#local student freaks out in the corner

[studentbyday]

i just counted... it's 15 days before my first chem final since high school... gaahhh

[slurmdog]

modern au of scum villain and quasi-Twilight vampire fusion, which, hear me out:

pre-vampirism: shen yuan originally tutors on the side through a school program initiative while he's undergrad in college to be a high school bio teacher. he tutors a teenaged binghe (so bright and intelligent!) who absorbs everything he teaches him and proceeds to run with it all the way to straight A's. binghe is also going through like, 5 awakenings a week getting tutored by shen yuan.

tianlang-jun the vampire king, meanwhile, has been searching for su xiyan's child - it shouldn't be possible for there to be one, but lo and behold: it's half-human half-vampire luo binghe, academic star of his school & extracurriculars, playing around at being human. he snatches binghe as soon as he finds him to teach him the ropes, even if zuzhi-lang is most of his education in the end.

[and then binghe gets dragged around and benignly foiled at every turn in his mission to return to shen yuan for years until tianlang-jun deems him strong enough to defend himself AND shen yuan so he doesn't die like his mother]

so then shen yuan's excited for binghe's graduation, except... when shen yuan goes to his graduation ceremony to surprise him, he's not there. shen yuan knows his grades were good! he should be graduating valedictorian! but nobody's able to find him, and his name is called to an empty stage. shen yuan tries everything short of hiring a private investigator (he has the money, but they just tell him that there's nothing they can do.)

post-vampirism: so for the next 10 years, shen yuan searches for binghe around every corner, until he's teaching a remedial night class at the local high school and... binghe walks in, looking handsome as ever and only a little bit older. he's introduced as a transfer student; apparently binghe has been a chronic school hopper.

see: shen yuan has no social media presence outside of his Peerless Cucumber handle, which he uses exclusively to rail against Airplane's shitty vampire webnovel.

binghe only knows that shen yuan was on track to be a high school teacher, so he finds himself going through the faculty lists of schools nearby (and less optimistically occasionally, the obituaries) and attending night classes like some kind of immortal freak, except he's deeply disinterested in hormonal teenagers and moreso interested in his now probably 30ish-year old prior tutor.

binghe is trying to figure out how to break it to shen yuan that he's a vampire & shen yuan is trying to figure out how to break it to binghe that he's realized he's gay. there's definitely some swooning involved.

shen yuan doesn't really know what to do about this!

[starglitterz]

♡ AMERICANO.

❝ baby, take a chance on me! give me one sign and you will see. // crushing on the local barista ❞

✧ feat : xiao x gn!reader

✧ a/n : FIRST POST OF THE YEAR!! yk it had to be my beloved xiao <3 here's to a fourth year with my baby hehe

✧ note : this is a very late entry to ying's cafe week for the prompt americano !

please reblog w tags + leave comments ! it rlly makes my day :)

“uh, hi. could i please get a…” you flash what you’re certain is the most awkward grin of your life at the poor barista, who’s currently running the cashier as well. you swear you’re never the type to hold up a queue, pondering for ages over what to drink to get – in fact, you always get the exact same drink. it’s just that the way the barista’s pretty amber eyes almost seem to gleam in the late afternoon sun has you stumbling over your words, barely able to form coherent sentences; it’s so embarrassing you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole, you're lucky there's no one else in the line behind you.

“your usual?” he raises an eyebrow, a few strands of jade hair tumbling out of his loose bun to frame his face, and holy archons this man is such a masterpiece he belongs in a museum. you gape at him for a few seconds, opening and closing your mouth like a goldfish before you realise how stupid you must look and you scramble for a reply, “how do you know?!” the corner of his lips quirk up into what might be a smile, “you order the same drink every time.” you’re fumbling for a retort when he continues, “and you come here three times a day.” now you’re ninety-nine percent certain your face is on fire.

“that’s true…” you mutter sheepishly before making a valiant attempt to defend yourself, “but maybe i just really like coffee!” “i think you drink too much coffee,” he chuckles softly as he writes your name on the cup. you’re freaking out over the fact that what has to be the world’s cutest barista is actually aware of your existence, he recognises you instead of seeing you as just another customer from the endless throngs of students that flock to the campus coffee shop daily. then you gasp, “wait. how do you know my name?!” he lifts an eyebrow once more, “i just told you that you order coffee here three times a day. you say your name every time.” great. now he definitely thinks you’re an idiot. it’s not your fault that all your braincells seem to fly out of your head every time you see him!

“oh.” you laugh weakly as you pull your wallet out of your bag, “that makes sense.” mentally, you’re slamming your head against the wall, cursing yourself for being so head-over-heels that you can’t even carry a normal conversation with the barista. as he types your total, he suddenly murmurs so softly that you have to struggle to catch it, “it’s a pretty name, though.” “o-oh, you think so?” the compliment makes your brain short-circuit, but thankfully you manage a proper response, “i like your name too… xiao.” saying his name out loud almost makes you spontaneously burst into flames, which honestly would be pretty inconvenient for the rest of the customers in the coffee shop. not to mention you doubt it would endear you to xiao if you exploded in the middle of his workplace.

you aren't sure if it's just your imagination, but you think that xiao's ears look a little red as he taps on the screen in front of him. then he clears his throat, “you know what, today's drink is on the house.” “what?! really?!” your eyes light up and xiao meets your gaze for a split second before looking away, the faintest pink tinge dusting his cheeks as he starts making your drink, “yeah.” your heart's beating at a million miles per hour from just this small interaction, but you swallow your nerves and give yourself a pep talk as you wait to receive your drink. you never know unless you try, right?

and as xiao turns to give your drink, you blurt, “icouldtakeyououtonadate!” he blinks slowly, cat-like, and furrows his brow in confusion, “sorry, what did you say?” doing your best not to melt into a puddle on the ground, you mumble, “to make up for the free coffee, i could take you out to lunch or something.” there’s a pause, and you quickly continue, “only if you want to, of course!” you're cursing yourself for even daring to be so bold, there's no way he'd want to go out with a caffeine addict like you- “i'd like that.” his reply is so unexpected you look at him incredulously, “what?” “i said, i’d like to go for lunch with you,” now xiao's face is bright red, and he's gripping your coffee cup so tightly his knuckles are turning white.

at this point, you think that you could jump over the moon. “oh! that's great!” you beam, and xiao thinks that your smile is like the sun, “maybe sunday?” “sure,” he smiles, and it's the most adorable thing you've ever seen, “it's a date.” he turns away after saying that to hide his blush, and with the biggest, cheesiest grin on your face you reply, “yeah, it's a date.”

(and later when you finally drink your coffee, you realise xiao has scribbled his number on the side of the cup. maybe all this time you were crushing on the local barista, he was crushing on you too.)

wahhh i missed writing 🥹 i tried something new with this one, i usually prefer writing confident and flirty readers so i hope this is okay for a first time hehehe. hope you enjoyed! <3

© starglitterz 2024. do not repost or modify in any way – reblog / follow if you enjoyed !

[serafilms]

song 99! up all night (stray kids) + tim drake (spotify wrapped event)

i don't want to go to sleep now, i’ll be making a masterpiece now, i look for caffeine without even realizing, start with a cup

If there was one thing you loved about your job, it was the all the attractive people who came in for their daily dose of coffee. Not that everyone who drinks coffee is attractive, but you worked at a coffee shop near the local university. A pretty nice, aesthetic but not overly themed coffee shop, with actually good coffee.

Which meant all the students from the university and some other cooler looking adults often populated it. There was always a new beautiful face every day for you to admire. And you loved it.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” You heard your coworker say. You looked up and did a double take. Not because the customer in front of the counter was super hot, or anything (but he probably was, when he didn’t look like total shit). The circles under his eyes weren’t dark, because that implies that they could have been darker, but there was absolutely no way they could’ve been. This guy literally looked like the undead.

“Biggest iced americano you’ve got, no water and eight extra shots.”

Your coworker’s jaw dropped alongside yours, and you watched her splutter for a moment before gathering her composure. Props to her, because your jaw was still on the floor.

“Are you sure? That’s like 600 milligrams of caffeine.”

“More, actually,” you interjected, feeling both eyes turn to you instantly. You tried not to shrink under the customer’s pseudo-vampire-zombie stare. “Our espresso shots have like 75 milligrams each.”

Your coworker nodded fervently and turned to the customer again.

He seemed to ponder this for a moment, and you started feeling hopeful that he would cancel the order and go with a simple iced caramel macchiato until he said, “Actually, make it two. But no ice in the second one. I’ll save it for later.”

You both deflated and your coworker rang up the order as you grabbed two large cups and a pen. “Name?”

“Tim.”

“Alright, ‘Tim.’” You wrote the name on the cups and then went to make his drinks. You sick freak.

‘Tim’ plopped himself over at a table in the corner of the store by the window, and took out a very large laptop.

He looked so focused on his work that it scared you a little bit, so you took your time making the drinks to delay the inevitable handover.

“Why are you going so slow?” The voice of your coworker startled you as she appeared at your side.

“I’m really scared of him,” you whispered.

She surveyed the guy. “Yeah, he might not even hear if you call his name. I think you’re gonna have to go up and give them to him.”

“What?”

“Sorry, babes.”

“You’re the worst.”

She responded by shoving you out from behind the counter.

You felt yourself shaking a little as you walked up to the scary, workaholic, caffeinated man, but you managed to steel yourself enough to place the two cups in front of him, and stammer out a, “Here are your drinks.”

He glanced up at you and managed a polite smile that looked surprisingly human, which made something flurry up in your stomach. Wow, my standards must have really dropped, you thought. Still, if you ignored how terrible he looked, you supposed he wasn’t bad looking at all. His hair only looked slightly unwashed, but it was nicely cut and dark, and his eyes were a nice shade of blue.

“Thanks, uh,” Tim squinted at your name badge and you wondered if his vision was blurry from sleep deprivation, “Y/N.”

You kind of liked the way he said your name, you couldn’t lie, but you had dignity to uphold, and crushing on a walking health hazard didn’t seem like the way to do that. So instead, you nodded and made your way back to the counter.

Tim stayed all throughout the rest of the morning rush, then finished his first coffee around midday and immediately dug into his second. He stayed until your coworker clocked out, giving you an incredulous look as she left, and your next coworker clocked in. Then around the afternoon, he stood up suddenly and went to the counter.

You rushed to be the one to greet him (having failed to explain his story to your other coworker for fear of Tim hearing).

“Hi,” you said, feeling a little silly as the words left your mouth, “what can I get you?”

He looked a little amused and a little more awake (thanks to the establishment’s primo coffee beans, not paid promotion), and you felt the tips of your ears heat up as he took some time to look you up and down. You felt a little self conscious under his gaze as he scanned over your face, and you tucked a bit of loose hair behind your ear. You were seriously into this guy now, oh my god.

That was one downside of working in this job, you got flustered very easily by the attractive people.

“I’m running a little low on coffee,” Tim said, and your eyes flicked towards his table to see two empty cups, “and I was hoping to order another.”

“Another 10 shot death drink?” You felt a little panicky as you soon as you said the words, wondering if you’d overstepped a line and the strangely attractive caffeine addict might attack you. You weren’t supposed to judge customer’s drinks.

Thankfully, he grinned. “Death drink?”

“I mean, it’s almost double the recommended intake of caffeine. And you’ve drank two.”

“Point taken. What do you drink?”

“Oh,” your face turned warm again, “I don’t drink coffee.”

Tim blinked. “You’re a barista.”

“Yeah. I like hot chocolate,” you offered helpfully.

He let out a surprised laugh, then said, “How about this? I’ll order a hot chocolate to go instead, if you write your number on the cup.”

Your eyes widened. The tips of your ears felt hot again and your stomach did another little flutter. He was flirting with you. Oh goodness.

“Okay,” you squeaked. “Deal.”

Tim grinned at you. “Thanks Y/N.”

You rang him up, blushing furiously and hoping he couldn’t tell and rushed to make the drink. It was pretty quick this time around, but you took extra care to add a little extra chocolate powder the way you liked it, and when you were done, you wrote your number on the cup and added a little heart for good measure.

Tim was all packed up and ready to go when you were finished, waiting for you at the pickup area.

“Thanks,” he said again when you handed the cup over, and for once he looked a little bashful. You liked that. “I’ll call you. Or text you.”

“Either is good,” you smiled, face still impossibly hot.

He gave you one last smile as he exited the shop, and you immediately collapsed against the counter when he was gone.

“What was that all about?” Your coworker asked.

You waved him off. “Nothing.”

Oh my god.

some of y’all have got third eyes or something bc there’s no way this song + character match up happened

[cringycrisis]

Tales Of The Evil!Kg Au- "Uh Oh."

Sometimes Kid wonders how he even ends up in situations like these. Shoved into a wall while being almost choked by the local robocop of the school: Penny. Her eyes bore into him like she wanted to disintegrate him (which he knows she can 100% do). Kid tried his best to wiggle his hand out of her powerful grasp as it was pinned painfully to the wall, the other he refused to remove from the arm that was currently pinning him to the wall by his neck.

