#hey queue-tie

[brushfeather]

WIP of a custom fursona hat, "Alexi," for Allan A. Super interesting character to work on, looking forward to seeing him finished! ✨

[almostshere]

» WILLIAM BECKETT + CASSADEE POPE performing THE TEST.

[segasister]

So I'm 28 now.

[octuscle]

Student Fare

"According to my system, you have booked a ticket for economy class in the student fare… And it says Mason and not Martin Harper. I'm sorry, but I'll have to make a few adjustments." Annoyed was not an expression for what Martin felt. He had had a successful, but also very exhausting week. And he was now looking forward to a quiet flight to Chicago. Not in economy class. In business class. And he certainly hadn't booked a student fare. Well, not him anyway. His secretary normally took care of the bookings. But she was on vacation. And the replacement was clearly incompetent. And she would be fired on Monday morning.

"Give me your luggage, please. Actually, I should send you to an economy class counter. But I'll make an exception," said the ground staff lady. Martin wanted to reach for his suitcase. But instead of the expensive aluminum suitcase from Rimowa, there was an old, worn sports bag. Martin was about to call the police when the lady told him that it was okay, she had had to adjust the luggage because of his fare. Martin nodded understandingly, but inwardly wondered what was going on. Did he have hand luggage? Martin wanted to reach for his laptop bag. But there was only a rucksack. Completely irritated, he held it up and the lady smiled, gave him his boarding pass and wished him a good flight. But he should hurry, the queue at security was long. Martin replied that he could use the fast lane. The lady smiled wryly and just said "Student fare!"

Martin picked up his rucksack and, cursing inwardly, headed towards the security checkpoints. When was the last time he hadn't used the fast lane? He had probably really been a student then. He hated crowds. He loved flying primarily because his money and his success allowed him to travel privileged and away from the crowds. It was no fun that way. It was crowded, the people around him were sweating, pushing and shoving. Martin took off his jacket. He wanted to loosen his tie knot. But apart from his cool necklace with the pendant he'd brought back from spring break in Acapulco, there was nothing there. Shit, that was hot. Matin took off his cap and wiped his forehead. His hair was soaked with sweat. Even though it looked silly, he tied his jacket around his hips. He rolled up his sleeves. His hairy, muscular forearms were also glistening with sweat. The various bracelets he wore looked cool, but they were a nuisance in this sweltering heat. Masin smelled his wrist. Shit, the bracelets really stank to high heaven.

Finally, the security checkpoint was in sight. It was just as well, boarding started in half an hour. Masin threw his rucksack into the plastic tray, added his belt and cap and had himself x-rayed. Although nothing had beeped, the crisp security officer demanded that Masin be checked. It was probably no accident that he was able to get right up to his nipples through the large sleeve holes of Masin's tank top. Masin had to restrain himself from reflexively grabbing the bulge of the Latino in uniform. "Hey, college boy, is that your backpack?" Shit, the weed, Mason thought to himself. The face of the officer standing at the security checkpoint with his backpack looked menacing. "My bro is clean, let him pass!" the Latino shouted to his colleague. Shit, he really deserved a firm grip on his cock, Mason thought to himself and blew the Latino a kiss.

Boarding had already started. Nevertheless, Mason urgently needed to take a piss before boarding. Fortunately, there was a toilet right opposite the gate. The businessman in the navy blue suit at the urinal next to him looked at Mason's cheesy uncircumcised cock with a mixture of disgust and lust. Mason didn't miss it. He hinted at a wank. The guy next to him immediately started too. Mason laughed. What a pathetic faggot. He lifted his right arm, tensed his biceps and let the guy inhale the smell of his wet armpits. Normally Mason took ten dollars for that. Or at least an invitation to a beer. Shit, beer! He had to get supplies for the flight!

"Last and urgent call for Mason Harper, booked on American Airlines Flight 241 to Chicago," Mason quickened his pace a tiny bit. Beer and protein bars in his backpack. Whichever poor devil was sitting next to him was either going to have a lot of fun or none at all. The young man at the boarding pass control was playing fate. "I'm afraid we're overbooked," he apologized. The only seat available is in Business Class. Would you mind? Business Class! Bloody hell, Mason had never had that before. He boarded the plane. In the seat next to the last available seat was a businessman in a navy blue suit. Mason stowed his rucksack in the overhead compartment, took out two bottles of beer and sat down. This could be a fun three hours.

[detroitbecomeonline]

Connor seeing the newly activated RK900, fresh out of the CyberLife box, knows nothing about the world. Or how to interact with it. This is due to the speedy process to finish the RK900's AI, therefore a lot more learning has to be done before the he catches up to Connor's level. Connor turns on Dad Mode and they're both deadpan about it. "Nines, cross the street when the signal-" "I'm a deviant I can do what I want" Connor grabs his hand to hold him back from getting hit by a truck. Now Nines has to hold his hand whenever they cross a road. Nines wandering into the DPD where Connor is doing paperwork and the RK900 is like "Hey... I fucked up :(" Queue a groan from Connor as he gets up from his seat. Nines wandering into the DPD where Connor is doing paperwork and the RK900 has dried thirium down his chin and shirt and is like "Hey... I frewed up :(" Queue a groan from Connor as he gets up from his seat. Nines wandering into the DPD and Connor is like "WHAT are you wearing" and Nines guiltily looks down at Connor's fresh kicks he "borrowed". "Don't lick that" "Why" "We have dead birds at home." Connor being worried sick when Nines comes home a little too late. Eventually the RK900 grows out of his state of ignorance and Connor is just so proud at everything he does. :(( he can coin flip like me :((((. yeah that was an awesome back flip. well done on securing a job. you can tie a tie really well now! :) but one thing stays consistent- Nines following him around like a lost puupy

[featheredclover]

Redamancy

This one shot is inspired by this prompt by @arshifiesta

Also on Wattpad

“ How long will Sahil be Aman?”

“ An hour”

Swearing under his breath, Arnav brought up a hand to loosen his tie.

“ Marcos has called the garage as well so don’t worry ASR”

Leaning back against the now broken car, Arnav took out his pack of cigarettes and offered one to Aman.

The two men cut out as dashing figures, with their impeccable suits and cigarette dangling from their mouths.

“ You want to sit somewhere? Hartford has great coffee “

“ Sure”

———

They stood in front of a glass door, below the sign ‘Cafe Captain’.

A bell tinkled as Aman swung the door into the place, the place was painted in hues of brown resembling an old British bakery. The strong smell of coffee permeated Arnav’s senses and he headed towards the counter.

“ ….so yes, while a croissant is nice, it doesn’t hold a torch to our cream bun. They melt in your mouth!”

Arnav heard the waitress go on and on about cream buns. He stopped himself from clucking impatiently.

Finally, he thought as he moved forward.

“ One black coffee “

He read the chirpy girl’s name tag- Khushi

A gasp forced him to look back up. “ It is horrendous. Why would you do this? Why? I mean I understand if you are hungover or hmm probably a diabetic, are you?”

“ Um no, I am not”

“ Great! Then darling go sit right there and let me bring you the best cup in Hartford!”

Dumbfounded, Arnav simply paid and went towards the table Khushi had pointed to. It was only when he sat down that he wanted to kick himself.

What am I doing? Black coffee was fine.

It didn’t help that Aman was smirking as he sat down, amusement filling his eyes.

“ I thought no one could boss you around. Glad I am wrong”

“ Just shut up”

He looked up to see the girl walk towards his table with a huge smile.

Placing the huge cup down, she giggled.

“ This will help you! And trust me you will find yourself here everyday “ she said with a wink.

“ And here you go! Lemon tea!”

Aman thanked her while his eyes rested gleefully on a flushed ASR.

It was only after she had taken her place back at the counter, that Arnav looked at his cup.There in white cream was a sun drawn with a smile on it.

——

He found himself at the doorstep of Cafe Captain again the next day. He couldn’t risk bringing that bastard with his all knowing gaze ,with him. Especially,when he himself couldn’t understand the helplessness he felt as he remembered her laughter “ And trust me you’ll find yourself here everyday”

Tinkling bells greeted him and he headed straight towards the queue.

Arnav couldn’t take his eyes off her. The excited bobbing of her head, her laugh, the scrunch of her nose when she disagreed with something, and the way her hands moved when she was explaining the merits of glazed sugar cookies. Everything fascinated Arnav. He felt like he was watching a doll come to life.

And when it was his turn, she flashed him a beautiful smile. “ Just go sit!”

That’s all she said to him. And that’s all he needed.

He watched her work. Preparing his cup , taking the small white jug in her dainty hands and placing it on a coaster.

“Here you go!”

Arnav looked down to see a sunflower smiling up from his coffee. He sipped as he watched her work, chatter and flutter around like a butterfly.

He would never admit the disappointment he felt when she didn’t come to talk to him again. He gulped down the last bit of the milky - sugar filled concoction and headed back out.

——

“ Hey!”

Looking up from the cream doodle of a dog, Arnav stared right into Khushi’s eyes.

“ Congratulations!”

“ Um…for what?”

“ You have been coming here daily for the past week, so now you are my regular “, Khushi said with a wink.

“ Thanks, I guess” Arnav hoped his boring drawl seemed perfect to her. Because otherwise she will know how he really felt about her grouping him with all her other “regulars”.

“ What’s your name? “ she asked in such a soft voice that he found himself answering, forgetting the earlier slight.

“ Arnav”

“Arnav” she repeated as if rolling his name on her tongue.

“ So tell me Arnav, what do you do apart from drinking my marvellous coffee?”she said with a cheeky grin.

“ I run AR.”

“ The design house! Oh my god! I love your clothes! “

“ The designers will be glad to hear that”

“ So…you don’t design any of your clothes?”

“ I used to. Lately…I haven’t found the time”

“ That’s a shame. Something so creative should never be given up!”

Arnav looked away. He should have reminded himself why he didn’t date. He didn’t want a lecture on his workaholism. Di was enough for that.

“ Hey…I am sorry. I didn’t mean to touch on a nerve. God knows I haven’t picked up a guitar since school and I want to scratch anyone’s eyes who reminds me!”

