrassment.

Roy’s chuckle was low, an almost tortured sound as he let his face fall into the crook of your neck. “There is no fucking way,” he hissed, “that I am taking off my pants with your dad down the hall.” He glanced back up at you. “You’re worth a lot of things, princess, but I’m not sure being murdered is one of them.” He pressed a kiss to your lips, a soft one now, and shook his head at you. “Needy thing,” he teased, rolling off of you so he laid on his back beside you.

His hand found yours as you stuck your tongue out at him. “Coward.” But you couldn’t help smiling at the sight of Roy Kent in your bed, looking as if he belonged there. It was a sight you wouldn’t mind getting used to. “Thanks for climbing a tree to visit me,” you whispered, turning onto your side to face him.

He turned to mirror your position and lifted a finger to trace the shape of your nose. “I’d climb any fucking tree for you, princess.” His smile was playful, but you knew he meant it. “I’d probably do a lot of things for you.” He leaned close, pressing his forehead to yours. “But getting naked while your dad’s home is not one of them.”

The two of you laid like that until scandalously early in the morning, whispering and exchanging soft kisses. Finally, when the clock on your nightstand got close to three, Roy reluctantly removed himself from your bed and made his way back to the window, where he said goodbye with a searing kiss.

“I’ll call you later,” he whispered against your mouth. “Sweet dreams, princess.”

As if you could have any other kind of dream when they were filled with Roy Kent.

Taglist:@gee72sstuff@book-of-roses@kissykissymouth@emmy2811 @hart-kinsella @klaine-92@dearvoidgoodnight@misshall14@issieruby@royal-sunflower@kissmekent@veryprairieberry@itswhateveripromise@slaymybreathaway@darkmagazineblaze@larascorneroftheworld@infinetlyforgotten@caught-the-feels@rae4725@sisinever@cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Yang: Alright, Yang. You got this. It might be early, but you can do this. You're just.... planning for the future. (Takes a deep breath and enters Shade Academy's library where Ghira is reading over reports) Afternoon, Sir.

Ghira: Yang, this is a pleasant surprise. What brings you in? And, again, it's Ghira.

Yang: Right... (clears her throat) Ghira, if I might be blunt?

Ghira: (blinks) Of course. But, what is this all about?

Yang: (blushing and solidifies her resolve) I want to ask Blake to marry me.

Ghira: (blinks silently)

Yang: N-Not now! Obviously, things are still new and... well, we're in a war.... But once everything calms down and we find a new normal, I want to propose.

Ghira: .......And why are you bringing this up to me?

Yang: I... uh... kind of feel like I need to ask for your blessing. I get that the relationship between humans and faunus isn't exactly stellar. But it is getting better, and I want to prove that I mean business when I say I love Blake and would never in my wildest nightmares do anything to hurt her.

Ghira: (arches an eyebrow) This isn't just because I'm the Chieftain of the largest settlement of Faunus in Remnant and you want a badge of approval to hide behind?

Yang: (confused stare) What? That's a thing? Absolutely not! You're her father, for dust's sake! I want to let you know my intentions with your daughter and ask for your blessing! Blake might be the first person I've ever loved, but I'm a woman who knows what she wants. And I want to love her for the rest of our lives and make her happy. And once I'm done here, I'm gonna go do this whole thing with Mrs. B too!

Ghira: (blinks for the fifth time) Then why come to me first?

Yang: .....Honestly, you're the first one I found.

Ghira: (Chuckles softly) Well, I wouldn't worry about my wife. If anything, I'd avoid telling her your intentions because she can't keep a secret. Granted, I don't think that's going to matter.

Yang: What... do you mean?

Ghira: (motions towards the door)

Yang: (glances at the door)

Blake: (standing shell-shocked in the doorway with a tray of tea)

Yang: (awkwardly) H-Hey, Blakey! Uh, how much of that did you hear???

Blake: (glances at Ghira)

Ghira: (nods in approval)

Blake: (practically throws the tray down on a table and nearly tackles Yang to the floor) I love you, and when the time comes. I will absolutely marry you.

Yang: (volume 9 post tackle look and softens as she hugs Blake back) I love you too.

[haravath0t]

Beautiful Stranger

(college au!alhaitham x f!reader - inspired by laufey’s “beautiful stranger”)

Alhaitham would be the type of man to double major. As a man that loves to see connectivity from the very root of things, he’d definitely be a History/Linguistics Major.

He’s definitely the type of man to just show up to classes and leave the minute the system says it should end. A lecture ends at 10:50 AM? He’ll be out the door the minute he sees his watch change numbers. If he finds his professor to be terrible on “rate my professor”? He’ll simply come on syllabus day and test days.

The man is busy! He surely would find a way to sustain himself. He’ll probably start off as a tutor in the student center to teach students within his majors. If there’s empty days, he’d surely be the type to simply catch up on his work.

His phone would be on “Do Not Disturb '' 90% of the time. The remaining 10% is due to an argument his roommate Kaveh strikes about not seeing emergency notifications. Not that taking off the mode would make a difference anyways. The only people actively contacting him are Kaveh or other classmates from pre-requisite classes like Tighnari or Cyno.

He practically graduates with perfect grades and a stellar GPA from undergrad. It’s almost astonishing how a man that’s rarely around manages to be graduating with Summa Cum Laude honors.