“Apologize.” Penny ordered, her voice lacking any kindness or emotion other than rage. Her eyes glowing red to match those emotions.

“Fuck you.” Kid spat back, the grip on his neck only tightened as he felt his vision blur for a split second. 

“I said apologize.”

“Penny, forget it. It's not like he has anything good on him this time.” Ted said unamused, almost disappointed as he tossed Kid's green backpack haphazardly off to the side, belongings spilling everywhere on the ground as it slid and hit a nearby locker. In a sudden motion, Penny fully lets go of Kid and lets him fall to the ground with a grunt. Kid takes a moment to rub his throat where Penny had grabbed him as he stares hatefully at the two blondes.

“What's with the stupid face freak? Be grateful that we're not beating your ass for having nothing.” Ted gives Kid a cruel smile as he walks up to him, towering over as he stares down at the brunette.

“Says the loser whose only friend is something that pretends to be human.”

Kid felt his world blacken for just a moment as Ted aggressively kicked him in the stomach with enough force to knock all of the wind out of him.

“You better keep your mouth shut freak if you value your teeth!” Ted threatens, giving him another aggressive kick.

“Make me.” Kid coughs out, getting grabbed and harshly shoved against the wall, smacking his head against the lockers. Dazed, Kid could feel Ted's breath against his face as he began to register the hateful eyes staring into his own.

“What's going on here?!” Another voice catches the attention of the boys and Penny, turning around, they face a horrified-looking Jerome, behind him, with the door open stood Carla, Monty, and Buggs who shared equal horror. “Theodore, what are you doing?!”

“Oh great, you people.” Ted rolled his eyes, releasing Kid from his grasp and letting him fall back onto the hard-tiled floor as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Kid winces in pain as he lays on the ground.

“Theodore you know if you keep up this behavior you're gonna get expelled!” Carla warns with a worried tone. Ted only seemed mildly amused by it, letting out a dry chuckle.

“What we are up to is none of your concern, Carla.” Penny states calmly, “Now if you will excuse us, we are busy punishing this student.”

“Just because you're the school hall monitor doesn't mean you can do whatever!” Buggs states, pushing past the others as he gets in front of Jerome. “You're not in charge of the school.”

Penny looked at Buggs, her eyes remaining emotionless as she thinks. Kid notices sweat start to form on Buggs's forehead as the silence grows deafening.

“...That may be true Bucklee, but as you can see, we're in the hallway, so it is my right to punish any misbehaving students.”

“Penny if you or Theodore keep doing this we'll report you to the Principal!” Monty threatens. This seems to get a reaction out of Penny, though very mild, a small glint of anger appears in her eyes before disappearing. 

“Very well. Come on Theodore, we have other places to be at.” Penny spoke calmly as she straightened her posture, brushing off dust from her dress before turning and heading off down the hall with an elegant and quick pace. Ted flips them off before shoving his hands back into his pockets and storms off to follow Penny.

Kid watches as they both disappear around a corner, his body now suddenly remembering the beating it took as the pain registers in his brain, making him wince in pain as he tries to sit up.

“Are you alright Kid?” Jerome asked as he offered a hand to him, Kid takes it and was helped up to his feet as he stumbled from exhaustion.

“As great as anybody else who got beat up by an android.” Kid says bluntly. Jerome gives him a sheepish smile as he helps him into the classroom. Carla walks past them to pick up Kid’s items. Luckily the room was empty aside from the four student council leaders. Monty heads towards the teacher's desk where his backpack sits while Buggs goes back to leaning against the window on the other side of the room, crossing his arms. Kid loosens himself from Jerome's grasp and drags himself towards the desk, hoisting himself on top to sit down.

“They keep getting ballsier with these attacks.” Buggs points as he flicks a paper triangle that was on the window sill into the trash. “This is the fifth one this week!”

“Ha. That's hardly shit.” Kid starts as Monty pulls out bandages from his backpack and hands them to Kid. “Not even close to her record.”

“So she's just getting sloppy with hiding them then!” Buggs exclaims “I knew it! She has been abusing her powers again! I told you!”

“Buggs, you know there isn't anything we can do about it.” Jerome reminds him. “Even if we try again, remember what happened last time we reported her?”

Buggs huffs and turns to look out the window. “I still think it's stupid that we're just allowing this to happen. What happens when Penny goes too far one of these times and kills someone, like Kid!”

“Bold of you to assume she hasn't done that already.” Kid cuts in. “Remember that Becky girl who used to sell weed in the upstairs bathrooms?”

“SEE!!” Buggs says as he jesters to Kid while looking at the others. Carla looks away nervously as she neatly repacks Kid's backpack. Monty and Jerome share a glance, seeming nervous as well as they both look to be contemplating something. Kid continues to bandage himself up as he watches. The room fell silent as Buggs looked at his friends, his arms falling down to his sides, speechless.

“If you morons are done arguing, I have a plan on how to get rid of the problem.” 

“No, we are not killing her, Kid.” Jerome scolds, earning an eye roll from Kid.

“It's not like she's an actual human.”

“But she used to be…” Carla says solemnly. “The ‘real’ Penny may be long dead but she still has thoughts and feelings.”

Kid snorts. “Yeah, feelings like blood lust.”

Carla irks but remains silent as she finishes and zips up his backpack. “I just don't want to be the cause of someone's death, human or not.”

“Kid.” Jerome spoke softly, “Penny is still a person.”

Kid slides off the desk, tossing Monty back his bandages as he goes and takes his backpack from Carla. For a moment they both stare at each other as Carla looks at him desperate, earning a sigh from Kid as he looks away and heads towards the door. “Sometimes I reeeeeeally don't understand you weirdos.”

“It's who we are, you know that.” Carla says gently, her smile was small and soft to match.

“Whatever, if you guys think you can reform the crazy robot, be my guest. But don't say I didn't warn you if shit hits the fan.” Kid leaves the room, heading down the hallway and speed walks towards the staircase as quickly as he can. He'd rather not risk a round two with those two today, too dangerous.

—--

Ted secretly watches from around a corner as Kid disappears down the stairs. “I wouldn't suggest doing anything too courageous, Ted.” Penny calmly states as she sits nearby on a bench. “We already went too far.”

“Psh, you really think that I care-”

“No, but Lily and Billy would.”

Ted groans irritably “God with this shit again.”

Penny stares quietly at him for a few seconds before blinking slowly. “You and I are both aware of the deal we made with those two.”

Ted huffs and stomps over to a nearby trash can, he glances once at it before kicking a soda can that laid next to it. “Why should that crap matter? They barely even keep up their end of the deal.”

“That may be true. But remember, that is our leverage against them.”

Ted pouts at her before joining at the bench. Penny scoots closer to him before putting a hand on his knee. “Patience is key Ted, trust me, when the day comes you'll see what I've been planning.”

“You keep saying that, are you ever going to tell me what you're up to, or is this a game to you?”

“A bit of both.” Ted smiles at Penny, leaning his head on her shoulder. Penny returns the favor by leaning her head on his.

“You're my favorite person Penny.”

“As you are to me.” Penny hums happily.

[maybankiara]

PHONE SWAP (DREW STARKEY)

22: BETWEEN THE LINES

summary: Addie Mallory is just your average economics student when she meets Drew Starkey at her local Target in Atlanta. This is where the story is supposed to end – a short meeting and a picture to go – except Drew accidentally leaves with the wrong phone, and the story begins, instead. w/c: 3.3k a/n: addie and holden having a sweet moment at last...or are they? read on wattpad previous part | series masterlist

Virgin Mary | 3:47am what are the odds on this being a big mistake

Me | 8:02am 0:1000000000 Me | 8:02am stop freaking out, you’ll be fine

Virgin Mary | 8:30am Addie Virgin Mary | 8:30am i am going to Tom’s Virgin Mary | 8:31 amfor all of the fucking holidays 😩

Me | 8:35am Marianne Me | 8:36am my beloved Me | 8:36am you said you wanted this, you said that this is the best for your relationship, you said that this was the right thing to do Me | 8:36am and Tom said he wants to take this step Me | 8:37am you’re just scared bc it’s a big deal

Virgin Mary | 8:38am AND WHAT ABOUT IT 😡

Me | 8:40am it’s okay to be scared Me | 8:40am but you’ll be fine ❤ Me | 8:40am let me know when you land

Virgin Mary | 8:42am supportive bitch Virgin Mary | 8:42am ❤

◇

It’s evening time at the Weatherby-Mallory residence, and there are nearly half a dozen’s worth of cups scattered over the living room. Some are on the TV stand, next to a framed photo of the roommates and their friend group that Wes got Marianne for her birthday; some are next to the wall, far enough to avoid potential spills; and some are on the coffee table, nearly hidden between pages and pages of files, all compiled into little folders with corners sticking out.

  It would be an ordinary evening for Addie, except this tends to be the setting of her bedroom, not the living room. With Marianne gone for the next few weeks, though, Addie’s life has already consumed even the shared areas of the flat, and Addie finds herself to be a bit spoiled by the newfound commodity – she doesn’t see how that tiny space was ever enough for this much work. Although, now there are Holden’s files, folded away between and over and under her own, so she may be overestimating it a little.

  Her phone dings, somewhere in the pile. She drops down from the couch, a little ungracefully – her foot gets stuck in the pillow and she nearly kicks Holden’s shin tugging it out. He chuckles and she groans, and then she’s rummaging through the files until she finds the phone, its screen still lit from Marianne’s text.

  ‘They landed!’

  ‘Oh, good,’ says Holden.

  ‘Mhm. I’ll tell her you say hi.’

  Addie’s fingers are fast at typing, even though she needs to fix a typo here and there. She asks Marianne how the flight was – it’s always a necessary question, seeing as Marianne likes flights just about as much as Addie likes clowns. Maybe even less. The one time they’d flown together to Boston, Marianne had a full-blown panic attack during one of the turbulences and Addie spent the rest of the flight trying to calm her down.

  But it’s good, she tells herself. She had Tom with her.

  (Or that’s why it wouldn’t be good, her thoughts say, and she shoves them away.)

  ‘You look worried.’

  Addie huffs. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You sure?’

  She glances at her phone once more before putting it down, on yet another pile of papers still needing to be looked at. She gets back up on the couch, draws the fuzzy scarlet blanket back over herself, then pulls her knees close to her chest; Holden’s eyes don’t leave hers.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she admits. ‘Should I be? I mean, Marianne and Tom… You know they’ve not been on the best of terms. Even if Marianne says things are better now.’ She lets out a little sigh, stretching her legs across the couch, almost far enough to touch Holden’s thighs. ‘I hope they don’t kill each other.’

  ‘They’ll be fine,’ he says. Addie half expects him to put a reassuring hand on her leg—it feels like one of those moments—but he doesn’t. ‘They have their ups and downs, but so does everybody.’

  ‘Yeah, but this will either make or break their relationship.’

  ‘I thought you said they’ve been doing better since after her birthday.’

  ‘They are,’ she says. She pulls her legs back, wrapping her arms around them and resting her head on her knees. ‘I just don’t know if that’s enough.’

  ‘Still, it’s more than likely that this will improve things between them.’ He gives a smile that’s both soft and the sort of smile you give when you’ve said all there is to say about something. ‘Come on, work will distract you from worrying about them.’

  Addie bites her lip. ‘Yeah.’

  His gaze drops and he’s fully immersed into a Balance Sheet that Patty asked them to look at. His red pen is quick to run across the paper, and it’s as if any thought of Marianne and Tom has already vanished from his head. 

  She tells herself that Holden’s right. She’s too subjective. 

  But she doesn’t manage to convince herself of that, nor does she manage to get back to work. The papers are staring at her – notes upon notes of information about a client’s accounts and receipts of purchases of property involved, as he is suing a property investment company for scamming him out of about a hundred grand. At this point, Addie’s looked over the case so much that the numbers are starting to merge, the calculations are dancing on the page, and some of them even look like the letters M and T until she blinks it away.

  Usually, Addie loves catching scammers. She loves fighting for the good side. She loves when she can be crunching numbers and putting them into actual economic trends of property values and similar – but it’s just not coming to her. 

  So she puts the papers back on the coffee table, picks up her mug, instead. 

  ‘They were arguing a lot last night,’ Addie says and waits for Holden to look up at her before continuing. ‘He came over because they were leaving together and I heard them yelling all the way from my room. Neither of them really wanted to go like this, but they bought the tickets back in, like, October. Before all this shit went down. And they didn’t want to waste them.’

  Holden glances down at the papers, then back at her. ‘Is that the only reason why they went? Because of the tickets?’

  ‘I don’t know. That’s what Marianne hinted at, but I still think they’re both hoping for fresh air to do them some good.’

  ‘What do you mean, fresh air?’

  ‘Metaphorically,’ she explains. ‘Different country, different setting, different circumstances. I spoke to Tom the other day and that’s kind of what he said, too. Changing where they are might be the thing they need.’

  ‘That’s not really how things work, though.’

  ‘Why not?’ Addie cocks her head. ‘They’re getting a new perspective on their relationship. Taking the next step, with her meeting his family.’