Arnav had to smile at that.

“ Guess that makes us alike”

And in the next moment, his breath caught, as Khushi’s cheeks flushed a beautiful pink.

——

Aman tore into his chapati, as Anjali served more aloo-matar onto his plate.

“ Slow down Aman! There’s enough for you to eat till you burst!” Anjali laughed.

Shyam smiled, “ Well, that’s what bachelor life is, isn’t it? Perennially hungry, filling time with cup noodles and coffee! Aman and Arnav, it’s time for both of you to get married.”

“ Speaking of coffee, Arnav does seem ready to be hitched” Aman spoke before stuffing his mouth again, oblivious to Arnav’s glare.

“ Chotte! Who is the girl? When were you going to tell us?”

“ And what is the connection with coffee saale saheb?”

The chair screeched as Arnav pushed it back and stood up, silencing them all.

“ I am done with lunch”

And he walked out, ignoring Anjali’s protests and Aman’s laughter.

That bastard.

As he roamed the streets of New York, Arnav couldn’t help but wonder about Khushi. He was smitten, he had admitted with quite difficulty one evening, when he had been driven mad when he learnt Khushi had taken a leave because she was sick. The next day he brought a basket of apples and a bouquet of lilies for her. Her giggle had been worth the embarrassment he had felt ,when Aman found out what he was planning to do.

But did she like him? He kicked a rock at the curb and exhaled in frustration. She seemed to greet all her customers with the same glee and modify their opinions on sweet treats with as much vigour as she poured the sugar in his coffee.

His only hope was the doodle on his daily coffee. He hadn’t seen her do that to anyone’s cup. The others would just get simple cream hearts.That was a sign wasn’t it?

That’s it. ASR is not so weak that he is brought to his knees by a woman. He will ask her if she’s interested in him. That’s simple. He has tackled million dollar deals with fabric companies, this would be nothing.

———

Arnav swirled the wheel, drove forward and parked, unaware of the light in his eyes as it fell on the brightly lit coffee shop.

He pushed the cafe’s door open, but the sight in front of him made him stop in his tracks.

Khushi had thrown her head back in laughter as a man stood leaning against her counter.

A splinter opened somewhere in his chest as he realised he had never made her laugh like this. He had never made her blush so red. Overwhelmed, Arnav was about to turn back and leave when his eyes caught Khushi’s.

With no choice but to get through the evening, he headed towards his usual table. He didn’t glance at the man again, he couldn’t. He wanted to tear him to pieces. He clenched his trembling hand into a fist.

He looked up at Khushi when she placed his cup down. She was still a beautiful shade of pink. Her smile was soft, her eyes glazing. Before he could say a word, she had moved back towards her counter in a hurry.

Frowning slightly, Arnav glanced down at his coffee. He gulped painfully as he saw bloody hearts on them. So, this new man comes along and he doesn’t get a special doodle. He gets what all her customers get. That’s what he was to her. A douchebag in a suit, who had nothing better to do every evening than sip her coffee.

Arnav shut his eyes, and breathed deeply. He opened them to see that it had begun raining outside. Bloody poetic, he thought. Unable to control the spiralling of his emotions, Arnav stood up in a flash and dashed out of the cafe, his coffee left untouched.

——

His leather shoes splashed against the fallen raindrops as he hurried to get to his car. To get out of this damned place.

He heard footsteps behind him before he heard the shout “ Arnav!”

He turned to see Khushi holding an umbrella above herself and another in her hand. She smiled somewhat hesitatingly, as she extended the umbrella to him.

Rage flooded his being as he stared at the beautiful woman standing before him, a deepening sorrow in him as he was reminded of his one sided love.

“Don’t need it “ he gritted out.

Her eyes widened in shock at his tone.

“ Wha- what happened ?”

“You want to know what happened? I have not been able to function normally ever since I walked into your bloody cafe after my car broke down that god forsaken day! You and your sweet coffee have driven me mad. And here I am, a grown man, waiting for the clock to strike 5 so that I can leave to travel from New York to Hartford. Just to…just to hear you laugh, just to see you smile, just to get a doodle on my coffee. A doodle that’s just mine. And today yo- you are laughing with another man, turning red when he is speaking. And..and doodling just hearts for me! Hearts you do for every other regular of yours.” Arnav burst out, every word hiding his grief.

He stared at Khushi for a moment. A moment in which both of them didn’t even dare to breathe .

Her grip loosened as the umbrellas fell from her hands, she reached him in a few steps, uncaring of the rain soaking her, entwined her hands around his neck and kissed him.

Arnav froze as her warmth permeated his whole being. A rush of joy flooded his brain. But it wasn’t enough. His hands grabbed her waist, tightening in desperation as he deepened the kiss. He tilted her back further as he drank her. A shiver ran through Khushi as she moved her hands to clutch his hair in an almost painful grasp. She pushed his shoulder lightly, as she attempted to break away from the kiss. Arnav kissed the corner of her lips, before kissing down her neck to her collar bones.

“ Arnav! “ Khushi giggled. “ It’s raining pretty heavily, if you haven’t noticed “

He stood looking at her smiling figure. Breaking out of his trance, he grabbed her hand, and began walking to his car.

——

“ Cold na?” Khushi asked with an obvious shiver, as she rubbed her hands together vigorously for some warmth.

Arnav reached into the dashboard, took out a navy blue sweater, which was a size too large for her and without a word dropped it over her head.

She giggled again. Arnav couldn’t help smiling.

He heard her gasp, before he felt her soft hand grabbing his rough one.

“Arnav” she began “ The man I was laughing with was Noah, my sister Lavanya’s boyfriend. He..he was teasing me about…er.. about you. That’s why I was umm turning red” she finished, turning more red than ever before.

His hands turned her face towards him gently. His lips taking hers in a soft kiss.

“Really?” he asked huskily.

“ Really! In fact, I thought you would understand those hearts I drew because I had been drawing something different for you everyday! It had two hearts, Arnav, and they were struck by an arrow. And no, I don’t do this for anyone else” she finished with a pout.

“ I am sorry” he murmured before drawing her into a kiss again. He felt like an addict, he couldn’t get enough of her and he definitely couldn’t leave her tonight.

As she sat, huddled close to him she whispered

“ I love you Arnav”

Tightening his hold on her, he looked down at her lying across his chest. “ I love you too Khushi, more than you can ever imagine “

For now it was enough. It was enough knowing that Arnav was going back to drink the now cold coffee with relish. It was enough knowing that they were going to spend the night in Khushi’s apartment above the cafe. It was enough knowing that two hearts were beating as one.

For now, the rain poured relentlessly , providing them a curtain of privacy as they remained wrapped in each other’s love in the car. Arnav marvelled in the redamancy, as he held the woman he loved in his arms, who loved him.

Tagging: @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @barshifan @andli @shiyaravi @muttonthings @hand-picked-star @msbhagirathi @phuljari @sankititaliya @thenainitaldisaster @thedupattaknowswhatsup @chutkiandchotte @laad-governess @laadgovernors @laadgovernorandsankadevi @leila1 @hi-this-is-permabanned @arshispyaar @minpdnim @thedustyshehnai @bigfatreader @arshiradio @simplycurlz @scorpio-smiles @bengudill

Please let me know if you want to be added/ removed from the tag list ❤️

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Wreck My Plans, That's My Man

A/N: listen. Look at me. Does this make sense? Is it technically logical? No. It's horny vibes only here, and I need you to roll with it. Anyways! This was all inspired by this beautiful piece of art, and then I was enabled and encouraged and basically wrote this whole thing in like 48 hours... Enjoy? NSFW warning!

Read on AO3

“Hey, Nes, have you seen—”

Cassian's voice trails off, and Nesta hears the distinct sound of keys jangling. She rolls her eyes fondly as she goes back to her book, burrowing deeper against the stack of pillows at her back. She doesn't look up, even as she listens to his boots against the hardwood coming closer, even as that familiar scent of smoke and pine washes over her, even as a sweet kiss is pressed to her hair.

Only when she's finished the page does she slide her bookmark into place and tilt her head back, meeting a pair of bright hazel eyes and a wide, soft smile meant only for her. Cassian is dressed in his usual all black show attire, ripped jeans clinging to his thighs and the low cut of his tank showing off the thick muscles of his arms, the wide breadth of his shoulders and chest, the lines of black ink winding across his golden skin.

“I left your pass on the hook by the door,” Cassian explains, scraping his hair back and out of his face before securing it with a hair-tie. “Are you thinking you'll drive? I can make sure they open the lot for you.”

“No, I'll just get an Uber, and then drive home with you after.”

“Perfect.”

Cassian leans down, slotting their lips together, and Nesta practically melts against him, sighing into the kiss. Too soon, he's pulling away, stealing one last peck to her lips before murmuring his goodbyes and heading for the door. Nesta slumps back against the pillows, closing her eyes and giving herself just one more moment. With a soft sigh, she tosses the blanket off her legs and heaves herself up, padding down the hall to their bedroom to shower and start getting ready.

Nesta’s phone dings where it’s sitting on her vanity, letting her know that her Uber driver is approaching. She takes a moment to straighten out her skirt, to tug up the strap of her lacy, red top. She grabs her phone and her purse, rushing toward the front door. Thankfully, her pass really is right where Cassian left it, and it’s easy enough to toss it on, easy enough to tug on her shoes and her leather jacket, zipping it up to fight off the late October chill.

There’s more traffic than Nesta anticipates, and by the time her Uber driver is dropping her off in front of the venue, they’ve already opened the doors, the queue shuffling forward and people moving about the sidewalk with excitement. It still blows Nesta’s mind seeing the way the queue stretches all the way down the block and around the corner, seeing all these people in tour shirts and with wide grins, all to see the Bat Boys.

“Excuse me,” Nesta says to one of the venue workers directing people. “Which way is the stage door?”

The worker turns his attention to her fully, not even hiding the way he sweeps his eyes over her. When his gaze raises to her eyes again, his face is unimpressed, and he lets out a near derisive snort. “Nice try. Keep dreaming those Wattpad dreams.”

