#Smart parking access

[parkomax]

Enhance your parking facility with the Tap N Go Terminal. Featuring RFID and NFC technology, this terminal ensures smooth, touch-free access, reducing wait times and improving operational efficiency.

[scurvyboy]

Im watching Trailer Park boys rn and Stan is so ricky coded what the hell

he really is and i think about it all the time

another one for the occasion:

[lotpilotmanagedparkingservices]

Smart Parking Solution for Property Owners & Managers: Boost Revenue & Optimize Operations

Managing parking areas is not only about allocating space, it’s also+about maximizing returns, improving tenant satisfaction, and simplifying operations. With smart technology transforming every aspect of real estate, a smart parking solution for property owners and managers has become a critical investment.

In this article, we explore how modern parking systems like LotPilot are empowering property managers to solve long-standing parking challenges, increase revenue, and create seamless experiences for residents and visitors alike.

Why Property Owners Need Smart Parking Solutions

Property owners and managers face multiple challenges in handling parking facilities:

Inefficient space utilization

Manual tracking and enforcement

Unauthorized or overstaying vehicles

Revenue leakage in paid parking zones

Poor tenant or visitor experience

Traditional methods like paper tickets or manual monitoring fall short in today’s fast-paced environments. This is where a smart parking solution designed specifically for property management steps in offering data-driven control and automation.

Key Benefits of a Parking Solution for Property Owners & Managers

1. Maximized Space Utilization

Smart parking platforms like LotPilot use real-time data and occupancy sensors to help managers allocate and monitor parking spaces effectively. This ensures that no space goes underused, especially in high-demand residential, commercial, or mixed-use properties.

2. Automated Access & Entry Control

Smart access systems integrated with License Plate Recognition (LPR) or QR-based entry eliminate the need for manual gates or physical passes. This reduces operational costs and enhances security.

For example, with LotPilot, property managers can issue digital permits, restrict entry to unauthorized vehicles, and monitor every vehicle entering or exiting the premises.

3. Simplified Visitor Management

Managing guest parking can be chaotic. A smart system enables residents to pre-book visitor slots, and digital passes can be sent to guests for seamless entry. This reduces confusion at entry points and improves tenant satisfaction.

4. Revenue Optimization

For paid or mixed-use parking lots, LotPilot allows full automation of payment processing. Whether it’s pay-per-use, monthly subscriptions, or dynamic pricing during peak hours, the platform can manage it all.

Integrated reports give property owners full visibility into parking revenues, helping identify trends and maximize profitability.

5. Enhanced Security and Monitoring

With integrated surveillance, entry logs, and advanced analytics, LotPilot improves overall property security. Managers can get instant alerts for rule violations, overstays, or suspicious activity,  maintain order and safety in shared spaces.

Customizable Solutions for Different Property Types

LotPilot isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution. It offers flexibility to adapt to various property settings.

Residential complexes: Allocate dedicated slots, manage visitors, and provide app-based access to residents.

Commercial properties: Enable tiered pricing, tenant management, and real-time space availability updates.

Mixed-use properties: Seamlessly manage both short-term and long-term parking needs, all in one platform.

Whether you're running a gated community, a shopping center, or a corporate office, LotPilot's scalable architecture can be tailored to your specific needs.

Real-time Insights and Reporting

One of the most powerful features of modern parking systems is data. LotPilot provides actionable insights into:

Peak usage times

Average duration of stays

Revenue per slot

Compliance metrics

This helps property owners make informed decisions—like when to expand capacity, increase rates, or change operational hours.

Cloud-based Control Anytime, Anywhere

Cloud technology ensures that you don’t need to be physically present to manage your property’s parking operations. Through LotPilot’s cloud dashboard, you can monitor, assign, and control access to your parking areas remotely—24/7.

Sustainable & Future-ready

Smart parking also contributes to sustainability goals. Efficient traffic flow, reduced idle time, and minimized emissions create a better environment for everyone. With the number of electric vehicles(EVs) on the road rising, platforms like LotPilot are already integrating EV charging station management—future-proofing the property.

Final Thoughts

A reliable parking solution for property owners and managers isn’t just a convenience, but a strategic advantage. By streamlining operations, increasing security, and unlocking new revenue streams, solutions like LotPilot help transform parking from a cost center to a profit generator.

Whether you're a developer planning a new project or a property manager looking to modernize your facility, investing in a smart parking platform is the way forward.

Explore LotPilot today and see how it can simplify parking management while enhancing tenant and visitor satisfaction.

[beeseverywhen]

This thing drove past me in the airport. I have no words

[rssecurityspeedlaneturnstile]

1: servo motor speed turntsile barriers

servo motor fastlane turntsile barriers is a common door type, which primarily consists of door frames, door leaves, door manages and locks. Door frames are usually made of steel plates or wooden boards, and door leaves are made from cardboard, plastic plates or glass plates. The door deal with is a gadget that pulls or pushes the door leaf open, and the lock is a device that prevents the door leaf from falling out of the door frame. There are usually 2 methods to open a door, one is to pull the door and the other is to push the door. The sliding door is opened by the door handle pulling the door leaf away from the door frame, while the sliding door is opened by the door deal with pressing the door leaf away from the door frame.

2: dc motor swing turntsile doors

servo motor wing barrier door and servo motor speedgate turntsile barrier In comparison, train flap barriers door is created to obstruct water circulation through its horizontal position. On the other hand, servo motor swing turntsile door just controls the circulation of water by altering the vertical position of the gate. train flap turnstiles Eviction of doors is made up of 2 gates that can be moved horizontally to manage the circulation of water. servo motor swing turnstiles The gate of door is made up of a gate that can control the circulation of water by moving vertically.

3: subway flap barrier gate

subway flap barrier gates, also called movable gate, is a flood discharge center that prevents the water level from being too high or too low. When the water level rises to the set value, metro flap turnstile door will immediately open. When the water level drops to the set value, city flap barriers doors The door will close instantly. city flap barriers gates uses a water level sensor to monitor water level modifications and manages the opening or closing of eviction to achieve the function of automatically controlling the water level.

4: What's the distinction?

dc brushless swing turnstiles gate normally refers to closing eviction, while servo motor fastlane turnstiles barriers refers to opening eviction. subway flap barrier doors and servo motor swing barriers doors is various from servo motor speed turnstiles barrier. It is a gate set up on the water. And dc brushless wing barriers door and dc brushless speedgate turntsile barrier are gates installed on the wall.

[rssecurityswingturnstile]

1: servo motor speed turntsile barriers

dc brushless speedlane turnstiles barrier is a typical door type, which generally includes door frames, door leaves, door handles and locks. Door frames are typically made of steel plates or wooden boards, and door leaves are made of cardboard, plastic plates or glass plates. The door handle is a device that pulls or pushes the door leaf open, and the lock is a gadget that prevents the door leaf from falling out of the door frame. There are normally 2 methods to open a door, one is to pull the door and the other is to push the door. The moving door is opened by the door manage pulling the door leaf away from the door frame, while the moving door is opened by the door manage pressing the door leaf away from the door frame.

2: dc brushless wing barrier gate

servo motor wing turntsile gates and dc brushless speedlane turnstiles barriers In contrast, metro flap barrier doors is designed to obstruct water flow through its horizontal position. In contrast, servo motor wing barriers gates merely manages the flow of water by changing the vertical position of the gate. city flap turnstiles The gate of gate is composed of two gates that can be moved horizontally to manage the flow of water. servo motor swing turnstiles Eviction of gate is composed of a gate that can control the flow of water by moving vertically.

3: city flap barrier doors

city flap barriers doors, also called movable gate, is a flood discharge center that avoids the water level from being expensive or too low. When the water level rises to the set worth, subway flap turnstile gate will immediately open. When the water level drops to the set value, metro flap barrier gate The door will close instantly. subway flap turnstile gate uses a water level sensing unit to keep track of water level changes and manages the opening or closing of eviction to accomplish the function of instantly controlling the water level.

4: What's the distinction?

dc motor wing barriers gate usually describes closing eviction, while servo motor speedgate turntsile barriers refers to opening eviction. subway flap barrier door and dc motor wing barriers gate is different from dc motor speed turntsile barrier. It is a gate set up on the water. And dc brushless swing barriers gates and servo motor speedlane gates barriers are gates mounted on the wall.

[livwritesstuff]

i went on a deep dive of the Steve & Hopper ao3 tag yesterday and and it got me thinking about what would happen if Chief of Police Hopper ran into Steve and Eddie while he was on patrol after pseudo-adopting Steve, and it’s been long enough that Hopper is sort of a safe-person for Steve so Steve goes into full-fledged bitch mode when Hopper tries to pull cop stuff on them, and Eddie (who knew about none of this because Steve is a chronic under-sharer) is so totally baffled.

He’d spent years watching Steve sweet-talk his way out of trouble. Even before they started hooking up it used to drive Eddie goddamn insane, because if (when) Eddie pulled any of this shit Steve gets away with, he’d be totally screwed, but all Steve has to do is flash a sheepish grin and run a hand through his hair once or twice and say, all baleful, “I really didn’t mean any trouble,” and he’s home free.

It has its perks though, or so he's learned during his last few months of hanging around with Steve, so when Steve and Eddie’s make-out session is interrupted by the tell-tale red and blue lights of a cop car pulling up behind where Steve parked the Beemer a few hundred yards down a maintenance road, Eddie’s not all that worried. In fact, he’s got a pretty good amount of faith in Steve’s ability to spin up some story to keep them out of any real trouble, and as Chief Hopper ambles over to them, Eddie prepares himself for a whole show of, “Yes Chief, sorry Chief, it won’t happen again Chief.”

So imagine Eddie's complete and utter surprise when Hopper barks, “Hey, morons! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” and Steve only rolls his eyes and says, “What’s it to you?”

Eddie feels his jaw drop.

“Steve,” he mutters through gritted teeth. He tries to elbow Steve into shutting the hell up, but he misses because Steve has already taken several steps forward to meet Hopper, his face turned up in a kind of defiance Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen on him before.