  Holden lowers the files onto his lap, running his hands through his hair. SHe knows that look—the I’m going to give you all my attention now look—and waits for his eyes to meet hers, heavy and unwavering. He takes a deep breath before he speaks, his lips shut tight until he’s ready, and she’s seen him do this so many times before. Always before he says something he’s convinced is right about.

  So Addie is waiting. Expecting. Not sure what she’s going to hear. 

  ‘Look, you can’t fix a relationship that’s not really going anywhere,’ Holden says, at last. ‘Both people need to put the effort in. To be the people they need to be in this relationship, for the other person. You can change the environment the relationship’s in, sure, and maybe it works for a while, but it doesn’t change that if they’re not a good fit, they’re not a good fit. Marianne keeps the issues between them from you for a reason, and that’s because she knows the truth.’

  He gives her a tight-lipped smile and then his eyes and hands are back on the file in his lap; if Addie wasn’t a part of the conversation, she could’ve been fooled that it hadn't happened. Over. Just like that.

  ‘Well, I think they’re a good fit. They care about each other enough to at least try to be the partner they need to be for one another.’

  Holden glances at her, but doesn’t say anything other than ‘Fair’.

  Addie just stared at him.

  ‘I’m going to make myself a cup of tea,’ she says, getting herself out of the blanket. ‘You want some?’

  ‘Sure,’ says Holden, not looking up from the paper he’s scribbling notes on.

  The walk to the kitchen is brisk. It’s a little bit chilly out of the blanket, and she thinks she should probably turn the heating up a little – but the tea will warm her up enough. She fills the kettle and turns it on, rubbing her upper arms as she leans against the countertop. The sight of snowflakes moving in the wind past her window makes it feel even chillier.

  Addie’s mind replays Holden’s words, over and over again, as she hears the papers rustling in the living room. She wonders if he’s right – if she’s just hopeful and naive, thinking that her best friend could come out of this victorious. Marianne is fighting for it. Tom is fighting for it. They’re trying, and Addie feels like that’s the bit that Holden is missing. They’re not just accepting the status quo – they’re trying to find the issues and fix them. 

  Or, really, Addie is starting to think that it’s the effort to be the right person for someone that is worth more in a relationship than just being the right match from the beginning. It’s about growth, and most importantly, growing with the person. 

  That is why she thinks Marianne and Tom will stick it out. Will see how far they’ve come when all the worries are stripped away, once in England, and why they’ll be able to bring it back all the way to Atlanta. 

  The kettle brews to a halt, steaming their kitchen window until she can no longer discern the snowflakes. She thinks of Drew, and how excited he was for the snow, and wishes she could go out and have fun in it – anything not to have to think about things. 

  She doesn’t think Holden would be too keen on it, though, so she abandons the idea. Really, maybe it’s a good thing. It’s the most productive she’s been in ages, only coming to the kitchen to brew tea or coffee, or eat, in between hours-long bursts of working on cases. She’s burned through more tea in the past few days Holden’s been here than she has in months, it feels like, but she’s also burned through as many cases. She can’t think of the last time she was so productive. 

  Or so tired.

  Addie calls out to Holden. She pours water into the mugs, one for his coffee, and one for her tea (she doesn’t think she’ll ever fully forgive Marianne for getting her so addicted to tea when coffee is right. there.) and get back to work in the living room. Everything ends with getting back to work.

  If she gets all the work for the internship done today, she could spend the next few days focusing solely on fixing up the loose threads from her thesis, and then hopefully things will remain at a constant level and she’ll manage to get everything done and over with before she goes home.

  Home. 

  Her plane ticket is booked for less than two weeks from today, yet she can hardly picture herself coming home. She’s not been since last Christmas, and even though her family came to visit back in May, it’s not the same. She was working on her Master’s, even then, and maybe Addie is just a little bit tired of working.

  ‘We’re having tea in the kitchen,’ she announces. ‘We need a break.’ 

  Holden argues they can keep working. Addie reiterates her statement, holding the mug to her chest, and he drags himself into the kitchen a few moments later, frowning at her lazily as he leans his side on the doorframe.

  ‘What’s the long face for?’ Addie asks.

  ‘We have a lot of work to do.’

  ‘Yeah, but we also deserve fifteen minutes of not doing it.’ She nods towards the dinner table, where his coffee sits, steaming. ‘Fifteen minutes for a cup of coffee won’t kill you.’

  He walks over to the table with a defeated sigh and Addie follows. He takes a sip and huffs at the temperature, and she can’t help but laugh as she holds her hands over the steam of her tea – and when he blushes, she presses her palms to his cheeks. 

  ‘Addie,’ he says, smiling. ‘Your palms are wet.’

  Addie just shrugs. ‘They’re also really warm.’

  ‘They always are.’

  ‘No,’ she says, ‘they’re always cold when I’m working because my blood circulation is terrible and stress makes it worse.’

  ‘Right.’

  His hands are over hers for a couple of moments before he brings them all down, and she’s back to holding her tea. Her thoughts grow calmer and the tea warms her up on the inside as much as it warms her hands – Addie feels lighter. Watches the snow fall, and enjoys the moment of peace.

  ‘I’m really excited to get home,’ she says, feeling a smile coming on. ‘My sister, Liyah said she’s got a bunch of things planned for us and my dad apparently has a list of things he wants to teach me before I’m gone again.’

  ‘Things like?’

  ‘Cooking, I think. Even though I have Marianne for that – or, actually, probably because of that. Probably car stuff, too.’

  ‘What, like changing a tyre?’

  ‘Ha-ha. Very funny.’

  Holden shrugs, like he’s trying to say he had to do it. Even the self-satisfied grin is starting to break through, and she can’t help but smile back.

  ‘He wants me to get a car,’ she explains. ‘To be less dependent on other people and public transport.’

  ‘That’s not a bad idea.’

  ‘But I like public transport,’ Addie argues. She thought she knew that – that he’d be on her side in this. ‘It’s better for the environment.’

  ‘That’s a fair point.’ He glances around the kitchen. ‘You’ve still got leftover lasagne from Marianne left before she left, right?’

  Addie nods, accepting that the conversation is over. ‘You wanna heat some up?’

  Holden nods and she spends the next few minutes watching him struggle with navigating his way around the kitchen. It’s amusing, really, and she doesn’t feel bad about it – she laughs into her cup every single time he tries to find anything, and looks for it in the wrong place at least five times first.

  ‘I don’t know if I’m going to stay home for long,’ he says then, once the oven’s on and the lasagne is finally heating up. There’s an expression on his face that Addie doesn’t recognise – heavy. Conflicted. ‘My brother’s in his teenage destruction arc and it’s driving my dad crazy.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you help him out?’

  ‘He can handle it better than I could, even with his Parkinsons.’

  Addie finds herself staring at him, comprehending this information – information that she feels like should’ve come up at least once in their just-under-two months of being together. ‘Your dad has Parkinsons?’

  ‘Early stages,’ he says. ‘It’s not really a big deal. They caught it early and he’s on medication, so he’s doing alright.’

  ‘You never said.’

  ‘Didn’t think it was important.’

  ‘Holden, it’s your dad.’ She waits for him to say something, but he’s just staring at his cup. ‘I feel like that’s more of a reason for you to stay longer. To help him out.’

  Holden sighs. He leans back into the chair and she feels his legs brush hers before finding their own space under the table. ‘He’s been going fine. Jack’s only fourteen, so it’s not that bad. Besides, if I’m home and having to look after Jack, I can’t concentrate on work. I can’t risk the quality of my work dropping because of that. Don’t want to reduce my chances of Grubson giving me the job at the end.’

  Addie didn’t even know that was what he wanted – but she doesn’t have the energy to deal with another bombshell. ‘It’s nice that you’re so determined and hardworking, and it’s one of the things I like about you most. But at the end of the day, no one should put work over people they care about.’

  ‘Well,’ he says, slowly, as if choosing words carefully. ‘Work’s what puts bread on my table.’

  Addie’s jaw clenches. ‘Work won’t be by your side if things go sideways and you need someone to help you out.’

  Holden has a confused face, then frowns. ‘Am I meant to read between the lines?’

  ‘No, I’m not—I wasn’t talking about us,’ she clarifies, feeling her heart thumping in her chest. ‘I was talking about choosing work over family.’

  ‘Right,’ he says.

  He doesn’t say anything else. Addie wishes he would.

  The oven timer runs out and he tends to the lasagne, leaving her to ruminate in her own thoughts. She refuses to – she’s thinking about Holden’s relationship with his family and his work, the fact that he hasn’t felt like sharing the fact that his single father has Parkinsons and a teenage son to look after, or the fact that he wants to stay at Grubson, even though she thought he’d said it wasn’t where he could put his degree to best use. But money talks, and so does stability, and Addie feels like she neglects to think that’s one of the most important things for people who grew up in unstable households like he has. 

  They eat the lasagne and her thoughts don’t shut up. 

  ‘So,’ he says, ‘have you found any evidence of the scam in the Magellan v The State case yet?’

  ‘I don’t feel like talking about work,’ she says.

  ‘Okay.’

  He helps her clean up the kitchen once they’re finished and tells her to thank Marianne for making the lasagne. They’re back to work, but Addie’s motivation is long gone, and it’s taking a lot more effort than it should to get things done. To read. To make notes. To sit by Holden and bite her tongue before she asks questions that’ll probably reveal more things he hasn’t told her. 

  She glances out of the window and notices the sky’s gotten too dark to see the snowflakes anymore. Her heart clenches, and she realises she’s done. She’s tired. The kind of tired that tries to drag you down with gravity and not let you get up until a year has gone by.

  ‘I’m going to bed,’ she announces. ‘I can’t think anymore.’

  Holden looks up from the heap of papers he’s holding, taking out the pen from between his lips. ‘That’s fine, I was thinking about going home soon anyway.’

  ‘I thought you were staying another night?’

  ‘Yeah, sorry,’ he says. ‘I need to keep working, and I don’t want to bother you..’

  Addie lets out a surprised chuckle. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not bothering me. You can keep working in the living room as long as you want, I don’t mind.’

  ‘Yeah…’ he looks around, then leans forward and kisses her on the lips. ‘It’s better I go. If I stay, I’ll just want to join you, and I’ve got too much left to do.’

  ‘Okay,’ she says. He kisses her again, and she feels her cheeks heating up.

  In the end, she walks him out, and lies in bed alone, knowing she’s going to be alone in the entire flat, and she’s going to wake up alone, too. Thinking about everything Holden said. Think about the things he didn’t. Not only that, but Marianne is on the other side of the planet, and Addie is unable to do anything if things take a turn for the worse.

  It’s not a good feeling.

◇

23: A CASE OF THE BUTTERFLIES 

most people on the taglist have left/changed their urls, so lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

[ladylilithprime]

Not So Silent Night

Event: Secret Santa Exchange via @spnfanficpond

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Wincest

Rating: Teen and Up

Tags/Warnings: Alcohol Use, Dean's Pining, Sam's Awkward Flirting

Summary: The hunt was a bust and Dean just wanted to kick back and a bar and pretend he wasn't missing his little brother like one half his lungs. Turns out the bar he picked was a better choice than he'd thought.

Gifted to: @a-nah

Read on AO3

THE BLUE FLANNEL shirt had stopped smelling like Sam three months ago, but Dean still wore it over his t-shirt and beneath his dad's old leather jacket like he could duck his head and catch a whiff of sweat and deodorant and cheap aftershave. He knew that if he did he'd still get a whiff of the deodorant and aftershave from his own morning routine, but despite being the same set of scents it still hit... differently. Different notes in the sweat from Dean's devotion to bacon cheeseburgers versus Sam's burgeoning preference for eating raw vegetables.

Freak. At least Dean could be sure with his thoroughly cooked meat that he wasn't gonna spend the night blowing chunks from food poisoning because of the questionably clean lettuce.

He didn't even know why he was still wearing the shirt that, by all rights, should have been tossed in either the laundry or the motel room trash weeks ago, why he had bothered spending half an hour with a gas station sewing kit painstakingly stitching up the torn cuff on the left sleeve after it got caught on a rusty nail. It wasn't even the shirt that he had been wearing all that day, having spent most of the daylight hours stuffed into a suit and tie. Something about the bar across from the library had bitten at him, though  and he hadn't been able to leave the motel room to get a beer until he had changed out of the monkey suit and into that blue flannel.

The bar itself wasn't anything special: polished wood that didn't hide the scuff marks, a dart board and a pool table off to the side, and a flatscreen TV up in the corner over the bar for folks to watch whatever game was on. Three mediocre beers on tap, a handful of brands by the bottle, and a liquor selection pretending to be more high class than it really was. He'd been in a couple hundred bars across the country just like it from before he was legally allowed to order anything harder than a Coke. He clocked and dismissed the handful of local barflies and a smattering of college students that might be easy marks at the pool table later, ordering a beer and settling in to unwind a bit from a hunt that wasn't worth the name.

His thoughts derailed when the bartender set a shot glass of something iced and amber at his elbow next to the beer bottle. Dean's eyebrow went up in question - he knew he hadn't ordered that - and got pointed in the direction of one of the tables of college students. Not sure what to expect, he carefully adjusted his lean against the bar and looked over to the indicated table.

