Jenlisa Oneshots

between the stacks

Your story, like all greats stories, begins in the library.

Your crush, like all great crushes, begins with her and her friends shouting (or rather, attempting to shout) penis in the library when you're just trying to study for your exam. It starts when you hit the eight hour mark and are slowly losing your ability to function like a normal human being and, honestly, you're fairly sure you're hearing things. That is until you hear the word mumbled for the twentieth time and know that there has to be some weird kind of game going on.

You shouldn't do it. You wouldn't normally do it. You do it. You don't know why you do it but you do it. Except, you do know exactly why you do it - it's because they've been doing their thing for at least twenty minutes and none of them have braved going any louder than a whisper shout, and you're both ashamed that none of them have the guts to just go for it, and annoyed that no one has managed to just win already.

Obviously the it you're talking about is you shouting 'penis' at the top of your lungs before giving the stunned group a tired glare and returning to your work, you maybe spend a little time being distracted by clear blue eyes and a husky laugh that makes you forget what air is, but you return nonetheless.

You expect that to be the end of it. It's actually more that you hope that will be the end of it. You certainly don't foresee a slice of pizza sliding into your line of sight, or the insanely pretty brunette that slides into the seat next to you.

"Your winnings." She comments as you wordlessly quirk a brow at her odd entrance.

"Winnings?" You question because you're a little curious and you're also a little afraid she'll walk away and you can already feel your ears itching for their next fix of her honeyed words. You can practically feel her friends staring at the two of you from a few tables over as she gets more comfortable like she's going to be staying a while.

"Whoever shouts penis the loudest gets the last slice." She responds like that's normal. Like all friends just scream about phalluses in order to secure themselves a piece of pizza.

"You guys didn't really seem like you were playing to win." She nods solemnly.

"We talk a big game but I know I for one am very scared of the librarian." She feigns a shudder as she lets her eyes slip over to the woman in question who's scowling at the printer like it's done her a personal injustice. Brown eyes snap back to you just as quickly as they left and you stupidly allow yourself a moment to let your gaze drop to her tongue languidly moistening her lips. "Your performance is the best I've ever seen."

"It's the only way I could think to stop it. A girl can only hear the word penis so many times before she goes insane."

"Not a fan of penis?" She questions without missing a beat and you push a smirk onto your face despite the crimson creeping up your neck and boldly warming your cheeks.

"That's a curious way to ask if I'm gay." You quip before you can stop yourself. You have no idea where it came from. You actually don't really know how you're even still forming words when she's smiling at you like that – like she's thinking about what you taste like, how your words sound in the dead of night. You distract yourself by picking up the pizza and eyeing it cautiously.

"How do I know you haven't poisoned this to stop me from beating your ass in the future?" You deadpan but her answer merely consists of her taking it from your hand and slowing sinking her teeth into the tip before tearing it off.

It shouldn't be hot.

You shouldn't want to kiss her as she carefully darts her tongue out to capture any stray sauce, refusing to break the piercing stare she's throwing directly at you. You don't even know her name and you can already name at least six questionable things you'd like to do with her mouth.