“What’s it to me?” Hopper repeats, glowering at Steve, “It’s midnight. I’m on patrol. You’ve got one of the most recognizable cars in this entire damn town parked in a restricted-access zone with this idiot–” Hopper gestures at Eddie (Eddie didn’t think the pointing or the idiot were necessary, but clearly, clearly, he’s missing something here), “–who’s been dragged into my station more times than I could count.”

“The town line, Hop, is over there,” Steve says, pointing at an indiscriminate spot over Hop’s shoulder that may or may not be part of the Hawkins town line, “We’re not even in Hawkins anymore. You’re totally out of your jurisdiction.”

“You wanna know something about jurisdiction, smart-ass?” Hopper asks, “If my report says shit happened in my jurisdiction, it happened in my jurisdiction.”

“Wow,” Steve deadpans, “Way to not sound totally corrupt. Nice work, Chief.”

Hopper’s jaw twitches for a second, and he’s clearly debating if he wants to keep arguing with Steve who, to Steve’s credit, looks like he’s got debate in him for days. Ultimately though, Hopper decides against it and stalks back over to his squad car.

“If you’re not home by one there’s gonna be hell to pay. You hear me, Harrington?” Hopper yells, “One AM. Hell to pay.”

“Oh, sure,” Steve rolls his eyes, “Totally hear you. One AM. Loud and clear or whatever.”

Steve flips the cruiser both birds as it peels away, which Hopper only flashes his high beams at a couple times before he’s gone, kicking up a bunch of dirt and mulch and leaves in his wake, and Steve is wearing an exasperated expression as he turns to face Eddie again.

“God, he’s so annoying. Let’s just go to my house.”

Eddie gapes at him.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Huh?”

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie repeated, gesturing wildly towards where Hopper’s car had just been.

“Wha– you mean with Hop?”

“Uh, yeah?!?”

Steve just brushed him off, “Whatever, just ignore him. He’s basically my dad.”

“What?”

EDIT: read the expanded fic on AO3 :)

[caffeinewitchcraft]

WIBTA for going to my high school reunion even though the two witches I stripped of magic are going?

(Read for free on Patreon (X))

I (28 witch) was in a coven during high school. Not really even a coven. We weren’t recognized and there wasn’t a clear division of responsibilities. We did have a high priestess but she hadn’t Declared or been Initiated or whatever she believed. Looking back, her learning was all over the place (and a little problematic, honestly. I remember her calling a poppet a Voodoo doll before being called out by another member). Let’s call her Sarah.

Sarah was a year older than the rest of us (still the same grade though) and her mom was a witch so that made her the high priestess. She was the one who would organize all of our rituals and held the power of veto over any proposed spells. While you think that’d mean she’d provide the ingredients, she never did. She did tell us what to buy and, let me tell you, some of those things were expensive for a high schooler. We met in the park behind her house, and she demanded that at least one of us be in every one of her classes. If we weren’t, we’d be “cycled” out of the coven until our parents convinced the school to transfer us in.

Any alt kid knows what I’m talking about because they had a Sarah in their life. If she was angry, we had to be angry (and a little afraid of her). If she was sad, we were expected to ask why. If she was happy, we had to be even more happy. You get the picture.

The problem came when Sarah added Jess (fake name) to the Coven during the start of our junior year. It was the first time Sarah allowed someone else from a witch family to join. Jess was a transfer student from England. She told us all that that made her magic deeper and more powerful because she was a “daughter of the witches you could not burn.” When I pointed out that that statement is historically inaccurate, Jess called me a “pilgrim.” She tried to convince Sarah to blind me (take away my decision-making power in the coven), but I was the only one with reliable access to dried herbs (my mom’s a botanist and didn’t count her stores like Sarah’s mom did), so Sarah said no.

Jess’ dislike of me got worse when I actually did dress like a pilgrim for Halloween that year. And, if I’m honest, I did take it a little far. I was a hot-headed kid. I followed her around the entire day and had kids sign one of two petitions – “Burn” or “Not Burn.” When the Burn Petition won, I could tell I went too far (there were a LOT of signatures).  I tried to make it a joke and told her that now she really was a witch we couldn’t burn.

Jess and I got in our first physical fight. Sarah eventually broke it up, but not before Jess ripped out a good chunk of my hair, and I broke the tiger’s eye bracelet she wore.

 I later heard from another coven member that Jess tried to lay a curse on me that night. Unfortunately for her, I was pretty interested in defensive work and had a fresh witch’s jar buried under my window. Her curse got caught in it and rebounded. Apparently, that’s how Jess got pink eye, not from her younger sister.

We fought like cats and dogs. Any time Jess would talk about England, I’d make fun of her accent. When I brought up what spell I’d like to do, Jess would call me a juvenile pilgrim. Eventually, Jess got smart. She’d text me insults rather than say them to my face so that she’d have a chance to tattle to Sarah before I got the chance to hit back.

Sarah pulled me aside at least three times to “address” the fights. She basically said that I needed to respect Jess more because she came from a witch family, like her. She told me I could learn a lot from Jess if I stopped acting like a human. When I pointed out that we are humans, just humans who have elected to use magic, she got really mad.

And when Sarah got mad, she could make life really difficult.

My spell for luck on midterms got passed over for Jess’ jinx on our English teacher. The jinx worked and Ms. Edel tripped, but guess who still came to class with a broken leg? MS. EDEL. Guess who failed their midterm?

ALL SEVEN OF US.

Damn, I can’t believe I’m still upset by this petty high school drama. Therapy did not work.

So safe to say that Jess and I never became friends. I love magic now and loved it then, but she took it so seriously. I’ve always believed magic should be fun. All the spells she brought to the coven required a spirit element—blood, hair, sacrifice. One of the members was a strict green witch and had to drop out because of it. We missed two full moons until Sarah approved Eileen to rejoin after she woke up from her coma.

(And before anyone freaks out about the coma – we all ended up in comas here and there. We were a bunch of uneducated and untrained baby witches who all had different belief systems. The fact that there wasn’t anything worse than a coma is a miracle. She wasn’t traumatized by it any more than I was by mine.)

Jess and I mostly avoided each other for the rest of the year. We always voted against the other’s spell and I’m fairly certain she tried to trip jinx me in the hall as often as I tried to trip jinx her. Sarah never tried to diffuse the tension between us. She confided in Eileen that she was grateful we kept each other in check.

Things could have continued on that way until we all moved away for college (or repeated the year after failing all those midterms) if it weren’t for the vernal equinox. Or, as we inaccurately called it, the Spring Solstice.

The way it worked was that we all got to propose a ritual during equinoxes. They’re powerful magical events on their own and when you bring intent to the party? They were always our biggest, most successful workings.

Sarah always chose what we did on those days. She pretended like we got to vote, but we all knew she would never choose one of our rituals. My freshman year, she made us all do one for beauty. Because it was a “make real what is in the eye of the beholder” type, some of our transformations were a little…traumatizing. I’m only telling you this so you understand the power an equinox has, okay? I do not think this way anymore. Other members were just as extreme. Eileen went from a Wendy from Wendy’s to a Jessica Rabbit. And I…

Well.

I grew rabbit ears and teeth. That doesn’t make me a furry! Who Framed Roger Rabbit? was super influential on BOTH Eileen and me. I was a kid and didn’t understand my own concept of beauty. It took almost three months before I got the ears to go away entirely.

Suffice it to say, we were all excited and nervous for what ritual Sarah would pick, which is why it was a blow to find out that she had picked a ritual - Jess’ ritual.

A ritual for power.

I didn’t want to do it from day one, okay? My belief is that whatever magic comes to you naturally is what’s okay to take. I think if you rip magic up from the earth or the abyss, it’ll change you. Maybe even corrupt you or change your personality.

But I was a kid and didn’t know how to explain that. Jess and Sarah were both from witch families and they seemed to think it was okay. Even though I didn’t like Jess, I did see her as a more “authentic” witch because of that. I know better now, but as a kid seeing all of her grimoires, I gave her false authority.

Jess explained the ritual to us over the next month. She talked about how we were going to be “tested.” The ritual would pull our spiritual selves from our bodies, and depending on how long we chanted, we’d return to them with more or less magic than when we started. She said that everyone in her family did it when they turned 18.

It wasn’t until three days before the equinox that she told us what would happen if one of us were to be judged unworthy.

“Mostly nothing,” she said. I remember her exact words, how her black hair spun as she soared through the air on the swings. We stood in a half circle before her and Sarah as they swung higher and higher. An audience to their aerial court. She said, “Sometimes people lose some of their magic. When the ritual decides they don’t deserve it.”

Eileen asked, “When the ritual decides? It’s sentient?”

“There’s an overseer we’ll call on,” Sarah said. She’d been the only one allowed to read Jess’ grimoire. Her lip curled and she leaned forward so she could look down over Eileen like an avenging angel as she swung overhead. “An impartial entity.”

“I am not a deity witch,” I said. I had long ago committed that I would never call on a higher being in any ritual. Most of our spells had to be modified for me so that I could swear to the cardinal directions rather than to the Morrigan or Hecate. “You know that.”

“You’re not swearing to anyone,” Sarah said and rolled her eyes.

“Which means no one is swearing to us,” Eileen muttered under her breath. But I could tell she had given up by the slump of her shoulders.

“It’s only the unworthy who lose their magic,” Jess reassured. Her eyes flashed at me. “Scared you’re unworthy?”

Yes. I was scared. I know better now than to think lineage has any place in witchcraft. It’s about the magic, always just the magic. But months of hearing their rhetoric had worn at my self-esteem. It really felt like if I didn’t do the ritual, I was as good as admitting I wasn’t a witch. If I did do the ritual…

Well. Obviously, I did the ritual.

I was a hot-headed teen, okay? I felt challenged. I decided that I would wear extra protections. Tiger’s eye and quartz charged with intention. I picked out a silver locket my mother gave me, filled with belladonna. She told me it symbolized beauty and choice.