He would have been able to tell which table it was even without the direction. Four widely grinning students, two dudes and two chicks, were arranged on either side of a fifth whose head was face down in folded arms that left Dean with only the view of a mop of brown curls. As Dean looked over, toying idly with the glass, one of the girls elbowed her apparently mortified friend into looking up and--

Dean lifted the shot glass in salute to the achingly familiar eyes that locked onto his. The last ones he had been expecting to see in this bar, and also the ones he had been missing the most. Holding his gaze, Dean took a deliberate sip of the drink, eyebrows going up at the rich, oaky flavor that spilled over his tongue. The kid's friends apparently had good taste to be sending him a shot of good bourbon like this instead of the usual paint thinner.

The incredulity that bloomed across Sam's face at the blatant flirtation was probably deserved, but then again this was really good bourbon. Dean raised an eyebrow and quirked one finger in a clear invitation, sparking a vivid blush across Sam's cheeks that was absolutely worth whatever yelling Dean was going to be enduring at whatever volume Sam decided was appropriate. To the tune of the playful catcalls of his friends, Sam got up, downed his own drink, and managed a credibly steady stride over to where Dean was leaning against the bar.

"What are you doing here?" Sam bit out as he got within low conversation range.

"Really? Just right into it?" Dean tried not to pout, but come on, after he'd gone and done the kid the solid of pretending to be a stranger at the bar he could conceivably be hitting on in front of his college friends? "Not even gonna ask if I come here often, or say my shirt would look better on the floor next to your bed?"

"I already know you don't come here often," Sam huffed with a remarkably expressive eyeroll. He eyed Dean up and down and frowned. "And that's my shirt."

"Got left behind in my bag," Dean said with a shrug that he hoped disguised the way his neck was heating up, pulse thundering in his ears. "You want the chance to steal it back, maybe you should hit on me properly, convince me to take you back to my place like your friends expect. Single room," he added when Sam started to look uncomfortable.

"Dad let you out by yourself?" Sam raised an eyebrow, smirking when Dean scowled.

"Dude, I'm twenty-five!" he protested. Sam folded his arms, and Dean rolled his eyes. "Shut up. Hunt was a bust, anyway, just a regular human sicko."

"Lovely," Sam grimaced. "So you won't be running out in the middle of the night to go dig up a grave?"

"Nope," Dean said, popping the 'p' and raising the shot glass in salute. "You wanna come home with me, I'm all yours for the whole night."

This was the moment, Dean knew. This was the point where Sam could just as easily laugh it off and go back to his friends, maybe with some story about how Dean looked too much like someone he'd gone to high school with, or even looked up close exactly like his older brother if he wanted to go that route. Or, if Dean was very lucky, Sam would be willing to play along and come back with him and maybe...

"So," Sam drawled at length, tilting his body to incline towards Dean as he leaned on the bar. "If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?"

Oh, yeah!

"All night long, baby boy," Dean promised and downed the rest of the bourbon in a single gulp.

"Yeah?" Sam licked his lips, trying to look unimpressed as Dean dropped a twenty on the bar. "Gonna tell me not to worry, he's sleeping, for old time's sake?" Which, okay, ouch, point taken. And yet....

"Aw, Sammy," Dean murmured in his ear as he draped an arm around his little brother's shoulders to guide him out of the bar. "If you manage to sleep through this, then I ain't doing it right~!"

=End=

[disregardcanon]

Toh npmd au for my own personal amusement

First thing’s first: character assignments 

Amity as Steph 

Luz as Pete 

Willow and Gus as Ruth and Richie

Boscha as Max 

Hunter as Grace 

Odalia and Belos both as parts of Mayor Lauter

Setting details: it’s still in Gravesfield, CT which still has its same Puritan vs witches branding. The mascot is a pilgrim and that IS Gus in the suit. Who has more school spirit than Augustus Porter? (No one.) 

So a few changes I’m making to make the toh cast slot a bit easier into the framework 

Belos is a fundamentalist preacher who’s raising his “niece”. Yes he DID kill Caleb and Charlotte. No one knows tho. It was lords in black related. Does that make it better? eh

Hunter is trans masc and a TOTAL egg. Right now, he’s a very enthusiastic little warrior for purity culture. Yes, he’s trying to get the dance canceled, YES he’s bullied a lot for being a “nerdy prude”. Not gonna dead name him but. He wouldn’t realize he’s a guy until significantly after the events of this musical 

Luz has NOT been in amity’s class since the 1st grade. She only moved here a year ago

Amity is still the mayor’s daughter and she and Boscha used to date. Amity’s stopped actively bullying people after they broke up and she’s felt like, guilty about it, but she’s never seen how much more.. Physical? Boscha’s bullying got than hers did. Sure, Amity was a queen of psychological warfare, but she never beat people up in the parking lot. 

Luz moves to Gravesfield during her junior year of high school. Amity and Boscha on the cusp of breaking up, so things are changing in their social hierarchy. For one, Amity is backing away from bullying and the spotlight and for two Boscha is getting WORSE. She when Luz moves in and aligns herself with “half-a-woman Willow” and Steve Urkel.. She’s thrown to the bottom of the school hierarchy immediately. Looney Lulu is what comes to mind first. 

Enter Boscha: literal monster, best quarterback in the school’s history and the first girl (she works that angle as hard as she can), and QUEEN of the school. She’s amity’s ex and like… mainly over her. 

Okay, who are we kidding? She’s not over her. Not at all. Boscha decides to put all her “trying to make amity jealous and take me back” energy into seducing amity’s least favorite student: local nerdy prude, preacher’s “niece” wittebane. 

Hunter and amity do NOT get along. At all. They’re duking it out for the valedictorian spot, their respective guardians are pitting them against each other, and they both just find the other… insufferable. 

So trying to bag the “girl” who’s the forbidden fruit and maybe making amity mad enough to take her back with it too? It’s worth a try, at least. 

Amity, meanwhile, is failing theater. She’s getting very frustrated and flustered and asks luz to be her scene partner so maybe she doesn’t fall on her ass. Luz is nervous because this is Amity Blight, super cool girl who used to be very mean to willow and now isn’t really a bully but is just? Way cooler than they are? Amity’s able to talk her into it. 

The teacher heaps a LOT of praise onto them and their chemistry and promises them good grades in the future if they keep working with each other. This leads to amity calling luz and trying to set up the pasqualli’s date. 

Boscha, meanwhile, is cornering hunter near the gym where he’s protesting the concept of dancing. He gets freaked out when boscha starts getting very very flirty and he gets really flustered because? Girl? Girl flirt with me? Also a girl? Hahahaha NO I AM NOT GAY I AM NOT- and he’s having a little sexuality crisis. Willow, who’s done putting up with boscha’s shit right here in the school building, hurls a waterbottle across the room in between them. 

Hunter SPRINTS away because OH BOY I WAS EXPERIENCING SOMETHING STRANGE AND UNWELCOME NO THANK YOU NO THANK YOU- and then he finds out that newly buff and gaining more confidence willow is the one who saved him. And she’s just like oh yeah anytime. No one should corner other people like that. And his little heart is going bEEPBEEPBEEEP BEEEEEEEEEEPPP and the rest of his body is not calming down either, ya know? 

Unwanted sexual attractions experienced by local nerdy prude today: 2. Fantasies experienced in the bathtub: 2 very, very different ones in a single sequence. 

Luz gets the shit kicked out of her at pasqualli’s because she runs into boscha before she finds amity and she’s like no i’m not gonna cower AMITY BLIGHT INVITED ME HERE! And. that. DOES NOT GO WELL 

Willow is ready to go to war over this when they get to school the next morning because she WARNED luz that amity wasn’t to be trusted and look? Look what happened! And luz is like yeah you also said i should stand up for myself- and willow’s like husssshhh. 

They plan a prank in the bathroom that goes very poorly. Hunter writes gus a detention slip for being in the girls’ bathroom (he should have written himself one too!) and then they prank the shit out of Boscha. 

To the point she. You know. Dies. then they have to dismember her at hunter’s urging! Hooray!!!!

Cue peace and love at the high school :) until poor gus dies. I’m sorry dude! You’re the mascot you were cursed. Of course the quarterback was going after you first. 

Boscha goes after luz second because she’s the dweeb who thought that she could steal boscha’s girl. Luckily for luz and amity both, they were together at this point and they RUN as fast as they can. Luz demands they go find willow because she’s probably the next victim, and they find her mid-boscha kill. She lost an arm because boscha was trying to take the “half-a-” thing to its logical, puny extreme. They rush her off to the hospital. The police come to question them. 

And then pastor wittebane comes with hunter in tow. He pulls something with the police about the parks wanting him to perform a protestant equivalent of anointing of the sick on their ailing daughter. 

Pastor wittebane very clearly knows what happened. 

“I thought you were gonna keep the beans cool!” Amity demands. 

“I couldn’t,” hunter tells her. 

“Fucking useless, wittebane,” amity mutters. 

Pastor wittebane glares at all of them. “You are going to get in my car and come with me.” 

“That sounds bad,” luz says, “my mom told me to never be one on one with religious officials.” 

“Fine,” he says, “if you’d like to be the next victim, be my guest.” 

They all get in the car, except Willow, who’s bed-bound. (Luckily, since she’s already in the hospital, boscha thinks of her as less of a kill count priority.) 

Belos takes them out ot the middle of the woods and makes them dig up the black book. Then boscha kills him! We DO get boscha killing belos, so i think that’s a win. They flee the scene, run into some cops, then make it to the high school to complete the ritual. 

We’ve got amity, luz, and hunter on the floor of the gym summoning the evil teletubbies. The evil teletubbies REALLY want amity to kill luz. They get to have their cool as i think i am reprise <3 and then the bullet leaves the gun and boscha catches it. Because she is very, very excited to do luz in personally. She’s still debating whether or not she’s gonna end amity, but luz IS going to die. In front of amity. For absolutely certain. 

Boscha���s getting ready to take care of another nerdy prude when hunter bursts out like HELLO YES! I AM READY TO HAVE THE SEXUAL INTERCOURSE! And boscha’s just like… whut? And then he gets very flirty and goes along with the stuff that she was saying earlier, and he’s.. Legit into it. Sure, flirting with hunter was half to spite amity, but she’s still very turned on by the idea of corrupting the perfect angel church girl into having hot and heavy sex with her on the football field. And making amity watch? That’s a bonus. Maybe she’ll get a threesome out of it. 

Hunter sends boscha to hell with the power of his jesus freak virginity, luz and amity have sixteen different crises, and willow lives to hear the whole crazy tale. Luz and willow mourn gus, hunter goes through the weird process of mourning his uncle while also realizing he’s glad that the guy’s gone and gets to know the shoulder ANGEL part of the shoulder angel and shoulder devil fantasy he was experiencing, and amity hides the book away in her own personal safe to try to keep it away from bad actors. 

It doesn’t keep it safe from mayor odalia blight, but… that’s not going to be that big of a deal.. Right? RIGHT?!?!?!

[yaoimongerer]

High school AU Deidara

He's a horrible person. He's loud, he's always calling out the answer without actually knowing the answer, he sniffs Sharpies in direct view of his teachers, he cyberbullies and bullies some of the younger students (Sasuke, Gaara, Sai). Sai actually thinks they're friends.

Deidara steals from the local outlet mall (which he's been kicked out of literally every time he goes there) and shows off his haul at school with the price tags still on. He wants to be popular but the popular kids hate him more than anyone. This little freak keeps finding them when they're trying to hang out at the mall or coffee shops (or even their homes) and he makes the whole gathering about himself.

He's suspended every other week. They tried to expel him but he keeps coming back. His parents won't show up to parent teacher conferences or answer attempts to contact them.

He always does all the work incorrectly for group projects. Once he climbed up on the roof and threw clay sculptures at the underclassmen.

Despite all this, he has a great time. He's technically bullied, but he doesn't really understand what bullying is. Any attention is good attention, and he gets a lot of attention. He even attends the pottery club after school. He didn't pay for materials but the teacher took pity on him at first so he's allowed to sit quietly in the corner. Instead of doing this, he critiques the fuck out of everyone's technique. He even made this one new girl cry once.

He's paired with Sasori for a project and he hates how the guy never emotes, but he loves trying to annoy someone who is so stoic. Meanwhile Sasori is on 4chan in class and manipulating the votes for every student council for fun. They're awful.

[sidhewrites]

posessed by a spirit of writing part 2: how did this happen i've written 6k words in the past 2 days

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tag list: @adaughterofathena @ambreeskyewriting @carnelianflames @halfbloodlycan @vigilantdesert @nadunacreates

The usual muffled weekend noise came through the thin walls of my apartment as I showered off, then decided that I didn't want to deal with the fact that Josie's things were still sitting in boxes on my kitchen table. A set of dowsing rods, cat treats, a few shirts and necklaces, and at least a few crystals. 

