#young cotta au

[daughterofhecata]

ohhhhh 3 and/or 16 with Skinny/(young) Cotta pretty pretty pretty please? 🥰

[morning after prompts]

of course 😘 keine Ahnung, wie das in die continuity passen könnte, aber ich hoffe, es gefällt dir trotzdem <3

3. "Relax. I didn't touch you. You were drunk and I, contrary to what you may think, have self-control." + Skinny/young!Cotta

Skinny saß auf der einzigen freien Stelle auf der Arbeitsfläche, den Kaffeebecher in den Händen, und beobachtete den Cop, der in seinem Bett lag und ganz leise, kaum wahrnehmbar, schnarchte.

Unter normalen Umständen würde er niemals freiwillig einen Bullen in seine Wohnung lassen, aber das hier war etwas anderes. Denn auch wenn er es nur ungern zugab, Cotta war eben nicht nur irgendein Polizist.

Zwischen ihnen war etwas, und vermutlich nichts bewies das so sehr, wie die Tatsache, dass Cotta in der Nacht überhaupt bei ihm aufgetaucht war.

Vollkommen gegen Skinnys Willen zupfte ein Lächeln an seinen Mundwinkeln – Cotta sah schon irgendwie niedlich aus, wie er da zusammengerollt lag, Skinny nur die dunklen Haare sehen konnte und eine nackte Schulter, wo die Bettdecke ein wenig heruntergerutscht war.

Er überlegte gerade, auf welche Weise er seinen Gast vielleicht aufwecken könnte – die beste Variante wäre vielleicht, ihm den Kaffee vor die Nase zu halten, obwohl Skinny viel lieber seine Schulter berührt hätte oder einfach zu ihm unter die Decke geglitten wäre – als der sich von ganz allein regte.

Ein leidendes Stöhnen, dann streckte Cotta sich, rollte auf den Rücken, wobei er die Bettdecke etwas weiter herunter zog, Skinny einen erstklassigen Blick auf seine Brust gewährte. Er blinzelte zur Zimmerdecke, die Verwirrung klar auf seinem Gesicht, dann hob er den Kopf, bemerkte Skinny.

„Guten Morgen!“, grüßte er fröhlich, nur um zu sehen, wie Cotta die Augen schloss, sie sich rieb, und sie dann wieder öffnete, als würde er hoffen, er hätte sich Skinny nur eingebildet.

Pech gehabt.

Grinsend stellte Skinny den Becher zur Seite und hüpfte von der Anrichte. „Endlich ausgeschlafen?“, wollte er wissen.

„Wie bin ich-“, setzte Cotta an, sprach dann jedoch nicht weiter, als hätte er entschieden, dass er die Antwort vielleicht doch lieber nicht hören wollte.

Das hinderte Skinny selbstverständlich nicht daran, sie ihm trotzdem zu geben. „Du bist mitten in der Nacht betrunken hier aufgetaucht“, erklärte er ungerührt, „Ich glaube, du wolltest mit mir über irgendwas reden, aber als du erstmal drin warst, schien es dir wichtiger, mir an die Wäsche zu gehen.“

Schreck breitete sich über Cottas Züge aus, schlagartig setzte er sich auf, was seine Kopfschmerzen ihn im gleichen Augenblick bereuen ließen, wenn Skinny das richtig interpretierte.

„Haben wir-“, brachte Cotta heraus. Diesmal führte er den Satz offenbar nicht zuende, weil er es lieber nicht laut aussprechen wollte.

Skinny hatte da weniger Hemmungen. „Gevögelt?“, ergänzte er und erntete ein schocksteifes Nicken.

„Entspann dich“, wiegelte er ab, obwohl ihn Cottas Entsetzen über die Vorstellung schon irgendwie amüsierte. „Ich hab dich nicht angefasst. Du warst besoffen und auch wenn du mir das vermutlich nicht glaubst, ich hab durchaus sowas wie Selbstbeherrschung.“

Es gab einfach Dinge, die er nicht tat, ergänzte er in Gedanken. Dazu gehörte, ein Nein zu ignorieren oder mit jemandem zu schlafen, der oder die unübersehbar nicht mehr ganz Herr über seine Entscheidungen war.

Die Erleichterung, die von Cotta ausging, war fast physisch sichtbar.

Skinny ging zum Bett hinüber, sah auf ihn herab und grinste. „Aber jetzt bist du ja wieder nüchtern, und du bist immer noch in meinem Bett...“, stellte er vielsagend fest.

Die widerstreitenden Gefühle auf Cottas Gesicht, während er verzweifelt versuchte, sich an seiner Vernunft festzuhalten, waren vielleicht noch besser als die Hemmungslosigkeit, mit der er in der Nacht versucht hatte, Skinny zu sich auf die Matratze zu ziehen.

[aristocratic-otter]

Hey y'all! It's been a good week for me. I got to go to a British High Tea for the first time ever and had a blast. No cake trolleys though (sorry, Simon!).

I've loved reading your excerpts over the last few weeks, and I've started listening to the podfic fest entries on my drives to and from work (Shout out to @caethes for podding my fic Threads of Fate!). It's so nice to have more audiobooks from Carry On without Rainbow Rowell having to write a new book!

Thank you and tag backsies to @wellbelesbian, @messofthejess, @aroace-genderfluid-sheep, @artsyunderstudy, @larkral, @whatevertheweather, @best--dress, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @nightimedreamersghost, @theearlgreymage and @hushed-chorus

From my fic for the Carry On-Reverse Bang:

“B-Baz,” I stuttered, trying to scramble to my feet. Trying, and failing. The moment I tried to get up, a wave of dizziness hit me, coinciding with a stab of pain in my head. I sagged back to the ground and lifted my hand to my hair. My hair felt wet and my scalp pulsed with pain when I brushed my fingers over it. When I pulled my hand free, it was dark and wet looking.

From my COTTA 2023, Snow Fox:

“I missed you,” he sighs, when we have to break apart for air. 

“I always miss you,” I grumble, resting my forehead against his shoulder. He laughs silently; I can feel his chest bouncing against mine. 

“You always have to make everything a contest,” he says, but his voice is fond. 

“I won your heart, didn’t I?” I smirk at him and he punches me gently in the shoulder. 

“Arse,” he laughs.

From my Age of Sail AU, Stars, Flowers, and Children:

I know we’re far too young to take care of ourselves. If I were a few years older, I’d probably strike off on my own, because living with Davy is nearly unbearable. I’d try to convince Simon to come with me, but I think I’d go, even if he refused. 

But I’m not a few years older. I’m twelve, and I’m afraid. I don’t know if Simon or I could survive without an adult to guide us, no matter how vindictive he is. 

As it turns out though, we aren’t given a choice.

And a slightly more than 6 sentence snip from my TikTok dancer AU (needs a name!):

Penelope narrows her eyes at him. “Snow is an odd name,” she points out, and I realize with a jolt that I never even tried to take on a human name. Shepard knows me by my birth name, but I know enough after a year of living around them that humans don’t go by a single name. Shit!

Shepard’s eyes look equally panicked for a moment, but he swiftly smooths over his expression. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he says to Penelope. “Snow is his surname. But that’s how he introduced himself to me last year, so that’s what I’ve gotten used to calling him.”

“And your full name is?” she asks me, not Shepard. My brain scrambles frantically for a human name I can live with. For some reason, my mind stops on a memory of a particular judge on one of the dancing competitions I’ve been watching. 

“My first name is Simon!” I blurt, a little too forcefully. 

Nothing from Saving Simon Snow this week, it's giving me hell at the moment.

Tagging:

@angelsfalling16, @annabellelux, @bazzybelle, @bookish-bogwitch, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @dragoneggos, @frjsti, @gekkoinapeartree, @ionlydrinkhotwater, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @ileadacharmedlife, @j-nipper-95, @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists, @krisrix, @letraspal, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @onepintobean, @prettylightsbigcity, @rimeswithpurple, @raenestee, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @tea-brigade, @upuntil6am, @vampire-named-gampire, @whogaveyoupermission, @yellobb, @yeonjunenby

[nichtimhandelerhaeltlich]

ddf! Formular 1 AU: young mechanic!Goodween walking in on his crush (Cotta, The driver of the team he's working on) and his Rival driver Hugenay making out and just making eye contact with Cotta who is currently very pressed against a wall

[brightly-painted-canvas]

Credo che possiamo affermare con assoluta certezza che tutte le bambine della parrocchia avrebbero una cotta fotonica per Nico l'animatore del Grest, E LE MAMME SAREBBERO PURE PEGGIO, "tanto un caro ragazzo lui..."

Ah, sì. Poco ma sicuro. Headcanon accepted. Passerebbe il tempo circondato da bimbe (e bimbi perché no) adoranti che lo seguono ovunque e che parlano di lui talmente tanto a casa che tutti i genitori si sono fatti assurdi film mentali su questa figura mitologica. E poi se lo trovano davanti all'orario di uscita e pure le mamme perdono la testa.

A riguardo, piccolo aneddoto personale: anche io quando facevo l'animatrice ero molto apprezzata dai più piccoli XD Una volta un bambino di seconda elementare mi ha regalato una carta Pokémon e mi ha chiesto di sposarlo.

Quindi, dato che avevo promesso avrei provato a scrivere un po', complimenti: hai vinto una drabble ispirata proprio a questo fatto realmente accaduto! :D

.

Innocent proposal (animatore!Nicky AU)

When the bell rings, announcing it’s time to gather up the teams for prayers before heading to the mess hall for lunch, Nicky is still helping Jacopo solve a math problem.

“It’s okay. We will finish this tomorrow.” he smiles at the 9 years old, who looks ready to bolt, summer homework already very far from his young mind.

“Grazie, Nico!” he exclaims, while dutifully picking up his book and pencil case.

Nicky gets up, helps the kids gather their stuff, cleans up the study room and heads down to the gym, where Don Luigi is waiting for all the 120 kids attending this year’s oratorio estivo to sit on the floor before starting his usually brief and often sung pre-lunch prayer.

.

The gym is already full of it’s typical colourful mass of kids, from the ‘juniores’ to the ‘seniores’, all with caps and neckerchiefs of their team’s colour: blue, red, yellow or green.

Nicky is about to slalom through a group of rowdy seniores to reach the side of the gym where the other animatori are seated, when he feels a tug at the back of his t-shirt.

He stops, turns his head and looks down, surprised in seeing little Chiara biting her lips and still holding the hem of his shirt in her tiny fist.

“What is it, darling?” he asks, smiling down at her.

When she lets him go, he turns and crouches down at her level, balancing on his heels, to give his whole attention to the shy, sweet 7 years old.

“Vanessa taught us how to make beaded bracelets.” she says, her voice so thin it’s almost impossible to hear her mumbling beneath the chaos of the gym.

“Did she? That’s very nice!” he encourages her, while in his mind he is revising his animatrice friend Vanessa, that very morning, cursing at all the colourful beads boxes she had to carry from the storage to the art laboratory.

Chiara, who already has her own bracelet around her small wrist, produces another bracelet from her jeans’ pocket: it has beads of all the colours of the rainbow, not really placed in a logical order. At the center there is a dice shaped white bead with an ‘N’ printed on it.

“This is for you.” Chiara says, possibly even more softly than before.

“Grazie, Chiara! È bellissimo!” exclaims Nicky, accepting the gift and immediately snapping the plastic elastic band around his thick wrist: the bracelet it’s a bit tight, but he’s surely gonna wear it proudly all through summer camp now.

“It’s because I think you’re very nice and handsome and I like you very very much.” says Chiara then, somewhere somehow finding the courage to even raise her voice a bit.

Nicky blinks exactly twice, then he smiles sweetly, trying not to burst into a laugh in the face of such a cute love confession: “Thank you, I like you too.” he says, taking the girl’s tiny hand in his huge one. He can’t help falling a bit in love with every small kid he tutors during oratorio estivo each summer: they’re adorable, even the most troublemakers.

Then Chiara asks suddenly: “Will you marry me, Nicolò?”, catching him so off guard he almost loses balance on his crouching and falls on his ass.

He fumbles, looking into her hopeful, big green eyes as she waits for an answer. He knows he can’t get away with a joke or an attempt to gloss over. He has to give her a reply, so as not to hurt the shy girl’s feelings.

.

Later that evening, Nicky is sprawled on the couch eating popcorn, distractedly watching some superhero movie on Joe’s big flatscreen TV while his boyfriend slowly and lovingly massages his sore feet and calves. Joe has had Nicky’s legs propped on his lap since the moment they sat down, claiming that helping Nicky relax and ease the pain of more than 8 hours spent standing, running and lifting heavy stuff, was his favourite job.

Above them the ceiling fan whirs in a monotone and Nicky is almost falling asleep were it not for the loud booms of explosions from the TV and the many sounds of late summer evenings coming from the street’s bars and restaurants below. Joe’s apartment is in a very lively neighbourhood.

By the minute Nicky is feeling his eyelids drooping and his breath becoming deeper and slower and he’s about to let slumber win when Joe suddenly moves, getting up.

“I bought gelato. The pistacchio and stracciatella one you like so much. Want some?” he asks, already smiling, knowing that not even deep tiredness could deter Nicky from eating his favourite summer dessert.

“Ti amo tantissimo.” he just mumbles as a reply, smiling dumbly with his eyes half closed and his neck skewed at such an odd angle he must have at least five chins showing. He can’t even English at the moment, so he just continues with much fondness: “Cosa devo fare io per meritarmi un amore grande così…”

Joe snorts, having heard him from the kitchen.