Now, here’s where I may be the asshole.

I can’t give you a play-by-play of the ritual. It was ten years ago, and calling on that much magic has a funny way of warping memory. But what I do remember is this:

We gathered in the park before sunrise. Seven of us in new colors – spring green, white, soft yellow and pink. Jess made us get rid of anything with a working on it – crystals, cards, and ladders. She collected them all in a linen bag and threw them into the woods. I couldn’t get away with my tiger’s eye or quartz, but she missed the pendant my mother gave me. It was a warm comfort against my chest as we began.

We lit the fire together, each of us frantically thumbing our lighter to make sure the sparks caught at the same time.

Jess brought the chalice. We all cut our palms and let seven drops fall into it. (No, we didn’t use a clean blade. My cut got infected as hell and it itches like a witch. I know better now!) She bade us drink, and we did.

“Now the magic will see us as equal,” Sarah said while Jess prepared the next step. She licked her lips as if savoring the blood. “It will only be our wills determining the outcome.”

Jess doused us with oil and herbs. It smelled sharp and uneasy. I had provided the herbs and knew all of them were either fresh or dried to perfection. But it was rancid. There was rot in the air, but I couldn’t place it then. I wrinkled my nose and took up the chanting with the others to distract myself from the smell.

If you’ve ever chanted before, you know the stages. First, you’re just talking. You say the words and they mean something, but you don’t feel them. Then your mouth gets tired. You start messing up the timing of the words. You stutter. You stumble. The words lose meaning. Most people stop there. They fall silent and sink into a shallow meditation with heads full of fog.

You’re only a witch if you can reach the next step. You keep saying the words. They become comfortable. You wear the words like clothes and feel your cadence curl through you like a companion. Your body goes on autopilot and your mind relaxes. The chant turns smooth as silk. Depending on the chant, you lose yourself to the sweetness of your coven singing. Sometimes, you sink into the earth with them. Other times, you ride the flow of the magic like waves.

This time, the words pulled us away from our bodies. Jess slowly introduced new words to our chant. Words of summoning.

We called upon the Overseer.

Pressure fell around me like a vice. I couldn’t breathe even as the ritual fell from my lips without breaking. Magic had, at that point, always given me control. This? This was a complete loss of it.

I felt myself compressing. Smaller and smaller in the face of the being that was rising in the middle of the flames. It was not an observer. The moment I “saw” it, its endless form writhing in the space between the smoke, I knew that. It was a judge and jury.

It was a spider.

We chanted. It grew. It pulled us from our bodies like spiderweb and spooled our essences onto its forelimbs. It was not what Jess described and, simultaneously, it was. We were being tested. Our psyches were being tested.

So long as we chanted, the being would be contained. However, the longer it was contained, the more of us it could take. If we let it go, what would it do? Would it return any part of our magic to us? Any part of who we were?

Or would it eat?

This wasn’t a test of magic. It was a test of faith. Faith in each other and faith in the ritual.

For those practitioners out there, you can see the problem. I didn’t enter the ritual with faith. My intent was flawed from the beginning. We’d had spells fail because of lack of belief. I had never been the person who didn’t believe.

Until then

My words wavered. The Overseer turned its eyes to me. I could see my magic like thread before it, shimmering against the backdrop of its maw.

Then another tremor. Eileen dropped a word. The Overseer split and looked at both of us. Someone else faltered. One of the coven – I couldn’t see them – fell and went silent.

The sky yawned overhead, empty and cold. The embers from the fire spun up into it and were lost. The Overseer rippled and I felt our coven shrink in the face of it.

I gasped around the chant and looked across the fire. The light licked Jess’ gleeful face. Her eyes hungered for my failure. I could see it. Through the connection of the Overseer, I could feel it.

Jess and Sarah changed the chant. To this day, I don’t remember if they taught it to the rest of us. There are so many parts of the ritual that I’ve left out or forgotten. But I remember them chanting different words. The circle grew discordant.

“I offer my magic so I may be unspun and woven anew,” they said. The words have imprinted themselves like bitters under my tongue. “I offer my magic so I may—”

Some of the other members tried to pick up the new chant. Their voices grew weaker and the Overseer’s limbs began to extend out towards each one of us.

I wouldn’t offer my magic to that thing. I wouldn’t be unspun.  Eileen was stuttering. I saw her fall to her knees. I was close behind.

I threw my necklace into the flames.

Belladonna. Beautiful and deadly. It has meant choice to many women and many of them have been from my own family. It's extreme and it’s final. An end that doesn’t always make room for a new beginning.

Pretty words that cover up what I meant when I threw it into the Overseer.

My intent was Death.

Entities never die. I’m sure the Overseer didn’t. It howled. The wind kicked up and brought the flames into a spiral ten feet tall. Its forelimbs shattered, and I reeled myself back together greedily.

Not all of us were safe from the Overseer’s desperate struggle against my death curse.

Sarah and Jess were alone in the third phase of the ritual. They had changed the chant. They had offered their magic and asked the entity to do with it what it will. They believed.

And because they believed, the Overseer took their magic with it.

I think it was the first coma Jess ever fell into. Her family certainly acted like it. They whisked her back to the East Coast before the end of the year. I heard from Eileen that she woke up shortly after I left for college.

Magicless.

Sarah too.

I fully own that I was responsible for the ritual failing. I panicked. I’ve gone through every excuse over the years. I didn’t know what the ritual really was. I was just a kid. I took magic too lightly. It was their fault for not letting us read the grimoire for ourselves. But, at the end of the day, the real reason the ritual failed was because I panicked and I let that panic break my belief.

I moved on to college and it felt like running away. I’ve never returned to my hometown. I’m happy with the life I’ve built. My magic summer camp gives me time to travel during the winter months, and I feel like I’m making a real difference in young witches’ lives.

Nowadays I teach young witches to never do a working without full intent. If they have doubts, they don’t do it. It’s a lesson I learned the hard way ten years ago. I tell them it can cost them more than their magic. It can cost them their lives.

Eileen is still back home and she says Sarah rarely comes out of her house. Sometimes she sees our former high priestess wandering the school grounds on nights of the full moon. I hear from other members of the coven that Jess’ family put out a bounty on me a few years ago. However, I never saw an assassin so I think that was just a rumor.

So, knowing that they’re still not over it, would I be the asshole for attending my high school reunion next month? I’ve been craving reconnection with my roots, but I’d be subjecting Sarah and Jess (though Jess marked Maybe on the RSVP) to my presence.

I know they must hold a grudge. If they were still witches, that would be a problem. I don’t think I’d be able to defend myself from one of their workings since I blame myself for what happened. But since they’re not, it’s not really a danger. That’s pretty asshole-ish, right? Ignoring their feelings because they don’t have the magic to back it up?

So WIBTA for attending my high school reunion even though the two girls I stripped of magic will be attending?

-----

Thanks for reading! It looks like I'll have quite a few updates for the anthology! I am still obsessed with this format and can't wait to share some of the updates over the next few weeks.

If you'd like to support me before the anthology, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)! I post new stories every week and many of my patrons saw the above story a week early.

The current AITA story takes place in the same universe as our former Cryptid (X). About a poor, poor boy who is just proud to be a regional Nightmare. Why is everyone so mad at him?

See y'all next week!

[jaeminify]

incognito mode ☆ mark lee.

synopsis ☆ keeping secrets was not the easiest thing to do for mark lee, especially when it meant lying to his best friend. but you seemed to be a secret worth keeping.

warning(s) ☆ daddy kink, car sex, secret relationship, dry humping/grinding.

author's note. not one of my best works but i wanted to post something so my account doesn't die LOL. quick one shot of mark <3 i have 47 drafts that im working on but only 2 are halfway/almost finished with being written. hopefully i post some of them cause i truly want to post them but life has been getting in the way and my creativity juice is just withering... anyway, hope everyone likes this one! likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

"Dude, where are you? You're late."

"F— Shit. Yo, my bad I-I—" Mark hisses, trying his best to keep his voice levelled. "I'm driving, I'll be there in twenty."

A lie. The drive down to Jeno's house would only take ten minutes max. But, Mark had different priorities and right now, Jeno's housewarming party was not one of them.

"Baby, you've got to stop doing that when I'm on the phone. Especially when I'm talking to your brother," Mark's words are mumbled against the skin of your cheek, making you giggle from how ticklish it felt.

Mark wasn't lying when he said he was driving, he just forgot to mention that he was parked in an empty carpark on the side of the road with you on his lap. You were too enticing. This little game of back and forth began way before Mark got dressed and invited you to be his plus one to the party.

Nobody would know you were his plus one, of course. To Jeno, you were just getting a ride from his best friend, and a ride you were definitely getting.

"Sorry," You giggle, obviously not sorry about it. "You just look really hot tonight, I like it when you dress up." Mark dresses the same everyday, it's casual smart always, but it's him in the outfit that makes you turned on. He just always looks really good.

"I'm wearing what I always wear," He chuckles when you start kissing his neck. He tilts his head up so you get better access. "You're clingy tonight."

You pull away and shake your head, sliding your hands up and down his chest.

"Just want you. Missed you." You say, and Mark pulls you in for heated, passionate kiss that pushes any thought you had out of your head.

Kissing Mark was your favourite pastime. It couldn't be counted as a hobby but in your world, it definitely was and it was addicting. Mark kisses like he's pouring all his feelings into one kiss, but it never gets too much. It's always just enough to have you wanting more.

"Okay— shit, Y/N, we really have to get going."

"Want you first," You say, deciding that you cannot go to this party with Mark without having him fuck you in his car. Not when you want him so much.

"Yeah?" He grins, the worried look on his face gone as if it was never there in the first place.

His hands massage your waist then slide downwards, massaging your butt in the miniskirt you wore tonight. Your hips react like they've got a mind on their own, grinding harder against his pants, whining when he thrusts against your core.

"So needy just for me..." He exhales, peppering kisses onto your cheeks, neck and collarbone. "Ain't that right, sweet girl?"