I have no clue why she believes in spiritualism like that, considering she's the one who taught me the origins of the west's understanding of eastern mysticism like chakras, third eyes and whatever. Make no mistake, I like shiny rocks as much as the next guy, but the idea that different colors of quartz could make you happier or more sexually active or ward off evil was as stupid as avoiding walking under ladders to avoid bad luck instead of just following basic common sense when it came to physical safety.

I know I sound like an asshole. Josie had told me hundreds of times.

It was still stupid.

Instead of dealing with her things, I carried my sorry ass down to the corner store for a pint of ice cream, bleach, and hair dye. My side-shave was due for a touch-up anyway, so it wasn't purely out of the spirit of emotional devastation and existential crisis that made me go from my typical black to hot pink. Admittedly, it was mostly because of an emotional crisis, but it wasn't the only reason, so I'm counting that as a win.

As the dye set, I put some music on and settled in on the bench by the window. By now, the rain was starting to recede, which meant people were no longer rushing to get from place. My apartment was just across the street from the graveyard, so I had a good view of the college campus, and I could spy on Mr. Ngo when he tried to do something a man his age shouldn't, like kneeling to weed the plants when his arthritis was acting up.

There wasn't much going on today. A few people walking across the grounds, either from the apartments to campus or vice versa, a few of the usual picnickers determined to enjoy an afternoon with their late loved ones despite the mud, or just get some time outside as the sun slowly started to emerge.

But there was someone else in the graveyard today. The small film crew had far better gear than the usual stuff Sutter College loaned out to its students. Even from a distance, their professionalism and organization was easy to see, and their mic operator looked very official -- not to mention a good twenty years older than students tended to be. I couldn't see their faces clearly, nor could I hear what they were saying, but it was all too easy to figure out exactly what they were doing, standing in the overgrown grass and pointing out significant historical graves.

Ghost hunters.

Like I said, the graveyard is old. Lots of people die in 150 years, and we have no shortage of local legends and folklore. The Barhop in [Old Towne Brewery.] Ms. Lark in the old public library. And the town's most famous, Lucille Bloom. According to history, she married the love of her life at nineteen, and lost him two years later in a freak logging accident. They weren't able to recover his body. She died of pneumonia and grief only six days after that, before the funeral had even been properly arranged.

According to legend, her spirit haunts the graveyard, waiting for her husband to be buried next to her as they'd always planned. She's allegedly -- allegedly -- an active spirit that can be spoken to, and often appears as a full-body apparition.

Look, just because I don't believe in Josie's ghost stories doesn't mean I didn't sit up watching documentaries and video essays with her as she went down rabbit hole after rabbit hole. I knew about the town's ghost stories, and I knew about the various teams of hunters and internet personalities who'd done videos on it. I'd even been contacted by them once, though they conveniently left out the fact that I'd never seen a single ghost in all my nights working in the graveyard when the video eventually came out.

If Josie knew they were here, she'd skip work entirely, watching them work and offering suggestions on how to do their jobs. Use this tool, don't put the camera there. She'd be having a blast.

The thing is, though, is that it's stupid. All of it is stupid. It would be to stand there with a radio, or even just a phone, and mess with their EMF readings, or whisper ominously behind the tree while their microphones picked up on sounds that could be anything from the wind to a bird flapping its wings. I could just go down there any time I wanted and mess with them.

I won't, though.

I'm not a child.

I have ice cream to eat, and misery to wallow in, and the hair dye has another ten minutes before I can wash it out. I’m not petty, and I won’t mess with innocent people just because I’m mad at Josie. I don’t even have to get groceries today, so there’s no reason for me to leave the apartment until tomorrow.

My phone buzzes, and my stomach drops. I'm still trying to unsubscribe to all the people Josie followed on my various social media accounts, but I'm still getting notifications one way or another.

New Announcement by the Haunted Archives Team -- [Town Name] Cemetery and the history of Lucille Bloom coming this week! Make sure to tune in next Saturday at 8pm EST for a live Q&A after the video drops.

The post featured a photo of the crew in a graveyard. My graveyard.

So that's who they were.I grit my teeth, and glare at the Haunted Archivists across the street. Josie loves these guys -- a pair of paranormal investigators that pride themselves on emphasizing fact over sensationalism, and using a variety of tools to find ghosts and blah blah blah.

For half a second, I feel bad for Josie. She’s got double shifts all week, so she won’t be able to get online in time. And then I think, Good. She deserves to miss it. I still have her dowsing rods and pendulum in my kitchen just waiting to be picked up, and reminding me of her every time I go to get a drink.

But that’s Josie. These people are just doing their jobs, minding their own business in a place that just so happens to be right across the street from me. I’m not going to go mess with people just because I’m angry and hurt and a skeptic who lives next to the graveyard.

I don’t need to leave my apartment.

I eat my ice cream, watching them putter around down there among the headstones.

I don’t need to go to the graveyard tonight.

[irishmoronn]

jour 31: 9 février

to start off, i figured i would try and type out my days since writing them physically hasn't really been going well. i've skipped many days in my journal and couldn't really keep up with sending texts of my days to mom and dad. i don't think i'm really going to censor anything but i'll just be vague when the situation calls.

so, today is friday. we don't have classes on fridays, so aia and i usually go to the ste claire market in the morning. today we went with pilar, who lives pretty equidistant to the tram stop as we do. on the way over we went to the atm round the corner by the tourist office, only to find that both of them were hors de service :( in any case, i tucked that away for later, because we went into the market and everyone got a tart. last week, i got a tarte aux fruits mélangée, but this week i saw the fraise one so i just had to get it.

we were kind of aimlessly walking around after getting our tartes, but then i remembered that trisha got weird pink tp and i've heard that dyes aren't safe in tp so i don't want to take chances. so i asked if we could go to the casino that was really close to look for regular white tp, and lo and behold, none!! contrary to popular belief, i'm finding it really hard to get a four-pack of regular white toilet paper. aia then suggested that there's a carrefour around here somewhere, so we set on our way for that.

we got a bit tied up at tower coffee for like two hours and i got really fatigued while we were there. it was almost 1, and we'd been out since 10:30, so i ended up eating my tarte. i really wish i had gotten a photo of it, but it's fine, i guess. it was really good and i miss strawberries. i haven't seen any like anywhere since i got them that one time at casino.

once we dipped from tc, we set back out on our journey to find this carrefour. get this-- there was regular, white, non-dyed, non-scented toilet paper! woo hoo!! i got a six pack, which i guess is fine, along with two sugarfree monsters (at 1,80€ each, which is astounding!! lowest price i've seen yet.), some apple juice boxes, and a small thing of haribo crocos (1,68€... the tabac ones, same size, are 2,20€!)

on our way back to victor hugo aia suggested i try the atm there while they looked for the nut guy by les galéries. they didn't find him, and i was able to withdraw some cash for the excursion tomorrow. money freaks me the fuck out, man. these exchange rates are crazy and i'm so weirded out because i can't get a job here even if i wanted to.

i sat in the bedroom for a bit after i got back, and then decided to make the rest of the ravioli that's been sitting in the fridge for a few days. i had that and then some of my salt and vinegar chips on the side for a late lunch at like 3:30 something.

sooo i'm continuing this from memory on dimanche 11 février bear with me

i don't really remember what i did in between late lunch and the evening, but at 7pm i met aia and waited for emilio and caleb in the lobby so that we could go to the tram for, get this, a showing of la la land at a local theater! it was scheduled for 7:30 but a) i wanted to see how the ticket process was like and if we could use our fancy newfangled student id's for discounts and b) i wanted to be early enough so that it wouldn't be sold out. unfortunately though, tickets were bought on kiosks. also, the showing was sold out! however there was one other showing in town that we decided last minute to go to as it was at 8pm and we were only like a 15min tram ride away.

once we got there, we discovered through the kiosks that the showing we initially were going to see was a VOST showing: version originale sous-titré, or the original version with french subtitles. the one we were at now was VF: version française, or dubbed french! personally, i was a bit excited, because this is one of my favorite movies and i really wanted to see it on the big screen. i didn't really care about the audio except for the music. however, emilio and caleb are both not the highest in their french proficiency (B1.1 and A2, respectively) but they were both willing to see it anyways, which i appreciated. caleb was the only one who hadn't seen it before, so i can only imagine what that must've been like to see it for the first time!

the movie was really good, and a bit weird in that the songs were actually their original versions, just subbed french. i guess the dub actors didn't want to sing lol. there was like a 20 minute portion at the beginning of some guy that runs the theatre talking about the movie and stuff... i don't know but i was really bored of him.

after the movie, and it was like 10:30 almost 11 by then, we decided to go get food at a burger place nearby called point b. i got a burger meal (burger, drink, fries) for just 5€! not too bad, and it was also tasty! we then rode the tram home and of course all the doors were closed and lights off so i called my grandma quickly before heading to bed.

[dankusner]

I can trace my fascination with drag artistry to the early ’70s.

During the “disco sucks” decade, I was a fanatical member of the KISS Army — particularly obsessed with “spaceman” guitarist Ace Frehley.

I grew up attending Catholic schools in the Chicagoland area.

For 12 years, I adhered to strict parochial dress codes and repressed almost every stripe of my freaky individuality — especially while enrolled in an all-boys high school where the Order of Carmelite monks beat the hell out of its student body severely and frequently.

While in high school, my parents brought me to Dallas for the first time.

Before we even checked into our hotel, The Kusners — like all observant Irish Catholics — made a solemn pilgrimage to Dealey Plaza.

I’ve been a Texan since I was 17, when I started my freshman year at Texas A&M University in College Station.

For my sophomore year, I transferred to the University of North Texas in Denton, where I majored in Jazz Studies. In 1988, I played bass for The Bat Mastersons. That year, we won a Dallas Observer Music Award for “Best Alternative Band.” The song “Wishing Well” played in heavy rotation on KDGE, and The Bat Mastersons headlined the very first Edge Fest. During summer breaks, I lived in Dallas and barbacked at The Wave — a now-defunct Maple Avenue nightclub.

On Tuesdays, I ran spotlight for “Calling All Stars,” a female-illusionist contest.

That’s when my appreciation for drag began to flourish.

To me, those lip-syncing queens were braver than rock stars — they were gender-defying rebels who flew their freak flags sky-high.

For my junior year, I transferred to the University of Texas at Austin, where I graduated with an English degree.

In 1992, I began publishing SPREAD, a large-format magazine that featured Warholian interviews.

I profiled the unusually famous: liberal Texas politicians, gay-for-pay porn stars, necrophilic photographers, HIVpositive queercore punks, white hip-hop superstars and even a homeless author who was anthologized by W.W. Norton.

The first interview I ever conducted was with the godmother of all gender revolutionaries: Quentin Crisp, whom I touched base with for every edition of SPREAD.

In 1997, I moved back to Big D when I accepted an editing position at a gay newspaper.

There, I immersed myself in the various strands that define sexuality and gender.

I also studied Dallas — its history and indelible stereotypes.

When it came to planning editorial shoots, I discovered that drag artists were my favorite subjects.

They brought a mysterious and alluring power to the page.

Since 2009, I started biking around Dallas almost daily.

It’s not unusual for me to pedal 20 miles in a single afternoon, traversing though Oak Cliff, downtown and to the end of the Katy Trail.

“214 Trans4m” was inspired while cycling through Big D.

During these tours, my iPod-fueled imagination would take over, and I’d re-envision locations and would revamp their historical significance by incorporating local drag artists.

I live in Oak Cliff’s most unattractive and neglected corner — where I share a home with Bryan Amann, whose photographic expertise focuses on capturing local architecture.

I couldn’t have completed this project without being able to boss him around like he was my personal high-definition slave.

[thebubblesareevil]

Ghost kings make bad Baristas..Coffee shop au

Should I be working on Superman adopting Danny yes am I doing that no I hit a road bump so u get this for now

Kaldur is Stressed as leader of the YJ and Dick tells him he needs a break and recommends this really great coffee shop he found in the harbor. Dick takes over training the kiddos for the day and Kaldur spends the day wandering around happy harbor trying to destress but the man is addicted to stress and we all know it.

Danny is a local college student studying astronomy and got a job at the local coffee shop. When Kaldur comes in he is greeted by a barista and he stands to the side while he browses the menu

Danny on the other hand cannot stop staring at the customer that just walked in to the point where he ended up being sprayed by steamed milk. It’s not his fault though the guy is doing it on purpose he swears. Standing near the window starring at the menu board with his chin tilted up and the light hitting him juuuussst right. It s just not fair, the dude it so far out of his league that Danny can’t help it.

Kaldur decides on a spiced tea and approaches the counter to be greeted by a rather flustered barista. He smiles and gives his order, when the barista asks for a name for the order and Kaldur decided to have a little fun and gave him his full name Kaldur’ahm to see what he would end up writing on the cup.

Danny is dead, fully dead, he has been killed, his gorgeous customer has finished what was started 6 years ago. His voice is just…mmmmmmm. Danny is trying really hard not to let his internal scream turn external that he isn’t paying full attention when he writes the name, Kaldur’ahm it suits him, on the cup. He makes the spiced tea calls his name and tries his best not to make a perfect imitation of a tomato.