By the time he joins a master’s program, he’s seeming to be set on what he wants to do now. He doesn’t seem to enjoy tutoring all too much, so professor is out of the question. However, the idea of conservation and working on archives catches his interest. Preferably, a library preservation technician. Yes, a job with minimal communication, yet a close up look at documents that he has either studied or not? It seems almost ideal!

He has already found a path to graduating with a masters degree too, already having planned out how to tackle writing his thesis with ease unlike his peers. However, there’s been a string of inconveniences he’s been experiencing lately in his own place: Kaveh. Kaveh has been hammering away at making his own architectural models. While Alhaitham didn’t really see this as a dealbreaker of living conditions, he won’t deny how his precious sleep gets lost, even if his soundproof earpieces are on his ears.

Two weeks and no improvement, he decides to go against his usual decision making and decides to make a late night stop to the library of the university. He finds it to be easy enough; he lives quite near it, and certainly no one would be there. It’s almost perfect. He finds the floor with the study rooms, finding a desk with the outlets and sitting on it with what he considers a content look on his face. However, it’s when he takes a quick look around that he realizes that he’s not the only one. There’s you.

Now, you were definitely quite the sight. You were in the study room across his, the clear plexiglass separating you both. You two were technically facing each other, yet the laptops you two were typing away at were enough to cover most of what you two were doing. He saw you with a comfortable appearance of a sweatshirt and some sweats, your position on your chair quite comfortable as you hacked away at your own work. The only time he managed to fixate on your workspace was when he was deciding to stretch his arms. He took in all the formulas on your papers, all the charts and plots you’ve made, and the handwritten notes with long words and arrows between them. He saw the word “metabolic pathways” and deduced that you were a science major at the very least.

“Alright. Cool. Back to work.” He told himself. And he was working quite well. However, he wouldn’t lie, he found the way you studied to be quite amusing. He’s passed by a good amount of students in the library when he was tutoring. Some people were quiet and worked away, some people probably brought in food, some people even cried and slammed their laptops shut. However, you seemed to be in your own little world. You had your tablet being your own main source of brainstorming, you had your papers scattered by chapters, and you had brought some food for yourself and…coffee?

The sight of the huge cup slowly being drained by your constant sipping almost made him want to chuckle. Almost. His long fingers stayed idle as he watched you quietly mouthing the words to whatever song you had in your headphones, your head bopping along with the tune.

“Hmph.” He’d grunt, going back to his work. The next time he’d look up at you is when you went to tap him on the shoulder. “Excuse me?” A voice asks, making him take off an earpiece and look back. Sure enough, it’s “science lady”, as he has dubbed you. “Yes?” He asked. He wanted to look amiable enough for you to talk to him, but you saw his plain look on his face. He almost looked…unamused. You suddenly felt so embarrassed to disturb him at this ungodly hour. “Do you mind watching my stuff? I’m going to be using the bathroom.”

The question made him scoff before he realized: Why would he need to watch over it? Everyone looked like they’d be doing nothing of the sort, but still, seeing the look on your face made him realize it was an earnest question. And so, he decides to agree. Seeing your face brighten accompanied with an earnest thanks almost made him want to smile. Almost. He saw the way you briskly walked to the bathroom, which only amused him more.

The coffee only gets to you after how much you’ve been drinking it. Though, you couldn’t get over how cute this guy looked! Did he look kinda scary? Yeah, but you couldn’t deny that he looked quite cute. Though, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was because you were cooped in your research lab so much that you found anything amusing nowadays, including this mystery guy. Still, he had interesting eyes, you had to admit it. You liked his shaggy silver hair, the way he casually came in and seemed so fixated on his work. What a shame it might be a one time thing. Oh, how did this library crush become part of your thoughts so quickly while you washed your hands.

You thank him as you return to your seat with a little thumbs up, and he only sends you a little smile back. You would be lying if you said that the little curve at the edge of his lip made you wanna squeal. What you didn’t see was that his green eyes were staring at you as you sat down, waiting for you to see a particular item. And you saw it, alright. He can tell just by the raise of your brows and your wide eyes. It was right on your keyboard of the laptop, a paper torn out of the corner of his notebook. His penmanship was quite remarkable, and the contents of it amused you: “Maybe a little water would be more efficient than that coffee you’re chugging, no?”

Alhaitham practically was curious to see how you’d react. He could only gauge your reaction from your eyes, seeing your hand reach for a piece of paper before your head disappears behind the screen. He didn’t know what you were thinking either when you passed back a paper to him. It was a blank page which only contained your handwriting: “My water bottle actually spilled on my way here.” Next to it was a little sad face next to it.

Now, Alhaitham wasn’t prepared for that type of wholesome response. In fact, he’s surprised that it went as well as it did. He saw you practically scurry back to your studying table with a tiny smile on your face, your eyes back to focusing on work. However, it did not go without you making a little scene of taking yet another sip of your coffee from your large cup. It didn’t occur to him till you gave him a tiny smile that he was stealing glances your way a little too much. He was long done with his workload for the night, yet something bolted him to his seat. There was something that kept him in this crowd of procrastinating students.

Though, it’s clear that you were trying to be diligent despite your antics. He couldn’t deny that he found the way your lips pout as you concentrated on an endearing sight, or that you were the one he’s been oddly eyeing in this busy space. He was a bit let down seeing that you wouldn’t be looking his way for a while. You didn’t look at anything but your work until a push of a chair is heard, the tall man is seen making his way out. Your eyes carefully watch him with some sort of melancholy stirring in your heart, wishing he stayed longer, or that he wrote even just one more note to you.