He comes back a few minutes later, one cup of ice cream and a spoon in each hand, and places them on the coffee table before bending to kiss Nicky on the (slightly sweaty, ugh, gross) forehead.

“You have to kiss me, hold me close even if it’s summer…” he starts listing, plopping down on the couch and then in Nicky’s arms, linking their legs, pushing his face against Nicky’s too warm collarbone.

His mop of curls brushes under Nicky’s nose and he huffs, but still accepts the weight (and warmth) of his boyfriend on his tired body.

“You have to take me out on dates, go to the beach with me when oratorio estivo is over and, one day, you will have to marry me.” continues Joe, each word kissed against the skin of Nicky’s neck.

“Marry? You wanna get married?” asks Nicky, worsening his multiple chin situation to look down into Joe’s glinting eyes.

“Eventually? In our late twenties? When you’ll be a doctor and I’ll be a famous artist? Yes.” he confesses, suddenly almost shy, but with a gaze full of trust and love.

“That’d be nice.” immediately replies Nicky, heart engulfed in the same sentiment he sees in Joe’s perfect eyes: “But alas,” he sighs theatrically, placing the back of his right hand above his forehead, for emphasis.

“‘Alas’ what?” asks Joe, pushing himself up a bit, looking confused.

“I’ve already accepted one marriage proposal today, I’m afraid.” admits Nicky, showing the beaded bracelet on his wrist, his new love token.

“Excuse me?” protests Joe, his disbelieving expression so cute Nicky can’t help but grin and boop him on the nose.

“Yeah, a young suitor asked for my hand in marriage, today. In, let’s see… 11 years, she will be of age and we will tie the knot.” he explains, barely succeeding in holding back a laugh.

Joe sighs exasperatedly, a mischievous grin spreading on his beautiful red lips. He flops down heavily once again, punching the air out of Nicky’s lungs and then he rubs his itchy, bearded chin on his boyfriend’s chest. “That’s alright,” he declares after he’s satisfied with his retaliation methods: “I’ll just have to kidnap and marry you before that, then.” he reasons.

“Oh, you brute.” sighs Nicky, finally placing his hand on Joe’s jaw to guide him up and steal a kiss from his smiling lips.

Joe kisses back, with mirth and then with intensity, stealing his breath and dissipating, in an instant, all of Nicky’s tiredness.

When they part, Joe has his hands in Nicky’s hair and Nicky’s left hand, the clever bastard, now rests on Joe’s ass.

The movie, the lively evening outside, the fatigue of the day, everything is forgotten. Except: “Now that that’s sorted out, amore mio, pass me the gelato.”

.

Notes: Nicky is 18 and Joe is 21 in this, I guess. Sorry for the mistakes, English is (obviously) not my first language. Hope you enjoyed!

[the-herdier]

So, I have an idea...

An AU in which Phoenix defends a young Italian boy -a prodigy law student by the name of Panna Cotta Fugo- in a case where he is accused of attacking and killing one of his professors by beating him over the head with a textbook. He is able to prove Fugo's testimony of self-defense despite the boy's history of a violent temper and the heavy corruption in the judicial system, but the boy's family disowns and abandons him regardless, so he takes him in to give him a home and allow him to continue his studies.

Fugo meets much of the rest of the cast and finds his new sister Trucy somewhat annoying but is able to form a supportive relationship with Athena (who knows a few things about how to control one's anger without lashing out), Edgeworth (who understands somewhat), and of course Phoenix.

[dragon-kazansky]

Recipe for love | Helmut Zemo

Chef Zemo AU! 👨‍🍳

Gender neutral reader

Dedicated to @rumblelibrary

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 6

Friday. It's Friday. The grand opening!

Natasha came to your place early and gave you a long speech about you being on your best behaviour. It was vital that everything went well tonight as Zemo had some very important guests coming.

You just smiled and told her everything would be fine. You would make whatever they ordered and everything would be fine. Despite that, she still held doubt toward you. Natasha knew you better than anyone.

You both arrived at the restaurant exactly when Zemo had asked you to be there. All the chefs were gathered in the kitchen, waiters were standing out front with the hosts, and the doors would be open in less than hour so he had to make sure he spoke with everyone.

He didn't bother looking as you and Natasha joined the others.

"I cannot state this clear enough, no fuck ups. We cannot afford for anything to go wrong. If you fuck up, I'll fire you."

Everyone nodded silently.

"This is my restaurant. You do as I say. I'll be up front all evening, cooking beside you, checking everything, I will not leave this kitchen unless necessary. I will see everything you're doing, hear everything you say. You all did quite well this week, but I need you to be better."

He eyed every single person in that kitchen.

"You."

His eyes narrowed on you.

"Yes, chef."

"Get started, now. I need fresh desserts."

He had to be fucking kidding! Why did he ask you to be here with everyone else. You should have come earlier to start.

You decided to bite back your temper, knowing Natasha was looking at you, and make your way to your work station. You get started.

You can only hope to have desserts ready in time. He should have known you would need extra time. Too late to do anything about it now.

The restaurant roars to life.

The doors open, the customers enter, the waiters out front greet and smile at people. It isn't long before orders come flooding into the kitchen.

Helmut Zemo is right there to call them out.

All around you is an echo of 'yes chef!'

You focus on the desserts. Those who have pre ordered their desserts are easy. You can do us on those.

It's anyone who hasn't ordered yet that worries you. You're the only person at this work station. You have to bake, prep, and decorate everything to perfection.

That bastard is either a fool or he's testing you.

Zemo's shouts across the kitchen don't go unnoticed by you. Even if it's not aimed at you, it's distracting and annoying. It's going to take everything in you not to throw something at him.

Why is it so hard for him to be a decent human being?

So many meals had been sent out... they'll want dessert soon and you're not quite ready.

You can feel his gaze on you.

You glance up.

Those dark eyes of his are glaring at you. He's confident enough to take his eyes off of what he's cooking to glare at you.

You glare back.

Just as you cast your eyes down to focus back on your work, his voice rings out loudly across the kitchen.

"Are those desserts done yet?"

"Not yet."

"Hurry up!" He growls.

You resist biting back as you check the cheesecake you had prepared. It was almost done. The tiramisu was as good as done too. The came was still in the oven, you would lucky if you could decorate it in time. Then you remember the panna cotta, damn it!

You wipe at your brow with your arm and check the cake. It's not going to be done in time. He'll throw a fit.

A clatter up ahead has you looking up.

Zemo's base narrows on the young man who was scrambling to pick up the dish he dropped.

"Pick that up and get out of the way!"

Peter, you had learned his name is, quickly grabs everything and hurries off to the side. Apparently, he was one of Zemo's favourites to yell at... other than you, perhaps.

"Where the fuck are the desserts?"

You glare back at Zemo.

"I'm going as fast as I can! If you wanted them done sooner, you should have asked me here sooner!"

"Are you always this rude and disrespectful?" He growls.

"Are you?"

He is gripping the frying pan he's using with quite a bit of strength. He looks like he's trying so hard not to throw it at you.

"Hurry the fuck up or get out."

You can't physically go any faster than you are now. By the time the cake is ready to come out, desserts are being requested. Zemo comes over to your work station with Loki and Sylvie in tow. They take slices of the cheesecake and tiramisu. You're preparing the panna cotta you almost forgot about, and you just manage to get an apple pie into the oven now that the cake is done. Everything is a mess, but at least you have desserts going out.

You make each dish presentable as Loki and Sylvie take a slice of the desired dessert. They smile at you before they take up front where the waiters can collect it.

Zemo remains hovering over your work station. He has his hands on his hips and you can see how tense his shoulders are.

The man was pissed.

"What?"

"You're too fucking slow. Almost everything has been perfect except for you."

"You hired me."

"Because your desserts are perfect. You are not. You are slow, rude, disrespectful, and your attitude is a mess. I can't believe you're the best baker I could find," he hisses.

"Backward compliment."

"Shut up and hurry up."

"You know, it would be a whole lot easier if you stopped hovering over me. I can't cool down a cake any quicker. I can't bake the pie any quicker. Have you ever baked something before?"

"Of course I have," he says, offended at the notion.

"Then you should know."

"I have made everything on me menu. Everything a hundred times better than what you're producing."

"THEN YOU BAKE!"

"Do not raise your voice at me," he snarls, pointing his finger in your direction.

"Then piss off!"

Other than the sounds of things cooking, everything else is silent. Everyone was staring over at you, but you couldn't care less right now.

Zemo was glaring harder than ever.

"Get out."

"Excuse me?" You ask, unsure if you actually heard him.

"Get. Out."

"You're kicking me out?"

"GET OUT!" He swipes his arm across your work station and knocks over the things you were going to use on the cake.

You jump as they clatter to the ground.

You glare at Zemo.

"Fine, asshole. You bake. Fuck you!" You throw the spatula you had been holding down and storm out of the kitchen.

Zemo turns on his heel.

"GET BACK TO WORK," he glares.

Everyone quickly continues focusing on what they're doing.

Zemo takes over for you.

Things seem to go a lot smoother now that you're gone. He can focus better. He decorates the cake his way, dishes out everything as it comes in, and even makes more cheesecake as it seems popular tonight.

You do not return to the restaurant that night.

It's late when the doors close. Everyone cleans up the kitchen and leaves it spotless. Zemo is in his office counting up the profits of the evening when everyone else leaves.

Natasha casts a glance at your work station.

She warned you, but she was also worried about you.

You and Zemo existing in the same space just led to hatred and anger. Neither one of you could co-exist. They really needed you to if this was going to work out. You can't be yelling at each other every night.

At least he didn't fire you... yet.

As soon as she exists the restaurant, she pulls out her phone.

Nat: hey, how are you doing?

No response. It is late though.

Nat: Zemo will probably want to see you tomorrow. Just be careful, OK?

She sighs and heads home.

You lay awake on your bed watching your phone light up. You don't even check them. Most of them are from Nat, but you saw Thor's name pop up a couple of times.

He was worried about you.

That made you happy. Thor was nice, you liked him. He fit into your little friend group nicely.

You sigh as roll over and lay on your back.

You would face Zemo with your head held high tomorrow. Whatever he threw at you, you would throw back 10x worse.

You'll show him what you're capable of.

The long con. That would be far more satisfying. You smile. If Zemo was going to continue to be a dick, you would fight fire with fire.

You just hoped he wouldn't humiliate you again.

@lieutenantn @rumblelibrary @bigtiddythanos @timmvrphy @vverliebt @thatoneartgalsstuff @apparrio @mischief-siriusly-managed @hb8301 @zemosimp05 @madhatter2727 @aarielsea @alex-the-nb @thesuitkovian @handmaiden-of-mischief @malkaviangirl @charistory @killeromanoff @latenightartist-author @belle82devart @alindeluce @anteroom-of-death @mssennimatilda @unbeatablecurlgirl @bruhidaniel @nonamec0s @fablesrose @lemairepstuff @marchingicenotes7 @scuttle-buttle @fictionlandslanddreams @awhorewithissues @secretly-a-weeb

[kurowrites]

“I hit you with my car and was the only one to visit you in the hospital” AU Prompt for Wangxian, if you like?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

---

When Wei Ying woke up, he had to blink a few times to adjust his vision to the bright glare of the lights overhead, momentarily blinding him. Something was weird. This definitely wasn’t his own bedroom, whose lighting was rather dim and most definitely off when he was sleeping.

He blinked a few times more and then turned his head to examine the room he was in.

It took him far too long to understand what he was seeing, but once his brain actually started processing it, there was no doubt. He was in a hospital room, complete with barren walls and the strong smell of disinfectant. But he had no memory that could explain why he would be waking up in a hospital bed. In fact, now that he thought about it, he had no idea what he’d been doing before he’d woken up here, or even what day of the week it was.

Impatient to have his questions answered, he tried to wriggle around and slip out of bed, but his body felt oppressively heavy, and his vision started to swim as soon as he lifted his head off the pillow.

Exhausted and distressed, he fell back into bed. What the hell had happened to him? Why was he feeling so terrible?

Just that moment, the door of the hospital room opened, and a nurse stepped in.

“Oh, you are awake,” she said. “Good.”

She moved up to the bed and started to check his vitals – or harass him, Wei Ying couldn’t really tell which one it was. She was probably around fifty and had a distinct aunt-y vibe that made Wei Ying lay still on danger of getting stabbed with a needle.

“Do you know why you’re here?” she asked, after she had apparently determined that he was conscious and held it together enough for conversation.

“No,” Wei Ying croaked, and immediately started coughing. His throat felt terribly dry.

The nurse went to his bedside table, where a cup and a pitcher of water had been placed, and filled the cup for him. Then she made him drink.

“You’ve been in a traffic accident,” she told him without ceremony. “You got hit by a car and had to be brought here in an ambulance.”

Shit. Could that be true?

He didn’t remember any of that.

“I don’t remember,” he told the nurse.

“Honey, it’s probably better if you don’t,” she said, patting him on the arm absent-mindedly. “That’s your brain protecting you. You’re also on painkillers right now,” here, she pointed at one of the drips that went into his arm, “and they tend to make your brain a little foggy. You only need to focus on getting better right now.”

That wasn’t particularly comforting to Wei Ying. He’d been lying here, doing–

“My work!” he suddenly remembered.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that!” the nurse said, shaking her head. “I think that nice Mr. Lan has taken care of all that.”