"Only you Mark," You nod your head, your eyes are glazed and it's obvious to him and you that you're far too gone and can only think of him.

"Can't let my baby suffer, can I?" He tuts, lifting his hips up to slide his pants down, helping you pull your skirt up. "Think you're ready for me baby?" He's taunting you at this point, knowing he could feel how wet you were but wanting to hear you say it.

You shake your head furiously, "Want you. Need you, now... Please..." You whine, running your hand through his hair the way he likes it.

"Don't worry darling, Daddy's gonna take care of you." He murmurs against your ear before sliding his thick cock into you, loving the way you feel.

[chanelrolls]

Love and Deepspace Men as College Students AU

pairings. sylus x reader, zayne x reader, rafayel x reader, xavier x reader, caleb x reader

notes. my headcanons of how and what would they be if they were set in an alternate universe of a college setting. requests are open!

SYLUS

Everyone knows Sylus. Whether it’s because of his absurd wealth, the way he dominates the racing scene, or how he carries himself among the crowd, he’s the kind of student people admire from afar but rarely dare to approach.

Definitely owns the most expensive bike on campus. He would pull up to lectures late, engine roaring, only to park in the most inconvenient places. The professors hate it, but no one dares to tell him to stop.

Never attends classes on time. He shows up whenever he feels like it, slides into his seat without a care, and still manages to ace every test like it’s effortless.

His major is a mystery. Seriously. Some say he’s in business because of his family’s influence, others think he’s in engineering because of his obsession with bikes. The truth? He’s studying something completely unexpected. (Design)

The one who gets professors to bend rules. He hands in assignments late, yet somehow convinces the professor to accept them. Probably through sheer confidence and the undeniable fact that his work is always top-tier.

People constantly try to get on his good side. Fake friends, clingy admirers, opportunists, he sees through them all. It’s a rare feat to actually earn his trust.

People think he’s cold, but he’s actually just selective. He doesn’t waste words on people who don’t matter. But when he does care? His presence is all-consuming, and he keeps those people close to him.

Has a reputation for getting into fights. He doesn’t start them, but if someone dares to push him? He ends them. Fast. Brutally. Efficiently.

Despite his reputation he's ridiculously smart. No one expects him to be the guy who casually dismantles complex theories in class. He doesn’t even study much, his mind just works differently.

He doesn't date, at least not publicly. People wonder if he’s ever been in a relationship, but no one has proof. His affairs, if they exist, are shrouded in complete secrecy.

He knows the underground side of the university too well. He’s got plenty connections, some legal, some… not so much. The kind of guy who could get his hands on things no regular college student should have access to.

SCENARIO

It’s late. The campus parking lot is empty, except for the flickering streetlights and the distant hum of a few motorcycles.

You’re walking toward your dorm when you hear the deep purr of an engine slowing to a stop.

You glance over your shoulder. It turns out to be Sylus.

He’s sitting astride his bike, helmet balanced on his thigh, one hand gripping the handlebar loosely. His gaze? Fixed directly on you.

"Didn’t take you for the type to stay out this late," he murmurs, voice low.

You shrug, trying to ignore the way the cold air makes you shiver. "Didn’t take you for the type to care."

A slow, lazy smirk spreads across his lips. "I don’t." A lie. You can tell.

He watches as you move closer, eyes flickering down for a fraction of a secon, too quick, but you catch it anyway. You don't want to make your conversation longer with someone this well-known, so you walk ahead, hoping that that's the end of it. Until you hear him speak again.

"Need a ride?" It’s an invitation wrapped in something dangerous. How unexpected.

You hesitate, then tilt your head. "Why would you...?"

Sylus chuckles deeply, like he wasn’t expecting the challenge. "Guess there’s only one way to find out."

And just like that, he tosses you the helmet. As if he already knew you’d say yes.

ZAYNE

The epitome of a model student; Perfect attendance, straight A’s, every professor’s favorite. If there’s a student the university would use in a promotional video, it’s certainly him.

Teachers' favourite

Always impeccably dressed. Button-down shirts, slacks, polished shoes—never a wrinkle, never a stain. He treats college like a corporate internship, and it shows. He also often walks around with long trench coats, it's his favourite piece of clothing.

Sits in the exact same seat every lecture. Second row, dead center. First row is too eager and attention-seeking, but anything further back is inefficient.

Has the most organized notes you’ve ever seen. Typed, color-coded, formatted like a research paper. If you ask to borrow them, he’ll hesitate before sighing and handing them over.

Never late, never rushed. His schedule is meticulously planned. If he’s ever late, something catastrophic must have happened.

Carries a leather-bound planner around. Digital calendars are unreliable for him. He writes everything down, from deadlines to coffee appointments, in perfect cursive.

He's always chosen as a delegate for external competitions or division-level activities, earning several awards.

Rarely seen at campus cafeterias. If he does eat on campus, it’s either a perfectly balanced meal prepped in advance or something minimal like black coffee and a protein bar.

Always smells expensive. Not overpowering, just subtly present. Clean, crisp, like fresh pages of a book mixed with something chic and sophisticated.

Somehow has dirt on everyone. He doesn’t gossip, but he listens. A passing remark, a detail others overlook, he collects information without even trying, possibly even using those against those people when needed.

Once you earn his attention, it’s hard to shake it off. If he chooses to focus on you, it’s deliberate. And his attention is the kind that lingers, even when he’s gone.

SCENARIO

It’s late. The campus library hums with a quiet stillness, the air thick with the scent of old books and freshly brewed coffee. You’re seated at a wooden desk, buried under an avalanche of textbooks and half-written notes, struggling to finish an assignment.

“Your handwriting is inefficient,” comes a smooth voice from behind you.

You glance up, blinking as Zayne pulls out the chair across from you, uninvited but completely assured of his place there. He sets down a sleek leather journal, flipping it open with precise movements.

You scoff. “Not all of us are programmed for perfection.”

His lips quirk—just slightly. “Clearly.”

You glare, but he’s already scanning your notes, his sharp gaze dissecting your work with effortless precision. Without asking, he reaches over, flips your notebook around, and rewrites an equation.

“You missed a variable.”

You stare at his elegant script, then back at him. “Do you enjoy making people feel incompetent?”

Zayne exhales, amused. “No.”

His fingers brush against yours as he slides your notebook back. It’s fleeting—so subtle you might’ve imagined it.

"Then what?" You ask. But when you meet his gaze, there’s something else there, something unreadable, something intentionally left for you to decipher.

And for the first time tonight, your exhaustion is replaced with something else entirely.

RAFAYEL

Skips classes religiously, claiming the "academic system is a plague on creative minds." He’s only seen in class when he’s legally required to be there—or when he’s bored enough to entertain himself with a professor’s suffering.

If he does attend, expect dramatic sighs, exaggerated eye rolls, and the occasional muttered insult about how the syllabus is “the death of passion.”

Knows everything about everyone. It’s not that he seeks out gossip—it simply comes to him. He has a way of prying secrets out of people with nothing more than a lazy smirk and a well-placed question.

Unapologetically nosy. If you so much as whisper in the hallway, he’s tilting his head, eyes alight with curiosity, waiting for the drama to unfold.

Despite his disdain for academics, he has the highest scores in philosophy and art history—because, according to him, “those are the only things worth knowing.”

Causes scandals effortlessly. One time, he casually implied that two professors were having an affair, and within a week, half the campus believed it. Was it true? He won’t say.

His art is chaotic, emotional, sometimes terrifying, and always raw. Professors either worship him or think he’s insane—there is no in-between.

Constantly broke despite having expensive tastes. Has a habit of buying ridiculously overpriced lattes just for the aesthetic of holding them.

Everyone thinks he’s a flirt, but he’s actually just very comfortable with physical affection. Will drape himself over his friends, lean against them, play with their hair—but the moment it’s turned on him? Flustered beyond belief.

The type to disappear for days and then show up like nothing happened, holding a new painting and a cryptic comment like, “I was emotionally exiled to the mountains.”

Claims to be a “nihilist” but secretly gets way too invested in people’s love lives. Will drop devastatingly accurate predictions about who’s going to break up next.

Often idles in the clinic when it's physical education time, just because he doesn't want to sweat.

SCENARIO

It’s midnight when you find him, half-sprawled on the studio floor, surrounded by unfinished canvases. The room smells like paint thinner and something distinctly him—smoky, a little sweet, like the remnants of a late-night adventure.

“You’re out past curfew,” he drawls, not even looking up. He’s playing with a paintbrush between his fingers, tapping it idly against his knee. “Breaking the rules? How rebellious of you.”

“Rafayel, I need to close this room now. Ms. Evans told me so.” You cross your arms, stepping over a discarded sketchbook. “You aren't allowed in here this late.”

He finally looks up, eyes gleaming with mischief. “No. But neither are you, so now we’re both criminals! How romantic.”

You roll your eyes but step closer anyway. He’s watching you now, head tilted in that way he does when he’s analyzing something—or someone.

“You should go,” you tell him.

“So should you.” His lips twitch. “But instead, you’re here. Seeking me out. Really suspicious of you, but it's okay, I get people who have crushes.”

You sigh, exasperated. “Rafayel—”

“Shh.” He shifts, suddenly closing the space between you, paint-streaked fingers brushing against your wrist. His touch is warm, even through the cold air of the studio.

“I have a theory,” he murmurs, voice lower now, softer. “I think you like me.”

Your heart stumbles. “Excuse me?”

“I think,” he continues, ignoring your attempt at indignation, “that you pretend I annoy you, but you keep coming back.” His fingers trail higher, barely grazing the inside of your wrist. “I think you’re more interested than you want to admit.”

You swallow hard, pulse betraying you. “You’re insufferable.”

He grins. "That's what you like about me."

XAVIER

Rarely speaks in class, but when he does, it’s always something unexpectedly insightful. Professors are lowkey impressed.

His navigation skills are atrocious. He’ll confidently walk into the wrong lecture hall, sit through 20 minutes of an advanced physics course before realizing he’s supposed to be in philosophy.