Nesta doesn’t bother biting back her scowl or her eyeroll, practically glaring daggers at the worker as he turns away.

“Guess I’ll find it myself,” she mutters to herself, weaving her way toward the side of the venue building.

“Oh my gosh! Imagine if Cassian points right at you tonight!”

The words give Nesta pause, and she turns to find a couple of girls in the queue. They have their hair and makeup done up, one clad jeans and the other in a short, leather skirt. And both of them have handmade, matching tees declaring ‘Cassian’s Future Wife.’

It had started as a bit. Cassian had informed Nesta that he would be dedicating a song to her on their last tour, a sweet more acoustic number he had penned himself, but when he introduced it to the crowd, he’d instead declared it was for his future wife. Nesta had been pink the entire rest of the night, cheeks and ears burning, but the reaction only seemed to spur Cassian on until he was making the same announcement every night, every show where she was in the audience.

“Imagine if he pulls me out of the crowd and invites me back to his place after the show,” the girl in the skirt offers to her friend.

“Once he sees you, he totally would.”

“I bet he’s amazing in bed too. He’d rock my world, and then I’d be like no need to look any further. You found your future wife.”

The girls laugh and practically squeal in agreement, but Nesta has to swallow down a scoff. She doesn’t know why the conversation scrapes across her skin, why it grates against her nerves. She knows that Cassian and his brothers have a large female following for their band. She knows that she’s the one who asked to keep their relationship more private. She knows that it’s their bed he comes home to each night, that she’s the one he wakes with soft kisses and quiet good mornings, that she gets the ‘I love you’s and the smiles just for her.

But there’s no denying the anger that starts to lick through Nesta’s veins, fire crackling and flaring beneath her skin. There’s no denying the annoyance that twists through her stomach, tightening like vines in her chest. It takes everything within her to bite her tongue around the words she wants to sneer, instead shouldering past the girls and through the crowds to continue her trek toward the side of the building.

When she reaches the back of the building, she spots Cassian's truck in the lot. The pair of stagehands smoking and the big, burly security guard standing near an otherwise nondescript metal door let her know she's found what she's looking for. She unzips her jacket enough that she can pull free her pass, flashing it, but rather than letting her in, the security guard holds out his arm to stop her. His eyes narrow suspiciously, sweeping over her and squinting at her pass.

It has Nesta's anger burning into full-blown rage, into a living, writhing thing that digs its claws into her chest and begs to be released. Her boyfriend is in there. Her boyfriend. And she won't have these people looking at her like she's just some groupie. Won't have these girls thinking they're going home with Cassian.

She's about to give in to the fire, to give in to the cool words poised and ready on the tip of her tongue, when the stage door swings open. Nesta just barely steps back in time before Balthazar goes barreling into her, and she watches as the photographer all but runs to where his SUV is parked, rooting around in his back seat. He jogs back toward the door, pausing when he realizes who's standing there.

“Hey, Nesta,” Balthazar greets with an easy grin, holding up the small case now in his hands. “Need a new SD card already.”

“You know her?” the security guard asks.

Balthazar lets out a quiet laugh. “Seriously?”

He doesn't say anything more, merely shakes his head and vanishes back inside, but at least it's enough to have the security guard look sheepish. At least, he holds the door open and finally allows Nesta to step inside. The steady thrum of bass and drums pulses beneath Nesta's feet, a raspy, feminine voice floating on the air to her, and she knows that the supporting act has already gone on and started the show.

With determined steps, Nesta weaves her way around stagehands and equipment, making her way toward the back of the stage. She slips behind the black curtain splitting the stage in two and hiding the Bat Boys' setup until it's their time, finding Cassian right where she expects him: sitting at his drum kit, casually twirling a drumstick between his fingers while he nods along to the band playing in front of the curtain. Nesta doesn't know if he hears or if he's just always able to sense where she is in a room, but his eyes snap to hers in an instant, that slow, soft grin tugging its way across his face.

“I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up,” Cassian teases lightly when she's close enough.

“I just had to deal with a bunch of shit,” Nesta grumbles, dropping her purse to the ground.

Because she can, she tosses her leg over Cassian's own, straddling his hips. The seat is small but she makes it work, pressing close to him and looping her arms across his shoulders. Cassian's own hands find her hips with ease, holding her steady.

“What kind of shit?”

“Just stupid people.”

Cassian hums, dropping his head so his forehead rests against her collarbones, his thumbs tracing soothing circles against her hip bones. “At least you're here now.”

Nesta hums her own agreement, trying to let the feel of him pressed against her soothe her still sparking nerves. She reaches a hand up, tugging free the hair-tie from Cassian's hair and slipping it onto her wrist for safe keeping. She runs her fingers through the dark, curly strands, scraping her nails against his scalp in the way she knows he loves.

“I had to deal with getting past your little fan club,” Nesta continues, pressing a bit harder with her nails until she feels Cassian sigh against her.

“What can I say? I'm an expert at stealing hearts,” Cassian offers, his voice muffled against her skin, as his hands slide down to the backs of her thighs, teasing just beneath the hem of her skirt.

“There's even a group of girls in the audience with shirts that say 'Cassian's future wife.'”

Cassian pulls his head back, his eyes practically glinting even in the low light of this part of the stage. “Are there?”

Nesta yanks hard on his hair, tugging his head back enough that his entire throat is on display for her. It gives her the perfect view for the way he swallows hard, the way his eyelashes flutter around his darkening hazel eyes.

“But they don't stand a chance, do they?” Nesta snaps, her tone cold and demanding.

Cassian's already shaking his head despite her grip, his expression dazed, before she even finishes speaking. “Not a chance in hell, sweetheart. No one compares to you.”

“Because you're all mine, aren't you?”

“All yours,” Cassian groans, his hips bucking up against her own, pressing his growing hardness against her ass. “Fuck, you're so hot, baby.”

“And you're going to prove it.” It's a statement, not a question, nor a request, and Nesta grinds and circles her hips down against him, chasing the friction, the heat already building between her thighs.

Cassian's hands tighten, sliding further up until he's grasping her ass fully beneath her skirt. “I'll do whatever you want me to.”

“That's what I like to hear,” Nesta tells him, dragging her nail down his temple and cheek and relishing in the full body shudder that takes over Cassian's body. “You're going to touch me, make me come, and then I'm going to fuck you until I'm the only thing you'll think about for the rest of the night, until no other woman will be able to get close to you without smelling sex and my perfume all over you.”

“We only have forty minutes until the show.”

“Better hurry then.”

Rather than let Cassian say anything more, Nesta crashes her mouth against his, nipping and biting at his lips and pressing her tongue into his mouth. Cassian groans as he kisses her back just as hungrily, using his grip on her to move and rock their hips together. One of his hands reaches between them, sliding two fingers over her still clothed center, and Nesta has to pull back to gasp, her hips stuttering at the pressure.

“Fuck, I love how you're always so wet for me,” Cassian whispers against her lips, tracing a teasing circle across her clit. “Absolutely soaked, sweetheart.”

“Less talking, more following directions,” Nesta chastises, canting her hips more firmly against his hand. “We're on a time limit, remember?”

Cassian hums his agreement, slotting their lips back together. At the same moment, he tugs her panties to the side, wasting no time and sinking two fingers inside her. Nesta practically whimpers into his mouth at the stretch, a sound Cassian greedily swallows. He holds his fingers still, and Nesta clenches down around them, hoping to encourage him to move.

“Cassian,” Nesta whines high in the back of her throat, trying to shift her hips against him.

But Cassian uses his free hand to hold her firmly in place, to hold her still against him. He slowly pulls his fingers out, dragging against her walls, before pressing them deep again, just as slow.

“You're just as much mine, you know,” Cassian breathes hotly, repeating the same motion. “You think I don't see every guy and girl staring at you every time we go out?”

“I don't even notice them,” Nesta promises, sliding her hands down to Cassian's shoulders and digging her nails into the skin there. “Besides, at least none of them think they're going to be my future spouse.”

“I bet they want to be.”

“I bet they want to see what I look like when I come too. Maybe, I should ask them to help me instead, since you'd clearly rather take your sweet time.”

Cassian growls, curling his fingers, and Nesta knows that she's won. He starts to work his fingers in earnest, pressing in deep and hard the way he knows she loves. When his thumb joins in, pressing at her clit in tandem, Nesta slumps forward against him. She drops her forehead to his shoulder and bites hard at her bottom lip to quiet the moans and whimpers threatening to spill from her throat. Already, her blood sings, pleasure firing from her every nerve ending, and it's all focused where Cassian's fingers sink into her over and over again.

“Is this what you want, Nes?” He whispers right against her ear. “Is this how I prove it to you?”

“Yes. Fuck, don't stop,” Nesta gasps, turning her head enough that she can dig her teeth into his pulse point, sucking the skin between her lips until she's sure she left a mark.

Cassian's fingers stutter for a moment, and Nesta feels more than she hears the groan trapped in his throat. But since the moment she met him, Cassian has never backed down from a challenge, never allowed himself to be out done. And Nesta has never been more thankful. He squeezes in a third finger, curling all three and pressing against her clit, Nesta's whole body lighting up at the sensation.

He plays her body the way nobody else can, the way that only comes from learning each other's bodies over the years. Every slide, every curl, every press of his fingers sends Nesta cresting higher and higher. Heat pools low in her gut, her whole body tightening and pulling taut as her cunt flutters around Cassian's fingers.

“Come for me, baby. I can feel you're close. Be my good girl and come all over my fingers.”

The praise is all Nesta needs to go crashing head first through her orgasm. She bites at Cassian's shoulder to keep quiet, clenching hard and practically shaking against him. Cassian continues to work her through it, his fingers unrelenting and dragging her orgasm out.

Only when Nesta reaches down and squeezes his wrist, the overstimulation too much, does Cassian slip his fingers free. He brings his hand up to his face, sticking his tongue out and lapping at the pads of his fingers with a soft groan. Nesta is quick to grab his wrist, guiding his hand closer and sucking his fingers into her own mouth. She keeps her eyes on his, not breaking eye contact as she slowly glides and swirls her tongue over each digit.