She checked her watch.

“It’s almost time for him to visit, too. Such a nice young man, if only youngsters nowadays were a little more like him.”

She sighed, patted Wei Ying’s arm again, and then left, hopefully to tell someone else that he had gained consciousness again.

Wei Ying sighed and stared at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure what the nurse had meant with “that nice Mr. Lan,” because he didn’t know anyone with the last name Lan. Certainly no one who would visit him at the hospital. Had she gotten his visitor’s name wrong? He tried to think of a different possibility, but couldn’t think of anyone. Wen Ning was away. And Jiang Cheng still wasn’t speaking to him, not to mention that no one in their right mind would ever call Jiang Cheng a ‘nice young man’ if they had spent more than 30 seconds in his presence.

He wasn’t kept in suspense about the identity of his visitor for very long, though. Only minutes after the nurse had left, the door opened again, and through came a man that Wei Ying had never seen in his life. He would have definitely remembered meeting him, Wei Ying was sure, because the man was a devastating combination of tall, handsome and well-dressed. Very memorable. Even in his current drugged-up state.

The man hesitated for one small moment when he saw Wei Ying looking at him, but then continued his progress through the room with a measured pace, finally arriving at Wei Ying’s bedside. He did not speak, but silently placed several items onto Wei Ying’s bedside table. Wei Ying saw a book, what looked to be some healthy snacks, as well as… his phone? It looked terribly beaten up, but a traffic accident might do that to a phone. He should probably be glad if it still worked.

The stranger must have noticed the direction of his gaze, for he finally opened his mouth.

“I have taken the liberty of contacting you place of work.”

“Thank you,” Wei Ying said, sending the stranger an ironic smile. “What I’d rather like to know, though… who are you?”

The stranger bowed slightly, as if to apologise for his rudeness.

“Lan Zhan,” he said. “I was the one… who hit you with my car.”

“Oh, I see,” Wei Ying said, several things suddenly becoming clear to him. “This is a ‘I’m feeling guilty’ visit. Don’t worry about that. It’s fine. I’ll be out of here in no time.”

The stranger, Lan Zan, frowned at Wei Ying’s words.

“It is not guilt that has made me come here,” he said.

Then he was silent again. Wei Ying waited for a moment, but when nothing else happened, he raised his eyebrows at Lan Zhan, encouraging him to go on. Lan Zhan looked as if he’d rather do anything else than open his mouth again, but eventually, thanks to Wei Ying’s pathetic wheedling, he conceded.

“The one responsible for your accident was the driver who suddenly came out of a side street and nearly ran you over,” Lan Zhan explained. “You ended up in front of my car because you were trying to escape his path of collision. He also crashed into my car, nearly hitting you a second time. I have no guilt to speak of, but I am grateful that you survived. I was worried, however, when your family could not be contacted.”

“Oh, uh, well,” Wei Ying stuttered. “Honestly, that shouldn’t be any concern to you. I’ll be fine. My family… well, it doesn’t matter.”

“Your family should care for you if you are injured.”

There was a stubborn set around Lan Zhan’s mouth, and Wei Ying suddenly found himself smiling. He wasn’t sure if he should call it fortune or misfortune, but this Lan Zhan was clearly an incredibly stiff man with very strict notions of propriety, to the point where he involved himself into the affairs of others.

“Ah, Lan-gege,” Wei Ying sighed. “Not to say I’m not very grateful for your help, which I am, but let me assure you that you have officially fulfilled your obligations and are free to leave. You have already done more than I can ask for. If it is as you say, I have no ill feelings towards you. Feel free to go on with your life, and sorry about the car. I think I need to sleep again, I feel very tired.”

He was, in fact, feeling very tired, and it was getting harder to keep his eyes open by the minute.

Lan Zhan seemed to realise that that was the case. He said his goodbyes, but before he left the room, he announced, “I will come again.”

Wei Ying wanted to object, but Lan Zhan was already gone, and Wei Ying’s eyes were closing.

---

The next few days passed in the monotony of sleeping, check-ups by doctors and nurses, terrible hospital meals, and occasional visits from Lan Zhan.

As handsome as he might have been, at first Wei Ying really didn’t want Lan Zhan to come back again. He quickly learned to be grateful for his frequent visits, however. Staying in the hospital was extremely boring, even with the books that Lan Zhan brought him, and everything was much better once he trained Lan Zhan to bring him spicy snacks.

After a few excessively boring days in bed (more than he cared for, certainly), he was finally allowed to walk around a little in order to regain his strength, and Lan Zhan would take him outside into the garden whenever he visited. Wei Ying was extremely grateful for that, since the nurses didn’t allow him to go alone.

Wei Ying quickly learned on their little excursions that Lan Zhan rarely spoke, but was an extremely attentive listener who would prove said attention in the most unexpected moments. It was almost shocking sometimes; Wei Ying would ramble on about something, and Lan Zhan would suddenly say one thing or another that made clear he had been paying attention when most people would have tuned out already. It was… flattering, to say the least. To have someone pay attention to him so much. Definitely something Wei Ying could get used to.

Lan Zhan was also very attentive to Wei Ying’s physical state. More than once, when Wei Ying felt his own strength lagging, he suddenly found Lan Zhan’s hand at his elbow, steadily and unobtrusively making sure that he didn’t fall over his own clumsy feet. Lan Zhan seemed to know that he needed support almost before Wei Ying himself realised it.

Normally, he would complain about being thought a weakling, but if Wei Ying were honest, he would admit that sometimes, he really needed the support. And well… he couldn’t really bring himself to mind being spoiled by a handsome man. If he were really honest, he would confess that he simply liked Lan Zhan’s hands on him, and any excuse that provided him with an opportunity was good enough, even if he had to play up his weakness.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said when they were on one of their garden excursions one day, eating little cups of mango panna cotta that Lan Zhan had brought with him today on a bench. “I will be released tomorrow. You don’t have to visit me here any longer after today.”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan agreed. “What time?”

“Around ten, I think? Why do you ask?”

“I will pick you up.”

Wei Ying sighed deeply and swallowed the last spoonful of dessert.

“Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan. I can ask a friend to pick me up. You shouldn’t do so many things for me. If you are too nice, people will end up misunderstanding. Well, I will end up misunderstanding. You wouldn’t want that to happen, now would you?”

He directed his best salacious grin at Lan Zhan.

“Nn,” Lan Zhan replied noncommittally. “I will pick you up.”

Wei Ying stared at Lan Zhan for a moment. Could it be that Lan Zhan was that thick? That he didn’t realise what Wei Ying was getting at? Did he have to spell it out for Lan Zhan? That he meant misunderstanding in the sense of kissing and possibly getting naked with each other?

“Lan Zhan, I’m serious,” Wei Ying complained, tugging at Lan Zhan’s sleeve to make him look at him properly. “I will misunderstand.”

Lan Zhan looked at him, and it struck Wei Ying again how beautiful Lan Zhan’s eyes were. He had thought that Lan Zhan was pretty much expressionless when they first got to know each other, but that had been patently untrue. His perpetually serious eyes were the source of so much deeply felt emotion. Everything Lan Zhan felt, he felt with his entire heart. So when Lan Zhan looked at him, Wei Ying automatically felt his pulse speed up and his cheeks start to grow hot. That was the effect Lan Zhan had on anyone he really directed his attention towards.

“I will pick you up,” Lan Zhan repeated once again. Stubbornly, insistently. Mulishly.

Without breaking their line of sight even once. Just serious. And steady.

“Oh,” Wei Ying whispered.

Oh. Lan Zhan didn’t want him to misunderstand. Lan Zhan wanted him to understand.

Wei Ying shot up from the bench they had been sitting on and walked over to the trash can close by, to throw away his empty cup of panna cotta. Lan Zhan followed him, throwing his own cup into the trash. As he did it, he looked about as disquieted as Lan Zhan ever did, but right now, Wei Ying was unable to handle anything.

Could he be right? Did Lan Zhan – that Lan Zhan –

As he stood there, he slightly tilted to the side – and there he was, Lan Zhan was right at his side, steadying him. But right now, Wei Ying didn’t want to be steadied. He leaned further into Lan Zhan’s side, putting most of his weight on Lan Zhan right until his head a found a home in the crook of Lan Zhan’s neck.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” he sighed. “Taking advantage of the weak and injured, I see. Do you always flirt like that? Picking people up at the hospital?”

He looked up at Lan Zhan and smiled.

Lan Zhan didn’t answer, but one of his arms most definitely found its way around Wei Ying’s waist, holding him securely to Lan Zhan’s side. It was… intimate.

It was answer enough.

“This is the part where you’re supposed to say ‘No, Wei Ying is the only one for me,’” Wei Ying pouted.

“Wei Ying is the only one for me,” Lan Zhan intoned seriously.

Wei Ying had to bury his face in his hands and scream a little.

“You can’t say things like that out of the blue!” he complained. “My poor, beaten body won’t be able to take it!”

Then he peeked out between the gaps between his fingers, up at Lan Zhan.

“Say it again.”

 (When Lan Zhan picked him up the next day, he received a kiss for his efforts.)

(One kiss, or many.)

(Who was going to count.)

[captain-aralias]

Romance novel prompts

i’ve just been digging through my simon snow folder for WIPs, and found these... 

these are historical AU fic prompts based around Mills & Boon/Harlequin summaries with the names changed. i got them from the Unconventional Courtship generator (which still works - you can use it for more lulzy times), which was built by someone for a fest i ran back in the day. 

i generated them for myself when trying to think of ideas for @carryonthroughtheages

i eventually ended up writing Tyrannus, which wasn’t based on a M&B summary at all, and will probably never write these prompts, so they’re yours if you want them, particularly since COTTA is back. 

but also - i find them funny, so sharing for the lulz.

His Mask of Retribution

The Last Man He Could Ever Love… Handsome Simon Snow has had his share of suitors – and his share of scandal. Three engagements, no wedding… And the ton are beginning to talk. Smouldering Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch has lived the last fifteen years of his life with one goal: avenging the death of his parents. His final target? The Earl of Misbourne. The perfect bartering tool? The Earl’s son, Simon… Held at gunpoint on Hounslow Heath, Simon is taken captive by a mysterious masked highwayman. His father must pay the price – but Simon finds more than vengeance in the highwayman’s warm amber grey eyes

The Outrageous Belle Marchmain Baz Pitch

A MARRIAGE MOST INCONVENIENT! Agreeing to a fake betrothal should suit both society dressmaker Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch and landowner Simon Snow fittingly - clearing Baz's debts and keeping Simon's husband-hunters at bay. Even if blue-blooded Baz, with his extravagant clothes and razor-sharp tongue, despises the very air that nouveau riche Simon breathes! If Simon wants a husband who's agreeable he has his work cut out. Yet when his demanding mouth caresses Baz's for the first time ever he’s lost for words. Maybe Simon's found the one way to tame the only man who's ever stood up to him and make him say, ‘I do...'

Captain Rose’s Snow’s Redemption

Who had his former fiancé become?Captured by pirates off the Virginia coast, Lord Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch is shocked to see in the blue eyes of Captain Simon Snow the young man he loved and lost. What has caused him to exchange his honour for a chance at revenge? But now he needs his help. Dare Baz believe the captain can reclaim his life as an upstanding gentleman and with it, his hand in marriage?

[gerec]

AU-gust 2020 Prompts

AUs 1-10 on Ao3

11. Farm/Ranch AU - Cherik Xavierine, Cherigan? 12. Crime AU - Cherik 13. Rock Band AU - Cherik, Xavierine 14. Vampire AU - Cherik

15. Modern AU - Cherik

---

Instead of Role Reversal I went with the option of Modern AU! Thanks to everyone who sent me ideas, and an extra big thanks to @kianspo for the prompt! I hope you don’t mind that I tweaked it a little. :D

(Erik doesn’t keep kosher in this verse. Also CRACK.)

---

By the time the appetizers arrive Charles is ready to throw in the towel, and concede that this is in fact, the worst first date he’s ever been on in his entire life.

Strike 1 – His date is handsome, well-bred, fabulously wealthy, and supposedly in the line of succession for the tiny Eastern European nation of Latvia. He is also arrogant, self-important, and loves hearing himself talk, and Charles swears he’s going to murder Reed Richards, who told Charles he knew ‘the perfect person to set you up with to get over your ex’, and that was after talking him into taking over Genetics 101 class for the fall term.

Murder.

Strike 2 – They’re at his favorite restaurant, or the one that used to be his and Erik’s favorite place to go, a charming little Italian trattoria with the best panna cotta in all of Manhattan. Victor had taken one look at the homey, down-to-earth décor and snorted, and offered to get them reservations elsewhere, guaranteed to have much better food and service.

Charles had to refrain from braining the man with his menu.

Worse is the fact that not ten minutes after they’re seated, Charles spies Erik arriving with Moira for dinner, with the owner greeting them warmly and placing them at a table much too close for comfort. He manages a half smile, half grimace when Erik and Moira wave at him, though thankfully (or rather not, since it might actually improve the evening to have his ex and his best friend interrupt his blind date) they choose not to make their way over for an awkward introduction.