Kaldur thanks the barista and turns but as he goes to drink his tea he catches sight of the name written on the cup. It was in fact his name, with not a letter out of place, written in perfect Atlantean. Kaldur freezes and checks the collar on his sweater, making sure his gils are not showing before he scopes out the cafe to make sure he’s not being watched. He turns back around to the counter to confront the barista.

Danny is FREAKING OUT he’s turning around, he only had one sip how bad could he have possibly messed up that tea oh god just end it. Kaldur’ahm calmly shows him the writing on the cup and asks him what it said. Danny looked at the cup and went pale. Apparently his autopilot recognized his name as being Atlantean and ghost speak took over. Oh my god that Atlantean he’s Atlantean wtf wtfnwtf!!! Danny tries to calmly respond that it’s his name and he hopes he spelled it right.

Kaldur is immediately suspicious, he looks at the name tag, this Danny can barely look him in the eye and he says no it’s spelled perfectly, but where did he learn Atlantean? Danny panics and says internet. Kaldur doesn’t believe him but nods and leaves. He informs nightwing of the incident and they both head back to the coffee shop together the next day to scope out the barista.

Danny looks very excited when Kaldur walks in and when he ordertheir drinks he and Kaldur end up talking for a bit as he made the drink, once again in Atlantean, to which Kaldur comments about how fluent he is. Nightwing is dying in the corner waiting for his friend when Kaldur comes back and they leave he can’t stop laughing because this “Danny” wasn’t plotting, he thought you were hot, he was nervous.

Kaldur is surprised but still brings up the fact that he spoke FLUENT Atlantean. Nightwing suggests he ask the barista out and see if he can figure it out and to keep him updated. The next time Kaldur went to the cafe Danny wasn’t there so Kaldur got his tea and left, oddly enough his tea tasted quite different from what Danny made him.

It was as he was leaving that Kaldur ran into Danny again, literally. Danny was walking out of the office and they crashed into each other, Danny immediately started to apologize. They started to talk and Kaldur asked if he was about to clock in. Danny laughed sadly and said no I actually just got fired, apparently I’m REALLY bad at making coffee, hopefully my tea making skills weren’t too bad though? Kaldur gave a slight chuckle and said not bad no.

Kaldur asks if he’s not busy would he like to get some lunch. Danny blushed and said yes they talk all afternoon (in Atlantean) and Kaldur ends up asking him on another date then another and another, you see where this is going… or do you? At one point Danny address someone who says something homophobic in another language and Kaldur starts to wonder how many languages Danny knows. The whole team gets in on it. They are absolutely certain they got him when M’gann starts speaking Martian and they are all blown away when he starts speaking fluent Martian. They are determined to figure it out. Danny eventually tells Kaldur about ghost speak. Neither tell the team. Tim has been looking for the most obscure language he can find and Danny wants to see what he comes up with.

[jamneuromain]

You Had Me Before Hello

Ari Levinson x You / Reader

Warning: Smut, Fluff and Smut, Alternate Universe - College / University, Age Difference, Size Difference, Swearing, Public Sex, Beards (Facial Hair), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Dirty Talk, degradation if you squint, Pussy Spanking, Light Dom/sub tones, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Ari Levinson is being Meanie

Word count: 4k + Bonus~600

Summary: You are a new student on campus, and you meet a handsome librarian.

It is your first day as a freshman.

In a university. In a foreign country, no less.

You settled in your dormitory yesterday at noon, and you received notice this morning that you need a colored copy of your passport to register for your semester today.

You had your copies of your passport, yes, but all in black and white, instead of the colored version.

You had to rush to the Main Library, which, by the way, is twenty minutes away from your place of residence, and hopefully make it in time for your registration appointment with the student center.

Making sense of the signs in a foreign language is hard enough, you groan more when you actually step inside the main library.

People. Everywhere. A lot of them. Chatting or questioning or answering.

Some of them wearing bright color T-shirts, stating that they are volunteers or staff of the library, helping freshmen. As far as you can see, all of them are occupied with freshmen.

Plural.

Like, at least three or four students surrounding one staff or one volunteer.

You bite your lip and observe the first floor, not wanting to bother them.

Lucky enough for you, the library doesn’t require a student card (another card you need to collect when registering for your semester, God knows how many cards and papers have traveled to your hand within less than 24 hours) to get in. You slip through the crowd quietly, noticing the bold letters in a far corner of the first floor that say PRINTING, not in English, of course, but you know that word.

It is a little relief that the printing corner is less crowded. You huff out a breath, reading the instruction to printing that is taped to the wall.

You chew on your lip anxiously when you try to understand the instructions in the local language. To be fairly honest, you regret instantly not attending a university in your home country.

Where you can read and understand fucking printing instructions.

You don’t want a helping hand. You don’t need a helping hand. You are perfectly fine working out your shit in the last few years of your life. And you have to choose a foreign land to continue your studies.

Fucking brilliant.

You turn your head, sighing that you need someone to help you after all.

All of them seem so busy, either talking to another person that you really don’t want to interrupt, or managing their own business on their laptops and phones.

Except for one man.

He isn’t looking at his phone, his laptop, or any electronic devices. He holds his arm, with biceps big enough to strangle an ox. Or maybe three. At once. The man has a scruffy beard and slightly long hair like a lumberjack. He is also incredibly tall like a lumberjack, possibly 6ft8 or 6ft9. He wears a crappy purple T-shirt, meaning that he is also one of the staff.

You walk up to him carefully, mentally prepare yourself for an upcoming conversation, and inhale deeply to calm your nerves.

His freaking musky and woody cologne does NOT help.

In fact, it nearly melts your knees and have you trip on yourself right in front of him.

He is so frigging tall; you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes.

He must have noticed you, for he bends his knees a little, and faces you with a warm smile.

“Um … Hello? Hi? Do you speak English?”

You cover your mouth in realization, eyes wide in shock, after the words flow out of your throat and reach your ears. And your brain. You should have said that in the local language first. Not everyone in this country speaks English and you know that.

You know that!

Just why did you put your foot in your mouth?

Why???

Right, what’s this sentence in the local language again?

The corner of his lips perks up a little, eyes light up in amusement. He nods.

“Sure.”

He can’t help but add, “first semester, huh?”

He sounds so American. Which is a good thing. Which you don’t complain at all. For which you are extremely grateful.

You can understand him. The best damn thing that happens to you today. The best damn thing in the last 24 hours.

You blink. Your appointment with the student center is in 15 minutes. The student center is about a five-minute walk from here. And you really need to figure out how the printer works before the appointment is over. And you don’t understand what’s taped to the wall other than it’s the instruction manual. Of sorts. And you NEED your colored passport copy.

You bite your lip again when the air in your lungs runs out. You have to take a big breath. You just said everything at a speed that only tape-records it, plays it back, and put it on 0.5x speed can someone understand you.

“Please?” You rub your wrist, whispering and perhaps blushing. You don’t want to embarrass yourself by repeating, and you don’t expect him to understand what you just said. Your fingers snatching the edge of your passport so tight that your knuckles are white.

He chuckles, running his hand through his hair. His low timbre fills the air between you: “Sure, lemme help you with it.”

“Thank you. Thank you.” You squeak, following him to a printer.

“Now, it’s as simple as any printer.” He gestures towards the machine, his blue eyes sparkling, but it’s difficult to tell due to the height difference, “if you want to print something from the computer, just click ‘print’ and one of these will print stuff out.”

“Making a copy of my passport?” You pipe up hopefully.

He holds out a hand, taking your passport, “flip the lid open. Whatever you need a copy of, put it inside, close the lid.” He pauses his instruction, fingers hovering above the keypad of the printer, “your student card?”

You blush again, this time, you are certain you are embarrassed, “I haven’t got it yet. I have to complete the registration first and I need a copy of my passport to do that.”

He hums, muscles flexing to operate the machine, “don’t worry. I’ll swipe my card.”

You are suffocating.

His cologne. His massive body. He is invading your senses and your sole piece of mind.

What’s left of it that is not influenced by his smile.

“Just place your student card, here,” he instructs, showing you which button to push and press, “this one, copy.” His head snaps in your direction one more time, “how many copies you want?”

“One.” You check your email just to be sure, “one, thank you, one will do.”

It is only seconds before the machine rumbles to life and gives you the piece of paper you need.

Well, he gives you the paper you need and hands you your passport.

“Thank you!” You shuffle the paper and the passport in your pile of documents in your bag, “thank you so much for this. I would be lost without you.” You flash him a grin with your lower lip still tucked between your teeth.

The alarm goes off on your phone, reminding you there are only a couple of minutes before your appointment. You let out a soft “ooof”, meeting his eyes apologetically, “sorry, that’s my alarm. I need to get to the student center. Thank you for the printing! And helping me!”

“Nah, happy to help.” He waves his hand, and you gulp. His massive hands. Massive. “Have a great day!” He adds, holding his arms again just as you saw him for the first time.

You step back, flashing him another smile, and rush towards the door, heading out.

It is until you arrive on time for your appointment in the student center do you realize, you should have said “have a great day” too.

You should have.

You purse your lips, wishing you had, or your smile has conveyed the message.

You almost forget completely about him, until you meet him again, in the library.

You are searching for a paperback. It is on the reading list of one of your classes, and since it’s only a book with 100 pages, you don’t mind at all picking it up from the library and reading the book later.

The problem is, you can’t find the shelve where the book is, allegedly, according to the library system.

You circle the third floor twice. With bookshelves made of metal, easily a foot or two taller than you (!), you are wandering in an iron jungle, which is probably an understatement. Your stomach grumbles in protest. It’s half past twelve, and you need some food before your body goes on strike. You’ll need another twenty minutes to walk to your dorm to cook. On second thought, you’d buy a sandwich and a bag of chips on your way back.

You rub your forehead, looking around for a service desk.

Why doesn’t this damn place have a map or something. You mutter under your breath, the bag on your shoulder heavier by the minute. You would have left your laptop in your dorm, but you opted to take it for notes.

Not a wise choice.

With a service desk in sight, you cross your fingers, hoping the staff hasn’t decided to go to lunch – because that would be marking your fruitless search during the last half an hour an end.

A man is sitting behind the service desk. It raises the little flame of hope inside you.

You mentally brace yourself for speaking in a foreign language, “Hello? Hi? I was wondering if you could help me find a book?”

No grammar mistakes. Pronunciation clear. Voice audible. Good. You nailed it.

“Hello. Uh, sure. Which book?” He places the book in his hand down on the table, swirling his chair, pulling him close to the table. He looks up and flashes you a smile, waiting for your answer in anticipation.

His slightly long hair, his large biceps, and his scruffy beard. Something seems familiar with this man.

“Oh wait, you’re the girl who wants her passport copied.” Realization hits his face, and he switches to English. To make you more comfortable, obviously. His smile a shade more genuine, or is that possible? Surely your head didn’t make all this up? “I’m Ari, by the way.”

You suck up a breath. The man who helped you with the printing machine. Your memory clicks.

And the reason you hold your breathing is the strong musky cologne that could knock you off your feet right this second. Or on your knees? Both?

“Ri-Right,” you stutter the name of the book, lowering your eyes. His blue irises piercing, as if seeing right through your skin, and digging out your mind filled with excessive active neurons.

Did you tell him your name? You don’t remember.

He is not wearing a bright-colored T-shirt, but a blue shirt, somewhat formal. He rolled up the sleeves to his elbows as if his biceps weren’t protruding enough. And he loosened the button of his shirt, his chest peeking out.

You are going to faint.

Ari types something on the computer in front of him, and says: “It should be on the F9-303 shelf.”

You rip your mind from the gutter and bite your lip, “it should… the problem is, I can’t find the shelf.”

He “aww”s in sympathy, grabbing his card and his phone, “c’mon, I’ll take you there. It could be a bit tricky; you see, you have to go across the self-study lobby, and turn left…”

He stands up. His tall frame looming over you. He could literally stuff you inside his body if he wants to. And his jeans, his ass-hugging jeans. His long legs. His fucking thick thighs.

You follow him, your mind detached from your body, wondering to God knows where.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lip. Heart pounding frantically in your ribcage. You have never felt this way for a man. Any man. How you could only whimper in his presence, how your eyes can barely leave his image without your fierce control over your body, how you melt under his gaze.

Which is now.

You feel like you melt. On the floor, in a puddle.

“You alright?” He stops, eyeing you curiously.

“Yeah… yeah.” You sound more like convincing yourself instead of convincing him.

Ari doesn’t press more on the topic, gesturing one of the shelves to your right-hand side, “here it is. F9-303.” He holds his arm, leaning on another bookshelf, a smirk on his face.

You murmur a low “thank you”, fully aware that you two passed by a room full of students just a few feet from the shelves.

F9-303: 3707. The number of the book you are searching for. Something momentarily distracts your mind from the filthy thoughts. Your eyes started with the middle of the shelf.

F9-303. This match. Good news.

Bad news, this row is F9-303: 80 to F9-303: 945.

Higher up must be.

You sigh, nearly breaking your neck searching in the iron jungle of books before you finally find the damn book. F9-303: 3707.