Has a perfectly neutral expression 99% of the time. No one ever knows what he’s thinking, and it drives people crazy.

Falls asleep in the most inappropriate places. He’s been found dozing off in stairwells, under trees, and even once, standing up in a crowded elevator.

He doesn’t understand social norms at all. If someone tells him a joke, he’ll just stare at them before giving a delayed, monotone “Ha. Ha.”

Awkward in a way that somehow makes him more attractive. He doesn’t try to be charming, and yet, that’s what makes people drawn to him.

Has absolutely no idea he’s a campus heartthrob. People whisper about him, but he’s too oblivious to notice.

Has an oddly intense gaze. Even if he’s not trying to be, the way he stares at people makes it feel like he’s reading their soul.

Carries a handkerchief like some 19th-century nobleman. And yes, he will hand it to you if you’re crying.

Oblivious to flirting. Someone could directly say, “I like you,” and he’d just nod and go, “Noted.”

His humor is so dry it’s almost undetectable. Half the time, you can’t tell if he’s joking or being serious. One time he approached you suddenly while you read a book about being different, "How many yous would I find in the next school year?" Huh? "Being different, right?"

The most inconveniently attractive person on campus. He’s not trying, but the rolled-up sleeves, the lazy ruffled hair, the calm but unreadable expression? Yeah. It’s a problem.

A student council member but always absent during meetings.

SCENARIO

It’s late, probably too late to be out walking around campus. But here you are, beside Xavier, the cool autumn air pressing in around you.

“You should go back to your dorm,” he says, his voice as calm as ever. “It’s getting late.”

“You’re literally out here too.”

He tilts his head, like he hadn’t considered that. “…Fair point.”

The two of you walk in silence for a while, the faint glow of streetlights casting long shadows over the pavement. He doesn’t say much, but that’s normal. Being with Xavier isn’t about filling space with words.

Then, out of nowhere...

“Do you want to hold hands?”

You nearly stumble. “What?”

He just looks at you, expression unreadable. “It’s statistically safer to walk in pairs. Handholding ensures proximity.”

You narrow your eyes. “That’s… the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

He shrugs. “I know.” But his hand is right there, fingers slightly curled, waiting.

After a beat, you sigh and take it. His grip is warm, steady—but then, a slight squeeze. A tiny motion, but enough to send a shiver up your spine.

When you glance up at him, there’s something different in his expression. Just for a second, an almost-smirk. A teasing, knowing glint in his eyes.

Like he’s enjoying this.

You squeeze his hand back.

And he lowers his head to smile.

CALEB

The golden boy of the campus. He’s effortlessly popular—everyone knows him, everyone likes him, but he doesn’t care for any of it.

A natural-born athlete. Captain of the basketball team, but he’s also good at soccer, swimming, and anything that involves physical endurance. He lives for competition.

Too charismatic for his own good. People are drawn to him, but he keeps a natural distance, his warm exterior masking the fact that his attention is extremely selective.

Flirty without meaning to be. It’s not intentional. He’s just too smooth, and it drives people crazy. A smirk here, a casual arm around someone’s shoulders, it all means nothing to him.

Has had dozens of love confessions, but never accepted a single one. No one knows why.

Straightforward and assertive. If he wants something, he takes it. If he doesn’t like someone, they know.

Has a ridiculous amount of stamina. Can play a full game, go to the gym, and still have energy left to pick someone up and carry them effortlessly.

Would rather fight than argue. He’s not one for petty debates, he settles things physically or with an unshakable finality in his tone.

Territorial as hell. His seat in the cafeteria? His parking spot? His people? All his. No one touches them.

Cooked once during a cookery lesson and was annoyingly good at it. Now people keep begging him to make food, but he only ever does it for someone specific.

A terrible tutor. He has zero patience for slow learners and will resort to bribing, challenging, or outright intimidating someone into getting the right answer.

He doesn't always resort to violence, no. When someone pisses him off, tying the person's bag around their chair is all that he needs to do. Sometimes, secretly putting huge rocks inside the bagpack.

Cannot sit still for long periods. He’s either tapping his foot, spinning a pen, or stretching every five minutes.

Despite his unpredictability, he's ranked as the valedictorian of his batch.

SCENARIO

The student lounge is crowded. People are chatting, studying, and lazily scrolling through their phones between classes. You’re sitting on one of the couches, laughing at something your friend just said when Caleb suddenly slides into the seat next to you.

No warning. Just an unbothered, entirely possessive claim of the space beside you.

“Hey—” You barely have time to react before he does something even bolder.

His arm slings over the back of the couch, effectively caging you in. His fingers tap lazily against your shoulder, casually.

You turn, confused. “Caleb…?”

He doesn’t look at you. He’s staring at your friend instead with a forced smile, his usual easygoing nature laced with something colder.

“Are you leaving?” Caleb asks in a deceptively polite tone.

Your friend hesitates. Then, after a forced chuckle, stands up. “I—yeah, I have class.”

They’re gone in seconds.

You blink, not being able to say anything.

“What?” Caleb finally turns to you, his smirk lazy, but his eyes? Entirely unrepentant.

You frown. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He hums, tilting his head slightly, watching you too closely.

“Didn’t I?”

The implication hangs in the air. Like he knows something you don’t. Like he’s already decided what’s his.

[junrenjun]

11:21 AM

lee donghyuck (haechan) x reader

You can’t help but laugh as you take in your husband’s appearance. A larger version of your son’s football jersey sits loosely on his frame. Matching purple eye black runs under his eyes. You can’t bring yourself to complain though because he looks good. “Isn’t this a little much for peewee football?” you ask him jokingly, running your finger just under the line on his cheek. 

“Absolutely not,” he responds before planting a wet kiss to the top of your forehead. “Mark and Jeno are wearing the same thing,” he tells you with a proud smile on his face. 

You roll your eyes at his antics. “I’m sure their wives are thrilled about that,” you joke, reaching out to straighten the chains that hang around his neck. “Did you get all dressed up for me or for Melissa?” you ask with a quirk of an eyebrow. 

Donghyuck groans at the mention of the team mom of his son’s football team. The woman really needs to learn to keep her hands to herself. She may be single but he sure as hell is not. “Only you baby,” he says, wrapping his hand around your wrist to halt your movements. 

You look up at him again and he smirks back down at you. Without wasting a second, his lips are on yours, working fervently against your mouth. Just as you grant his tongue access, there’s a small shout of “Mom!” from across the hallway and you separate. 

“We’ll continue this later,” you tell him, side stepping around the bed to head to your son’s room. Donghyuck doesn’t hesitate to give your ass a little smack when you do so. You roll your eyes and give him the finger over your shoulder. 

Thirty minutes later, everyone is situated in the car. Your son chatters happily about how excited he is, while your husband listens and nods from the driver’s seat. His hand is lazily thrown over the console, loosely holding your own. 

Donghyuck has barely put the car in park at the complex when your son grabs his bag and practically sprints out of the car. You both watch as he approaches the field, joining his team to put on his gear and warm up. A small contented sigh leaves your mouth. You lean back against the headrest and close your eyes. 

You’re only granted a few moments of peace before your husband disturbs you. His hand slips from its place on the console to your upper thigh, where he gives it a quick squeeze. Your eyes shoot open. “Hyuck…” you warn.

“‘...’m not doing anything,” he mumbles, eyes zeroed in on the plush skin underneath his hand. 

A scoff escapes you at his statement. You don’t get a chance to shoot back a smart remark, because his other hand reaches out and pulls your face towards him. Before you know it, his lips are crashing against yours. His mouth moves roughly against your own and you can feel your own desire increasing by the second. You reach up, placing your hands on either side of his face and pulling him closer. 

Your little moment is quickly interrupted by a knock on the driver’s side window. When Donghyuck turns his head, you catch a glimpse of Mark with his hands in his pockets and a disgruntled look on his face. Unsurprisingly, his outfit matches your husband’s to a tee. Hyuck rolls down the window.

“You guys are nasty little voyeurs, man. We’re at a children’s football game,” Mark calls out to you both. “Game starts in 15 minutes,” he continues, looking down at his watch. “And you might want to fix that,” he says, gesturing to the eye black that mirror’s Donghyuck’s, before turning around and walking back to his wife. 

Sure enough, when your husband turns back to you, the purple has smudged further down his cheek. “Sorry,” you giggle to him, while reaching out to fix it as best as you can. 

One of his hands reaches down to rest on your thigh again. “Our son is going to sleep pretty well after this game, right?” he asks you. 

“Probably, why?” you ask as you lean back to observe your work. 

Donghyuck leans down and presses his lips to your ear before whispering, “I want to give him a sibling.” You smack his chest as hard as you can and he leans back, howling in laughter.

“Great,” you tell him with a deadpan expression. “Now I’m going to be wet walking into my son’s football game.”

His Adam’s apple bobs in response. “Mmm maybe I should keep it up. Would probably keep Melissa away,” he teases.

You smack him again. “Stop talking about another woman when you just said you wanted to put a baby in me.”

Donghyuck simply smirks in response before turning off the car and unbuckling his seatbelt. He whips his head toward you, taking you by surprise. “Last to the field has to do the dishes tonight,” he says, before sprinting out of the car the same way his son had. You shake your head before running after him. 

[parkomax]

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[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC Prompt: The New Teacher

(So, I've seen a lot of prompts that have Danny go to Gotham and be a teacher but I don't remember seeing any with it in this direction, so on the chance that this is an original idea here we go!)

Jason was given a choice, or multiple choices. Babysit the Replacement on a mission that could last a week, go to Bludhaven and have some 'brother bonding time' with Dick who needed backup on a big case, or take a temp solo-gig in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere called Amity Park.

Well, considering he was still a bit hurt about the fact that B replaced him all those years ago and the pit loved to grab hold of that bit of frustrations towards his younger brother, that didn't seem like a smart idea. Dick wasn't an option either because he knew that would lead to 'talking about feelings' and other shit that he didn't want to do.