He thinks it’s entirely unfair that he’d much rather be over at their table, drinking wine and laughing about Erik’s minions or Moira’s cases, than being stuck here listening to Dr. Boring go on and on and on about his giant castle and his super-duper secret important research…

Strike 3 comes just after the main course, when the nervous young man at the next table pops the question to his unsuspecting companion. Between the lovely (if overly saccharine) vows of adoration, the enthusiastic applause by the other diners and some rather overt eye rolling by his own snobby date, Charles is ready to skip dessert and call it a night – preferably with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s ‘Chip Happens’ in front of the TV.

Of course his plan is completely upended when one half of the newly engaged starts choking, having inhaled a piece of steak much too quickly in his excited state. Frantic, Charles grabs Victor and tugs him out of his chair, and shoves him at the young man and his panicky fiancé and demands, “Quick, you have to help him.”

Startled, Victor looks at him and says, “What? I don’t know how to help!”

By now the dining room is in chaos, with the waiter running to the kitchen to find someone to help. “What do you mean you don’t know how?” Charles snaps, “you’re a doctor!”

“I’m not…actually a doctor?” Victor admits, looking a little sheepish for the first time this evening. “I mean, I did get an honorary—”

“Oh do shut up,” Charles growls, shoving him out of the way. In the same instant, Erik appears at his side like a guardian angel, and performs the Heimlich on the poor boy to the relief of the entire restaurant.

“Oh my god, thank you so much,” the fiancé cries, as Charles and Erik help the two of them pack up their things. It’s important to get checked out by a doctor, he tells them, to ensure there are no lasting effects from choking, and they are too shocked and relieved to do much more than let themselves get gently herded out the door and into a cab.

When he steps back inside the restaurant, Erik at his heels, he finds the owner waiting for them, pulling first Charles and then Erik into a hug.

Massimo shakes his head and shudders. “Those poor boys. Thank goodness for you two. I hate to think what would have happened if you hadn’t been here.”

Charles laughs. “Much as I would love to take credit, it was all Erik’s doing. He’s the hero of the night.”

“Yes, yes,” Massimo agrees, “but he wouldn’t have been over there so fast if he hadn’t been watching your table all night, am I right?”

Charles can’t believe it, but Erik actually flushes a delightful pink at Massimo’s teasing, and pretends to scowl at the elderly man when they both start to chuckle. “I wasn’t watching the table! I was just…wondering what kind of man wears a cape to dinner.”  

He can’t even be mad at Erik’s little jab, because Charles had thought the exact same thing.

“Oh hey Charles, sorry to interrupt.” It’s their favorite waiter Sean, who had been shooting dirty looks at Victor all night, much to Charles’ amusement. “Your date paid the bill and left. He said to tell you he’s sorry he had to leave but there was an emergency and blah blah blah he’ll call you. God, what an absolute prick.”

“Now Sean—” Massimo says warningly, though he can’t quite keep the grin off his face.

“No, no Sean’s right.” He can’t even be mortified that Erik is right here, getting a front row seat to the utter shit show of a date he’s had all evening; he’s that relieved it’s over. “That was a huge, terrible, catastrophic mistake I won’t be repeating again. I just want to go home and pretend this entire night never happened.”

“Or you could join us for dessert?”

Charles turns to find Erik looking at him rather intently, almost…hopeful as he waits for an answer.

“I don’t want to interrupt your dinner.”

This time Erik rolls his eyes at him and snorts. “Moira and I are just catching up on work and Tony’s latest disaster.” Then his expression softens and he adds, “It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other and had a chance to talk. I’d like to know how you’ve been doing. Please.”

“I—”

“I’ll bring another place setting over.” Sean interrupts with a grin.

“And I’ll bring you your favorite Panna cotta for two, and a tiramisu for Ms. MacTaggert, yes?” Massimo says, entirely unashamed with his blatant meddling.

Charles laughs; he can’t say no to what is admittedly a lovely offer, and a chance to turn the disastrous evening around to something much more enjoyable – certainly not when all three faces are looking at him with such hope and expectation.    

“Dessert sounds great,” he says, and lets Massimo herd them towards Erik’s table.

[daughterofhecata]

2 or 5 of the one liner prompts, perhaps with Skinny/(young) Goodween if you feel like it? Sending you strength and love and hugs 🐻🐻

[smutty one-liners]

Irgendwie ist das... nicht nur schon wieder kein smut geworden, sondern zu allem Überfluss auch noch emotionally complicated und irgendwie bitter 🙈 Sorry bout that!

[read on ao3]

2. “Don’t act innocent when we both know where your mouth was two minutes ago.” + Skinny/Goodween

Seufzend sah Goodween sich in dem kleinen Motelzimmer nach seinen Klamotten um. Stand etwas widerwillig auf, während Skinny weiterhin nackt auf dem breiten Bett lungerte.

„Ich muss los, meinem Vorgesetzten Bericht erstatten“, erklärte Goodween, in vollem Wissen der Tatsache, dass es Skinny wahrscheinlich eh nicht interessierte, und schlüpfte in seine Boxershorts.

„Über alles?“, wollte Skinny wissen, das dreckige Grinsen unüberhörbar in seiner Stimme.

Goodween war dankbar dafür, dass er Skinny den Rücken zudrehte, sich sowieso gerade nach seiner Hose bückte, sodass Skinny sein Gesicht nicht sehen konnte. Es fiel ihm schon schwer, sich selbst zu erklären und vor sich selbst zu rechtfertigen, warum er immer wieder mit Skinny ins Bett ging, der zwar nur ein paar Jahre jünger war als er, aber eben auch ein stadtbekannter Kleinkrimineller. Aber Cotta ausführlich berichten zu müssen, was genau sie… nun ja, getrieben hatten, Cotta, der in so mancher von Goodweens heimlichen Fantasien auftauchte, würde ihn vermutlich im Boden versinken lassen.

„Über meine Unterhaltung mit einem Informanten, der mir zwar bestätigt hat, dass Wagner wieder in der Stadt ist, aber ansonsten keine weiteren Details nennen konnte“, widersprach er so ruhig wie möglich.

Von Skinny kam ein genervtes Geräusch. „Jetzt tu nicht so unschuldig, wir wissen beide, wo dein Mund vor zwei Minuten gewesen ist.“

Goodween schoss das Blut ins Gesicht und er war wieder einmal sehr froh darüber, dass das bei ihm nicht so stark auffiel. In der Tat wusste er sehr genau, wo sein Mund vor zwei Minuten noch gewesen war, schließlich konnte er Skinny immer noch auf der Zunge schmecken, hatte ihn so tief geschluckt, wie er konnte, Skinny seinen Mund ficken lassen.

Er streifte sein T-Shirt über. „Ich gehe davon aus, dass du genauso wenig willst, dass Cotta erfährt, dass du für einen Cop auf die Knie gehst, wie ich will, dass er weiß, dass ich es mit einem Kleinkriminellen treibe“, gab er kühl zurück. Ersteres war zwar an diesem Tag nicht vorgekommen, in der Vergangenheit jedoch durchaus. Und sie wussten beide, was Skinny blühte, wenn diese Information auf dem Revier die Runde machen sollte.

„Leck mich“, knurrte Skinny hinter ihm.

Sorgfältig überprüfte Goodween noch einmal, ob er alles hatte, vor allem Handy, Geldbörse, Schlüssel. Dann ging er zur Tür.

Wandte sich noch einmal um, der Anblick von Skinny auf dem Bett ausgebreitet, die langen, schlanken Glieder, die Tattoos aus der blassen Haut, die Zigarette zwischen den geschickten Fingern und giftiges Feuer in den Augen, erinnerte ihn daran, warum er sich auf diese Dummheit jedes Mal erneut einließ.

„Nächstes Mal wieder“, erwiderte er, bevor er endgültig das Zimmer verließ.

Kaugummis und Deo hatte er im Auto, wenn er zusätzlich bis zum Revier mit offenem Fenster fuhr, würden hoffentlich alle verräterischen Gerüche verfliegen, bevor er Cotta gegenüber treten musste.

[aristocratic-otter]

Thanks to Daylight Savings Time, I'm going to manage posting tonight!

Also thanks to @aroace-genderfluid-sheep, @artsyunderstudy, @iamamythologicalcreature, @wellbelesbian, @whatevertheweather, @nightimedreamersghost, @ileadacharmedlife, @prettygoododds, and @j-nipper-95 for the tags over the last two weeks.

On to the snips!

From The Heart in The Well, my CORB:

Whoever (or whatever) these creatures are, they’re marching through the Wavering Wood bare footed. 

That’s not unusual. All manner of monsters and fae folk travel these woods. Once I ran across an entire warren of lemming gnomes migrating in search of a cliff to jump off of (I didn’t help them) (I believe in being of service to folk, but helping an entire village off themselves is above and beyond what I’m willing to do). 

What was unusual was the carefully folded note, left in a beam of sunlight on a tree stump in the centre of the clearing. 

A paper folded into the shape of a heart. 

From Saving Simon Snow

 I remember smelling magic from Simon before he passed out: smoke and fire and cedar wood. 

Simon’s magic, back when he had some, did smell like smoke and fire. But it was the acrid smell of smoke from an electrical fire, or the sharpness of green wood burning. This smelled like a full bodied forest fire, rich and smoky and faintly sulphurous. 

It smelled like my magic. 

From Snow Fox, my COTTA

The moment I enter my bedroom, I know I’m not alone. 

It’s not just the flutter of white muslin curtains over a window that was closed when I went downstairs this morning. Nor even the soft susurration of breath from a second pair of lungs. 

I don’t even notice those things. 

No, I know I’m not alone because the moment I step into my room, the scent of magnolia blossoms envelops my senses and every muscle in my body relaxes. My eyes drift shut and my lips tilt up. 

From Stars, Flowers, and Children:

So I know we’re far to young to take care of ourselves. If I were a few years older, I’d probably strike off on my own, because living with Davy is nearly unbearable. I’d try to convince Simon to come with me, but I think I’d go, even if he refused. 

But I’m not a few years older. I’m twelve, and I’m afraid. I don’t know if Simon or I could survive without an adult to guide us, no matter how vindictive he is. 

As it turns out though, we aren’t given a choice. 

From my fic where Simon is a TikTok Dancer:

Pretty much the moment Shepard saw me on the pier today, he offered me a place on his dance crew. Told me that they had plans to make it big on TikTok. I know TikTok; I’ve been watching dancers on it for the last several weeks. It’s frustrating, because it only shows bits of a dance, but Shepard says that humans have a pitiful attention span these days, and the TikTok vids are long enough to catch their interest without boring them. 

I can’t imagine how anyone could be bored watching people dance, but I’m not human, so I’ll have to take Shepard at his word. 

Tagging for a later day or just saying hello:

@best--dress, @bazzybelle, @bookish-bogwitch, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @fatalfangirl, @facewithoutheart, @frjsti, @hushed-chorus, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @ic3-que3n, @larkral, @moodandmist, @messofthejess, @martsonmars, @moments-au-crayon22, @mostlymaudlin, @onepintobean, @palimpsessed, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @theearlgreymage, @tea-brigade, @upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, and @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

[marshmallow-phd]

Midnight Hours

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Summary: For you, being a good witch was easier said than done. Something dark was lurking inside of you and the others knew it. When you’re forced to tag along with Soomi and help a local wolfpack face a coming evil, you’re sent on a path that breaks into a crossroads. While you struggle with your inner demons, could the wolf Sehun be the key to your ultimate fate?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I Final

**

Witches are born with a wide variety of powers. Some are common, gifted to each witch born with the blood, like healing and the ability to cast incantations. Others are given sparingly by Great Mother, envied by the ones who don’t possess them. Those gifts, however, can be a curse.

You were hidden away within the trees, next to the stream not too far from your home. If you squinted enough, you could make out the faded yellow walls and old terra cotta shingles that made up the small cottage you grew up in. No one would find you here. No one cared to venture this far into the woods. It wasn’t as dangerous for witches as it was for humans, but one couldn’t be too careful. At least, that’s what Mother Willow constantly said. It never stopped you, though.

All was quiet for the most part. Sure, birds were chirping and water was running over the rocks it’d long ago smoothed into a slick surface, but the soundtrack of the forest was the only sound that could be heard around you. That was good. That was what you needed.

Taking one last peek around you to be completely certain that you were alone, you scooted closer to the edge of the river and held out your hand.

At first nothing happened. In the past, it had been accidents, not involving your concentration. But you knew you could do it. On the rare occasions you’d been able to practice on your own, you’d been successful once or twice. So, you pictured it over and over in your head, the water rising up, swirling together to create a little sphere. It seemed simple enough, however, you were struggling. The water was barely coming up out of the river. You could lift it, but you couldn’t make it take form.  

Frustration built up inside of you. If you’d been allowed to train properly, this wouldn’t be so difficult. You’d be able to do much more than this. Why couldn’t they just-

“(y/n)?”

You gasped, swirling around in your spot. But you weren’t the only thing that moved. The water you’d been manipulating shot through the air, hitting Soomi in the face, drenching her.

“Oh, crap!” You jumped to your feet, searching for anything that might help her dry off. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Its okay, (y/n),” Soomi sighed as she rung out her hair. The drops of water splattered against the dried fallen leaves before dispersing in even tinier particles. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was, um, I was just-” Caught. That’s what you were. You were caught red handed doing the one thing you were ordered not to do. Well, maybe ordered was a little strong. It was simply “highly suggested” that you didn’t try to “overextend your gifts”. A.k.a., don’t use them at all.

You couldn’t entirely blame the mothers for being wary of what you could do. Sometimes, when they acted on their own, your powers scared even you.