“Fuck,” Cassian mutters, his hips bucking up as if of their own accord.

The movement reminds Nesta of what's still to come, of the hard length practically waiting for her. It has her blood heating again already, has her feeling empty and clenching around nothing. She pulls her mouth away with a quiet pop, reaching her hands eagerly toward his belt.

“I need you,” Nesta whines, all but yanking the button open and tugging Cassian's jeans and boxers down enough that she can free his cock.

She fists it tightly in her grip, squeezing at the base before sliding her hand up and down, spreading the precum already weeping from the tip. It takes some awkward maneuvering on the too small seat, but Nesta is able to raise herself up enough that she can line him up with her entrance, that she can sink down. No matter how many times they do this, Nesta doesn't think she'll ever get used to the feel of him, the stretch. There's no biting back her moan once he's finally seated to the hilt.

“Mother, save me,” Cassian groans, clearly just as affected. “You take me so well, baby. Nothing feels like you.”

“That's right,” Nesta tells him, clenching around him. “No other cunt will ever squeeze you like this.”

“Good.” Cassian buries a hand in her hair and kisses her hard, tugging her bottom lip between his teeth. “Because no other cock can fill you like mine can.”

Despite Nesta's words earlier, her promise to fuck him until she's all he thinks about, it's Cassian that takes control. His hands grip her hips, guiding her up and down his cock, while he uses his planted feet to thrust up into her hard and fast. Nesta loves it. She loves the way he presses deep with every slap of their hips together. She loves the way she knows she'll have bruises for days across her hip bones.

She buries her hands in Cassian's hair and slams their mouths back together, breathing every moan and whimper past his lips and swallowing his every answering groan. Every snap of his hips, every drag of his cock has Nesta's toes curling in her shoes. Her cunt flutters and clenches around him, desperate to pull him in deeper, to keep him here right where he belongs, keeping her full and stretched.

She knows Cassian is close from the way his hips start to stutter, so she drops a hand between their bodies, finding her clit with ease and working it in time with their movements. It's almost too much. The sensation and feel of their bodies coming together. The sight of Cassian with a flush clinging to his cheeks, with his hazel eyes nearly swallowed whole by his blown out pupils, with his hair a mess from her fingers. He's beautiful and he's hers, and she can feel herself teetering closer and closer to that ledge.

“Come on, Nes,” Cassian pants, pressing their forehead together. “Ladies first. Want to feel you squeezing me. Want to be drenched with you. Come all over my cock.”

Like a marionette on his strings, Nesta's body gives in to his request. She comes hard enough that spots dance in her vision, and she just barely has the foresight to press her free hand to her mouth, biting into her palm to quiet her shout.

Cassian's hips are unrelenting as he chases his own high, as is his still rambling mouth. “That's my good girl. That's it, baby. Fuck, you're so fucking beautiful.”

A few more thrusts, and Cassian buries his face against Nesta's shoulder and groans her name. He practically shakes as he finds his own release, hips still moving shallowly as he spills inside her.

Nesta slumps forward against his chest with a blissful sigh, her body wrung out in the best way. Cassian's arms curl tight around her, holding her close to him, and he turns his head enough that he can press a kiss into her hair.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” Cassian murmurs against her hair. “You should get jealous over crazy fangirls more often.”

Nesta rolls her eyes at the comment, nipping at his skin in retaliation. She sits up enough that she can reach over and grab her discarded purse on the floor, rooting around until she finds the tube of lipstick buried there. She makes quick work swiping the bright red color across her lips, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Cassian's chest, right above the neckline of his tank, right above his heart.

She tilts her head and hums appreciatively, admiring her work, but then Cassian's hands are sliding along her jaw, cradling her face and pulling her into a deep, languid kiss. When they break apart, his mouth is smeared with red. Nesta drags her thumb across his lips to try and help, but it only seems to make it worse, only seems to further emphasize the swollen and kiss-bitten state of them.

“Sorry,” Nesta offers with a wince. “We seem to have made a mess.”

“Good,” Cassian tells her, not even bothering to bite back his smirk.

“You are insufferable.”

“Says the woman still sitting on my cock.”

Nesta scoffs, but she shifts off his lap and to her feet, keeping her thighs pressed tightly together until they can get to the bathroom and clean up properly. It's a slow and awkward walk, especially with Cassian all but plastered along her back, unable to let her go just yet.

When they step out of the bathroom, his brothers are already there and waiting. Between the disheveled state of Cassian's hair and clothes, the lipstick stains and nail marks on his skin, and his wide, shit eating grin, there's no mistaking what happened. Nesta awkwardly clears her throat, tucking a strand of hair that came loose back behind her ear.

“I don't even want to know,” Rhysand mutters. “But we're on, so let's go.”

Cassian leans down, pressing one last kiss to Nesta's cheek. “Stay backstage tonight.”

Nesta frowns at the strange request. She and Feyre always claim one of the balcony boxes for their shows. “Why?”

“Just stay backstage,” is all Cassian offers as he backs away toward the stage lights, toward the screaming fans beyond.

A wink in her direction and he spins around, jogging the rest of the way onto the stage. Nesta can do nothing but continue to frown in confusion, nothing but watch as Cassian and his brothers play the opening song of their set. Only when there's a quiet, surprised laugh from her left does Nesta finally pull her attention away, finding Feyre now standing beside her. At Nesta's questioning look, Feyre holds out her phone, showing off the tweet she has pulled up. It's a photo, clearly taken from the audience, zoomed in and cropped so it shows Cassian behind his drum kit.

To whoever fucked this man's brains out before the concert, I want to say thank you for this look, but also I wish that was ME!!!

The replies to the tweet aren't much better, and already Nesta can feel heat creeping up her neck and threatening to spill across her cheeks.

Hate to see someone else living MY dream

Someone get the FBI on the phone to analyze and find the owner of that lipstick mark! Whose lips are those?

Wordlessly, Nesta hands Feyre's phone back to her, keeping her focus on the stage, on the Bat Boys as they continue their set. It's not long before Nesta knows what song is coming next, her eyes automatically snapping to Cassian's in anticipation, but for once, he pulls his microphone free from its stand and stands up, stepping out from behind his drum kit.

“Velaris, how are we doing tonight?” Cassian greets, earning an echo of screams in response. “Now, you may not know this, but this venue holds a very special place in my heart. You see, a few years back we played here, opening for a little band you might know called The Band of Exiles.”

More screams from the audience at that mention. It has Nesta shaking her head fondly. She still remembers that night, remembers Feyre dragging her and Elain along to see her old school friend's Lucien's band. One night and now all three of them are with musicians. Nesta is sure if their mother was still alive, she'd hate it.

“Great show,” Rhysand comments idly into his own microphone.

“Great tour,” Cassian agrees with a nod. “But you see, what really made that night special was that there was someone in the audience. Someone I wrote this next song about. Someone who for once isn't in the audience but backstage.”

Cassian gestures with his arm to where Nesta's standing, and she can do nothing but stare in shock. She feels like a deer in headlights, her eyes wide and jaw slackened, as Cassian gestures for her with his head. A hard shove in the back from Feyre has Nesta stumbling forward out onto the stage and bright lights.

“What are you doing?” Nesta seethes quietly, walking over to Cassian awkwardly.

“Just remember, Nes,” Cassian tells her, holding a hand over his microphone so it won't pick up their voices. “If you kill me, you'd miss me too much.”

“Cassian.”

“Nesta, I love you so much, it clearly makes me stupid,” Cassian begins, speaking into his microphone again. “It makes me want to shout it from the rooftops, but I suppose this is the next best thing. Since the day that I met you, I knew that you were it for me, that you were going to be my future wife, but what do you say we make it official?” There's no stopping Nesta's gasp as Cassian drops to one knee. “Nesta Archeron, will you marry me?”

In that moment, everything else fades away, the stage, the band, the lights, the crowd. All there is Cassian. Cassian with his bright hazel eyes and his warm, easy laugh. Cassian with his teasing remarks and a fire to twine and match with her own. Cassian with his quiet comfort and the strength and safety in his embrace. Cassian who looked at her nicked and bruised heart and told her it was perfect. Cassian who carved out a place in his chest for her just as surely as she did for him.

“Yes,” Nesta somehow pushes out around the emotions clogging her throat, around the tears prickling in her eyes.

Cassian's answering grin is radiant. He slides the ring onto Nesta's finger, jumping to his feet and pulling her into a kiss. The crowd erupting into loud cheers around them pulls Nesta firmly back to the present. She tries to slip away backstage again, but Cassian catches her hand in his, tugging her to his drum kit and onto his lap, her back pressed firmly to his chest.

“This next song,” Cassian announces into his microphone, picking up his drumsticks again. “Is dedicated to my wife!”

Thankfully, Nesta is able to scurry away after the song. She's pulled into a bone crushing hug by Feyre as soon as she steps backstage, a squealing Elain on FaceTime from whatever city she and Lucien are in today. Various members of the crew offer their own congratulations, Balthazar promising he got some great photos of the whole thing, and Nesta thanks them all quietly. Her heart still pounds between her ribs, the anxiety of being on the stage still swirling in her gut, but as she looks at the ring now glinting on her finger, there’s no fighting the smile that tugs up her lips. No denying the happiness bubbling within her at the future now before her. No denying the warmth that blooms in her chest, tying as securely around her heart as a golden thread.

Nesta lets out a squeal of surprise when strong arms wrapped around her waist suddenly, spinning her around and walking her back until her back is pressed against the wall. Cassian’s eyes are especially bright, sweat still clinging to his face and his skin from their set, further smearing the lipstick stains she left on him.

“Hello, wife,” Cassian greets with a wide grin, caging her in and leaning down and brushing his nose against hers.

“You know just because you proposed, that doesn't actually mean we're married yet.”

“Semantics.”

Nesta rolls her eyes fondly, even as she slips her own arms around Cassian’s waist, keeping him pressed close. “And how long have you been planning this?”

“Like a month? Maybe two?” Cassian offers, shrugging easily.

“And yet you didn't want to stop me when I was being mean earlier?”