Little did you know that as Alhaitham kicks off his shoes at his house’s foyer, he’s left thinking of a particular science girl chugging on coffee, clinging onto the post-it with a particular someone’s scribbles and sad face. Little did you know that the man was thinking of an excuse to visit the library tomorrow night, wondering if you’d be there.

[venusjeon]

faith

a rock god drabble

jungkook drags you back to the convent after having some drinks.

♔ PAIRING: rockstar!jungkook x novice!reader

♔ GENRE: 80s au, angst, fluff, humour

♔ WORD COUNT: 1k

♔ WARNINGS: religious themes, drinking, swearing, referenced non-consensual sex

♔ AUTHOR'S NOTE: 16.3k wasn't enough for these two so they're back! i actually planned this for the main fic but bc i felt it was getting too long i discarded it. here it is though<3 it takes place sometime before that fateful mass...

1986

The cloister looked so beautiful at night with the moonlight raining down on the grass, the crickets singing, the columns’ shadows dancing on the floor… Wait, how were they dancing if they were the columns’? Oh! That shadow was yours, and that one Jungkook’s.

You pointed at them, slurred, “They’re ours!”

Jungkook chuckled, “Nothing gets past you, Sherlock. But keep your voice down and let’s go.”

He was dragging you by the hand through the convent, having previously dragged you from the car and before that from the venue where he performed hours ago. Jungkook had insisted you snuck out to see him again, and you had to say, this time the show had been nothing short of stellar.

“I think I tolerate your music better like this.”

“What, wasted?”

“Let’s go with merry.”

It was your first time getting drunk. The venue had stayed open after the concert—drinks on the house for Bangtan since they’d lured in so much clientele—and when your face expressed hesitance Jungkook promised fun, that he wouldn’t take a single sip to drunksit you and later drive you to the convent. Accepting had proved to be a good decision, even if right now you couldn’t remember half of the night. The one clear thing in the mist of your mind was the seductive way that guitar player had eyed you through Rock God.

“Y/N? Jungkook?” A voice made him halt and curse under his breath.

“Is it Father Jimin?” you asked in what you’d intended as a whisper. Jungkook shook his head, so you turned around to be met with Sister Daeun walking over, and started giggling at the fact that you’d confused her voice with the abbot’s. Obvious you were drunk, the shock on her face at the two of you being out of bed at such hour turned into outrage.

“What in God’s name is going on?!”

You gasped. “Oh my god, I’ve never thought about that... What is God’s name?”

Jungkook would’ve normally laughed, but this time led you to the stone base between the columns some footsteps away and had you sit, lean on one. “Stay here,” he ordered calmly and you nodded, then watched him return to Sister Daeun. “I can explain, aunty.”

“How can you possibly? You took her out and got her drunk!”

“She’s fine, she just had a few drinks. I monitored.”

“Have you forgotten she’s a novice? And what if it had been Father Jimin that woke up for a glass of milk and not me?”

“Father Jimin is not a glass of milk man.” Jungkook assured her, and you burst into giggles again.

“Tell me the truth, Jungkook.” Sister Daeun hugged herself. “Where were you taking her?”

“Well, to her cell. Where else would I–” He saw in her eyes a glimpse of the apprehension she was trying to suppress, and it took him aback. “Nice to know you think me capable of that. What, is it because I have tattoos? Because I’m in a rock band? I guess I was fucking stupid to believe you’re any different to mum and dad.”

Half of Sister Daeun felt ashamed, but the other half jumped to argue, “I see you dragging a drunk girl in the dead of the night, what do you want me to think?”

“That I’m looking out for her!” Jungkook shouted without thinking, his voice echoing across the cloister. Sister Daeun closed her eyes and prayed he hadn’t been as loud as to wake anyone up, but he didn’t care, scoffed at the lack of a response. “If you don’t trust me, take her to her cell yourself, then.”

He turned to leave and with a sigh, his aunt held out a hand to you. “Come with me.”

“No, I want Jungkook…” you whined like a kid, rushing to his side to curl your arms around his left one. Despite how mad he was, he didn’t shake you off or snap at you, instead stopped walking not to pull you into tripping.

“Y/N…” It didn’t take her long to realise separating you from Jungkook would take at least three nuns. “Fine. But we’ll have a word tomorrow.”

She left and Jungkook led you away, hands held softly but a tension lingering in the air—and not the fun one he so liked to summon. You wanted to make him feel better, but it was hard to think straight, and before you knew it you were entering your cell in pitch-black darkness.

“Goodnight,” he whispered once he’d found the bed by touch and helped you lie on it. You reached for his hand in time and pulled, forcing him to sit down.

“Don’t go yet…”

He chuckled lowly, “Scared of the dark?” and you giggled again. Gosh, why was everything so funny when drunk? Well, if you thought about it, you always found Jungkook funny. Sometimes it seemed he went out of his way to make you laugh. He was so nice to you… “Hey, YN…”

“Huh?”