Centuries had gone by since the last recorded incident of a witch born with elemental abilities. No one quite knew what to do with you once your “gifts” had been discovered and several of the elder witches didn’t exactly hide how they felt. While they weren’t advocating for you to be locked in a dungeon for the rest of your life, you had heard whispers of binding spells. It wasn’t your fault that the last witch had gone crazy and killed almost an entire village before she died as well. You weren’t her, so why were they treating you’d risen from her grave?

Soomi was kinder towards you from the beginning, like an older sister you’d never asked for, but turned out you needed anyway.  

The older witch released another sigh. The look of sympathy on her face made you want to scowl, but you held it back. You knew it came from a good place. Didn’t mean you had to like it, though.

“Let’s go,” Soomi simply suggested. “It’s time for your lesson.”

You rolled eyes. That you couldn’t hold back. “You make me sound like Sabrina the Teenage Witch.”

At least Soomi laughed. “You used to like that show.”

“That’s because I thought once I reached high school, I’d be getting into whacky hijinks with my friends while trying to keep the ‘big secret’. Turns out I was just homeschooled.”

“Homeschooled”. That was the official termed used so the school district wouldn’t get hissy that you weren’t showing up for their classes. Really, you spent your days out in the fields learning magic from the different mothers with the other young witches in the coven, not geometry or chemistry. On days where it was too cold to be outside, you were all stuffed into the house of whichever mother was leading lessons that day. There were times that you missed those days. The days when you were still like everyone else.

“Let’s just go inside,” Soomi urged. “Before Mother Willow gets suspicious.”

“I bet she already is,” you grumbled. While the old woman swore up and down that she wasn’t telepathic, you didn’t believe her. She somehow always knew when you were doing something that you shouldn’t have.

Soomi laughed at your comment before turning to head back to the cottage. You took a step to follow, but that familiar nauseated feeling bubbled in your stomach.

No, no, no, not another one.

The world around you began to spin and you fell to your knees, barely keeping yourself up by the palms of your hands.

“(y/n)!” Soomi ran to you, sliding down her knees as well as she grasped your shoulders. But you were no longer in the present.

The scene that took over your vision was as fuzzy and in coherent as ever. Everything was shifting and static, like an old VHS tape that had been played too many times. But new clues were finally given to you in this latest vision.

Moss covered trees surrounded you and it was night, however there was still plenty of light to see by. Light given by the harsh red moon hanging in the sky. A woman stood facing away from you, platinum hair that looked like starlight cascading down her back. She seemed to be speaking to you, but you couldn’t make out any of the words. Her shoulders began to move. She was starting to face you. Before you could fully see her face, however, the vision came to an abrupt end.

“(y/n)! (y/n), can you hear me?” Soomi’s frantic voice came back loud and clear in your ears. You were back.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” you reassured her in a croaked voice. You hated the powerlessness and lack of control you had over the visions. They would come at any time, no warning or preparation beyond the sickened feeling in your stomach. But even that was hardly enough to make you ready for whatever was being forced through your head.

“Did you see anything new?” she whispered.

You wanted scoff. Even though you knew your health was really her first priority when these waves hit and consumed you, but the small part of her couldn’t help be concerned for the wolves these visions revolved around. You’d hoped that someday she’d get passed whatever infatuation she had with that Junmyeon guy. Sure, he was smart and attractively cute, but he had a mate. And there were plenty of guys scrambling to get in line for a date with her.

You’d thought that she was getting over it. The visions you’d received in the beginning hadn’t been clear or involved the wolves at all. They just gave you a feeling that something powerful was coming. Soomi had been the one who insisted on warning the pack that lived near here as she felt they too would be in danger. She’d received quite the scolding for that. Until you had that vision.

It was the only that hadn’t made you feel like you were going to throw up. It had been somewhat peaceful just before it came on that you thought maybe you’d simply fallen asleep or started daydreaming aimlessly. This one had come in clearer than the others, also adding to your confusion. Only the dizziness told you that it wasn’t something your mind had come up with. 

A white wolf was limping towards you, blood matting in the fur on its front left leg, hiding the source wound. Amber eyes that seemed almost human shined at you. The animal was too big to be a normal, wild creature of the forest. It was a werewolf.

When he was right in front of you, he collapse, his muzzle landing softly in your lap as you sat on your knees. You reached out to comfort him, but the vision was over before you could confirm that the snow fur was as soft as it seemed. 

Soomi was the first one you told and she confirmed that it had to be another premonition. Immediately, she called Junmyeon to tell him, but you were confused as you overheard the conversation. She didn’t go into detail, simply saying that you had now seen an injured wolf and this “coming evil” would affect everyone after all.

“Yeah,” you finally answered her with a nod. “Yeah, I did.”

“Come on.” Sommi helped you to your feet and started walking you towards the house. “You can tell Mother Willow and then we’ll figure out what to do from there.”

You didn’t reply, just letting her lead you through the trees until the little house came back into view. She helped you through the back door and sat you down at the kitchen table before going to fetch Mother Willow. The wood surface was covered in specs of dried herbs, drops of oil, and different stone bowls used for mixing the ingredients to whatever concoction the old lady was inventing next. It was the main reason you never ate at the table. You wished that she’d make something that would stop the visions or at least make them a bit more bearable to handle, but she said it was simply “meant to be”.

“Tell me what you saw, dear.”

You jumped just as the two older witches came back into the kitchen.

Mother Willow, with her wild gray hair just as chaotic as ever, sat across from you, sliding a cup of tea over to your side of the table. You breathed in the steam given off from the caramel colored liquid and instantly felt more energized and recovered. Herbal magic. Her specialty. And soon to be yours.

“What did you see, child?” she asked after you’d taken a sip.

Pulling your face into a frown, you closed your eyes and thought back to what you’d seen. “I was in the forest. It was dark. Nighttime. The blood moon was high in the sky. There was a woman with white hair. I couldn’t see her face. But she was just standing there, staring at the moon.”

“That was all?” Mother Willow asked when you became silent. You nodded, opening your eyes. Exhaling, she turned to Soomi. “The blood moon is only a month away. Whoever this woman is, she must be behind whatever is coming. I’m sure of it. She is not to be underestimated.”

“Do you know who she might be?” you asked cautiously. Mother Willow was like an old leather-bound history book hidden in the forbidden part of the great library; full of secrets and long forgotten tales. How she came across the things she knew, you weren’t sure. You were always too afraid to ask.

Mother Willow shook her head. “There are dozens of possibilities, each more worrisome than the last.”

Concern and fear decorated Soomi’s features. “What should we do, Mother?”  

“Go to the boys,” was her answer. “They should be prepared to help fight whatever this is. According to (y/n)’s visions, they’ll be involved one way or another. It’s best they have every detail that we have as soon as (y/n) has another vision. And maybe they’ll have knowledge that we don’t possess.”

“What could they possibly know that we don’t?” you questioned. They were simply wolves that went on with their lives. The only time they ever got involved was when they were directly threatened, like when the small coven that lived within the city limits had tried to kill one of their mates. Idiots.

“They have their own histories they carry with them,” Mother Willow explained. “They have enemies that we might not know about.”

“If they haven’t thought of it by now, I hardly doubt it’s suddenly going to dawn on them,” you argued.

It’d been over two years since you first started getting the visions. At first, you would go months without receiving another one. Lately, though, they were hitting you more often. Mostly just the same blurred trees, indistinguishable babble, and occasional appearance by the white wolf, save for today’s adventure. Maybe you were still just a little bitter about that. Bitter that you were the one who had to deal with this. Why couldn’t it have been one of the wolves that got the visions instead?

Oh, right. They weren’t that special.

Mother Willow looked up to her ceiling, exasperating by your constant fight back. “Your visions involve them. It is only right that we include them. I can’t see the future, but they will be the back bone of the fight. I can feel it.”

“I’ll let Junmyeon know we’re coming.” Soomi left the kitchen, disappearing through the living room and down the hall, where your bedrooms were housed. You still felt guilty whenever you thought about how Soomi had given up her travels to come back here and train you. Now she was stuck here, making sure that you stayed out of trouble and made it through your lessons. Not to mention being the constant connection between the coven and the wolf pack. 

“You were using your powers again, weren’t you?” Mother Willow inquired after a minute or so of silence.

You tried to keep your face composed. “Why do say that?”

Like she’d ever fall for that. “Soomi’s hair was dry when she went to go look for you.”

You cringed. “That was an accident.”

“It always is,” she mused. Standing up, Mother Willow walked over to you and patted your head. “You know you have to be careful. If you dive too deeply, you might never make it back to the surface.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” you mumbled, looking away from her as you crossed your arms over your chest. If you were given these powers, why couldn’t you use them?

“Most days, no it wouldn’t be, but you know what it can do. What it’s done.”

“Fine!” You jumped up from the chair. “I’ll just tie my hands behind my back for the rest of life and be done with it!”

“(y/n)-”

“I can’t talk,” you snapped. “I have to pack.” You stormed down the hall towards your room. Just before you slammed your door, you made brief eye contact with Soomi from her room across the way. She was still on the phone, so you cut off the connection and shut your door, hard and loud before collapsing on your bed.

Why did it always have to be you?

**

“Has anyone seen my statistics textbook?”

“Oh, man, who ate the last of the waffles?”

“Okay, who took my black shirt?”

“I’m leaving now, if anyone doesn’t want to drive themselves, you better come now!”

“Don’t leave without me!”

“You can’t leave without telling Mei bye! Do you want to make her cry?”

Sehun smiled to himself as he stared up at the ceiling, hands behind his head for an extra pillow. While the rest of the house was up and getting ready for the day, he’d stayed back in his room, just listening to the chaos that was a daily occurrence around here.

Unlike the others, Sehun didn’t have anywhere to be. After graduation, he wasn’t sure what to do. A few days a week he helped Kris out at the shop, but for the rest of the time, he mostly just hung around the farmhouse or wandered around town.

Gone were the days where he could count on his brothers to keep him company or to cure his boredom. All of them had mates that needed attention and love and he was still the odd man out. Not that he resented any of the mates; it wasn’t their fault, they didn’t choose it. Mostly. No, he wasn’t resentful. Just… bored. But he was content with that boredom. He’d rather be in this overcrowded, chaotic house than anywhere else.

Deciding it was time to venture downstairs, Sehun peeled himself out of his sheets and shuffled over to the closet. 

Some of Tao’s clothes were shoved over to Sehun’s side of the small space. The evil idea of wearing one of Tao’s precious shirts crossed his mind, but decided the whining the older wolf would give wasn’t worth it. Especially since Lottie was able to smother the fits fairly quickly. It just wasn’t as entertaining as it used to be.

Pulling one of his own shirt off the hanger, Sehun juggled pulling it over his head as he left the room. He made a quick stop by the bathroom, brushing his teeth and waking himself up with a splash of water to the face. In the mirror, he could see his dark roots peeking of from the sandy blonde ends. Running his fingers through the messy hair, he mused over the idea of a change. He smirked to himself. What a nice way to shock everyone around here. It was an easy decision to make, but not today. He’d give it a bit before really deciding on what to do.

Things had quieted down significantly as he descended the stairs after leaving the bathroom. Only a few mates and their wolves were scattered around the kitchen. Everyone else had already headed into town.

“Good morning, Sehun,” Evie waved from the breakfast booth as she sat next to Mei, watching to make sure the little rascal didn’t make too much of a mess since she liked doing it on her own now.

“Morning,” he mumbled back as he made his way to the fridge. Not really hungry, he snatched a yogurt from the top shelf and let the door close itself shut.

“Any plans today?” Jongdae asked as he stood from the kitchen table.

Sehun shrugged. “No, not really.” He was about to ask Jongdae if he wanted to find something to do with him, but then he remembered it was Wednesday. Jongdae and Jiyoung had a standing date at the old Orpheum theatre every Wednesday to see whatever old flick was being played that day. Although, Sehun wasn’t sure a lot of “watching” was being done. “I’ll find something, though. Maybe bug Junmyeon during his office hours.”

Jongdae laughed. “That’s right. Poor guy needs some company with Kita out on that internship dig.”

“She comes back next week, doesn’t she?” Lanie asked.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t stop Junmyeon from panicking every five seconds,” Chanyeol chuckled as he threw an arm around Lanie’s shoulders.

His mate rolled her eyes. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t be doing the same thing.”

Sehun snickered, but kept his mouth shut. He liked having the girls around. They were quick witted and could sometimes come up with better jokes and comebacks than he was able to.

Finishing off the yogurt, Sehun threw it in the trash and headed for the back door.

“Where are you going?” Evie asked.

Sehun shrugged. “For a run, I guess.”

He was out the door before anyone could respond. Because while he liked having everyone around he was sick of the stare. The “I wish he wasn’t alone” stare. The sympathetic stare. He wished they would stop, but he knew they wouldn’t. They wouldn’t get that he really didn’t care. He wasn’t pining for this mystery mate that had eluded him. If she showed up, great. If she didn’t, he wouldn’t care. He was purely neutral on the whole idea. Besides, he kind of liked things the way they were. Why did they need to change now?

[basically-rainbow-aus]

In your REMN AU (cool idea btw, love it), how does the reincarnation work. Does Salem reincarnation and if so who follows her? ALSO Penny, who does she replace and who replaces her?

“Come in.”

The reincarnation happens in very much the same way as it does in canon for Salem, as she is followed by Penny Polendina, a young farmgirl from Mistral.