So he took the solo-gig.

It was supposed to be easy, at least that's what had been implied by the others he'd spoken to about the case. It seemed like most of the Justice League thought this situation was being 'exaggerated' because most of the time when somebody checked out what was going on there was nothing happening. No big take over, or kidnapping, or 'end of the world' situation, but there had been too many calls to put Bruce's mind at ease. The frequent calls mixed with the fact that the Government apparently had the area under a 'black out' made Bruce even more nervous.

Hell, if it hadn't been for the fact that Bruce was famous and that Scarecrow, Penguin and Riddler had all escaped from Arkham he would have been doing the case himself.

Which is how Jason ended up in a restraunt named 'Nasty Burger' looking at the news papers he had managed to get from a stand down the street while taking notes of things he had already seen. It wasn't just that the Government had cut them off, all of the tech in the city was easily 20 years outdated compared to the rest of the world.

Nokia phones, chunky computers, hell he'd even seen a kid with a PDA of all things. Thankfully, it looked like his tech still worked other than running slower than it should have, but thanks to modifications made by Barbara and Tim things were running better than he expected. But, they did struggle to have access to anything, specifically the news.

Hence the paper.

Ghost Boy: Friend or Fiend. A new vote cast by the city has found that the Ghost Boy - Danny Phantom - has had an astounding rise in support after the events over the Christmas Holiday. The new polls suggest that 43% of Citizens support Danny Phantom, with the majority of his support coming from the students at Casper High who insist that Phantom is a hero who has saved them countless times over the past few months. 49% of people still agree, however, that Phantom appears to be at the center of the majority of the attacks with many still claiming that he is the sole cause of the attacks. However, 8% of the population remain undecided, including many teachers, police and hospital staff. Upon seeing the new results of the pole Mayor Montez had this to say; "While I will admit that Phantom appears to favor the younger generation and frequently seems to come to their aid, we cannot forget what it has done in the past. Taken hostages, injured innocents, and caused millions in property damage. Phantom may not be a 'villain' in the typical sense of the word, but we shouldn't blindly trust him just because of a few good deeds."

So there was a... hero? Half hero - potentially villain - in Amity Park? That might have explained some of the calls they'd gotten from Amity park over the past few months. Still, he was concerned by some parts of the report.

Students at a high school were frequently coming under attack? So much that this potential-villain kept saving them? Just what was the cause? What could cause so many issues?

Jason looked up as he saw that same PDA kid talking with a girl with short black hair in a half-ponytail who was wearing a black crop-top. The girl seemed annoyed while the boy seemed worried about something.

"But it's Vlad, Sam... what if he does something?" He heard the boy whisper, "We should go back him up..."

"He doesn't need our help, besides Jazz ran away from home, remember? She got herself into this mess it's her problem to get out of it. Something that Danny should have learned a long time ago."

Jason frowned, pretending not to hear them as he hesitated then got up and walked over to the two younger teens. "Hey, excuse me."

The girl looked annoyed and suspicious while the boy looked confused.

"Uh, yeah?" Tucker asked.

"Hey, sorry to bug you both. But could you guys tell me about this... 'Danny Phantom' person?" He asked, holding the newspaper out.

The girl looked even more suspicious, "And... who are you?"

"And how haven't you heard of Phantom?" Asked the boy.

"I just moved to town." Jason admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, I'm just trying to catch up on all the town drama."

"You moved to Amity Park... willingly? Psh, what do you have, a deathwish?" The girl grumbled.

"Come on, I just moved from Gotham, which is worse?"

The girl blinked as the boy laughed.

"Furries vs Ghosts, who will win~" He said as the girl elbowed him. "Ow! What?!"

"Danny Phantom is a hero." The girl explained, "He showed up in April and has been protecting the town since."

"A hero, huh? Could always use more of those in the world, but the mayor seems to have it out for him."

Tucker sighed, "No kidding, man. Somebody framed Phantom for something really bad and no matter what he does to try to fix it the city just see's that incident as the only thing he's ever done. It was the first big 'public thing' outside of the high school so it was huge but it wasn't his fault."

The girl reached for her phone suddenly, looking at it before she answered. "Hey, Danny. What's up?" She was quiet for a moment, "Yeah, we're at Nasty Burger, wanna join us? Lunch on me?"

A quiet mumble came through the speaker before she smirked.

"I'll order for you then. Double or triple?"

More mumbles.

"Triple it is. See you soon." She said, then hung up. "Come on, Tuck, Danny is on his way for lunch."

"Hell yeah, see you later, dude." The boy said, then jogged off with the girl.

"A teacher? Yeah, it looks like there's some openings but why would you want to have your cover as a teacher?" Oracle asked as Jason sat in his hotel room, looking through the paper again.

"Most of the incidents seem to surround the High School, I want to see what's going on."

Oracle hummed, typing for a moment. "Alright, well as luck will have it, it looks like teachers are sparse at Amity High, at least from what I'm able to get using your connection... which is infuriatingly slow, by the way, are you sure you did it right?"

"I've done it a million times, of course I did it right."

Oracle grumbled, "Stupid Amity black-out. Okay, so you have options. Most of the teachers have fucked off so all of the teachers in Freshmen year switch around to cover lessons or do mixed lessons. For example the English teacher also teaches Math and the normal Math teacher also teaches Science. So it looks like you could have any position you want and the school would just shuffle around the teachers."

"You said English is taken, right?"

"Yep, the teacher is named William Lancer and he- oh... wait, he's on a leave of absence due to injuries he suffered over Christmas Break. Concussion, broken arm, and bruised ribs, he'll be out for a few weeks."

Jason smirked, "Perfect. Sign me up."

". . . Jason, the English and Math teacher... never thought I'd see the day. Alright, I'll type up your application, send it in and casually push it to the front of the line. You'll be official by the time Winter Break ends in a few days. So get studying."

"Sounds like a plan, but I'll be fine, I mean our family is crazy and i deal with criminals on a nightly basis. How hard could this assignment really be?"

He would regret asking that question by the end of his first day as an Amity High School teacher.

[ysrjune]

Wait okay okay so put this one above my Scott request

Giving Stephen a really super nasty blowjob and he cries yeah

KNEE DEEP IN THE PASSENGER SEAT ℘

Lately, you've been getting off of work late at night, and Stephen was picking you up. You told him he didn't have to, but he always insisted because he loves you so much and doesn't want you to fall asleep on the drive back if you're behind the wheel. No, it was fine that he had to wake up in the middle of the night to pick you up. More than fine. He knew you needed the rest after such a long shift.

So here he is, inside the car at the empty parking lot, waiting for you to come out. He was still very tired, and he came 20 minutes early just so he could rest in the car for a while. He set the seat backward so he could lay down. 20 minutes went by in a flash. You knock on the passenger window, and his finger travels to the unlock button without even glancing to see who it is. It's not a smart idea, but he recognizes those knocks.

“Steve, I told you I could just drive myself.” You sigh, getting into the car and watching how his chest peacefully rises. “No.. you're tired. Im fine.” He groans and stretches. “I just got here a little early, and I left my phone at the house. So.. there wasn't anything else to do.” He removes his glasses to rub his eyes. “Just, um, give me a few minutes to wake up.” He puts his glasses back on and stares at the car ceiling.

“I know what'll wake you up.” You say mischievously with a small smile. “What?” He asks calmly but shudders and gasps as soon as he feels your finger unbuttoning his pj pants. “Babe!” His gaze quickly fixated on your eyes with a nervous look in his. “R-right now? We're outside!” His tongue darts out to moisturize his lips. “We're the only ones here, just relax.” Stephen groans in complaint but makes no move to stop you. “Come on. That alone woke me up. Let's just go, yeah?” He's really nervous about being caught. Stephen attempts to sit up from the seat to readjust it to normal, but you press his chest down for him to lay again.

“Honey, please? Please dont do this right now. This is.. embarrassing.” Stephens cheek flush pink, and his eyes dart around the parking lot. Yes, there was no one around, but what if the other two people you were working with come out any second?!

He kept worrying until your soft hand pulled his length out of the hole of the pj's. Stephen watches, biting down on his lip. He was quiet now. No more complaints. “Stevie, you're hard.” You say softly. “Mm-well.. yeah..” He looks away. Slowly, you start to stroke him, and his head falls back against the headrest. “Shit. You're a pervert.” He mumbles. “Couldn't just wait until we got home or anything. We would have been there by now.”

“Im sorry, babe. I just couldn't stop thinking about you today.” Stephen exhales through his nose and swallows a chunk of saliva. “Oh God. You know you can't talk to me that way.” He says in a breathless whisper. “No, really.” You move your hand faster. “I was thinking of all the things I wanted to do to you when I saw you. I was so wet in the office today that I couldn't help myself.” He knew what you meant by that, and it made him even hornier. “Can you do that thing you do..” He moans.

Stephen's pants were now pulled down to his thighs. No boxers. He doesn't like to wear them when he wears the pj pants. It's easy access in case he needs to go to the bathroom. The car was filled with his and your moans. The glass was fogged up. He has his hand tangled in your hair. “I dont wanna!” He whines. He's been dragging this blowjob on for at least 10 minutes. He doesn't want to cum yet. He feels like he should last way longer than that since you were thinking of this all day.

But the way you choked on him as you made eye contact and spit dribbling at your chin was making it hard for him to continue holding back. Your tongue wrapping around the sensitive tip. He also liked feeling a little bit of your teeth. It was unusual, but right now, it was amazing. “Nggh..” He whimpers. “I wanna cum on your face. Can I, please?”

You continue sucking—choking, until he moans out that he was about to cum. You release his cock, and he whines at the loss of your warm, gummy throat until you start to stroke him again. Within seconds, he comes undone on your face with a shudder and soft moan. He sits up on an elbow and pants softly while staring down at your face. “Jesus.” He whispers and collects a finger pad full of his cum and jams it into your mouth. Then he inserts another finger, making you bob your head on them. “.. We couldve been home. Comfortable in the bed.”