“I love it when you're mean,” Cassian tells her, his hands reaching up between them to cradle her jaw. He tilts her face up to him, kissing her sweetly. “I can’t wait for you to be mean to me for the rest of our lives.”

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy

[asteiioss]

Hello all!! This post is dedicated to my newly started fanfic that I have been preparing for the past several months. It can be found on Wattpad on my profile, but you can just click here .

Down below, I will add one random chapter of the fic, just so you can read a little bit of it. But, of course, I would appreciate it if you could go and support my full work :).

Pairing: Spencer x fem!oc

Warnings: mentions of crime, crime scenes, fluff, a little bit of swearing here and there. no use of y/n, the oc has her own name!

Content: The bau is called in for another case. Spencer and OC have feelings for each other but don't want to accept it, even if it's horrifically obvious. After the unsettling case, Spencer tries to calm OC and help her relax her mind.

Word Count: 3.6k

PLEASE KNOW THAT I NAMED THE OC SINCE HER NAME IS USED IN THE FANFIC. Harper White :)

"Holy shit, what did you do?" my mouth fell open at the sight of him. Not him. His hair. Or... well... the lack of it.

"What do you mean?" Spencer looked confused as he sat at his desk.

"Where are the curls? Where did they go?" Garcia came rushing in after my loud gasp.

"Did you join a boy band?" Hotch walked by, his eyes stuck to the obviousness in the room.

"No, what the hell is wrong with you, I got a haircut!" Now he just asked bluntly.

"You look like a twelve-year-old." I leaned onto my desk that was opposite of him, making direct eye contact with him.

"Is it that bad?" he brushed his hair with his fingers. His hands.

"No, Spence!" I felt bad now. "Jokes aside, I actually think you look... cute." I smiled slightly, trying to compliment him. "I think we were all just very used to your curls. I even sometimes imagined you with tied up hair, maybe a bun?" I looked over at Emily.

"Holy shit, do you know how many girls you could pull with that look?" she said excitedly.

"Not that pretty boy would want anyone aside our princess here." Derek came into the office holding his coffee and giving me the look I knew all too well.

"Fuck you." I spat at him with a grin, watching him as he passed by and sitting down at his desk.

"You know you love me." he teased as he sat down behind me.

"Hey, guys, we got a new one." JJ called and like on queue, we all got up and made our way to the conference room.

"Harp, did you really mean it?" Spencer stopped me.

He stopped me by taking my hand. I turned around to face him, and he had this genuine look on his face.

"Spence, we were just joking. You look really good. I like this new boyish look." I said and drove my hand through his now short hair, still the front pieces were. "Change can be good sometimes."

Now, I don't know what came over me, but, without hesitation, I lowered my hand down to the tip of his tie and pulled him by it to get him down to my height and just placed a small peck on his cheek. I think he was surprised as I was because we just looked at each other. I smiled and quickly turned on my heel and continued walking to the conference room, even though I could hardly feel my legs.

We entered, he came in after me and we sat down around the table, waiting for the briefing. I opened the case file that was presented in front of me and looked at the young woman. She couldn't have been much younger than me. In my few years that I've worked here, I often find female victims to be my age. The "mid to late 20s" is a phrase I get shivery from. Brunettes, pretty, young, successful...

"I saw that." Emily's quiet voice snapped me back inti the room.

"Sorry, what?" I looked up from the papers.

"That little stunt just now. I saw that." she smirked, and it hit me what she was talking about.

"Oh, God. Emily!" I tried to brush it off. "Don't make a big deal out of this."

"What's a big deal?" Rossi came in and passed the two of us, taking his seat next to Emily.

"I just witnessed the first ever White x Reid cheek kiss." she made that lovey dovey sound she always does. I rolled my eyes, but Rossi got into character as he looked at Emily, almost excited.

"You're kidding?" he waited before Emily shook her head 'no'. "About time. I was getting sick of those random weird hugs they exchanged."

"I get you, I had the urge to push them together the other day." Derek jumped in.

"I don't want to hear it from you, shit-face." I pointed my finger at him.

They all laughed, but Spencer just smiled to himself. His cheeks took up the bright pink color. For years now, everyone is telling us that it's obvious we like each other, but we just say that it's not true. But it's deadly obvious. We just don't want to admit it. Nor to each other but maybe not to our selves either. The friendship we have is great. Who would want to ruin something like that? Why risk losing someone like Spencer over a stupid crush.

It's just a crush.

"Okay, so we got a woman in her min 20s, in Boise, Idaho. Reported missing. It looks like it's a pattern between these two other missing victims with the same M.O." JJ clicked her remote and showed us the pictures of two other women. "All three kidnaps are almost exactly two months apart. As much as we gathered, the women were reported missing only three days after they were abducted."

"So wait, this guy keeps them for almost three days? What does he do with them?" I asked.

"That's what we are hoping to find out after going to the scenes." Hotch said.

"It looks like they had their lives pretty straight up. All of them in relationships, secure jobs..." Derek flipped through the files as he talked.

"Normal suburban streets, gives the UnSub privacy." Rossi added.

"The victims are quite different, their appearances are. Different hair color, different body shape..." Spencer continued.

"No signs of struggle or forced entry in either of these cases." I pointed out.

"Women like this don't just vanish." Rossi spoke up again.

"Exactly, which is why Garcia did her digging magic and found out about their lives." JJ said and pointed to our tech girl.

"There isn't much to say but that it was obvious how the UnSub was doing it. Their online lives are extremely open and public. Online-life-sharing shit, sorry for the expression, but they were everywhere. Facebook, Twitter, you name it." she said as she pulled up a post from the last victim with the date three days prior to the abduction. "This was the last post from our numero uno, and it matches very much with the other posts on our other victims' wall. Going on a vacation, going on a business trip, but looking at the time stamps, they were posted a day before they went missing."

"The UnSub posted them?" Hotch realized.

"This is like a guide of 'how to know where I'm at if you want to find me' for serial killers. Social networking sites are a goddamn goldmine for this kind of information." I said, almost looking sadly at their posts. It was like a call-up for these kind of people.

"I agree. Especially these women, they posted everything, from what they were having for dinner to where they were going on dates." Spencer confirmed my thought.

"If the UnSub hacked into their accounts to post these, he probably knows around computers. He could be really smart." Emily said.

"He's also patient. Two months between each of these, then again he gets three days to do what he wants with them." Rossi looked back at the files.

"Which means that these women could already be dead. We need to find out what he does in those three days and get this son of a bitch before he can continue his work." Hotch stopped to look at us. "Wheels up in thirty."

***

I tried to reach up to the small space for my bag above my seat in the jet but struggled to get the bag inside. It didn't help that I was short, but the bag was very overpacked, and it almost fell on my head. I closed my eyes, expecting a thud on my head, but instead, I felt the relief of its weight on my hands. I looked up to see two hands holding the bag and Spencer standing next to me.

"You need help?" he asked, looking down at me.

"No?" I tried to save the little pride I had left.

"You sure about that?" he smirked, still looking down at me.

Still holding my hands up, head down, him holding my bag, I couldn't say 'yes'. "No?" the words came out almost like a squeal.

He giggled, and finally pushed the bag up into the small space and closed it. "What did you put in there? I only have a small bag for these kind of things."

"That's because you are a man, Spence. I, on the other hand, am a young woman who needs many things for a undefined period of time away from home." I dusted off my jacked, not that it was dusty, but I needed to look down because I could feel my cheeks burning up.

I didn't realize till now how close he was.

He smelt like coffee.

"Uh, listen about the thing this morning I didn't-" I started hoping this conversation could end quickly. But I guess he had other plans.

"Why did you do that?" he asked and looked down at me again.

I didn't have a choice but look back up at him. His hazel eyes were almost wide open, but he had a scent of mystery in them. Why did he want to know? "What do you mean?"

His gaze was going up and down from my eyes, then from one to the other. What was he looking at?

"Why did you do it?" he almost repeated his question.

I couldn't stop looking at him. I wanted to. I could feel shivers going down my spine.

Was he getting closer?

"I-uh... I don't know..." I almost whispered.

He was getting closer.

"I think you do." he whispered back, his hands in his pockets, but he was slowly, almost insensibly inching his head downwards to me.

I tried to back up, because I couldn't handle him being so close. But when I tried to back up, my knees met with the chairs and I fell down on them, him following me. A small yelp escaped my lips before I crashed with the cushions beneath me. After a second , I realized his hands were on the sides of my head and he was inches away from me. I stared blankly into his face, but his eyes were traveling again up and down my face. I guess my eyes copied his pattern and I realized what he was looking.

He was looking at my lips.

"I'm sorry I-" he started, finally. The silence was choking me.

"No, I-" I stuttered. "It's okay..."

"Here, let me help you." he said and pushed himself up. Holding the table with one hand, he reached with the other to pull me up. I guess he underestimated how light I was when he pulled me, making me fly up and bumping into his chest.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I-" I quickly apologized.

"No, this is on me and-" he stopped.

I looked up at him only to see him staring at something on my face. "What?"

"You, uh-" he stuttered. "Your lipstick got smudged a little."

Crap. "Oh, here?" I brushed on the tip of my lips.

"No, it's still there, just here." he tried pointing at his face, mirroring where the smudge was.

I wiped again. "Better?"

He made a frowning face. "No, it's- " he sighed, "You know what, let me just-"

Cue 'Careless whisper'.

He raised up his hand only to cup my chin with his long fingers. They were warm. His touch was warm. He swiped on the bottom line of my lips. My lower lip moved with his swipe and all I could do was feel the sensation of his touch. He looked back up at me, but even after he got rid of the smudge on my lips, he didn't move his hand. I don't think I wanted him to..

"Hey, sorry we're late, I forgot where I put my deodorant." Emily's voice made us both abruptly step back. The, now, lack of his touch left a weird cold on my face.

"I already told you, it's no big deal." Derek added as he came in with his bag behind her.

"Maybe for you, but we ladies need that. It's a necessity." JJ came in next.

"I got those natural scents. No need for those chemical ones." Derek laughed and placed his bag next to mine in the compartment above our seats.