Penny, as such, is replaced by Oscar. However, Salem’s Inner Circle now consists of Adrian Cotta-Arc (taking the place of Glynda Goodwitch), General Jacques Schnee (taking the place of James Ironwood) and Coco Adel (taking the place of Qrow Branwen).

Thanks for the question! Remember inbox is OPEN for questions about RMEN and the Swap AU!

[peach-jaehyunie]

The Descent

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x OC, (minor) Johnny Suh x OC x OC, (former) Kim Taehyung x OC

Rating: 18+

Warnings: swearing, suggestive content, implied drug use

Pt. I

Words 4,263

Genre: Fantasy, Fallen Angel AU, slow burn

Synopsis: Vada spends her days working in a restaurant, letting all the desires of her true nature remain mostly unfulfilled. Where passion had once been in her life she is left with only half memories—secrets of her past that haunt her heart. A man with blue hair catches her attention he and his friend begin to ignite the feelings within her that have long been dormant.

You had known a man like that as a sophomore in college. He had been your dorm roommate’s boyfriend, and he had radiated an unfamiliar energy. He was ethereal and his aura pulled you in. One time you asked how he got the two scars on his back “I had my wings ripped off,” he joked. He was gorgeous, but one day he was just gone and your roommate curled up in her tiny bed to weep over everything Kim Taehyung had taken and given.

He had made you look twice when you had first seen him a month ago. He rode a bicycle and his blue hair ruffled in the wind, you couldn’t help but look at him—the ethereal beauty you had seen before in someone else. It had become routine to see him as you walked to work: he would fly past, his shirt billowing, sometimes followed by a hooded figure with downcast eyes on a longboard. Eventually, his eyes would catch yours as he passed: they were deep brown and calming, there was always a twinkle of hope to be seen in them for a fleeting moment as he sped by. You noticed days you didn’t see him, they felt slightly emptier and work would be lacklustre.

“Vada?” You snapped to attention as your coworker said your name,

“Yeah, sorry, what did you say?” You quickly replied as you went back to whisking a pastry cream twice as hard.

“Katerina needs to know what to put on the menu for the desserts this week.”

“Oh, um,” Devo had caught you at a bad time as you were daydreaming about a blue haired stranger. “I made a white cake filled with almond pastry cream between the layers and an Italian meringue icing; I have blood orange panna cotta setting right now, which will be served with a blueberry sauce...oh! I’m making trifle with the leftover cupcakes, and I’m going to make a chocolate cherry mousse and serve it in martini glasses.” You noticed that Devo didn’t write any of this down and braced yourself for when Katerina would inevitably come and nitpick your work. You furiously whisked in the eggs yolks and were relieved that the cream remained perfectly smooth as it took on a yellow hue. You felt as though you could probably whip up a triple batch of pastry cream in your sleep, so thinking about the two men that chose a bicycle and a longboard as their methods of transport in a hilly city like San Francisco kept your brain busy.

A handsome man caught your eye for a second as you walked home with your bag of groceries. His eyes met your gaze and you felt unable to turn away. A chill came over you and you felt that his eyes were enough to suffocate you in the crowded sidewalk, every step drew each of you closer together. You fought back a grimace as the street narrowed and the mass of people were forced closer together. You were able to force your gaze from him, but the stranger’s arm bumped into your shoulder as he walked past. The hair on your neck prickled, your stomach felt like ice; he felt wrong. You couldn’t shake the feeling of repulsion even when you got home and set your TJ’s bag on the counter and began to unpack it.

“Hey, Vada,” your roommate greeted you without even looking at you as she breezes from the bathroom, through the tiny living room, and into her bedroom before shutting her door. You could hear two voices through the door; Brian must have been over and now they were getting ready for a night out. You considered an evening spent at home alone: you weren’t much of a Netflix watcher, and a string of bad first dates had left you in a dry patch romantically. You couldn’t go out with Ana and Brian, because you had fucked Brian first and now it felt awkward because he wasn’t quite your sloppy seconds; he just mostly was.

You ate the dinner you had brought home in a to-go container from work; it was delicious and the flavours were balanced, an array of textures should have been enough to excite your palate, but tonight it felt as tantalizing as eating cardboard. You picked up a book; any attempts to read it failed as you continuously got up to scour the cupboards and fridge for anything attractive. You spent the evening fidgety and almost...hungry. It was an odd sensation, a mix of physical hunger; for food, excitement, sex—anything to pull you from the mundane— and an even deeper hunger: a yearning. You thought of the blue-haired man on the bicycle, a warm and pleasant feeling filled you. It was the exact opposite sensation that you had felt from the other stranger while walking home. A streetcar outside the window clanged and you rolled over in bed, irritated by its sound.

The next day the blue-haired man was not to be seen on the way to work. A somewhat familiar feeling of unfulfillment took hold of you upon reaching your apartment at the end of the day. While you got ready to out to a bar with Devo you remembered someone else filling you with that feeling before: warmth, hunger, and insatiability that you couldn’t describe. You flinched like a wounded animal when you recalled the sharp grip of guilt that had clawed at you in punishment for giving in to such base desires.

“Here, you look like you could use it,” Devo said, sliding you his Manhattan as he ordered another.

“A Manhattan?” You looked at him skeptically.

“Sophisticated; like me,” he immediately quipped “No, but seriously, what happened in the two hours since I last saw you?”

“I guess I’m just kinda bored and very lonely.” You take a sip of your drink, already regretting the lasting taste the alcohol leaves on your tongue and the cloying aroma it will leave on your skin.

“What about your roommate?”

“She’s out with Brian,” you weren’t jealous, or at least not of the Brian factor, but no one would have possibly known that from the way you gulped down the rest of your drink.

“The one you fucked first?” Asked Devo.

“Yes,” you replied with a laugh in his direction, “The one I fucked-first. I’m very generous that way, you know, bringing people together like that.”

You and Devo’s friend, Adrian (boyfriend, but Devo’s parents don’t approve and, no, he doesn’t want to talk about it) must nearly carry poor, drowsy Devo back to his little bachelor apartment. It’s tidy but dark; there’s enough room for two men in love as long as lavish amenities like oxygen aren’t that important to you. The only pieces of furniture are a bed, two bean-bag chairs in front of a TV sat on the floor and a table in the kitchen area that’s used as an extra counter when Devo is experimenting with a new culinary delight at home.

“Vada, let me walk you home,” Adrian tells you right after you two have put Devo in his bed.

“Sure, thanks,” you tell him. You like Adrian, but he proves to be a slow walker and a fast talker on the way home. He asks you what Devo is like at work—Devo is the first guy he’s gone out with since moving to San Francisco from Ohio.

“What brought you out here?” He’s young and curious: Devo is the mutual friend, but no one talks about your past because the parts you make public are boring and you keep all the gritty and smutty stories to yourself.

“UC Berkeley,” you sighed, but not audibly. “My dream school; I dropped out Junior year, first semester.”

“Shit, didn’t like it?”

“Nah, it’s a great school, it just wasn’t what I wanted at the time.”

“What did you do after that, I mean before working as a pastry chef?” Damn, could he walk any slower.

“Just kinda bummed it on what I had leftover from student loans,” Liar. Someone had gotten you a lucrative job as a stripper in a club off of Broadway. You thanked Adrian and quickly left him out on the street as you hurried up the two flights of stairs to your apartment. There wasn’t a sound from Ana’s room, but empty takeout containers sat on the counter illuminated in the dark kitchen by a strand of lights that hung above the sofa. Your mouth felt dry as your senses were suddenly overcome with the bass of loud club music and a hint of chemical cleaner to cover up the odour of spilled alcohol. Your skin felt sticky with sweat and your hands felt grimy from money—but when you opened your eyes it was just a little two-bedroom apartment in a house with a blue facade staring back at you. It was not special, it was not grand; there were fairy lights strung up and a half-dead cactus (too much water) in the corner. You could close your eyes and remember a room for special guests who wanted a private show...after they inhaled from a blue balloon they were too out of it to do anything more to than slip a hundred into your g-string.

That night you had a dream (or maybe it was a nightmare, but it wasn’t all bad) that you were back in your Berkeley dorm. You laid in the bed and felt warm and full, it felt like happiness but there was a dusting of excitement: a *secret*—which is sometimes just a cute word for a lie. Your limbs felt tangled and you could hear yourself whispering, which was strange because you felt that you were alone until Ally came in and saw you on your little bed and started crying as she shouted and threw items from her side of the room at you. She didn’t want your apologies—were they yours? The dream began to feel claustrophobic; Ally wouldn’t talk, only cry and push away any comforting hands and you could feel yourself standing there...were you apologizing? watching? All you knew was that guilt was suffocating you.

You felt him before you saw him. For the first time, you were aware that you weren’t the only one who looked at him as he passed by on his bicycle. His gaze was as welcoming as a lover’s kiss and his eyes still felt hopeful and warm. You thought (foolishly? hopefully?) that he only looked at you.

You saw him again the next morning and you brazenly returned his gaze: his eyes were like a deer’s, you wanted to spend hours staring into them because they felt safe, welcoming, nonjudgemental. His sharp jawline made your mouth water, but the small smile that broke from his beautiful lips made you feel warm and happy.

Devo came to where you worked in the kitchen to complain about the new line cook.

“Does he ‘Yes, Chef!’ too much for your liking?” You ask him with a straight face.

“No—“

“Oof, he reeks of Axe—“

“No,—“

“Does he have mutton chops like the last guy? Those were gross.” Devo often came to you to complain about the new staff. You enjoyed listing off his complaints about coworkers more than you would like to admit.

“This dude just...creeps me out. Like, he seems nice and everything, but fuck, this sounds ridiculous, I just get this really bad vibe from him, you know? It’s like bad...energy.” You stifled your laugh because Devo was so earnest.

“Well, I feel like I have to meet him now.” You say wiping sticky sugar from your hands and setting a timer on your phone.

“He’s nice! He just makes my skin crawl,” Devo nodded and laughed as he said this before heading back to his prep station.

“Behind, oven door!” You said loudly as you stepped onto the line to put a sheet of rolls on the oven.

“Oh, hey, Vada?” The chef addressed you,

“Yes, chef?”

“This is our new line cook, Johnny.”

The tall cook turned to you and despite having not seen his face before today you knew, you felt that he was the man on the longboard.

“Hey,” Johnny gave a small wave “Vada...I like that name, have I seen you somewhere before? You look really familiar.” He looked at your face intently for a moment before you spoke.

“Um, no I don’t think so. I haven’t worked at many restaurants before.” Being under his gaze felt like a microscope, but...it wasn’t a bad feeling. He shook his head as if to get rid of a thought.

“Well, it is nice to meet you, Vada.” Johnny offered his hand for you to shake. There was a strange and sudden internal pull when you grasped his hand and he must have felt it too by the way he smirked at you.

You couldn’t be sure that he was the longboard guy; when Johnny left work he left on foot to catch a tram. He was talkative and easygoing, behind his outgoing demeanour there seemed to lurk a sedate and tormented individual. You could only see it sometimes: it was there behind his eyes as he worked, sometimes it was written on his face for just a second before the jovial mask would return. Devo avoided him as best he could and Johnny (strangely) didn’t seem at all offended, regardless of how obvious Devo was.

“Drinks and staff night out at Gus’s tonight!” Katerina yelled into the kitchen as closing started. You quickly cleaned up your work station and grabbed a bucket of cutlery for polishing to help the servers get out faster. An hour later the group of you were turning out the lights and locking up, stuffing the split tips into a safe place to be spent later on. Gus’s Bar was a short walk and extremely casual and therefore suitable for a bunch of sweaty kitchen workers.

“First round is on me,” Katerina stated as she sat down at the bar and the old barkeep slowly approached while he was polishing a glass. He nodded and remained quiet as everyone placed their orders, never writing anything down, and began to make drinks more efficiently than you had ever seen in your life. The barkeep (possibly Gus) soon had a row of drinks up for all of you. As soon as Johnny downed his first in one go he exclaimed with a mischievous glint in his eye:

“Third round is on me!” He winked at you as you realized what that meant because no one had offered to buy a second round.

“I guess I’ll buy round two,” said one of the waitresses with a chuckle, her long, blonde waves shaking as she laughed. You felt pleasantly buzzed after round three, not really needing a lot more but also not anywhere near turning down an offer for another one. You ordered a whiskey sour—neat; this one you were paying for. You sat between Miles and Johnny at the bar: Miles was laughing at everything anyone said but paying you no mind because you just wanted to sit there and enjoy the feeling.

“I know where I know you from now,” Johnny spoke resting his arms on the bar comfortably.

“Oh yeah, where?” You grinned at him, unfazed.

“The Velvet Angel,” he said it loud enough that you knew you could only hear him, but you still felt that your heart stopped for a few moments. His eyes stayed on your face, but your thoughts raced and your mouth felt dry when you realized what this meant.

“How did you—“ you began licking your lips

“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything—it’s our secret.” He assures you upon noticing your hands shake as you tried to bring the whiskey sour to your mouth. You looked at him, blushing at how kind and welcoming his gaze seemed despite the fact you felt nearly like drowning. You wanted to run away...but you couldn’t, not from Johnny. Everything seemed foggy, but you finished your drink and ordered another. Adrian came and you felt the brush of his hand on your back as he said ‘hello’ and you thought you must have said something back but you couldn’t remember. Miles fell asleep with his head on the bar as Johnny comfortably nursed a beer on your other side. Strangers came and went, and one by one your coworkers left until it was just the three of you—two if you considering that Miles was passed out.