You roll your eyes and release his fingers. “If we were at home, I would go right to sleep instead.” Stephen sighs and digs for a napkin in the storage compartment. As soon as he found one, he wiped your face with a small smile. “Maybe I can help you stay up a little longer when we get home.” Stephen always likes to return the favor as soon as possible. He never allows you to help him get off without letting him do the same after.

@bxbyysstuff @anakinstwinklebunny @lovethestarrs @valloos @anisangeldust @xo-yaaaaaas-xo @anakinca @dollfilmz @gothams-sweetheart @sockiess @sythethecarrot @speaknow-sw @loveamira @alealuvshayden @mvst4far @prettiestmini @amiratheangel @blckberrie @literally-izzyy @litt1e-misssunsh1ne @chanelluvstvd @hearts4sammonroe @fratbrochrisgf

[tommydarlings]

wrong number, right time | T.W

pairing: professor!toto!wolff x student!reader

warnings: mentions of being under the influence of alcohol

w/c: 2.4k

summary: After realising that you need a ride home from the club that you got absolutely wasted at, you call your best friend Tina — or at least you thought you did.

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +70 works) // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

Toto groaned as his phone rang, his fingers quickly going through his messy hair before he picked it up,

“Hello? Who’s this?“ obviously he didn’t bother to look at the caller ID at almost two a.m on a Friday night.

To his surprise, you were the person on the other line, sounding definitely not sober.

“Heyyy Tina!�� you sounded rather excited, “I’m at this-”

“Y/n?“ Toto spoke up again as soon as he realised its you, one of his best students in his German lecture.

You quickly stopped speaking, staying silent for a few seconds before you loudly gulped, “yes”you replied carefully, still not understanding who you’re actually talking to.

Toto sat up in his bed with a sigh that sounded almost as if he was disappointed, “You're not speaking to Tina, do you know who you just called at two-”

You stared giggling, “have you started taking some kind of testosterone pills? You sound so manly!“ you found it hilarious.

Toto briefly rolled his eyes, “I’m not Tina, y/n-”

“Can't you just… please — pretty please pick me up?“ you whined almost desperately, feeling tired and exhausted from all the partying with your other friends.

Your German professor scoffed quietly before he hoped out of his bed and quickly threw some pair of black trousers on, swiftly pairing it with a white shirt.

“Where are you exactly?“ he asked demandingly.

You looked tipsily around, stumbling a bit before you told him the name of the club that you’re standing in front of.

Toto nodded to himself before he grabbed his car keys and got into his expensive car, “stay on the line with me, yeah? Don't hang up,“ the Austrian said into the speaker before he put it into his lap and drove off.

And your smart ass only nodded, but of course he couldn’t see that.

Toto stepped on the gas, “hello? Did you hang up? I’ve told her-”

“I’m here!“ you quickly said as if you were in the middle of attendance in university, making him release a quick breath of relief.

You still didn’t understand who you were actually talking to, you really thought it was just your friend Tina playing with you, making her voice deeper and adding an Austrian accent.

Yeah, you were pretty drunk.

The Austrian sighed loudly, making you furrow your brows on the other line before you spoke up again,

“I’m cold,“ you mumbled into the speaker, hugging your figure in your black dress.

Toto glanced down at his phone before he put his eyes back on the road ahead of him, “I have a jacket in my car,“ he replied quietly in a deep tone.

After five more minutes he quickly ended the call and parked a few feet away from the entrance of the club where you were now lazily leaning against a lamppost, not even noticing how the call ended until you talked into the speaker and realised that the person on the other line wasn’t even there anymore.

You sighed heavily before you saw how your German professor approached you with quick steps and a big jacket in his hand.

And to his surprise, you furrowed your brows and almost gasped loudly.

“Professor?“ you gulped and tried your best to stand up straighter, trying to look more approachable even though you both knew that you looked like a mess.

Toto sighed and handed you the jacket which you grabbed with still widened eyes.

“Who did you expect? Tina? You called me… and now I’m gonna get you home safely because you clearly drank too much,“ he almost scoffed like a frustrated dad.

While you still stared up at him, Toto decided to take matters into his own hands and helped you into his jacket before he quickly zipped it up, “you should feel warmer in a bit,“ your professor took a step back again, looking down at you with a tired but caring gaze.

You gulped nervously and nodded, “thanks,” you whispered and hugged your figure again.

You also stumbled a bit, accidentally tripping over your own feet and falling literally right into Toto’s arms, quickly holding onto them to steady yourself.

Toto scoffed again, “be careful, god please,” he mumbled to you but he wasn’t even sure if you were able to understand what he was saying.

He cleared his throat as he gently held you by your arms, trying his best to not touch you too much or somewhere where it was too inappropriate but he was convinced that this line was already crossed at this point,

“Let’s walk to the car, yeah? I’ll help you,“ he said in a deep and quiet tone, already guiding you towards his Mercedes.

After a few wobbly steps and tiny scoffs from your professor, you finally reached his car and hopped into it, getting comfortable on the expansive and rich leather seats.

As Toto got into the car, he noticed how you looked around the interior of his Mercedes, eyes wide and slightly glassy from the cold and probably also from the alcohol.

You clutched on to his jacket, not having the balls to look at him right now, feeling embarrassed,

“seatbelt, please,“ he demanded in a soft tone.

You glanced at him, “oh sorry,“ you apologised quickly before you put the seatbelt on.

———

As you arrived at your small flat, you felt a sense of relief, you’ve been missing your bed a lot.

But not only your bed — his touch as well.

But you could never admit that.

Your German professor swiftly unbuckled his seatbelt before he got out of the car and walked over to your door, opening it slowly before he unbuckled your seatbelt and offered his hand to you.

“C’mon, let’s get you into your bed,“ he mumbled to quietly.

With tired but slightly darker eyes, you placed your smaller hand into his and let him guide you towards your door.

He watched you unlock the door and walk inside, protectively having his hands on your arms as he stood behind you, his fingertips barely touching his jacket.

The two of you slowly walked inside, Toto scanning your flat for a few seconds before he was forced to catch your figure that stumbled awkwardly around.

“Need help with your shoes?“ he asked you as he noticed how you tried to take your heels off.

You sighed but eventually nodded, your unintentional doe eyes looking up at him, making him gulp.

Toto quickly bend down and gently grabbed your ankle, putting your foot onto his thigh before he started to undo the small clip.

You were quite surprised that he could do that with his big fingers.

After a few more seconds, he also removed the second black heel, putting them aside before he set your foot down again and stood back up, easily towering over you.

You slowly took his jacket off and handed it to him, your eyes suddenly meeting his.

Toto cleared his throat, “do you… need anything else?“ he murmured under his breath.

For a few seconds, you just batted your eye lashes at him, your infamous doe eyes driving him wild — just like they always do during his classes.

After another moment, you sighed and looked down, suddenly feeling nothing else than exhaustion and pure shame.

And then you started crying, first your bottom lip wobbled, and then the tears hit your reddened cheeks.

Your professor sighed and immediately brought you into a hug, letting your bury your face in his chest, the tears staining his neat shirt.

“I’m making your shirt go all wet, I’m-” you started but he interrupted you swiftly,

“Don’t be sorry,“ he whispered, his big palm carefully caressing the back of your head, “it’s okay, don’t worry about that now.“

You only gulped and briefly nodded before you continued fisting his shirt and crying into it.

He cleared his throat, “why are you so upset now all of a sudden? Why the tears, hmm?“ he asked you gently.

His one hand went to your wet cheek, cupping it and caressing it with his thumb,

“Talk to me, c’mon…“

You closed your eyes and sniffled quietly, nuzzling more into his chest like a little kitten, “I just…I-I feel so much shame n-now, I feel so embarrassed,“ you released small hiccups.

He looked down at you, gently wiping your tears away, “why? Because you called me instead of your friend? Because I drove you home tonight?”

After a few more tears were shed, you nodded slowly, his words making you realise it all even more.

“Hey,“ he cupped your face woth both hands,

“it’s okay… I didn’t mind that much,“ he continued in a hush tone, “yes, it was unexpected and you interrupted me from my much needed sleep,” he chuckled before he continued,

“But I’m just happy that I got you home safely because you really stumbled around outside of that club like… like I don’t know what!“ he smiled widely but it still sounded almost as if he was scolding you.

You sighed with a tiny grin, “I know… don't remind me professor,“ you mumbled, letting your head fall forward into his chest.

He chuckled deeply, “you can uhm…“ he cleared his throat, “outside of university you can call me Toto.“

You nodded unsurely, “o-okay, thank you Toto,”you whispered, his fingers still gently running along your hair.

“And can you repeat that in German?“

You groaned before you sniffled, “are you serious?“ you grinned up at him.

Toto nodded with a smug smirk, “yes, now thank me again, but this time in my language,” he demanded.

You bit your lip and thought about it for a bit, not sure if the pronunciation would be right but you just gave it a shot and tried your best, “Dankeschön?“ it sounded more like a question.

But as soon as you saw him nod and smile, you knew it was right, “perfect… good girl,“ he whispered, making you gulp as you hid your reddened cheeks in his shirt again, “I am surprised that you even pay attention during my class, always see you staring more at me then at the board,“ your professor mumbled and even thought you couldn’t see his face, you knew that he was grinning again.

You sighed tiredly before you released a loud yawn.

Toto glanced down at you, his hand gently running along your back, sending shivers down your spine,

“Are you tired?“ he whispered.

After a few seconds, you nodded,

“Yeah, do you know what time it is?”

He glanced down at his expansive watch, “four in the morning,“ Toto told you quietly, his hand going back to rest on your back.

“Wanna go to bed,“ you mumbled under your breath, slowly stepping away from him.

The Austrian nodded, “okay, yeah…“ he cleared his throat, “I’ll help you into bed, is that okay with you?“

You glanced up at him and slowly nodded,

“please, yeah,“ you slowly walked towards your little bedroom.