It was dark, but you didn’t need light to see he was nervous. “Listen, I’m sorry about before. Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed you to drink. I’m not the best influence…”

You started playing with his hand. “You didn’t push me. I had lots of fun with you and Bangtan.” Especially when Hoseok and Taehyung kept insisting you sainted them, and you kept explaining that it was sadly not in your power to do so. “I’m glad you were watching over me, because I trust you.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything else, just caressed your hands back. Only once you’d fallen asleep did he leave, the pain in his heart from earlier somewhat lessened.

Hopping into his bed, he thought it was crazy that you had that effect on him. Well… not so crazy. He’d allowed you to have it, given it to you, the one person who seemed to have faith in him. It made him scoff, how ridiculously head over heels he was, and as he thought of that he finally drifted into sleep, a comfortable smile settled on his lips.

[gaurcity2022]

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[masculinemiracles]

How was Lunacita born? At first I thought with all the fuzz it was Angel and Val's kiddo

She sure is Val's kid

Tw// labour, Birth, Water breaking, nsfw themes

Angel dust shuffled uncomfortably in his makeup chair, reading the script of his film for that day while his baby kicked happily from the safety of his womb. A small smile stretched across his lips as he rubbed his belly with his lower set of arms. Their situation was less than stellar, and Valentino was working him to second-death to pump out movies before Angel gave birth, but Angel enjoyed his pregnancy despite that. Knowing his little baby boy or girl would arrive soon. There were even websites dedicated to countdowns for when Angel was due to pop – which was any day now.

Many fans had their own bets on birthdates and the time of day he'll deliver, and it took a toll. Angel just wanted to give birth in peace, no cameras, no watchful eyes, just him, a doctor and his child. But he knew that wasn't going to happen. Valentino had planned to livestream his labour and birth to all of hell and profit off of it as one last ‘fuck you’ to Angel and their baby.

He was quickly jolted out of his daze with a sharp pain, bewildered, Angel took a deep breath and pressed his palms to his lower back. He had been feeling these pains all morning, and now they were coming more frequently. “Fuck..” He hissed under his breath. He was too scared to admit to himself what was really going on to him. He was in labour. Hair and makeup came over and started doing his hair, all Angel had to do was push through until shooting was finished and have the baby somewhere private.

“What is the fucking holdup Angie-?!” Valentino yelled from across the studio, even though he can obviously see that Angel is still being tended to.

Angel sighed and waved the cosmetics team off, simply leaving his appearance how it is and standing up from the chair. He could feel just how much lower his baby sat on his pelvis than before. As he began walking across the room, he felt a small pop between his legs and the warm feeling of fluid running down them. He quickly picked up the pace to get away from the puddle and stepped onto the set.

'This can't be happening...'

“ACTION!” Val shouted, and soon filming began.

Angel was out of it. Way too focused on breathing through the aches rather than acting. Luckily Valentino wasn't noticing and he allowed the other actor to do whatever he wanted as long as he could hurry it up already and cum. And as quickly as he prayed for it, the other came right onto Angel's stomach.

“Cut! Hot stuff you two!” Valentino applauded, ushering the stage crew to start cleaning right away for the next shoot that thankfully didn't involve Angel.

As soon as Angel was free to go, he slipped away to his dressing room where he finally collapsed onto the floor, sweat beading on his forehead. This isn't what he wanted at all, he wanted a hospital, he wanted a friendly nurse to hold his hand and coach him through the birth. But the pain and the pressure in Angel's lower half only grew stronger with each passing minute. As soon as the contraction subsided, he acted fast. Grabbing some scissors from his vanity and bottles of water from his mini fridge.

He fell back onto the ground and huffed, finally feeling the urge to push. He grunted and bore down, pushing with all his might. He didn't know how much time he had, so he hurried and pushed until he felt dizzy.

--

With one final push and a muffled scream, the tiniest of cries filled Angel Dust's dressing room. He panted in shock for a few moments before looking down at the floor between his legs, where a little white moth baby lay crying out for her mother. Angel felt the urge to vomit as he reached down and picked up the little moth. It was supposed to be a regular day, a regular shoot in the studio. He hadn't expected to go into labour today of all days. Yet there he was, sitting on the floor of his dressing room, covered in blood and holding Valentino's spawn.

He felt everything and nothing at all.

As he stared down at the baby, taking in her features, all he could see was a silhouette of his abuser. A sharp twinge pierced his heart as he ran his hand up her tiny antennae, which twitched from the sensation.

Valentino would soon find them. And the thought terrified Angel. He knew what Valentino would do when the pregnancy between them would no longer be profitable for the company. But as the baby's cries softened in the quiet room, Angel laid back against the wall. Savouring the moment with his daughter before the reality would set in once again.

[ohtobeleah]

Kitchen Quickie with Bob that gets interrupt by the squad/while the squad is at the house (Bob is a dirty dirty boy who can't keep his hands to himself)

#strictly scandalous

Brain go brrrr.

Warnings: This is Strictly Scandalous. Smut ahead.

It’s Saturday afternoon and you and Bob are hosting the weekly dagger dinner. Every Monday morning before pre-flight checks, the daggers would all throw their names into Fanboys gross ass hat and draw a name out. Whoever’s name was drawn? Hosted Saturday night dagger dinner.

“Dinner’s pretty much ready Bubba.” Bob was on the back deck, neatly placing the cutlery you’d sent him out with alongside the placemats that littered the outdoor dining set you’d both dropped a pretty penny on a few years back. “Wanna come in for a taste test?”