"Ew..." I muttered after letting him take the window seat. "I'm not sure I want to sit next to you anymore."

"I'll spray perfume on him, so he smells like flowers." JJ joked, and the three of us laughed while Derek frowned.

"Hey, how did you get you bag up there?" he turned to me and asked, pointing above his head.

"I helped her, she was struggling with it since it was pretty heavy." Spencer said as he sat next to Emily opposite from us.

"That's it, pretty boy. You gotta be a gentleman." he mouthed those last words while swinging in his seat.

"You can really be a lot sometimes." Emily gave him a deathly glare, to which he only laughed more.

I, too, laughed. Rossi and Hotch came in and gave us the files to look over again while we fly. The plane soon took off. Looking down at the now familiar pictures, I wondered about their families and what waited for us when we arrive. I looked at Spencer through my eyebrows, only to catch him looking back at me. He quickly looked back down at his file, a small smile curving on his lips. I smiled to myself.

"How can someone be interested in this?" Rossi asked, a look of confusion on his face.

"What do you mean?" Emily asked.

"Their social network walls. Who has the need to share these things with the world, just look at this. 'Having sushi for dinner. Yum.' 'My boss is making me stay in the office late again. Grr.'

We all laughed as he read those status updates. It was funny how people nowadays had the need to put their life out there.

"I think that's just it. The hope that someone out there cares about the things we do, that we do matter." Derek said after he stopped laughing.

"So our UnSub is finding these women on their online profiles. Can't we use that to find him?" Emily asked.

"The lead detective already tried going through their followers lists, they all check out." JJ answered her.

"Social networks can be extremely insecure. Recently, Facebook tried to update their privacy settings and in doing so made every profile viewable." Spencer said and pressed his lips together.

"Do you have a Facebook profile?" JJ asked me.

"God, no. I run away from social media." I replied. "But even if I did, my first status update would be 'Enjoying Rossi's special spaghetti dish. Yum.' " We all laughed again.

"This does tell us how he finds them, but not how he gets into their houses." Hotch said, bringing us back to the brutal reality of this situation.

"Maybe a key copy?" Rossi asked.

"Maybe, but look, the last victim had a home security installed. The code was entered at 1:56am, not only that, but he somehow went past her dog too." Spencer read from the files. "A German Shepard went missing the night that she did."

"This guy had to be in and out of the house before..." Derek said. "He builds up a rose so he gets in, gets familiar with the house and knows he can safely come back and kidnap them."

"What about unknown people you feel safe letting inside your home?" Rossi continued his thought. "Home repair guys, someone who volunteered to walk your dog?"

"The detective looked into that too, no one came close to being a killer." JJ added to our brainstorm.

"We need to go over everything ourselves. Morgan, Prentiss, start with the last abduction sight. The rest of you go over the women's lives, see if you can find anything. Start with family and friends on their social networking sites. If this is how the UnSub is finding them, maybe they are connected without even realizing it." Hotch gave the orders, we were only left to nod.

***

It was a twisted case. We lost another woman in the process. The bastard kept them in a freezer. A fucking freezer. Just because they had this specific face symmetry. Even after years working in this department, I still find myself questioning how can people be so wicked and evil. The worst part is the way we find them. We might not be like them but we sure as hell know to think like them. Does that make us that much different?

I stared at the endless sky outside my window. It was almost night-time, so watching the sun go down was majestic. The colorful clouds flew around, the sun slowly hid behind them. On the other hand, Derek was snoring on the small sofa in the back of the jet. Rossi and Hotch were reading something on the other part, JJ and Emily were sleeping in their chairs next to me. Spencer was sitting across from me reading one of his books, quickly shifting through the pages.

My mind was still foggy. I tried to clear my mind and think about anything else other than the twisted ways the human mind could work sometimes. I stood up, trying to reach for my bag up in the compartment above my seats. I tried to stretch up to it, but it was too high up.

I fucking hate being short.

"Do you need help?" Spencer asked quietly.

"If you don't mind. I just wanted to take out my headphones, I forgot to take them out earlier." I explained.

"No, it's no problem. Here-" he said and got up from his seat. He opened the small space and pulled out my bag. I took it from him and took my mp3 player and headphones before giving the bag back to him to put it back up. He closed the small space and sat back down in his seat. "You okay?" he asked while picking up his book.

"Yeah, why?" I looked at him, a bit weirded out by his question while I connected the headphones to the player and tried to find one of the songs that I use to calm down."

"It's just, most of the time that you listen to music on out flight back home is after a pretty traumatic case. Not just that but emotionally exhausting. Also, when the victims are similar to you, their age, their lives, they are almost identical to the life you have, and the worst part is that those groups of women are the most targeted. When you don't want to think, you play music. You try to zone out with it." he explained. "So, I guess that's why I'm asking if you're okay. I think you're not."

I looked at him, almost frozen. He said everything. What else was there to say? Sometimes, I hated that he could read me with such ease. I put the player and headphones beside me and lean on the table that separated us. "You're right. I'm not okay." I sigh and brush my face with my hands. They were cold. I support my head with my hands, fingers intertwined with each other. "What he said to Emily. It's still bugging me. You will never understand what I see when I look at them. But my followers do." I recited his words. "It was their faces, but why? What was so special about them?"

Spencer thought about my words. "Well, it could be multiple things. A reflection of himself, someone in his life, someone he wished to have or to be."

"But why? What if my face was similar to theirs? Would I be next?"

"Your face isn't like theirs."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I raised an eyebrow.

"No-no, I didn't mean it like that. I meant that your symmetry of your face isn't like the victims face. I didn't mean to say your face wasn't nice, I think your face is beautiful. Not beautiful, pretty, just- uh, good-looking is what I'm trying to say." he stuttered.

I smiled at his clumsy words. He's cheeks again started turning into a shade of pink. "I think your face is good-looking, too."

I took the player back into my hands to find a song that now I was determined to listen. It was in my head and I needed to listen to it. "What are you gonna listen to?" he asked.

"I have this song in my head, I think I'll start with it and then just go with shuffle. The playlist is good so I don't mind what comes after." I said, not looking up from the small screen.

"Really? What's the song?"

" '74-'75' "

"I don't think I heard it."

"Do you want to listen to it with me?" I asked, finally able to find the song and looking back up at him.

"You sure? I don't want to mess with your time listening to music that calms you."

"Of course, I'm sure. Come here." I patted the seat next to me.

He smiled and got up to sit next to me. I gave him one of the headphones. "Right." and I put in the left one. I started the song and looked up at him. The opening course was a guitar solo, which I always loved in songs. He smiled back at me, bobbing his head slightly in the rhythm. After that approvement, I relaxed my head on the cushion on the back of my seat, trying to relax. Maybe even sleep.

[slafkovskys]

OK THOSE PROMPTS SOUND PERFECT FOR RUTGER pls consider it requested by yours truly…i mean the friend that was asking ha

warnings: minor language, suggestive material under the cut

“what’s the password?” you call out after three knocks sound against your bedroom door, tightening the strings of your bikini bottoms against your side. you quirk an eyebrow at the lack of response, a smirk playing at your lips, “no password, no entry.”

“oh, um,” there’s a thump on the other side of the wall and you can only guess that rutger had slumped his weight against your closed door, “i- uh- starburst?”

you cross the room and allow him to slip inside before closing the door again. you throw your arms gently over his shoulders and his hands come to rest on your hips, “now, i don’t remember telling you that little secret…”

“your brother mentioned it awhile back and i may have stored it in endearing things about you,” he mumbles as his fingers pull at the ties of your bikini bottoms, “why do i need to use it? i’m not a stranger.”

“that’s exactly why you need to use it, honey, because about thirty seconds before you knocked, i was topless and don’t really want just anyone seeing my boobs,” immediately his cheeks started to turn red and you cackle, “almost a year and you’re still so easy to make squirm.”

“y/n,” he pouts as you pat his cheek before moving past him to grab a towel off of your bed, “you’re leaving? now? but i just got back.”

“you’re the one who decided to go and work out with my brother, on my birthday might i add, and left me alone all morning. now, i’m going down to the pool, but you’re free to join,” you shrug as you go to the door, but he stops you.

“hey, you weren’t alone. you had your mom and kennedy-”

“would’ve been nicer if it was you though. might have had plans that involved me, you and the shower but i guess that we’ll never know,” you let out an overdramatized sigh as his face falls and you take that as your queue to leave, knowing exactly what you were doing to him.

“look at the birthday girl,” cutter calls, already bobbing in the pool as you walk through the open back door, “sorry i stole your man this morning. had to get a workout in before the celebration tonight. 21 is a big number and we probably won’t feel like it tomorrow.”

“i wasn’t born yesterday, cutter. i know what you did, you know what you did, but it’s fine,” you drop your towel onto your favorite lounger and push your sunglasses off of your head down to cover your eyes, “he still sleeps in my bed at night.”

“you-”

“cannonball!”

a shout interrupted what was surely about to turn into an argument between the two of you and you watch as rutger runs across the backyard and dives into the pool, blissfully unaware of what he had just ended with a gigantic splash.

or maybe he did.

“my bad, y/n,” he calls, a lopsided smirk on his lips as he breaks through the surface of the water. “didn’t mean to get you wet.”

you click your tongue, knowing full well that he had caught onto the little game that you were playing with him. before you could come up with a smart remark, he wraps cutter in a headlock and they start to wrestle in the middle of the pool just like the buddies they were. it was nice to see them like that, not cutter being too protective over you or rutger being too scared to even hold your hand in front of your brother sometimes, just friends. old teammates with history.

you watch them for a little while, before a light bulb goes off in your head and you clear your throat,

“rut, baby,” you call out as you start to loosen the tie on your bikini top, quickly lifting your arm to catch it before it slips too far, “can you do my sunscreen? or at least just get my back? i can’t reach it all the way and i don’t want to be burnt in pictures.”

the pout you send in his direction makes it hard for him to say know and through the dark lenses of your sunglasses, you watch cutter roll his eyes as your boyfriend clears his throat, “yeah, y/n. gimme a sec.”