“Do you know where he lives?” Johnny asked you as he finally finished his beer.

“No,” you had to clear your voice as it cracked from disuse. Why weren’t you more shattered, why did this not feel so bad to have Johnny know of your past life.

“I have someone in my couch at my place, can Miles crash at your place?” You wanted to ask Johnny if it was the blue haired man of your fantasies that was on his couch. That thought felt silly and hopeful, especially because you were nearly just operating off of a hunch.

“Yeah, I don’t think my roommate will mind. Wait—“ You grabbed Johnny’s arm as he moved to get up and, you thought, leave. “—I don’t think I can move him by myself,”

Johnny chuckled at your panic, and you felt your face heat up even more than just from the alcohol.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get him home for you; I won’t leave you.” He said as he gently patted your shoulder. Johnny went to help Miles up, but the young man turned out to be drunker than expected and your jaw dropped as Johnny picked up Miles easily and began to carry him out.

“Are you okay to carry him by yourself? That’s not what I meant when I said I couldn’t; I can help if you want!” You called after him, nearly tripping out of your barstool and trotting to catch up with his long strides.

“No, I’m fine, he’s light. Just walk us in the right direction.”

It’s quite a few minutes before you pluck up the courage to say anything to Johnny about The Velvet Angel. You choose your words carefully, wanting to keep the conversation lighthearted.

“No offense, but you don’t really seem like the type of person that would have frequented The Velvet Angel.” You finally say.

“A man?” Johnny joked after a moment. His breathing wasn’t laboured even though he was carrying another person up a hill.

“No, I mean, like that place had other stuff going on.” You began to feel uncomfortable, maybe you had completely misread him.

“Oh...you mean the private rooms and the balloons...well, I try to avoid that a bit now, but I haven’t always.” His voice was soft and low, you turned to look back at him and there was that sad tortured look again. You regretted saying anything.

“I think I deserve some credit for remembering your face, though.” Johnny suddenly quipped with a shy smile.

“Yes, that was very gentlemanly of you,” you replied sarcastically.

“It was the expression you wore on your face,” he began after a pause, “Some of the women...you could really tell that you were just paying to see their body, and some liked to play as if they were teasing you, but you—your face was that of a lover.”

“A lover?” You dubiously queried.

“It’s… You looked like someone in love, your eyes invited an intimacy if you looked closely enough. You didn’t look fake or cheap, it was all art and the beauty of love in your face.”

Your mouth felt dry, and your walking slowed down as Johnny spoke. Love, what did that even feel like? Did you remember, had you ever known it? There was a void where memories of feelings like that should be stored. All you could remember was guilt...disgust, remorse, and guilt. You had slowed to a stop without realizing it.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asked, worried as he stopped by your side. You looked at him, unable to form a complete thought until the building behind Johnny took shape in the dark.

“This is my house.” You finally manage as you lick your lips and think to take keys from your bag. You unlock the main front door and hold it open as Johnny walks in carrying Miles.

“I live on the second floor, I’m so sorry,” You grimace thinking of him having to carry another man up the stairs.

“I said not to worry about it, Miles is light.” And he easily carries him to your apartment where Miles is laid on your sofa with a pillow from your bed and a spare blanket.

“Thank you so much, I hope you don’t have too far to go.” You tell Johnny as he walks toward your door to leave.

“Nah, it’s fine. It would be faster if I had my longboard, but I can catch a bus.” He shrugged.

“You have a longboard?” You asked, hoping you didn’t sound too curious.

“Yes,” he turned to you and chuckled a little “But you already knew that.” He couldn’t see your blush in the dark. How could he have known that you suspected him?

“Vada,”

“Mhm,”

“If you ever want to meet Taeyong...all you gotta do is ask.” In the hallway, a streetlamp illuminated his face enough for you to see his grin and wink in your direction before turning around and trotting down the steps and out.

———————————————————-

The blue haired man is absent for the rest of the week, but on Saturday night you follow Johnny out the back door to shout after him:

“I want to meet him; I want to meet Taeyong.” Johnny sets his longboard down and pulls his phone out to check it before he answers you.

“Okay,” he looks at you with a slow grin, “I’ll find out when he’s free. Now get back to work, I gotta hot date I have to meet.” He winks at you as he gets on and rides off.

You feel giddy—butterflies like a schoolgirl when you get back inside the restaurant. You have trouble sleeping that night: trying to figure out every possible scenario as to how Johnny knew about your hunch; all the ways you could meet Taeyong, and imagining a first date in which you were overflowing with wit, intelligence, and good things to say; and also a terrible dread and anxiety that Taeyong was just some random person and not the man with the blue hair.

Your eyes are bleary the next day, the cookbook in front of you seems to keep going out of focus.

“Fucking shit!” You curse as you burn your hand on a cake pan, a silent stream of fucks threatened to be uttered by your tongue as you cup your tender wound. Disheartened, you peer into a mixing bowl of clumpy custard. It will need to be strained. Nothing is going right and you feel frazzled. You check the fruit purée in the freezer to see if they have set in their molds yet—they haven’t. You go up to the main kitchen and pour yourself a coffee with extra cream, avoiding the warmth of the mug with your burnt hand. It’s not a glamorous place to enjoy a coffee or a five-minute break, but the sun lights up the alley and even the dumpster doesn’t look too bad in this lighting.

He hops lightly off his bike as he reaches the alley corner, his frown is matched by your own. The hood of his sweater is up but it doesn’t stop the blue fringe from peaking out. He walks straight up to you with his bike, his frown softens and his eyes look like two inviting pools of melted chocolate.

“Is Johnny here?” He asks after a moment of you staring at him. You nearly choke as you try to speak and swallow your spit at the same time—

“Um, no he hasn’t come into work yet.” You finally manage after clearing your throat. The beautiful man’s frown returns and he almost seems to scowl at the back of the restaurant.

“He was off early last night, and said he was meeting up with a hot date.” You added, it felt rude but you were really unable to take your eyes off of him.

He looked back at you, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His expression was safe and inviting and you suddenly felt less bad for having been staring at him.

“He didn’t come home after his date, and I can’t reach him on his phone; so I thought I’d check here just in case.” His grip on the bike loosened and tightened. Finally, he shyly averted his eyes for a second before offering you his hand to shake.

“It’s nice to finally meet you; I’m Taeyong.” His eyes confidently search yours out when he says his name.

“I know—“ you want to slap yourself as the words fall from your lips, but your hand meets his and you feel a warm and familiar pull in your very core. “I mean, my name is Vada.” You blush as you stumble over the words.

“I know,” and a soft blush breaks out over his smooth cheeks, his grip on your hand never loosening.

[italian-sides]

i'm back with another Thing for the AU? what? i'm on fire these days!

this time, please enjoy a Logince based off the song "E qui comando io" by Gigliola Cinquetti, a folk song mainly spread in northern Italy

tw: mentions of sex, cursing both in English and German

anyway, enjoy!

Luca Stüflesser couldn’t take it anymore.

Every time his roommate, and by now centuries-old crush, Romolo Stella brought some new partners known on Tinder - and maybe even Grindr, given the not always precise gender of the people he saw - in his apartment to... "have fun", Luca became more and more frustrated, so much that he became unbearable even for his other two roommates, Patrizio and Virgilio.

After months and months of swallowed bile and grinning and bearing it, Luca made a decision: he would have confronted Romolo himself.

So, on a night when the Trentino knew that the two would be alone, he approached Romolo's figure on the sofa, intent on re-watching all the Winx series [1] after years, and he stood beside him, with his arms crossed and a serious expression on his face, beginning to speak with the harsh accent typical of his region:

"Romolo, I’m sick of watching all this coming and going, almost every weekend you bring someone different to your room!

Here I’m in command, this is my house, and every day I want to know who is coming and who is going!"

The Roman, finishing eating the popcorn in his hand, merely raised an eyebrow, with a facial expression that perfectly expressed a saying typical of his region: 'E sticazzi?' [2], and he was back to watch Bloom and the other Winx change into their costumes, which made Luca even more upset.

Ah, feelings. The bane of his existence.

He used to say he hated them, but in reality he was also a victim of them, and this he absolutely couldn't accept.

Thus, gnashing his teeth and failing miserably to maintain his composure, the Trentino exclaimed, annoyed:

"Do you have any idea of how many favors I’ve done to you, covering your back every time Patrizio and Virgilio asked something about your... acquaintances? How many times have I cooked, cleaned and swept your room because you were too busy relaxing after having fun? Do you have any idea how unbearable it is hearing someone having fun when you have someone who doesn't even like sex in the same house?

How much I hate that it’s them and not m-"

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Bloody feelings, that darkened his mind and made him speak before he could form a coherent thought, not connecting his brain to his mouth.

"Scheiße. Ich bin ein arschloch, jetzt wird er nie wieder mit mir reden. (Fuck. I'm an asshole, now he’s definitely not talking to me anymore.), muttered in German the Trentino while turning his back to Romolo, already feeling tears forming at the corners of his eyes and deciding to go back to his room, brooding over making a complete ass of himself.

The Stella twin, however, grabbed him by the arm and stopped him, and with a smug smile on his face asked him:

"Oi, kraut... so you like me?"

To say that Luca was blushing was an understatement. Let's say that a tomato - or a Solanum lycopersicum, as the Trentino liked to say - was waaay less red than he was.

"Lüge! (Falsehood!)", exclaimed, without translating from German to Italian for embarrassment, the young man, whose brain made a sound like a computer error once Romolo grabbed his face with one hand, bringing him closer to him on the couch.

"Quando la luna la cambia i color,

vieni ch’è l’ora, vieni ch’è l’ora,

quando la luna la cambia i color,

vieni ch’è l’ora di fare l’amor.",

("When the moon changes its colours,

come, it's time, come, it's time.

When the moon changes its colours,

come, it's time to make love.")

quietly hummed the Stella, continuing the song that perhaps, unintentionally, Luca mentioned just before.

The error sound in Luca's brain turned into the Windows' shutdown sound once Romolo kissed him, pushing him from the chest to spread him on his stomach on the sofa to better deepen the kiss.

Too bad that, during the highlight, Patrizio entered the house, giggling like a child and exclaiming, clearly amused, before returning to his room:

"Look, the house is actually rented in my name, so...

E quì comando io, e questa e casa mia,

ogni dì voglio sapere, ogni dì voglio sapere.

E quì comando io, e questa è casa mia,

ogni dì voglio sapere chi viene e chi va.",

(And here I’m in command and this is my house,

every day I want to know, every day I want to know.

And here I’m in command and this is my house,

every day I want to know who is coming and who is going.")

finishing happily whistling the song.

And if you’re wondering, no, he wouldn’t have made them forget it so easily.

[1]: "Winx Club" is an animated fantasy/adventure series created by Iginio Straffi, a former comic book artist. It is produced by Rainbow SpA, a studio co-owned by Straffi and Viacom, in co-production with RAI, tha national Italian television, and Nickelodeon (also owned by Viacom). The series has also spawned three feature-length movies and multiple spin-offs, including a live-action adaptation aimed at young adults.

[2]: Typical italian slang expression, it could assume different meanings in different regions. Predominantly used in Rome (Lazio) to manifest complete indifference regarding a certain issue.

Luca Stüflesser non ce la faceva più.

Ogni volta che il suo coinquilino, e ormai cotta secolare, Romolo Stella portava qualche nuovo partner conosicuto su Tinder - e forse anche Grindr, dato il genere non sempre ben preciso delle persone che vedeva - nel proprio appartamento per... "divertirsi", Luca diventava sempre più frustrato, talmente tanto che era diventato insopportabile anche per i suoi altri due coinquilini, Patrizio e Virgilio.

Dopo mesi e mesi di bile ingoiata e buon viso a cattivo gioco, Luca aveva preso una decisione: si sarebbe confrontato con Romolo di persona.

Così, una sera in cui il trentino sapeva che i due sarebbero stati soli, si era avvicinato alla figura di Romolo sul divano, intento ariguardare dopo anni tutti gli episodi delle Winx e gli si era piazzato di fianco, con le braccia incrociate e un'espressione seria in viso, cominciando a parlare con il duro accento tipico della sua regione:

"Romolo, sono stufo di vedere tutto questo andirivieni, quasi ogni fine settimana ti porti dietro qualcuno di diverso in camera!

Qui comando io, questa è casa mia, e ogni dì voglio sapere chi viene e chi va!"

Il romano, finendo di mangiare i pop-corn che aveva in mano, si era limitato ad alzare un sopracciglio, con un'espressione che esprimeva alla perfezione un'espressione tipica della sua regione: 'E sti cazzi?', ed era tornato a guardare Bloom e le altre Winx trasformarsi, cosa che aveva fatto innervosire Luca ancora di più.

Ah, i sentimenti. La rovina della sua esistenza.

Diceva tanto di odiarli, ma in realtà sotto sotto ne era vittima anche lui e questo non lo poteva assolutamente accettare.

Così, digrinando i denti e fallendo miseramente nel mantenere la propria compostezza, il trentino aveva esclamato, infastidito:

"Tu hai idea di quanti favori ti ho fatto, coprendoti le spalle ogni volta che Patrizio e Virgilio chiedevano qualcosa riguardo alle tue... conoscenze? Quante volte ho cucinato, pulito e spazzato camera tua perché tu eri troppo impegnato a rilassarti dopo esserti divertito? Hai idea di quanto sia insopportabile sentire come ti diverti quando hai qualcuno a cui nemmeno piace il sesso?