It was a typical girly bedroom, posters and pictures on the wall, lots of different hair accessories laying on the desk, makeup wipes that you were too lazy to throw into the bin laying right next to them.

“Sorry for the mess,“ you said in a quiet tone as you noticed your own mess but Toto only chuckled and shook his head,

“Don’t worry, didnt expect anything else from a girl your age,“ he replied, making you turn around and look up at him,

“Excuse me? Did you already imagine what my room looked like?“

At that comment of yours, your professor immediately blushed, gulping for a second before he looked into your eyes, “uh… no, of course not!“

You giggled as he continued, “but that’s just what every teenage girl's room looks like nowadays, right?“ he lightly furrowed his brows and tilted his head.

You nodded, “guess you’re right,“ you murmured before you grabbed your pyjamas and walked to the bathroom.

“I’m just gonna change real quick,“ toto already nodded before you disappeared into your small bathroom — but after only a few seconds, you stuck your head through the crack of the door.

“Toto?“ you asked quietly, your dress still hugging your beautiful body.

“Yes?“ he turned around after you caught him inspecting your pictures and decorations on the wall.

You cleared your throat, suddenly seeming a bit nervous, “could you help me… out of the dress? I can’t get it off myself,“ you murmured.

Toto stared at you for a couple of seconds before he nodded, “Uh, yeah of course,“ your professor slowly walked towards you,

“Turn around,“ he whispered and you quickly obeyed and turned around.

In a slow and almost cautious manner, Toto raised his big hands and slowly unzipped your dress, his fingertips running down your back, making you shiver.

“Thank you,“ you mumbled before you quickly walked back into the bathroom to finish changing.

Your professor watched you closely before he sighed and ran his palms over his face, slowly sitting down on your bed, facing the bathroom door.

After a couple of minutes, you finally walked out, your eyes immediately landing on him, “I’m sorry but I don’t think I have anything for you to.. sleep in,“ you gulped.

Toto stared at you before he shook his head, “that’s alright,“ he replied quietly.

You nodded along and walked over to the other side of the bed and slowly plopped down, pulling the covers over you,

“You don’t have to stay the night if you don’t want to, you know..“ you whispered, looking up at his back, his muscles visible through the button up.

The Austrian cleared his throat, “You want me to, don't you?“

In a slow manner, you sat up against the headboard, eyes staying on him the entire time, ”well I wouldn’t mind if you did,“ you admitted nervously.

Your professor smiled briefly before he looked down at the sheets, purposely ignoring your gaze a bit, “get some sleep, yeah? I think you need it, okay?“

You bit your lip before you nodded and scooted down, laying on the bed and nuzzling into your blanket and pillow.

After some time, you slowly scooted closer…

And then Toto removed his big hands from his lap, inviting you in.

You smiled tiredly before you put your head onto his lap, your hands lightly fisting his pants.

“Night,“ you whispered, feeling safe and happy.

Your professor glanced down at you, his fingers running through your hair now, “night, y/n,“ he sighed deeply.

[mrs-hatake]

LADS reaction to you wearing a mini skirt and it accidentally rides up

Pairing: Caleb x F!Reader, Sylus x F!Reader & Zayne x F!Reader. ⟡ Genre: boys being boys, fluff, gege x meimei, ⟡ Word Count: 1.3k ⟡ O.D.P (Original Date of Publication): December 18th, 2024

A/N: a request from my old blog where anonymous had said, So~ I saw ur lad boys requests were open 👀🍵 and I was wondering if I could request their reaction if you were wearing a mini skirt and it accidentally rides up

Sylus

April showers bring May flowers. As well as cool and sunny days. When one can finally shed off their thick winter coats and slip into something lighter, more colorful and maybe top it off by wearing a cropped jacket.

Y/N is strolling down the streets of Linkon, accompanied by children’s laughter and much needed heat after the long winter season. She doesn’t always spend her day off downtown, choosing to be lazy at home and recharge. But seeing how lovely the weather has gotten, she finds herself out of her pajamas and into a cute white knit top and black mini skirt. 

She doesn’t do much downtown; window shops for about an hour, grabs a late breakfast and stops by a flower shop.  When she enters the park to rest under a large tree with its leaves acting as an umbrella to shield her from the scorching noon sun, she spots an ice-cream truck. 

Happily eating her ice-cream, Y/N doesn’t notice a couple of boys chasing each other on their bikes. They rush past her, kicking dirt in their path and sending a strong gust of wind Y/N’s way. 

“Watch it!” Y/N yells after them, grumbling at how reckless kids are getting with each passing year. 

“Nice view.” Comes a comment, along with a satisfied whistle. 

Y/N turns, anger burning in her eyes and a stern talking to on the tip of her tongue when she is met with a familiar handsome face, “Sylus?” She asks, her head tilting to the side. 

“In the flesh.” The man in question is sitting on a bench not too far from where the ice-cream truck is, a book between his large hands.

“What are you doing here-” Y/N cuts herself off when realization dawns on her; Sylus had seen her pale yellow underwear when those stupid boys zoomed by in their bikes, hiking up her mini skirt. 

A pretty blush dusts her cheeks and Y/N quickly averts her gaze from Sylus’ amused reds. 

Zayne

Linkon’s Public Library is one of the city’s most prominent buildings despite libraries being an outdated concept. After all, thanks to modern technology, everything is now digitized and an individual can gain access to billions of doors of information with a simple tap of their smart wrist watch.

Still, despite such conveniences, many still seek the warm embraces of a library. A place that feels familiar, as if reuniting with a relative after years apart. Even someone who has never been in a library before, can share this sentimentality. The aroma of book pages and the feel of the leather on the tip of the fingers, no modern device can replicate such sensations.

It’s why Y/N is spending her lunch break at the library instead of being at the cafeteria, eating and catching up with her colleagues. Although she loves them and would die for them, sometimes she needs a break.

And one of her favorite hobbies is picking up a book from the library and reading about previous generations, decades and centuries and their lifestyle.

She’s currently in the 21st century section, scanning the titles of various books when one at the very top catches her eyes; Surviving Quarantine and Covid-19. 

Y/N reaches up to grab it but the shelf is way too high for her to reach. Even when she stands on her tiptop, Y/N’s fingers still struggle to graze the book. She stretches and stretches to no avail. She tries to jump but that doesn’t help her wrap her fingers around the thick book. 

Just as Y/N tries to stand on the ledge of the book case to give her an extra boost, warmth engulfs her and an arm appears in her line of sight. Y/N is caught in a daze as a smooth looking hand easily grabs the book and pulls it out of the row it was resting in. 

Following the arm, Y/N is pleased to see her doctor, “Zayne!”

Zayne isn’t someone who can show emotion on his handsome and youthful face but he has been trying as a small smile tugs the corner of his lips. 

“You should be more careful,” Zayne says as a form of greeting, “Your skirt was riding up. You never know who might be watching.”

Flushed with embarrassment, Y/N takes away the book, “Will do.” she chuckles awkwardly, unaware of the way Zayne’s gaze darts to her thighs and back to her eyes. 

Zayne will take this to his grave but he was spending the past ten minutes watching Y/N trying to grab the book. Every time her skirt hitched, Zayne leaned further, nearly falling off of his seat, trying to catch a glimpse of Y/N’s underwear. And he would’ve been successful if he didn’t hear people making their way to where they were. After all, only Zayne is allowed to watch such a mouthwatering sight. 

Caleb

Finally…Finally, after six long months, Y/N wakes up with excitement buzzing through her veins and heart thundering wildly. Today’s the day Caleb is coming home after his training program. 

She spends an hour and a half in her bathroom; washing her hair with jasmine scented shampoo and rubs honeydew scrub on her limbs and abdomen, shaves all the tiny hairs littered across her body and curls her hair just the way Caleb likes it. 

Y/N then spends another hour trying to choose the perfect outfit to greet Caleb home.

After three mountains of clothes pile up in her room, Y/N decides to wear a white, off shoulder top with a matching mini skirt.

Just as Y/N is doing her makeup, she hears a car door slamming from outside her window. Eyes widening in alarm, she rushes to her window where she spots Caleb leaning into the window of the electric yellow cab. 

Oh, no! He’s home early!

As if on maximum speed, Y/N spreads peach colored lip gloss across her lips and pats a thin layer of powdered blush on her cheeks in less than twenty seconds. She takes the stairs by two and is out the door just as Caleb is waving off the taxi driver.

“Gege!”

Caleb turns at the sweet call of his meimei, her cute nickname at the ready when it dies on his tongue. 

Everything around him slows. The sounds become muted and his surroundings fade away into a blur. Except for Y/N who shines like the morning sun. 

She is running towards Caleb but at the same time, her skirt swaying with the breeze. Every time Y/N comes down from the stone stairs of the entry path of their grandmother’s home, Caleb’s blessed with the sight of Y/N’s cute lace pink underwear.

How Caleb wishes he’s wearing his video recording lenses right now. He doesn’t ever want to forget this heavenly sight.

“Gege!” Y/N calls again before jumping into Caleb’s eager and greedy arms.

“I’ve missed you!” She smiles up at him, “Did you miss me too?” she pouts at him and it takes all of Caleb’s will power not to kiss her. 

“Y-Yeah…” Caleb clears his throat, hides his face in her hair and inhales her scent–jasmine and honeydew– to calm himself down, “I’ve missed you too.”

Pleased with his answer, Y/N beams at him, pretty eyes glowing with delight like the night stars. 

Y/N leans into the hug, unaware of how her warmth sends a thrill down her spine, how his heart is beating so loud he’s scared she might hear it. Heat pools Caleb’s in his stomach, a familiar sensation that he has tried not to chase after. So, he gently, albeit regretfully, pushes Y/N away.

Before she can pout at him–pretty eyes filled with unshed tears– and send Caleb into a frenzy, he rushes to say, “I got you a present!”

Grateful for the distraction, Caleb guides Y/N to their grandmother’s house. As much as he wants Y/N, wants her for himself, it’s not the time…yet.