“i wish that i never would’ve introduced you two,” cutter grunts as rutger slowly makes his way out of the pool, not so subtly adjusting himself as he makes his way over to your lounger, “or allowed you to date, matter of fact.”

“allowed? cutter, i’m older than you. i don’t need your permission for who i date,” you roll your eyes, sending a rutger a smile dipped in faux sweetness as he sits on the end of your chair. “besides, technically you didn’t introduce us. your boy slid in my dms.”

“you did what, mcgroarty?”

“she’s lying, cut. i wouldn’t- jesus christ, y/n,” his voice drops to a whisper that only you could hear as you undo the other string of your top and move it to the side, covering your chest with your arm. you spare him a glance over your shoulder and find him practically shaking at the sight, “it’s like you want to get me killed.”

“me? i would never, baby,” you reach out to pat his thigh, “i just asked you to apply sunscreen and now you’re blushing, you idiot. i’m innocent.”

“innocent my ass,” he scoffs, ignoring cutters warnings of keeping it pg as you hear the tube cap pop. you jump as the cool cream touches your left shoulder, “how am i supposed to survive the next week? genuine question.”

“if this is getting you so stirred up, you’re going to be miserable at dinner tonight.”

requests are closed!

[somasbrianrot]

Poly! Elite x wrestler reader?

Please I love anything poly elite

Elite's Princess (Poly! Elite x Feminine! Wrestler! Reader)

Warnings : Age Gaps (Reader is 25)

Ever since you were a child you had always loved wrestling, even leading up into your teenage years it was always a passion for you, when you were just 16 you started training, getting into NJPW at the age of 20, you encountered people you looked up to as a kid and that was definitely the highlight of your career.

All of that had led you up to this moment, you fasten the laces of your wrestling boots and tie them up in a neat little bow, you stood up and checked yourself out in the mirror, straightening your puffy skirt out and fixing up the frills on your gloves (The outfit would be something like Mizuki's).

Tonight you had your first championship match since joining the AEW, you had a match against Toni Storm and you were hellbent on taking the title off of her, as I'm straightening my long entrance robe out(Like Charlotte Flair), a swift knock on the door of your locker room door caught your attention and you walk over to the door "Who is it?" you question.

"Guess" you squealed and flung the door open "Kenny!" you pulled him down into a hug and looked past him to see the rest of the elite, you smile widely at them and let go of Kenny "Hey! what are you guys doing here?" "come to congratulate you! not every day someone gets a title shot angel face" Nick spoke up as the boys all came into the room "Thanks! I can't wait till I have the championship gold around my waist!"

"Look at the princess, all suited up" said Adam as he stepped over and stared at your robe, picking it up "Arm's up princess, want to see how you look in this" you follow his demand and he slips it onto you, the boys all stare and nod "You look too good to lose princess, now let's get you out there" you nod and make your way to the guerilla with the boys, waiting for your queue "And her Challenger hailing from (Wherever)! The Princess Of The Elite! (Y/R/N)!" your music suddenly starts up and you sashay your way out, doing little spins in your coat to show the fluff and frill.

The match was going as planned, the crowd was roaring and the cheers were getting louder, until the outcasts came out to ringside to 'spectate' it all went downhill, while Saraya distracted the referee Ruby handed Toni the title and she smashed me across the face with it, I was bent halfway in the ring and Toni ran over, hooking my head between her legs, and hitting me with a storm zero, I felt the air knocked out of my lungs as I struggled to keep my breath, Toni scurries over and pins me, but mid 2 count the lights go out and the ref has to stop the count.

You managed to get up and watched as the titan Tron managed to light up the arena, in a blue shine, your theme was playing as you saw four figures step out from behind the guerilla, it seemed to have all of the outcasts attention as Toni stepped towards the ropes opposite to me "turn around bitch!" I yelled and sprint towards her, hitting her with a V-trigger and watching as she collapses onto the ground, I watch as the Elite start making their way down the ramp but the outcasts block them.

I run to the other end of the ropes and flip over them, taking both Saraya and Ruby out, I look back and Toni got back up so I get myself back up onto the apron and spring board flip over, hitting her with a buckshot lariat, I lay over her as the ref starts counting "1....2.....3!" I scream as I crawl off of Toni, holding my head in shock, then slipping out of the ring, ripping my title from the table and lifting it up.

I back up into the elite with my title raised "I cant believe this! The Elite's Princess actually won the title!" came from the announcers desk, you didn't care who it was, you just cared you were a champion in the arms of your lovers as you made your way backstage.

I had sat down on my couch and immediately got pounced on by all the boys, I giggle as they all hug me "Our little champion, you did so good out there princess" you smile at Adam and peck his cheek "Thanks" all the boys were proud of you and all showed it in their own way, peppering kisses anywhere they could on your skin as they cuddled you into the couch.

"Now we should go out to dinner to celebrate then?" Kenny asks and I immediately smile widely "I CALL SHOTGUN!" everyone in the room laughs, and I couldn't be happier in this moment then with my boys

A/N I hope you like this because I had fun with this

[lina-lovebug]

Bleeding Hearts

Part 13

Taglist: @silverhowe @happycupcakeenthusiast @vampire-hunter @simpforavillain @dumb-fawkin-bitch @mushroomlover13 @kimqueenofhell @vane28282 @namor-is-the-way @daaiissyyyyy @anyzandy @pturnersblog @cherrychupachup @blossom618 @bxnnywriting @neteyamsbulletwound @fabulousarminsimp @proper-idiocy @esposadomd @txmbstone

Now this was home.

The screeches and howls coming from above made my heart feel at ease. The familiar rocks and dirt beneath my feet, and the feeling of the wind running through my hair and whipping my face brought a small smile to my lips.

“Come on! Keep up, losers!” Spider cackled, having fun as the rest struggled to climb as naturally as us.

“Can the big bad Colonel Miles Quaritch not climb a rock?” I taunted, my fangs portruding as I grinned.

“Oh just you wait, cupcake. You ain’t seen nothing yet,” He grunted, and lost his footing. My hands reached out, gripping his forearm and helping him up.

“I highly doubt that,” I smirked, following Spider and ignoring the rest of the struggling demons.

I just hope Zephyr is alright.

Zephyr, my beautiful Ikran, was much larger than the others. That is the result of her being the rarity between a normal Ikran and Toruk. She’s beautiful with her red wings and large horn on her temple, and I am glad she chose me.

My only worry is that she would be anxious without me. I claimed her when I was only eight, since I did not wish to wait for my time to claim an Ikran for myself.

“Jesus Christ, they’re fucking loud,” Miles Quaritch groaned, having caught up to us.

“Only because you have baby ears.”

His head whipped to face me, “what did you say?”

“Baby ears,” I touched his ear, “it is smaller than most males this age. It is a dead giveaway that you are not Na’vi.”

They folded downwards and I laughed.

“I-I am sorry,” I laughed, covering my mouth.

“Mom! Come on!” Spider called out, and I followed the sound of his voice through the caves until the screeching got louder and louder.

A genuine grin crossed my face as I breathed in the air and my face hit the blinding sun. All around me are thousands of Ikran, none yet claimed, but the smile fell as I heard a gun click.

“I got this,” It was a tranquilzer bullet.

As Miles Quaritch took aim, Spider chuckled.

“What?”

“Na’vi kids younger than me do this with their bare hands,” Spider explained.

“Jake Sully did it the hard way?” He questioned.

“What do you think?” He retorted.

He looked hesitant, but set down the gun.

“How do you get one?” He asked me and I moved forward, grabbing my own queue.

“You grab yours and connect them, just like you would do with the horses. They will try to bite, so-”

“Got it,” He walked off.

“Skxawng,” I muttered under my breath.

“This is gonna be good,” Spider smirked.

“Move up,” Corporal pressed his gun into my back, and I moved forward. Immediately, an Ikran had taken a liking to him by hissing and presenting his fangs.

“It's you and me, Cupcake,” Miles Quaritch smirked.

It hissed once again, and he hissed back.

And punched it.

I blinked, never having seen that before, and he ran around it to have a chance by jumping onto it. It hissed, trying to throw him off, even by slamming its body into the rock and he hit his head.

“You were supposed to tie its mouth!” I shouted.

“Thanks a lot!”

His hands were gripped tightly onto it, and the creature saw that he would not give up so easily.

And flew off.

“Quaritch!” I shouted, my heart racing as I ran forward and bent down to look for him. But they either both fell or he did and it flew away.

“Fuck!”

“This is your fault!” The female hissed at me.

“Hey, let's calm down,” Corporal insisted.

“No! She told him about them! She knew he would die!”

Before I could even get a word out, I felt a sudden stinging sensation. It coursed through my entire body, starting from my neck.

“Ah!” I yelled out, collapsing in pain.

“Worthless bitch!” She kicked my face.

“Don’t touch her!” Spider shouted.

“That is enough!” He shoved her away and my ears perked up at the sound of yelling.

From Quaritch.

“Woohoo! That’s right!” He actually did it. He made the bond, effectively taming his own Ikran.

“Congratulations,” I gave a lazy smile, getting up but staggering. Spider helped me stay up, asking if I was okay and I nodded.

I did not need him to worry about me.

What I did not notice was the worry on Quaritchs’ face and how he noticed the remote in the female's hand.

[almostshere]

» CASSADEE POPE + GABE SAPORTA performing SNAKES ON A PLANE.

[madas-ahatters-world]

Day 1: Plead

Thanks to @bitbybitwrites for sharing this challenge with me, it's always fun when we do these challenges together! And to @klaineadvent for putting this Klaine fun together.

A day late, but here is Day 1 - plead:

It’d been a long day, and all Kurt wanted to do was put their seven-year-old twins to bed after an eventful day of Christmas shopping (and fighting off the urge to impulse shop for himself), and stuff his face with Ben and Jerry’s until his gorgeous husband arrived home. He then had plans to drag him upstairs to their bedroom, rip off his clothes, and devour him all. Night. Long.

Well, at least until midnight.

1:00 am tops. Their twins still tend to wake up at the crack of dawn.

It had been an hour past when he was due home, Kurt already having gone through a pint and a half of Minter Wonderland drizzled in chocolate syrup and whipped cream, when Blaine walked through the door of their very elaborate Christmas-decorated brownstone.