Di quanto odi il fatto che siano loro e non m-"

Merda.

Merda. Merda. Merda.

Maledetti sentimenti, che avevano oscurato la sua mente e lo avevano fatto parlare prima di poter formare un pensiero coerente, collegando cervello e bocca.

"Scheiße. Ich bin ein arschloch, jetzt wird er nie wieder mit mir reden. (Cazzo. Sono un coglione, ora sicuramente non mi rivolgerà più la parola.)", aveva borbottato in tedesco il trentino rivolgendo le spalle a Romolo, sentendo le lacrime pizzicargli gli occhi e decidendo di tornarsene in camera, a rimuginare sulla propria figura di merda.

Il gemello Stella tuttavia lo aveva afferrato per un braccio e lo aveva fermato, e con un sorrisetto compiaciuto sul suo viso gli aveva chiesto:

"A' crucco... ma quindi io te piaccio?"

Dire che Luca era arrossito era un eufemismo. Diciamo che un pomodoro - o un Solanum lycopersicum come piaceva dirlo al trentino - era meno rosso di lui in quel momento.

"Lüge! (Falsehood!)", aveva esclamato, senza tradurre dal tedesco all'italiano per l'imbarazzo, il giovane, il cui cervello aveva emesso un suono simile a quello di errore di un computer una volta che Romolo gli aveva afferrato il viso con una mano, avvicinandolo a sè sul divano.

"Quando la luna la cambia i color,

vieni ch’è l’ora, vieni ch’è l’ora,

quando la luna la cambia i color,

vieni ch’è l’ora di fare l’amor.",

aveva canticchiato distrattamente lo Stella, continuando la canzone che forse, involontariamente, Luca aveva menzionato poco prima.

Il suono di errore nel cervello di Luca si era trasformato nel suono di spegnimento di Windows una volta che Romolo lo aveva baciato, spingendolo dal petto per stenderlo a pancia in su sul divano per approfondire meglio il bacio.

Peccato proprio che, nel momento clou, era entrato in casa Patrizio, ridacchiando sotto i baffi come un bambino ed esclamando divertito, prima di tornare in camera propria:

"Ma guardate che in realtà la casa è in affitto a nome mio, quindi...

E quì comando io, e questa e casa mia,

ogni dì voglio sapere, ogni dì voglio sapere.

E quì comando io, e questa è casa mia,

ogni dì voglio sapere chi viene e chi va."

finendo di fischiettare allegramente la canzone.

E se ve lo state chiedendo: no, non l'avrebbe fatta dimenticare loro tanto facilmente.

[key-smut]

Kibum the Professor

Yeh it’s been a while but here you go~

Warnings: Smut after the cut so don’t continue reading if you’re uncomfortable with that

Tags: Professor AU, fluff, smut, side!jongtaeki

Thank you so much @minghaoluvr8 for beta reading it ^^

“Stop starring he’ll notice if you can’t get your eyes under control.” Your friend and roommate Taemin interrupted your thoughts while you were staring at your professor.

“I’m not staring I’m concentrating on the lecture.”

“I’m sure you are. Because society is sooo interesting. I’m not blaming you. If I had the chance I’d tap that ass.”

“TAEMIN!” you hissed in his direction some of the people in class turning around. “Just for your information; i actually DO enjoy social studies. If you haven’t forgotten, I wanna write my bachelors degree about how our society is being impacted by-“

“Sure, sure.” he interrupted, “ Whatever, but you have to admit that professor Kim is very attractive.” Taemin was right. Professor Kim was everything anyone would ever want: he was handsome, smart and charismatic. He would first catch everyone’s attention by the way he dressed and then capture everyone with his looks and personality.

“Yeah you’re not wrong. He’s the full package.”

“He sure has a big package.”

“FRANCESCO!”

When class was finally over and you were getting ready to leave you heard your name: “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” Professor Kim said. “Uh oh, someone’s in trouble. I’m jealous.” Taemin teased.

“See you later Taemin.” With that he left the classroom and you and the professor were alone.

“Professor Kim if this is about me being loud in class I sincerely apologize-“

“No. I mean kind of.”

“Please don’t sue Taemin for sexual harassment.” He laughed, “I won’t but, please listen. I would like to talk about your thesis if you don’t mind? Maybe at a cafe whenever you’re free? As you know I’ve been working on my masters in education since I’m not a real professor yet, and I think I could help you out with your bachelors thesis. Our subjects are kind of similar and I have lots of sources that could be helpful for you.”

With that it began. You started meeting up at Cafés as you were both working on your papers. Today you were sitting at a Café close to your campus. Kibum was as stylish as ever, wearing the classical young professor look, except he made it look modern and fresh. You looked up from your notes and saw him smiling at you.

“Stop flirting with me or I’ll get fired.”

“I didn’t say anything? And last time I checked you were the one flirting with me, Kibum. Besides maybe I wouldn’t mind it if you’d get fired?”

“You would surely miss looking at my ass.” Kibum answered quickly. You choked on the ice tea you were drinking.

“I-“ you stumbled, trying to make up an excuse. He chuckled at how quickly you were flustered.

“I was just kidding, but your face tells me I was right. So maybe I will get fired.” You’d lie if you’d say that you didn’t want anything more from this relationship but he was right. If they’d get caught he’d get fired and you could never live with that.

“Listen Kibum. I’ve been meaning to tell you this, but I guess you already know. I really like you and I’m trying hard to control myself since I’m your student, and this can’t happen.” Kibum looked at you smiling.

“Yeah I know. And I’ve been having feelings for you too. But as you said it can’t happen. At least, not now.”

“What do you mean? I thought you were staying in your position until at least the end of the year?”

“Yeah but I’ve checked out my courses for next semester and I won’t be teaching the social studies course anymore, meaning that I won’t teach you anymore.” He hinted.

“For real? That’s great! I mean. Not really since I’ll miss you as my professor but... yeah. To be honest... I’ve never been more exited for a semester to end.” You smiled at Kibum, him grinning back. “Me neither.”

Back at home you were happily sitting on your couch looking at your phone when Taemin came in.

“Oh my god are you texting him again? Wait why are you smiling so much? Did he finally fuck you on his desk?” You rolled your eyes at his comment while he was sitting down next to you.

“No Taemin there is nothing to be jealous about.” you retorted

“I’m not jealous. I’ve been talking to someone myself and I’m pretty satisfied. Can’t say the same for you or can I?” He checked your body from your head to your feet. “Hmm can you get me some water please?”

“Why can’t you get it yourself?” you complained.

“I just sat down and I’m tired.” he whined.

“Whatever.” You got up to get him some water but got interrupted after two steps.

“Wait it’s fine, you can sit down again.”

“Taemin what the hell.” you weren’t sure where he was going with this.

“Watch your words young lady! I was just checking on something. But, I guess ya’ll either really didn’t fuck yet, or he got no game.” he joked, a dumb grin on his face when you hit him with a pillow.

The semester finally ended and between all the exams, you were barely able to meet with Kibum. Today was the last day of the semester and you had decided to eat at his place for your first official date. When he opened his door you were not surprised at how chic his apartment was decorated. It was essentially simplistic and modern; except it had many decorations that reflected his personality perfectly: from the Disney figures, to his Union Jack refrigerator it perfectly displayed his individuality. You were greeted by his smile, and his two dogs. After you greeted the dogs you looked at him. He was wearing a simple light blue shirt and glasses you had never seen before.

“You wear glasses?”

“Oh yeah I forgot about them. I usually just wear them at home.” He hurriedly took them off to put them away.

“Oh please don’t, you look really cute with them.”

He blushed slightly. “Maybe I don’t wanna look cute. Maybe I wanna look mysterious and sexy.”

“That shirt and your tight pants are already doing that job for you. They accentuate your shoulders to hip ratio very well.” you complimented. He did look really good, it was almost illegal.

“Well if that’s the case maybe we should skip dinner and go straight to bed.” He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned.

“You sure are straightforward. But, you kept bragging about your cooking skills, and now I wanna try the food you made.” there was a playful tone to your voice.

“Alright we have all summer break to have fun now, anyways.”

He had made a delicious chicken curry with a side of mashed potatoes instead of traditional rice and served Panna Cotta with mango sauce as dessert.

“Wow that was delicious! What can’t you do?” your praise making him blush once again.

“I’m pretty bad at baking.” he admitted.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, believe what you want baby girl.”

After the summer break had passed, you decided to visit your now boyfriend in his classroom. He was now teaching 2nd semester students which means he wasn’t teaching you anymore, since you were in your last year.

“Hey baby, did you finish your class well?” It was noon and most students would be out eating lunch now. “Yes first class went great I let them go earlier since we only had to talk about the syllabus. What about you, honey? Are you finished for today?”

“Yeah, I’m finished and exhausted already although it’s just the first day. I miss seeing you as my professor” You pouted. He took your hands and pulled you closer. “I miss you too baby. Maybe I should help relax you a bit then?” He took you by your hips and sat you on his desk.

“What exactly are we doing?” You asked, fully knowing what was going to happen. He came close to you and gave you a slow and deep kiss. You observed him, as he parted from you to walk over to the door. He stoped and turned around to look at you.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, professor.” He locked the door and walked towards you undoing his tie.

“You don’t know how often I’ve dreamed about this.” He stepped closer until he was standing between your legs, you sitting on the edge of his desk.

“Probably at least as often as I have, Kibum.” He came closer again connecting your lips as he put his hands on your thighs to pull himself closer. He moved up from your lips to your ear and nibbled a bit on the lobe, just to move back down to your collarbones. He sucked on the underside of your collarbone until a mark was blooming. You let out a small moan when he liked the mark.

“Take off your shirt.” You took off your shirt and started unbuttoning his as well while his hand slowly made its way under your skirt to your panties.

“You’re wearing a skirt at the perfect time.”

“One could say that I had all this planned out.” You grinned at him, taking off your bra while he was unbuckling his pants. “Lay down baby girl.” You laid down on the desk while he positioned himself between your legs again. He bent down and slowly sucked on your left nipple while pulling down your panties.

“Be quiet. Or I’ll need to punish you.” With that, he put his thumb on your clit and started circling it slowly. You were able to handle that but after the second finger had entered you, your moans started to get louder. “I told you to be quiet, was I not clear enough?”

“Yes, you were. Sorry, professor.” He gave no warning when, suddenly, his head was between your legs. His tongue was doing magic on your clit while his fingers were moving faster and curling inside you.

“Oh god, please, I’m so close. I can’t-“ You let out a high, pitched moan as you reached your orgasm while he was lapping up all your mess. He stood up again, his lips glistening from your juices. You watched him as he licked his lips. “Lick my fingers clean, and prepare for your punishment. If anyone has heard you, you better get ready for when we’re home.” Opening your mouth, you took in his fingers, sucking on them while looking up in his face. “Now we gotta do something about those beautiful noises of yours.” Kibum took his tie and put it in your mouth, making you bite on it and tied it behind your head. “First punishment: you won’t suck my dick. At least for now. Don’t give me those eyes, I know you want it but, a punishment is a punishment. Besides, it’s hard on me too. Second punishment: you won’t be able to noisy anymore. Third punishment comes now. Turn around.” You turned around, laying on your stomach now, when you felt the first sharp slap on your ass. A moan muffled by the tie came out of your mouth. “This is a punishment, it’s not for your pleasure. Why are you moaning?” His hand met your ass for another couple of times until it was stinging and tinted red. You heard him pulling down his pants and boxers, then you felt his hard cock between your legs.

“Please...” Your muffled plead didn’t go unnoticed. “Someone’s impatient, relatable.” With that he slowly entered you, grabbing you by your hips. You felt yourself being filled and he didn’t stop until he was fully in you. “How are you still so tight? We’ve been fucking all summer!” Kibum started pulling out and pushing in again at a steady pace, getting faster and faster, holding on to your hips harder; you knew it would bruise.

“Oh, fuck.” He let out a moan and started playing with your clit again, while hitting your spot at the same time. “Cum, baby girl.” The second he said it, you came undone seeing white stars your mind going blank. Kibum hit his high just shortly after with another deep moan, as you felt his cum filling you up. He pulled out his cock and you felt his cum leaking out of you dripping down your thighs were a tongue started to lick it up. You turned around and took

off the tie just to be met by Kibum’s lips. He pushed his cum into your mouth with his tongue, causing you to moan into the kiss. Your lips parted, a thin string of saliva and cum connecting your mouths.

“We just finished, but I wanna go again.” You smiled. “Baby girl, lunch time is almost over. We need to leave first and then we can do whatever we want.”

At home you saw Taemin laying on the couch as you walked by.

“There hasn’t been a day now that I’ve seen you not limp. If you two,” he pointed at Kibum “especially you, don’t get yourself under control, she is going to end up needing a new hip sooner than later. Haven’t you gotten tired of it after summer break?”

“Taemin look who’s talking, huh? I’ve heard you many nights having fun with that musician kid and that theatre guy and I said nothing.” you bit back playfully.

“Yeah but we’re interesting. I don’t get straights.”

“Who said we were straight?” Kibum remarked. Taemin looked at Kibum dead in the eye for a minute until he turned looking at you “Alright, I like him, he’s approved. Now watch a movie with me I’m bored.” he whined, you knew that they’d get along just fine.