“Coming darlin.” It's a simple reply, but one that makes your heart swoon for your Fiancé. Bob finished what he’s doing before he’s sauntering inside, chasing the captivating smell of tomato and basil lamb shakes that could honestly kill. They smelt so good. “Baby, It smells amazing in here.” Bob rounds the corner into the kitchen to find you slicing up some homemade bread. You’d gone all out for this danger dinner and he was so thankful for everything you had done.

“Hmm—“ You're leaning over the slow cooker, frowning as you stir the contents. “I just hope to potatoes are cooked enough otherwise I’m never gonna here the end of it from Hang—“ Before you can finish saying how Jake would never let you forget it if the potatoes weren’t soft enough, Bob is twirling you around in his grasp, so stunned at his suddenness you drop the ladle, it makes a mess when the red sauce covered utensil hits the gray tiles of your kitchen floor. “Robert Floyd!” You giggle as his lips make contact with the juncture of your neck, hands roaming the small of your waist as he lifts you up onto the countertop, pushing the chopping board aside. “What has gotten into you?”

“Thought I might be able to start with dessert first?” Bob mumbles, he’s hungry for something only you can give him. “You’ve put so much effort into this dinner, makes me horny as shit just thinking about how you would have been roaming the isles at the grocery store looking for everything you needed.”

“Oh woah—“ You chuckle, leaning back to catch a glimpse at the flushed hume creeping over Bob's cheeks. “Talk dirty to me more, Lieutenant.” You worked in the base cafe, serving up stellar coffees to all ranking men and women. It was where you’d met and subsequently fallen in with Robert Floyd when he’d returned to TopGun for a second time. A few years on and the two of you were inseparable, planning a wedding, ready to take on the world together.

“Love when you get all domestic and cook up a feast.” Bob was feral, really. But in a different way to lost men you’d dated in the past. He was a respectable feral. Always found something so sincere and genuine to love you for.

“Does it turn you on to know I’ve already ironed your flight suit and hung it up in the cupboard for Monday morning?” Bobs groaning into your mouth as his hands work to unzip his jeans. Pulling them down just below his ass in a feverish haste.

“I’m in love with you, you know that right?” Bob's hands go from his jeans to the hem of your sundress, pulling it up as his lips never leave yours, pushing your panties to the side as his digits slip past your folds. “So wet.”

“What can I say, I’ve got a thing for military men.” That was a very true statement. “Fuggh—“ Coaxing his fingertips against your velvet walls, Bob revels in the slight squelching sound that echoes through the kitchen, standing between your parted knees as his fingers disappear inside you. Buried to the hilt. “Bob—baby—“

“There’s no fucking way.” Rooster is stopping at the front door, he’s got a clear view straight into the kitchen via the window right next to the front door. The blinds are open, the window is cracked and your whimpers can be heard from afar.

Bradley’s holding his arm out in front of Phoenix, stopping her in her tracks as her chest collides with his forearm. “Nope—“

“Bradshaw—?”

“Shut up, listen.” Although Phoenix could have very well slammed her elbow into the sternum of Bradley Bradshaw at his sudden demeanour change, she was caught off guard by the sound of supple whimpers and deep airy groans coming from inside the Floyd household.

“Oh my god go, go.” Phoenix is as wide eyed and bushy tailed as ever as her and Bradley race back down the three stairs and book it back to the Bronco. Scared they’ll never get the sounds out of their heads and know they don’t need an x-rated image of you and Bob to go along with it.

“Bob honey, need you now.” It’s needy and it’s hard to keep your head level as Bob pulls his fingers from your cunt, sucking your nectar from the lengthy digits before he’s guiding himself inside you. Moaning as he does.

“Ahhhh god—so tight all for me angel.” Bob hissed as he slowly lifted your legs to hook over his arms, angling you just right so that you could take every inch he was willing to give. “Be a good girl and keep those pretty eyes on me baby, wanna watch you unravel.”

You do as you're told as Bob starts a slow pace, building up the pressure before he’s setting a rhythm so fierce it has the slow cooker dancing beside you. Threatening to jump off the edge of the counter.

“Aarruugghh—Bob! Fuck!”

“So good for me darlin Ohh—keep those pretty moans coming.” It’s thrilling, it’s damn near pornographic the way Bob is talking to you, the way he’s handling you, the way he’s working you towards your high.

“Ahhh! Fuck keep going! Keep fucking me baby just like that—“ Its a short lived moment though, because unlike Rooster and Phoenix who had retreated back to the Bronco of shelter, Mickey Garcia and Javy Machado were not so smart, walking right in and into their worst nightmare.

“Oh god!” Javy is turning around in an instant, while Mickey closes his eyes tight, too afraid to move. He’s convinced himself that if he doesn’t move Bob won’t see him. “Bob! You knew we were coming right!?”

“Bobs got you up in his arms and ducking behind the counter the second he hears his colleagues voices, still stuffed inside you as he covers your mouth and watches your eyes roll into the back of your head as your orgasm washes over you. A part of you is very turned on by his protectiveness.

“We got carried away!” He shouted back. Still watching you cum on his cock. “Give me like, two minutes!”

“Fucking hell Floyd—“ Fanyboy sighs as he blindly feels around for the front door. “Never again.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Strictly Scandalous Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

[girl-in-a-bubbl3]

Glamrock Bonnie(FNAF) x Reader Part 2

Not enough sassy Bonnie fanfic so here we go...I'll try to upload at least once a week.