“I’m in the kitchen,” Kurt called out, having heard Blaine walk through their front door.

Blaine removed his jacket and hung it on the coat rack along with his work satchel, and walked toward the kitchen, undoing his bow tie. He found Kurt sitting on an island stool, in their kitchen, spoon hanging from his mouth, hunched over casually reading the latest holiday edition of Vogue.

“Hey baby, sorry I’m late.” Blaine greeted tiredly, tie undone, unbuttoning the first two clasps of his shirt. He leaned in gracefully to kiss Kurt on his lips, Kurt removing the spoon from his mouth, and meeting Blaine’s mouth on queue.

“Mmm, you taste delicious,” Blaine said flirtatiously, going in for another kiss.

Kurt chuckled as Blaine opened the refrigerator to grab a beer.

“I hadn’t intended on eating a pint and a half of this stuff, but - I was sitting here all alone, with no one to keep me company,” he said teasingly. “So, you know,” he shrugged, “when in Rome!” Kurt raised his dessert in a mock toast and returned to looking at his magazine.

Blaine was casually leaning his hip against the counter. “You’re so dramatic,” he said smiling at Kurt, as he brought the bottle of alcohol to his lips.

They were both feeling the itch, sexual tension now in full effect as their intimate needs had taken a backseat when the holiday season approached.  This was the busiest time of year for them both, juggling home life, work, and kids. Life got busy, and by the time they got home each evening, they didn’t have enough energy to take care of each other the way they loved. The way they always craved. 

“You’d be too if you spent the day fighting off savage Christmas shoppers with two 7-year-olds,” he replied, with mock snark and a flirtatious side-eye. Kurt flipped the page of his magazine as Blaine stood by the counter, seductively drinking his beer. Even though his glance was quick, Blaine could see his pleading eyes. He heard him loud and clear.

“Kids asleep?” Blaine asked taking another long sip.

“Of course,” Kurt replied. “They were exhausted by the time we got home. I made them a quick dinner, they took a bath, and knocked out in record time.” He flipped to another page.

Blaine placed his drink on the counter, proceeding to slowly untuck his shirt from his chinos. He sensuously ran his fingers through his hair, breaking apart those gelled-down curls. Kurt loved it when he did that.

Blaine walked over to Kurt, hugged him from behind, and began peppering his neck and jaw with delicate kisses.

“Have you taken a bath?” He asked in a low sultry voice.

“No. I was hoping we’d get dirty together and then soak in one after.” 

“After all these years, I love that you still feel the need to flirt with me.” Blaine chuckled.  “You know I’m a for sure thing, right?”

“But flirtatious foreplay is so much more fun,” Kurt smirked. “We’ve been so busy the last few weeks, I thought we could do with a little ice cream play. I also bought some chocolate syrup and whipped cream." Kurt winked. 

“Chocolate syrup, huh? You really do mean business,” Blaine teased.

“Mhm,” Kurt nodded, turning his head just enough to catch Blaine’s lips for a more heated kiss.

“Well then, Mr. Hummel-Anderson,” he said with one more lip smack. "Let’s get this ice cream social started.”

[bawnjourno]

this is gonna sound incredibly pretentious but i really thought i’d be on here more while unemployed but i’m just not? i have so much i do every day? but since i love my tungle pals dearly and let the queue run things here is what daley bawnjourno is up to these days.

i do my 7 daily tasks every day (take meds, meet reading goal, write on my 2 WIPs, typing lesson as i am slow and want to improve, journal, walk my elderly corgi, do my mango lessons french language)

take care of said elderly corgi and my 3 yr old cat

i make edits for @fleetwoodmacarthistory

this month on the 3rd i started watching 1 queer film every day in an effort to hit 30 this month (a mix of shorts and features) and i’m already almost there!

i’ve gone to a few very cheap or free films at theaters in town

i sew on my jean vest

i do various deep cleaning tasks

i tie dye shirts

i experiment with various latte and cold brew recipes (i have multiple creamers and syrups as well as chai and matcha powder and oatmilk, i make cold brew using french press, i have an espresso maker that’s ok). once i realized i was leaving sb*x bc the building was hotter than osha standards and corporate did nothing, i started hoarding my bean markouts and have about 6 months worth of grounds for cold brew and espresso

i am already working on sparkstember edits

i have done some hemming sewing projects as well as making sick ass fabric bookmarks. sadly i jammed my gma’s machine so i’ll have to do the rest by hand but they’re still cute!

i have done some file organizing on my laptop

i do weekly movie nights w @starspangledsoldiers and @taintmansion and also weekly LOST nights w my friend joy who is not on tungle

apply for jobs w limited success but hey it’s only been 3 weeks! and i will crawl back to retail if i don’t get anything in another couple

hmm guess that’s it! if you ever want to talk to me off of here i have snapchat insta and discord also. i miss everyone just been staying busy and trying not to spiral too much

mini unemployment moodboard also!

[wholelottatransbians]

If snippet game is still open: Hero Time, namely Kanna's first day at UA.

Kanna readjusted her tie for what must have been the 20th time. No dice, it would take an act of God to make this presentable. Was she nervous? Well, yeah. It's easy to put on a brave face when your wearing someone else's, but she has to go solo with this one. I could go Fleetfoot for the temporary confidence boost, but she'd probably think this is lame and bail.

Idly, she considered if it was too late to turn around and go back to being a Vigilante. Unfortunately, she was standing outside of the 1-A classroom, so there was no way she could do so without Nedzu noticing.

Swallowing her nervousness for now, she reached out and pulled the door open.

"Took you long enough." Their teacher (Wait, that's that Underground Hero, Erasurehead right?) already looked done with the day, and continued with her introduction. "This is Nedzu's pet project. She helped during the USJ, so he made her my problem."

How... incredibly rude. She notice he stopped talking, and took it as her queue to introduce herself. "Oh, Midoriya Kanna. Please take care of me."

"Great. Any questions?"

One of the students, the blond with the lightning bolt in his hair, raised his hand. "Hey, where's Mineta?" All the girls seemed to shudder at his name, which clued her in to who he's talking about Oh, him. If how I found him in the Flood Zone tells me anything, I should be glad he's not here.

"Due to his actions over the past week, up to and including the USJ attack, it was decided that he should be put on academic probation for the time being. Until he improves, he'll be left in General Education. She'll be replacing him."

"There are no more announcements. If none of you need anything..." He wrapped himself and a yellow sleeping bag and curled up in the corner.

With that, all the pressure in the room flowed out, and she suddenly found herself swarmed by students asking more questions than she can even keep up with. I think I would rather take my chances with Nedzu than this...

[raineandsky]

#76

Being a receptionist is boring, but it has its perks. It’s safe, for one, and the civilian can watch the drama of whatever the hero and villain are fighting over from the comfort of an ergonomic desk chair. Their desk is tucked nicely into a corner near the back of the entrance hall, just in case the front of the building comes flying off for any reason.

It’s been a calm day outside, much to the civilian’s relief and boredom. It has been for the past week, actually. People trail in and out, not in any hurry, and the civilian idly pings them into the building or, god forbid, has to make a phone call for one of them.

They’re already well into the swing of things when the nth person of the day approaches the desk. The civilian can see them from out of the corner of their eye from where they’re staring at their computer screen. There’s a second of silence—no telltale slap of ID card on wood—until the person on the other side clears their throat expectantly.

The civilian glances up from their screen, only to do a double take. This guy isn’t from around here. He’s dressed in a smart suit and tie like everyone else, but his sense of smart seems to be the complete opposite of what this company considers smart. He graces them with a polite smile, a rarity that you learn to not expect as a receptionist.

“Good morning, [Civilian],” he opens kindly, before glancing at the watch hugging his wrist “or good afternoon, as of two minutes ago.”

The bland customer service line they were going to grace him with dies on their tongue. “Wh– How do you know my name?”

That smile again. “I was hoping to speak with you somewhere private.”

“You’re not getting me to secondary location,” the civilian snaps back immediately.

“I have some affairs the agency thinks you might have an interest in.”

That gives the civilian pause. “The… heroes agency?”

“Hey, man,” someone says from behind the man, “You’re holding up the line.”

The agency man ignores her. “Can we speak privately?”

“No.” The civilian folds their arms, sinking down in their seat for emphasis. “You can tell everyone here why you know my name, stalker.”

The man glances at the slowly growing, irritable queue behind him before leaning over the desk slightly and lowering his voice. “The agency’s in need of new heroes.”

“That doesn’t answer… any of my questions.”

Another glance over his shoulder at the first woman scowling at him. “We have files on everyone in this city. We need new heroes, so we’re finding the most suited options from the civilians here. You can be a hero, [Civilian].”

“And… I fit this heroic profile?”

The man smiles again, brighter. “You do. A perfect match, in fact.”

The civilian frowns confusedly, looking at their hands like they hold answers. “I thought heroes had, like, powers.”

“We can talk about that later.”

The civilian glances back up at him. If he’s lying, he’s very good at hiding it. “Okay. Move over so these people can get in.”

The man positively beams as he steps aside. The woman behind him huffs with a quiet “finally” and slams his ID card down with comfortable familiarity.

It takes ten minutes to get the line of antsy workers into the building. The man waits, impossibly patient, apologising here and there as people pass. He lets the civilian get everyone in before returning to his spot at the desk. “[Civilian]?”

They huff as they get to their feet, scribbling a quick note and shoving it on the front of the desk where people can see it before letting the barriers open. They step around the desk, giving the man a suspicious once over. “If you’re fucking with me I’ll kill you.”

The man laughs, the sound short and genuine. “I’ve no doubt. Let’s get you to the agency.”

One of the workers watches as the two of them wander back out onto the street. The heroes are coming up short. They’re employing civilians to fill in for a job meant for people with superpowers.

The villain couldn’t have turned up to their day job at a better time.

They pull their phone out as they continue into the building. Best not be late. The heroes are at their weakest, they type into a text littered with hasty spelling errors. Prepare to infiltrate the agency. We’re going in tonight.