The smell of old books and browning papers calms your nerves. You stand on your tip-toe to grab it.

It is a half-success.

You touched the cover of the book, however, failed to pull it out. Because you can’t reach the top of the book. And the heavy laptop is dragging you down.

You lay your bag against the bookshelf, and try again.

No luck.

It’s not like you can change your height or the length of your arm within 5 seconds.

Shit.

You could always ask him to help. Your head helpfully suggests.

Nope. NO. Nada. Never. Not again!

You press your head on the cold steel. Cursing your height and your arm’s length. And whoever is brilliant enough to design huge iron anti-human bookshelves.

But mostly yourself.

Mostly about how you will embarrass yourself again in front of him.

You pray to whatever deity above to carve a hole under your feet so the earth could swallow you. When you consider for a brief second jumping up to get the fucking book.

Jumping! Like a fucking monkey!

Although you haven’t jumped. The idea alone is just painful.

Your breath hitches when a warm body presses up against you. A long arm reaches easily above your head, taking the book in his large hand.

You turn your body around so quickly that your spine could have snapped.

You are faced with his chest. His masculine scent drips into your lungs, squeezing all the oxygen out of your cells.

“Your book.” His voice drugs your brain, making you feel funny, making you squirm. Ari lowers his head to gaze into your eyes. The beautiful blue eyes lust-blown, his body burning. Every ounce of your self-control fizzes into thin air like water vapor.

You should grab the book and thank him.

You should.

You really should.

Instead of fixing his gaze, and your heart pounding in your throat.

You bite your lip, when the book hits the ground with a soft thud, and he frees your lip with his. Taking hold of your waist and your neck. Crushing you with his muscles. His bulge digging into your soft belly. Your hands rest on his broad chest willingly, tugging the fabric with your nails.

You have never kissed a man with a beard before.

It is new.

It is itchy.

It is exciting.

“Fuck.” Ari mutters, ravishing your jawline and your neck, teeth nibbling your collarbone. His beard rubs your skin, sparks of fire blooming in your chest. He palms your breasts roughly, dipping one hand down. His hand sneaks inside your leggings, only a thin piece of panties blocking his way. He toys with your clit beneath the wet spot of your panties, his lips back on yours once more to muffle your gasps.

If it weren’t for him pinning your body to the shelves, you’d be weak on your knees right now. Your breasts tender, nipples peaking under his large hand. Your core drenched, aching for more.

He pulls up your sweater and his hand works its way to your skin, thumbing your pebbled nipples.

“No bra? Buttercup, you’re naughtier than I thought.” He tuts, fingers landing on your pussy, your panties out of the way somehow.

You try to muster an explanation, but you forget all about that and shiver as he captures your clit between his fingers, rolling and pinching it experimentally. Involuntary moans slip out of your lips. You try your best to bite back your noises, but his skilled fingers work your clit, triggering your body to act on itself.

“Ari -” You exhale trembly, legs on the verge of giving out. It’s a surprise you still remember his name when you are about to drown in orgasm, “close. Fuck. Please.”

Ari thrusts his fingers into your tight channel, the heel of his palm against your clit. You almost bite your tongue when he explores your pussy and pushes you steadily toward an orgasm.

You bite down on the back of your hand when the orgasm hits you hard. Your channel clenches around his fingers, your thighs shaking, as his palm still digging into your bundle of nerves.

You ride the tides of your aftershock through slow breathing. Ari pulls his fingers out to lick them, groaning by your ear, “sweetest cunt I’ve ever had, buttercup.”

He manhandles your body, your front pressing the shelves, and he rustles behind you. He unzips his pants, pulling your leggings and your panties down in one fluid motion, and his bulbous head taps your pussy. A gentle knocking, your mushy brain concludes, probably the only thing gentle you’re getting from him.

His hand holds your hips, sinking you on his cock.

He is fucking HUGE.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You forget how to breathe. How to scream. How to curse. His girth stretches you to the fullest, reaching spots that you didn’t even know were there. Your eyes brimming with tears, choking on air, hands grabbing back. His arms, his hair, his body, anything to hold you. Anything to brace you.

Ari presses you against the shelves, a string of profanities leaves his lips. He grasps your breast again, other hand on your hips, snapping himself into you.

“Tight fucking cunt. Milkin’ me.” His hand settles on your throat, grunting as he hits your cervix, “hate to crush your windpipe, buttercup, but you’d better keep the fuck down.”

Your nails rake his bare arms, mewling, protesting his roughness.

“Bet you fuckin’ lovin’ it. Fucked like a desperate little slut. Knowing anyone could come over right now is making you hornier, huh?”

As if on cue, your channel convulses with his words. It’s so wrong, to get off with his degradation. But you can’t help it. The hoarse in his voice, the low whispers, the strength he maneuvers you, you love it.

You moan and whimper, which basically is your entire vocabulary now, leaning onto him to get away from his annoying paw on your throat.

“Poor baby needs her attention.” He chuckles darkly, ramming into you, “that’s it – Fucking Christ, your pussy’s gripping me.”

You shake your head. You don’t want to grip him or milk him. You want him to whisper sweet things to your ear, showering you with praises, dolling you up like you’re the princess.

“No – No.” You rasp out, “not a slut.”

Yet your pussy says otherwise. Your abused pussy weeps when he roughly fucks you. Your pussy squelches when he thrusts in. A fire burning your abdomen, wrings your insides tighter and tighter.

Ari’s hand finds your clit again, slapping it mercilessly, “too late, buttercup. Look at the mess you made.”

White hot shocks take control of your body. His swats torture your clit, now puffy and throbbing, adds to your fire. Tip-toeing the borderline between pain and pleasure, accumulating at a speed that is too much to take.

You try to push his hands away, but his arm is too strong. He laughs at your resistance, spanking your clit some more, “c’mon buttercup, cream my fucking cock. Cum. I said, CUM.”

Your mind goes blank. The fire in your belly erupts. Your tight hole beating a pulse nearly damn same as your heart, but with him balls deep inside you, you are filled, and your pussy could only take his pounding without any defense. He nestles his entire length inside, and fucking you through your orgasm.

He stops his assault with your clit as soon as you cum, only rubbing it with smooth circles, prolonging your orgasm.

You slam your head back into the bookshelf when the intensity strikes you. Your screams become moans with his large hand on your mouth.

Before you realize it, he flips your body over, with his cock in your pussy, plowing into you again.

“Can’t.” You choke, breath ragged and uneven, “too much.”

Ari captures your lips with a bruising kiss, his facial hair less irritating. “One more, just one more, buttercup.”

You sniffle, tears sliding down your cheeks, “… ’m sensitive. Can’t. Please, Ari.”

He puts your jelly legs on his waist, setting a pace slamming his hips into you, “baby, be a good girl and just cum one more time.” He licks the tears from your face, peppering you with little pecks and kisses, “it’s not that hard, hm?”

It’s not.

The second orgasm teetering on the edge as he speaks.

“You’re so fucking hot cumming on my dick. C’mon buttercup, I wanna see that again.”

You swallow hard. Your pussy sore and sticky, your clit swollen, your hole clamming down his thick girth. You don’t think you could handle cumming again.

His dick swells up in your pussy – how’s that even possible. He tightens his jaw, massaging your lips with his, “please, pretty baby.” His voice so soft as if begging you. He kisses your sweaty forehead and your throat column, “Christ, your pussy feels good.”

“Ari -” You stammer your words, the upcoming coil winds up in your lower belly once more, "… cumming. I’m cumming."

He kisses you hungrily, his hips losing the pace he builds up as his neck flushes. Your orgasm ripples in your veins, bubbling your blood, leaving your body pliant.

With a final thrust, his dick pulses in your velvet walls, shooting out ropes fulling you to the brim.

It takes both of you a moment to come down from your high.

You pull your leggings and your panties from your ankle, while he offers you a tissue to clean yourself up.

“Would you like to go on a date later?” Ari blurts out.

You huff out a breath, tucking your shirt back under your sweater, “yeah, cause that’s … original.”

You manage the only word you could. It was a spur of your mind. In fact, you would love to go on a date with him. To get to know him. You don’t do casual sex. You never did. Apart from this time, apparently.

“I think the word you are looking for is conventional.” Ari chuckles, not minding your attitude at all. He picks up the long-forgotten book from the ground, handing it to you.

You shuffle it into your now-heavier bag, and chew on your lower lip.

Your lips are still suffering from a first-degree burn from his beard. Frankly, you want the burn on your lips again.

“What’d you say, buttercup?” He cradles your jaw in his palm, bending his knees just a little so that he could watch you without you having to crane your neck. He sounds almost begging, “lemme buy you dinner? A cup of coffee? Something?”

He pouts.

This grown-ass man. POUTS.

Like a kicked puppy soaking wet due to the rain.

“Pretty please?” He kisses your lips, gently, this time.

You snort a short laugh, “Don’t the college rules forbid teacher-student relationships?” You fix the straps of your bag on your shoulder, leaning into his touch.

“Uh-uh.” He shakes his head, long hair making you want to tuck them behind his ears, “not if you’re not in my class.”

“Well then,” you grin like a Cheshire cat, before he suffocates you with another kiss, “you owe me lunch, Ari.”

Bonus:

Three months into your relationship, everything works out smoothly.

You haven’t moved in with him. Not yet. But all things considered, you practically stay in his place six days out of a week, only returning to your dorm to fetch a couple of necessities.

So, here you are, lying on his chest, feeling his heart beating steadily under your palm and his fingers massaging your scalp after a stressful day full of lectures and seminars. You are also stressed because this is the second day of your period, and your hormones would not calm down, messing with your sleep and your mental health.

Messing with your mind, having you raise your head and pop out a question.

Not the kind of question that needs you to kneel before him and present him with a ring. God no.

The kind of question that would cause a war between you. The kind of question, if you did not hear the answer that makes you “awww”, you will be so mad at him.

“I was wondering,” you raise your head, looking him in the eyes. His blue eyes nothing short of warmth, engulfing you with a sense of security.

“When is it that you feel you fall in love with me, for the first time?”

You don’t know why you ask. Probably has something to do with the beginning of your relationship being mind-blowing sex in the library.

Your stomach starts a new wave of cramps, and you bite your lip. Due to the pain, but also the anxiety that you are not sure why he ends up with you. You are shy, inward, and occasionally cursing. Starting a relationship with sex is something you have never experienced before.

As far as you can tell, Ari is the exact opposite of you.

You just … don’t know.

Ari places a kiss on the top of your head, his thumb stroking your back absent-mindedly, providing you with more warmth.

Ari met you on your first day in this country.

Roughly 24 hours before you two actually talked to each other.

He was driving through the city to his apartment, to get ready for the semester. He was supposed to help out in the Main Library the next day.

He was running errands all day. Hitting brick walls each and every step of the way because the bureaucracy in the system was killing him.

Reaching a crossroad where there were no signal lights, Ari noticed a girl, you, with a heavy backpack, standing by the curb, stepping out a few times, only to return to your spot, waiting for a chance to cross the road. A couple of sedans drove by, but none of the drivers gave a shit about a pedestrian trying to cross the road.

He could see the tiredness on your face. The sun was getting low, and it was not safe for anyone to wander around the streets alone. He assumed you were one of those who just wanted to go home.

His car slows to a near stop. A few feet from you. He thought you would cross the road.

You bit your lip, smiled a bit, and waved your hand, signaling him to drive.

He chuckled to himself. He rolled down the window by a seam, and gestured for you to go ahead.

There were more cars behind him, and many were getting impatient, honking in protest.

You smiled. A genuine smile, even though you were tired.

You looked less tired, running in front of his car with the backpack swinging on your shoulders, waving after you had safely arrived on the other side of the road.

And he met you, formally, the next day. In the university he was working. His buttercup, you.

Ari rubs your lower belly. A few whines of discomfort escaped your lips.

“Well buttercup,” he moves himself to hover above your body, while you tuck a strand of loose brown hair behind his ear. He lowers his head to steal a kiss, “you had me before hello.”

Fluff no smut Drabble: Why "Buttercup"?

Smut implied drabble Distraction

[heylookafanfic]

Can I Trust You?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x GN!Reader (angst and fluff)

Brief Summary: Eddie wonders if he can still trust you after he discovers that everyone is looking for him

Author's Note: I’m back on my Stranger Things bullshit! I forgot how much I love the show and I’m diggin this new season so mild spoiler alert if you haven't watched S4 yet :)

Word Count: 2,012

Reading Time: 7 mins, 19 secs (approx.)

Requested: No, an original

Warnings: food, reader held at knifepoint, talks of murder, spoiler alert for Stranger Things S4 vol 1, graphic description of death

—------------------------------------------

You and Eddie had been dating for about a year & everything was going great. You were Hawkins High School’s social floater so everyone knew who you were, not enough to be considered popular but a face everyone was familiar with. That meant that the entire school knew you were dating Eddie “the freak” Munson. He got the “freak” nickname back in 7th grade after a rumor spread about how he tried to eat a bat like Ozzie Ozborne did (although Eddie never did) but the rumor stuck & he just ran with it after many failed attempts to clear his name. If people get to know him like you do, they’d know he’d never hurt a fly. You got backlash & looks from being with him but being together was the best decision both of you made in your life & he always did everything in his power to make you feel like you were the only person in the world.  