Notes:

AU Fanfic/NonCanon

Bonnie is terrible but he likes you

5 greenrooms on RSR (we include Monty)

Sun/Moon are the same animatronic

Moon has a lil touch of the virus

Will probably be some spicy parts so...18+

You smiled nervously up at the abnormally tall blue bunny and quietly introduced yourself. "Hi. I'm Y/n L/n! I'm the new mechan-"

"I know who you are," Bonnie sneered back at you, "that wasn't my question."

Rude.

Did all of the animatronics have this terrible attitude? And if so, then why? Weren't they supposed to be programed to be happy and helpful and kind? You cleared your throat and stood a little taller. The bite in his voice stirred something inside you.

"If you know who I am, then you know I'm here to check your programming or do any needed repairs."

Bonnie's ear twitched which led your eye to a few stray wires that had come loose between his steel joints.

"And from here, it's obvious that you need at least one of those thing."

Maybe both if that attitude happens to be a bug or something...

Bonnie stared you down for a moment. It was like you could see the gears turning in his head. You silently laughed to yourself over the robotic pun you made. Bonnie's quiet chuckle snapped you back to reality. His magenta eyes shining behind his star shaped glasses.

"Not interested."

Swoosh.

And there went the door again.

You blinked once. Twice. Three times. He did not just slam that door in my face. Tell me he did not. You asked no one but yourself. You stood there contemplating your next move. Use your keycard and storm in or just suck it up and move on to the next room?

Deciding that it may not be smart to trigger an oversized, robotic bunny just in case his AI is bugged, you stomped off to the next room. The light above the door glowed a warm orange. This was Freddy's room, someone you hoped was considerably kinder than the first Glamrock you happened to meet.

You knocked twice and waited for Freddy to come to his door. You had a keycard that unlocked all of the greenroom doors but you preferred to knock and wait for them instead. Just barging in felt...strange, no matter if they were robot or human.

The door opened and before you stood Freddy Fazbear himself.

"Hi Freddy! I'm y/n! I figured I'd dive right in to seeing how everyone was doing tonight. Everything okay with you? Any repairs?"

You were rambling but Freddy's blue irises just twinkled. "Why hello, Superstar! It's so nice to meet you! Please come in. I don't think there's anything to report with me tonight but there's never any harm in a second opinion!"

You cheerily followed Freddy into his room, slowing to admire the colors and the detail to the Freddy theme. The walls were a warm, rose color with beautifully bright orange neon signs around the room. There were posters of Freddy with plenty of fan art surrounding them as well. It was inviting and cozy, just like Freddy.

"Thank you for being so inviting Freddy. I've only had one other experience besides you and it...didn't go so well."

You hooked up your tablet to Freddy's programming port and started your scan. He looked over at you, troubled. "Oh I am so sorry, Superstar. May I ask who gave you trouble?"

"It was Bonnie, actually. He really does need repairs but he won't let me do them. He shut the door in my face."

You noticed Freddy nervously fiddling with his fingers. "I apologize again. Bonnie hasn't had the best experience with other mechanics in the past. He's so talented and so great with the children but the adults..." Freddy looked at you and then at the floor, "he's not as good."

You chuckled. No kidding.

"Don't give up on him, Superstar. He'll come around. Bonnie can be difficult at first, but he is a stellar friend."

Freddy's smile and optimism were both contagious. You chatted a bit more about the job and your plans for the night before you cleared Freddy and proceeded to do checks with all of the other Glamrocks. Chica and Roxy needed a few things. Chica had to have some wires cleaned after a night rummaging through trash and Roxy had a kink in the wire running through her neck joints. Both easily fixable. Monty wasn't in his greenroom. You figured you'd go by Gator Golf later and see if you could find him there. According to the notes on your task list, he was in a foul mood tonight so he was probably off skulking somewhere.

A few hours later you had crossed off a few more things from your task list: checking some sound equipment (which you were not at all qualified for), tweaking a few things with the atrium stage, etc. etc. After everything else was done, you only had one task left: repair Bonnie.

You sighed and headed towards Bonnie Bowl. You didn't think he'd be in there, but you did love bowling so if he wasn't in there, it was an excuse you could give yourself to play a few games. You weren't quite ready to face him again anyway. You had to prepare your witty comebacks.

You cautiously walked into Bonnie Bowl and started looking around. "Hey Bonnie?"

You called out his name a few more times but no response. You sighed in relief. You had the bowling alley all to yourself.

It wasn't hard to bypass the staff bot and start a game for yourself. You loved the design of Bonnie Bowl. The bright, neon stars on the ceiling were mesmerizing and the floors were perfectly waxed to reflect them. Every time you stopped and actually looked at something in the Plex, your inner child was dazzled every time. It truly was amazing.

After the first few rounds you quickly realized that your bowling skills were pretty rusty. When the 10th, and final, round came, you were determined to get a strike. You knew you could do it. You did a little better each round so you had faith in yourself.

You grabbed a pink and blue ball off the wrack with Chica's face on it. It was one of the prettier designs. You lined yourself up with the lane and narrowed your eyes. Focus focus focus. Doing a few strokes with your arm you reared back and released the ball, letting it glide across the lane towards the pins. It was like time had slowed. You watched the ball roll down the center, reflecting the dazzling neons that flashed around the room. As it neared the pins, you thought you saw it start to veer towards the left. Your excitement waned but it was quickly brought back with full force as the ball corrected itself and slammed into the front pin, sending all 9 other pins flying as well.

