Trez (and Others) One-Shots! (Requests Open)

Requests!

Request Trez one-shots! Limited to T-rated fics. I don't write anything beyond that, my apologies. (I may put in a small bit of Auslly in these upon request, but don't expect much)

Also, feel free to request character/pairing fics outside of the main four. I'll do any pairing (or triple, or whatever) outside the main four (no OCs/self-inserts though, sorry).

Also, THEY DON'T HAVE TO BE ROMANCE/ROMANTIC FICS. You can decide on whatever level of romance (or lack thereof) you want.

Please give me the following details in your request:

-Characters involved

-Plotline (prefer it not too simple, but you can go into as much detail as you like)

-Genre(s)

-Rating (K, K+, or T)

-Restrictions (things you don't want in the one-shot)

-Any other details you wish to include.

Please do not request me to write anything problematic, as I will not accept it. (PM me if you're curious as to what that includes)

You may request more than one - however, do keep in mind that I may not get to it right away, but I will do my best to get to it.

As for my "Rise" readers - no worries! I haven't quit the fic, I'm just taking my sweet time (also, y'know, college classes and work get in the way...). Hopefully I can update that soon.

PM if you have any further questions!

Gonna start off with my own choice of one-shot:

________________________________________

"Dez, your shirt's inside out," the dark-haired girl comments, wondering why she should even bother. The boy's attire always was out of the ordinary. Though she had to admit, he always did seem to keep things interesting. And she's been bored out of her mind lounging on the zebra-print sofa of the A&A Music Factory, waiting to teach her managerial class, and had pretty much gone through every single magazine they had there.

"What? Oh, no, I wore it like this on purpose." Big surprise. The girl shakes her head.

"Dez, inside-out? Really? What kind of fashion statement is that? It just looks silly."

"Oh, I'm not trying to make a statement. I just didn't have any clean shirts to wear, so I thought I'd try this!"

"Ew!"

"C'mon, Trish, it's called efficiency."

"It's called gross," she huffs, setting aside her magazine. How this kid manages to live fighting so many different social norms will always be a wonder to her. Not that she didn't fight a few, herself. She figures the world needs to be balanced out somehow, however. Perhaps everybody needed at least one 'Dez' in their lives.

"So...Trish...Were you able to book me for that commercial?" he inquires, his tone losing it's cheerful flair and taking on a more serious emphasis.

"What commercial?" she teases.

"Trish!" he cries, falling for it, as usual. She shakes her head again, but with more of an amused look on her face. Oh, how much she loves messing with him.

"Oh, quit your whining. Of course I got you the gig. Filming starts next week at the downtown plaza, eight AM sharp." His pouty countenance is quick to change into a look of excitement, and before Trish could say anything further, the ginger leans down and engulfs her in his long arms.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he exclaims, squeezing her a little too tightly for her comfort.

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome. Now get offa me, you doof!" she demands, trying to squirm her way out of his grasp. He pulls away after a few more seconds, her threatening tone pulling him out of the short daze he had fallen into as he inhaled the sweet aroma of her tresses.

"What kind of shampoo do you use?" he inquires abruptly, after letting her go.

"What?" her brows knit together in confusion. He smiles.

"Your hair smalls a-mazing!" he enthuses, reaching his hand forward and raking a few fingers through her curls. As much as she wanted it to bother her, the action was quite relaxing. She flips her hair over her shoulder after he pulls his hand back.

"Thanks. I try." They share a laugh. "And I think it's called 'Flower Fusion' or something. Oh! But don't get the two-in-one, it sucks."

"Got it." He nods. "Oh, by the way, are you free later today?"

"Well, I gotta teach a class soon, but I should be free around seven. Why?"

"Perfect. I'll meet you here."

"What for, Freckles?"

"Dinner and a movie, maybe?" His phone starts beeping. He pulls it out and checks it, his eyes widening. "Oh, sorry, gotta go - need to meet up with Austin. We're entering a sandcastle-building contest!" He pockets his phone and starts towards the main door.

"But-" she starts, a little too late, as she had been processing his words.

"-See ya, Trish!" he calls out to her as he leaves.

Did that doof just ask me out?, she wonders. She checks the time on her phone. Almost time for her class. She'll have to work this all out later.

"Trish!" She looks up and sees said doof, yet again. He walks over to her and states, "I forgot something."

Before she could ask, or even utter another word, he leans down and gives her a peck on the cheek. "Thanks again for the gig. You're the best!" And with that, the quirky boy with the inside-out shirt leaves her sight.

That doof did just ask me out, she settles - surprisingly not as disgusted by the idea as she figured she would be.