You remember the first time that you heard about Eddie being a suspect in Chrissy’s murder. It wasn’t through the radio or TV but when the entire senior class was staring you down Tuesday morning after the big basketball championships. Jason, the school’s star basketball player & Chrissy’s boyfriend, cornered you while you were walking to class & pressed about Eddie’s whereabouts. You knew nothing about where Eddie was or what he did but when Jason shoved the newspaper in your face, you saw the headline “Local Hawkins High Student Murdered, Drug-Dealing Classmate as Suspect”. You knew he’d never kill anyone, especially over drugs; like yeah, you know he’s a dealer but he’d rather lose product than take someone's life when it came down to it. Finding Eddie was going to be a challenge because he would take you to the most obscure places in and around Hawkins for dates. You’d lived there your whole life and never knew of the spots he took you to. 

He wouldn’t hide in the most obvious places the cops would look for him at like his uncle's house or makeout rock but you were worried about him. With the whole town looking for him, his chances of survival were slim in this tiny town. Luckily, you remembered that he plays Dungeons & Dragons with some of the underclassmen & that your little brother was friends with one of them, Dustin Henderson. Fortunately, your little brother has Dustin’s radio frequency remembered & contacted him for you. Come to find out, Dustin was looking for you, Eddie was worried sick about you & asked him to make sure you’re okay. He gave you the address to Eddie’s hideout & you were on your way. As you were making your way to him, you stopped & grabbed groceries. He probably hasn’t eaten or if he has, he’s probably munching on junk food to survive. You picked up fruit, water, healthy snacks and a few bags of chips so he could stock up. 

Finally arriving at the address, it led you to a little shack by the lake. It looked abandoned & you were about to radio Dustin to ensure he was correct until you heard a noise come from within. Hoping that the noise was Eddie, you walked to the shack. It wasn’t your smartest idea to go by yourself to an abandoned shack by the lake at night but it was worth the danger if it meant laying eyes on (a hopefully alive) Eddie. You were going to knock but the door was already cracked open a hair so, you decided to carefully creep in. You had a flashlight in your bag & quickly turned it on. There were a few kayaks on the wall along with a few ores sprawled on the ground but no Eddie. You carefully lifted the tarp that covered one of the smaller motorboats that was already in the water. To your disappointment, still no Eddie. As you went to reach for your brother's radio, you felt something sharp on your back. 

“Put the radio down” a voice said

You sucked in a sharp breath

“Now!” the voice yelled

You threw it down & put your hands up, surrendering

“Why are you here?” it asked

“I’m just looking for someone” you said as you slowly turned around

“DON’T TURN AROUND!” the voice yelled

You quickly turned back to your original position. The object that was on your back was now on your neck.

“I’m going to give you three seconds to leave before I have to hurt you. I don’t want to but you need to leave”

“Wait, please! Let me explain” you plead

There was a silence

“Y/N?” the voice said hesitantly

“Eddie?” you asked

The knife was slowly pulled away from your neck and you were spun around. He cupped your face in his hands and you dropped the bag of groceries to do the same. He just stared at you, taking in all of your features as his heart swelled with joy. You were pulled in for a bear hug & heard his sigh of relief followed by a whimper. He looked horrible, like he was sleep deprived & physically dirty due to his wrinkled shirt & jeans having holes in it, his hair was beginning to mat as well as his muddy shoes. It broke your heart.

“I’m so sorry for that. I didn’t know it was you until I heard your voice. I’m so glad to see you, babe” he lightly sniffled

You just let him hold you for as long as he needed. It had been days since you saw him last & he needed your touch, hell, you needed his. 

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re not dead” you replied

After a while, he pulled away & found something for you to sit on.

“Here, sit. Tell me everything. Please” he said

“Well, first of all, I brought you groceries. I don’t know if you’ve been eating but I got some healthy snacks & whatnot for you so you don’t starve.”

He rummaged through the plastic bag & gasped.

“Doritos!”

“Yeah” you chuckled

“I know you like the nacho ones so I thought to get ‘em” you continued

He opened the bag & dug in, eating them like it was his last meal

“So I have good news and bad news” you said

He stopped chewing and looked at you with his brown eyes

“What’cha want to hear first?” you continued

“Bad”

You let out a quick breath

“The bad news is, everyone in Hawkins is looking for you. Jason wants your head on a spike, he convinced the entire town that the Hellfire Club is a satanic cult & Chrissy was a sacrifice. The cops put a curfew but no ones abiding by it. Everyone either wants you & your friends dead or in jail.”

His face sank and his skin went pale. 

“I didn’t kill her! I promise!” he wept

 He slowly backed away from you

“You don’t think I killed her…do you?” looking at you with glossy eyes & hurt in his voice

“Absolutely not. That’s not like you at all, Ed”

He slumped over and cried

“I don’t know what to do, Y/N. Everyone wants me dead, I haven't slept in 2 days, I can’t leave Hawkins without getting caught,  I put Dustin in danger, I put YOU in danger. No one believes me about what happened to Chrissy…” 

“I believe you & I don’t even know your side of the story. I just know the headlines” you interrupt 

You pulled him into a hug & rubbed his back

“Tell me what happened”

He collected himself & wiped his eyes.

“After the basketball game, Chrissy asked about buying drugs off me, so I drove her to my uncle’s place. I went to my room to grab the stash while she was in the living room & the lights started flickering but I thought one of the fuses were bummy. I walked back in there to show her the stash & her eyes - they were rolled back and - she just stood there. I called her name a bunch of times and she wasn’t responding but the lights kept flickering more and more and-”

He got quiet & had a blank stare

“And what?” you say

“- She started floating.”

“Floating?”

He nodded his head

“How though?” 

“I don’t know like, she was in the air and her legs snapped and then her arms and then her jaw and her eyes were gouged out and there was nothing I could do to help her & I was scared and” he started hyperventilating

“Sweetheart, you need to breathe, okay? You’re going to pass out if you don’t slow down, alright?” you said calmly while rubbing his back

You matched his breathing to help him calm down & slow his breathing. It worked.

“There you go. Breathe, baby. Listen, you’re okay now. It’s over”

“You probably think I’m crazy” he said, defeated

“Not at all but you got me puzzled as hell on the whole floating thing” you said

“I know it sounds like I’m bullshitting you or like I was having a bad trip but I promise that I wasn’t on anything that night. I would never hurt anyone intentionally”

He sighed

“I feel like I’m stuck. I can’t get out of this”

“Yes you can and I’m going to help you” you said

“How? Aren’t they after you too?” 

“Not really. The cops came over yesterday and asked me where you were but I told them that the last time I saw you was before the game. They’re not really interested in me though. They’re more focused on trying to stop Jason & the basketball team from finding you”

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I’m so sorry that you got pulled into this shit. It’s all my fault”

“Stop blaming yourself. You did nothing wrong. We just gotta convince Hawkins”

“How?”

“Well, that’s where my good news comes in. My family has a vacation home in Toronto. It’s about 7 hours from here. You’re gonna have to stay in the trunk until we’re well out of the county but once we get there, you can stay at the house for as long as it takes to clear your name”

“Really? You think that’ll work?”

“I don’t know but I do know that if you stay here, you won’t have long”

“How are we going to get to Canada though? Isn’t there a border checkpoint? Won’t we get caught?”

“No, you don’t need a passport to go to Canada. Just a reason. I’ll just say I’m visiting family”’

He took a beat

“Okay. I trust you completely.”

“Good. We leave tomorrow then, alright?” 

“Tomorrow?! Wait, what about Dustin & the rest of the Hellfire Club? Aren’t they in danger too?”

“Yeah but Dustin already told me he’s got a plan. He’ll be okay.”

He pushed his hair out of his face & sighed

“If it makes you feel any better, once I get back from dropping you off in Canada, I’ll check on them, okay?” you said 

He nodded his head.

“Now, you need to get some sleep. We have a long drive tomorrow and you said you haven't slept in two days”

“What if someone finds us while we’re sleeping?”

“I’ll stand guard while you sleep. M’kay, sweetheart?” you said cupping his face

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm. Now go to sleep. You need it.”

He hugged you, squeezing you tightly. 

“I love you so much Y/N” 

“I love you too”

He walked to the canoe that he made his makeshift bed and layed in it. Within 20 minutes he was knocked out cold. This was probably the most peace he’d felt since Chrissy’s death. You weren’t 100 percent sure that your plan would work but you were willing to try. Smuggling a suspect across state lines, let alone the border could land you in prison but if it meant saving the man that you’d die for, it was worth it.

[hawkeykirsah]

Here’s the second fill for my Alternative Professions @codywanbingo​ card! It’s a sequel to my first fill, so it’s a Modern AU with Kindergarten Teacher Cody but this time focusing on Obi-Wan’s alternative profession.

Or, Cody takes his class on a field trip.

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Commander Cody Prompt: Biologist Words: ~800 Rating: T (for some innuendo)

Fic and card under the cut!

“I’m not sure where to take my class on our field day,” Cody admitted, poking at his dinner, “I have a few ideas but I need to decide soon.”

“Well,” Obi-Wan said, clearing his throat, “if you bring them to the aquarium I’ll try to be available as a guide.”

Cody shot him a look. “I thought you said you were a biologist?”

“Mm,” Obi-Wan hummed, the corners of his mouth curling upward, “I am. A marine biologist working at the local aquarium.” Cody blinked at him, and Obi-Wan continued, shrugging with one shoulder, “Granted, I usually do more work with high school students but I have done guided tours for grade school students, too. Kindergarteners will be a new challenge, though.”

Cody stared at him, stunned. “You work at the aquarium.”

“Mhm.”

He watched a smile spread across Cody’s face and knew fairly certain where his boyfriend (he still wasn’t quite used to thinking of him in this way, things were still so new) was going to take his class.

“Just give them the goriest details and they’ll all love you forever,” Cody said, grinning at him. “You’d be surprised at how bloodthirsty five year olds are. And you,” he added, leaning over to kiss Obi-Wan, ”are a lifesaver.”

“Are you still hungry?” Obi-Wan asked when Cody pulled back slowly, heat stirring low in his gut.

Cody glanced down at his mostly empty plate. “I think I’m ready for dessert,” he replied, a sudden rasp to his voice, moving around the table and capturing Obi-Wan’s lips in another kiss. 

#

Obi-Wan watched the children filter into the aquarium in pairs, pointing excitedly at some of the exhibits. A warm wave of fondness spread through him as Cody called his group to gather round. He glanced at his reflection in the glass of one of the fish tanks, ran his hand through his hair once, and stepped out to meet them, ignoring the quiet laughter of his colleagues.

Luke and Leia spotted him immediately, faces lighting up, ready to rush his way. He shook his head quickly. The twins deflated slightly but stayed put. Cody must have noticed their fidgeting because he turned around, eyes and smile so warm when he spotted Obi-Wan.

“Welcome to the local aquarium!” Obi-Wan said, tearing his gaze away from Cody and letting it sweep over the cluster of children instead. “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi and I am your guide today. Now, have any of you kids ever been here before?”

There were calls of yes—the twins among the loudest—but also quite a few who shook their heads shyly.

“Those of you that have been here before, can you tell me your favorite animals here?”

He wasn’t especially surprised that sharks seemed to be the predominant answer but there were others as well, such as seals and otters and one kid that said lobsters. 

He nodded along, “Those are all great choices! And what do you think, will we find favorite sea creatures for those of you that haven’t been here before?” Another chorus of yes calls met him. “Yeah, I think so, too. You know why?” They shook their heads, rapt with attention. He lowered his voice to a loud, conspiratorial whisper, “Because sea creatures are freaking cool, that’s why. But! Before we go, we have two big rules here, and they’re really important: Don’t Tap the Glass and Don’t Throw Things in the Enclosures. Now, are we ready?”

Obi-Wan met Cody’s gaze over the heads of the class. He set off as soon as Cody nodded his approval, motioning for the group to follow him to their first stop.

#

“Well, Mr. Fett,” Obi-Wan said quietly, sidling up to him after the end of the tour, “did you see your favorite marine animal, too?” He was pretty sure he’d won a few new admirers for his beloved cephalopods among the children.

Cody shook his head in mock disappointment, “No, I didn't see a single flying fish. But maybe you can make it up to me later on,” he added, a twinkle in his eyes.

“Mm, I’m sure I can manage that.” Obi-Wan murmured, looking over at where the second teacher and the young students stood waiting for Cody to join them. He leaned forward, brushing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “Seven o’clock at mine, darling.”

Cody turned his head quickly for another kiss and said, voice low, “Yes, I’ll see you tonight,” before making his way over to his class. And Obi-Wan stood rooted in place, watching him corral his class onto the bus with a soft smile on his face. He knew he was in for a bit of teasing from his colleagues but he really didn’t care. 

He simply looked forward to spending his evening with Cody.