It was a strike. You had got a strike.

You hooped and hollered in victory, doing a little dance and punching the air. You laughed to yourself and as you went to do another little spin, you stopped dead in your tracks once you saw who was sitting in the seat directly behind you.

Of course, it was Bonnie.

He had the biggest smirk on his face as he used one clawed finger to push his star shaped glasses further up.

"If your mechanical skills are as good as your bowling, then I'm better off in a scrapyard."

You rolled your eyes and didn't give him a response, you just started walking towards the empty ice cream parlor that was attached to Bonnie Bowl. You felt like you earned a treat.

"Hey I was talkin' to you!" Bonnie called out as he started following behind you.

"Yeah, well, I was talking to you earlier and you shut the door in my face."

"You startled me. I was leaving my room to go get some fresh air and I was surprised by your sudden chattiness. Very overwhelming."

His voice dripped with sarcasm and he chuckled as you shot him a look over your shoulder.

"You're going to be surprised by your room catching on fire because of that exposed wire in your ear."

Bonnie rolled his eyes. "Dramatic much?"

You hopped the counter and shrugged, turning back to look at his shocked expression from what you just did. "It could happen. Also, don't look at me like that. I really want some ice cream."

You grabbed all of the necessary things to make yourself a cup of ice cream. You surveyed all of your options. You giggled at the last ice cream flavor. Chunky Bonnie. What a flavor name. Because of the ridiculous name, of course that's the flavor you picked.

While getting and preparing your ice cream, you abruptly noticed how quiet it had become. You were wondering if Bonnie was still stuck in that same spot. You had a brief panic that it was the made up bug you kept telling yourself he might have.

You quickly spun around to check when you almost ran right into a tall, blue metal wall.

But it wasn't a wall at all.

Your eyes drifted upwards and saw the face of an amused robotic bunny. His bright magenta eyes staring down at you with that signature smirk on his face. Your breath caught in your throat. How did he do that? You never heard anything at all. How could he be so quiet?

"What about me, peeps? Do I get ice cream too?"

To be continued...

Authors notes:

Ahhh it's warming uppp. Feel free to give me feedback or leave comments! They encourage me ;-; And feel free to drop suggestions on other fics for me to write!! Can be FNAF related or not. Much love! <3

[the-queen-and-the-king]

Just a booty call - 5

Summary: It's Aaron's birthday and he clearly doesn't want to celebrate it. But Emily wants to change his mind with a very special gift.

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss

Contents: explicit smut, handjob, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex (don't do that!), creampie NSFW/MINORS DNI

This text is a try, with a reverse structure compared to the other Hotchniss' AU I'm used to work on. It all starts with a FWB that will evolve into something else (with a certain amount of angst).

PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.

___

She was born on October twelve, he on November two. It wasn't information he shouted from the rooftops – truth be told, only Penelope was supposed to know – but she'd done her research on her own. She wanted to return the favor. He'd given her a treat on her birthday, and she wanted to do the same. Luckily for her, the date she was interested in came only a few weeks after the party that had – temporarily – brought them back together.

                She didn't know why he refused to tell team members when he'd been born, when they were all so happy to gather at each other's homes to celebrate these special days. Because it allowed them to share a festive moment, far remote from the tragic scenes that made up their daily lives. It was an enchanted interlude that allowed them to breathe a little, to relax, to discuss something other than murders, rapes and victims. Everyone was invited, of course, and Hotch took part in the celebrations: he donated money to the kitty, went out himself to buy the gift(s) and helped set up the festivities.

                But when his day came, he behaved as if nothing had happened. And the fact that no one wished him well didn't seem to affect him any more than that. At the same time, it was difficult to tell him anything since he hadn't passed on the information to anyone. She had asked Garcia why this secretive attitude, but she had replied that she didn't know why. She believed her. Knowing the technician as she did, she would have tried anything to find out more. In vain, obviously. There could have been many reasons for this rejection, all of which point to a less than stellar past. Indeed, if people enjoyed celebrating births so much, it was often because positive memories were attached to them. Those who ignored it had rarely lived in a pleasant environment.

                However, while she hoped to give him a good evening, she wouldn't betray his trust by spreading the word all over the floor. So she kept a low profile all day about her nocturnal plans. It was Friday, and the team wanted to go to a bar in town to unwind. Hotch had rejected the proposal before being given any address. He didn't even put forward a pretext to justify his answer, and we didn't insist. It wasn't the first time he'd declined, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

                Despite his senior position, which required him to be in constant contact with strangers, the director was not a very sociable person. Repelled by his impressive build and cold expression, we mostly dodged him. Shy and loath to be in the spotlight, he didn't make the effort to break the ice either. Whereas, Emily knew, he was far, in truth, from the austere, strict character he appeared to be. But to find out, he had to be willing to breach the carapace surrounding him.

                She hoped her surprise would crack his shell and he'd once again agree to drop his barriers for her. For them. She wanted him so much that her heart missed a beat every time she thought he might refuse her proposal. She avoided thinking about it, however, as she made her way to and from his home. By the time the day was over, she'd bolted into her plush apartment, climbed the stairs to her bedroom four by four and rushed to the package on her bed. She'd bought the present specifically for this occasion and couldn't wait to see his reaction when he saw it. She then got ready, put her coat back on, grabbed a minimalist – and overpriced – bag and climbed back into her car.

                She smiled when she saw that there was light in his house. At least, he wasn’t sleeping already. What if he was with someone? A surge of panic seized her at this eventuality, which she had forgotten in the run-up to this surprise. She hesitated to leave again, then remembered all the energy she'd put into this moment and stepped into the corridor. Before ringing the bell, she put her ear to the door and heard a feminine voice. A familiar voice, to which Aaron said nothing. She frowned, thought, looked at her watch and had an epiphany. It was the voice of a TV show hostess. She raised her eyes to the sky and sighed, relieved.

                Emily straightened up, tugged at her coat and tucked back a few strands of hair, then pressed the doorbell button. She sensed movement behind the lintel and it soon opened.

“Em…?”

She cut him off with a finger over his mouth and invited herself into his home. He didn't stop her, watching her sway until she found herself in the middle of the living room. With a glance, she made sure the shutters were closed and untied the belt of her jacket. The giant's eyelids widened as he discovered the red lace nightgown she was wearing underneath. His gaze fixed on the opaque triangles covering her nipples and pubis; he pushed the front door closed. Emily smiled; the fish was hooked.

                She dropped her coat at her feet and came back to catch his lips. They exchanged a fiery but brief kiss, and then she grabbed his tie and led him to the couch. He didn't balk, obediently following in her footsteps. When his large hands came to brush against her hips, she pushed him back onto the sofa and leaned in to kiss him again. He said nothing, but his smile was equivocal. He was appreciating her proposition. She presented him with her back for a moment and bent forward to grab the remote control from the coffee table, knowing that her buttocks were right at his eye level. She turned off the TV and straightened up, facing him up again.

                Then a knee planted on either side of his thighs, she captured his mouth for the third time, lingering longer to enjoy the flavors that stirred her taste cells. She caressed his cheeks, hair and shoulders as he slid his fingers up her legs, gradually working his way up to her asses. When he grabbed her posterior, she pushed herself away to bite her lower lip ostentatiously.

                She moved his hands away from her skin and put her feet back on the ground. With a certain dexterity, she grabbed the end of his belt and, with an energetic gesture, opened the silver buckle. She then reached for the only button on his pants before grabbing his zipper. She could feel that he was already erect, so she was careful as she lowered the zip. He was still smiling. She wasn't sure whether the scene amused or excited him – both, perhaps – but he helped her with the next step, lifting himself just enough so she could pull at the fabric to expose his boxers. He was now clearly hard.

                A sudden thought crossed her mind: she'd never seen him naked. Sure, they'd slept together a few times, but she'd never really taken the time to detail his genitals. Since she'd already taken him in hand, she knew roughly how long and thick his rod was, but her knowledge stopped there. And very soon, she was going to have it right under her nose. Her hesitation was not lost on his host, who brushed her cheek to get her attention. She looked up, saw his frown and regained her resolve. Without taking her eyes off him, she tugged at his underwear. It wasn't the first penis she'd seen up close, or the first she'd graced with this very special treatment.

                With the tip of her tongue, she licked the bead of pre-seminal fluid oozing from his end. It was salty and hot. Then she parted her lips and slowly sucked on the smooth, hard tip. Aaron let out an appreciative growl. She leaned in a little more, opened her mouth wider and engulfed that shaft that had already given her so much pleasure. A viscous fluid flowed over her papillae as the titan's member swelled with excitement. She continued the maneuver, sliding along the peculiarly textured skin, under which veins were visible. Each exhalation from her beneficiary stirred her as it passed, fanning the inferno rumbling in her lower abdomen.

                Having already performed a number of sucks that pleased her prey enormously, she opted for a methodical, diligent lick that drew grunts from Aaron. A strong pressure was being exerted in her intimacy, a sign that it wouldn't take long for her to cum if he or she were to caress her clitoris. As if he'd read her mind, he stopped her just as she was about to swallow him again and told her to get up. She obeyed, momentarily unsettled, and vibrated when he came to kiss her navel. Skillfully, he dropped her panties to the floor and, with a gentle touch on her hips, led her to turn her back to him and bend her knees.

                Although she had nothing against sodomy, vaginal intercourse was her preference. She didn't have time to say anything, however, as he directed his swollen member into her warm, moist vulva. She was so electrified by what she had just done that the passage was more difficult than usual. But gently, without hurting her, he pushed himself as far into her as he could. When he had reached the end, she began long, slow strokes up and down his sex, completing the job in no time. Aaron propelled an abundant spurt of semen into her and a lightning orgasm immediately paralyzed her. 

                They quietly caught their breath after that, she still sitting on his thighs, her calves still trembling from the endorphins. Then she stood up, put her underwear back on and headed for the bathroom. She emerged a few moments later; cheeks still a little red, retrieved her coat and bag from the floor, and approached the sofa. He hadn't moved, his chest rising sharply as he seemed to struggle to regain his senses. She caressed his face, placed a kiss on the corner of his lips and whispered in his ear:

“Happy birthday, Hotch.”

She left the premises less than a minute later, hoping to have changed his mind about this very special date.

___

First chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/the-queen-and-the-king/757694774493986816/just-a-booty-call-1?source=share

Next chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/the-queen-and-the-king/760865647482765312/just-a-booty-call-6?source=share