#this is the first lobby I’ve tried loading tonight why is it always like this after midnight

[samwisefamgee]

#video #sea of thieves #will I never know peace? #this is the first lobby I’ve tried loading tonight why is it always like this after midnight

[ofmythsandmadness]

i need a favour - three.

PART THREE - it was an extreme circumstance! what was i supposed to do, let you decapitate your brother with a butter knife?! or, dinners at the hargreeves house is always fun - but the added element of yours and diegos fake relationship? a party like never before.

WORD COUNT: 5500 or so. (oops. sorry) PREVIOUS PART(s): part one, part two.

A/N - I forgot about this, for a hot moment. Whoops. If you want to be added to the taglist, just ask and let me know. As well, if I missed you, just shoot a heads up. 

NONE OF THIS WAS NECESSARILY ‘NEW’.

She had gone to the Hargreeves before, loads of times. Whether it was to babysit Klaus, or pick one of them up, or even attend one of their infamous family dinners, because for some reason they all seemed to like her. She probably knew the place inside and out, aside from the basement area - but no one really talked about that part. She was comfortable with all of them, even Luther, no matter how many stupid fights they had all gotten into. Often leading to her playing Diego’s hype man and saying the shit he could not say (and then feeling horribly guilty later, often finding some way to make up for it, because she was far from the hardened badass she played out to be). And, honestly?

She loved them all. They felt like a second family and despite everything they had been through, she continued to feel that way.

So, the fact that she actually felt nervous to the point of nauseous, attending the monthly get-together, was really saying something.

Y/N smoothed down the front of her dress and adjusted her stance in the mirror. She folded her hands in front of her and tried to look poised, put-together, like she had her shit together even if she was just about to shit her pants thinking about it. If she was going to pull this off and help Diego out, she could not appear nervous. At all. It had to be a normal thing. A comfortable thing. A sort of thing where she would smile and not immediately vomit from her raging anxiety whenever he did so much as refer to her as his ‘girlfriend’. Even if at that moment, for some reason that totally freaked her out.

“Come on, Y/N,” she muttered to herself, twisting her fingers to the point where the joints ached. “Get yourself together. You can do this.”

But, could she do this?

She loved the Hargreeves and had known them long enough to know them; their quirks, personalities, all the little things they did to get out of a situation, and their lying faces. She could read even Allison like an open book - which meant they could all do the same to her. There was probably no way to get anything past them, unless she truly devoted herself to the task. She had to let go of her insecurities and the worry of them finding out (and that strange little knot in her stomach that only pushed when she thought about Diego, now) and just focus on her role.

It was just dinner - Diego never liked to stay long anywhere, anyways. 

She jumped at the screech of the window, followed closely by his voice calling her name. She sighed, forcing back the edge of panic and let her calmer facade come on.

“Y/N?”

“In here.”

Y/N slumped to her bed, leaning back to wait for him to stumble in. When he did, she forced a smirk. “Look at you, looking like a respectable member of society.”

He rolled his eyes, as always expected, body slumped against the frame of her door. His eyes lingered on her face, a softer look melting away the normal stress wrinkles he wore so openly. “Could say the same for you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Diego nodded and held an arm out in offering, one she took eagerly as help for her heels. “You look good, Y/L/N.”

It was a simple compliment. And also, one she had gotten before. A thrown aside, often mutual, that did not mean much. But for some reason, her cheeks flushed pink and she had to fidget with her shoes a moment longer, eager to lose the blush before standing up again. She could barely bite out a ‘thanks’ in a normal tone - and it was that, that solidified her nerves even more.

Unfortunately, he read right through her mask. “What’s wrong? You nervous?”

“Nervous? What-no-I-” she stopped spluttering and sighed, giving up entirely. Her smile fell and was replaced with a watery grimace. “Is it that obvious?”

“Just a bit,” he grinned back. His hand remained on her arm, steadying her, even if she was good and standing already. “But s’fine. I’m not excited for this, either.”

She gasped dramatically. “Whoa, the great Diego Hargreeves, nervous? My word, my, my isn’t this something! Why, if I never!”

“I didn’t say I was nervous, and I didn’t tease you for being so scared, either.”

“I’m not scared, jackass.”

“S’that why your face is redder than a tomato?”

Immediately, Y/N ducked her head and shoved him away. “Shut up,” she grumbled. “Let’s just go before I lose my will and just send your siblings a picture of our divorce papers.”

He chuckled. “Divorce papers? Didn’t realise I even popped the question.”

“Oh, you did, and I regret it every day of my life.” She dropped the sarcastic veil for a moment to mumble a ‘thank you’ for him holding the door, only to snap back right after. “It’ll be hard to split up the children, but...we’ll make it work.”

“Kids? Shit, Y/N.”

“Oh, yeah, babe.” Y/N whirled around to grin through her queasiness, rubbing her belly exaggeratedly. “Twins.”

“I knew you were hiding somethin’ from me!”

Their laughter floated down the apartment hallway and out the lobby doors, light-hearted and teasing of the other - even while the both of them struggled with their own inwardly doubts. Insecurities and nervous thoughts neither dared to admit, though they threatened to surface with every passing moment. 

Both knew the dinner was going to be more than a walk in the park. Even if they dared not breathe that worry out loud to the other.

||

“RULE NUMBER ONE.”

“Elbows off the table?”

“Y/N-”

“Chew with my mouth closed?”

“Y/N!”

“Riiight, stick to the story no matter what,” she groaned, though she wore a smile and not a grimace. Her hand twisted in his, squeezing for just a second before falling limp. “C’mon, Diego. We’ve been over this, and over this...and over this.”

Not even a hint of a smile. She sighed. “I know what I’m doing, you know what you’re doing, and we’re gonna knock this dead. Maybe even be out before eleven.”

His face still did not change, however, despite her teasing and smiles. It was composed in a stony blank stare, the sort that was a cover for any feelings underneath. She knew it well, as it was often the coverup during any sibling fights the seven got into - which happened quite a lot. She had to coax a smile out of him, sometimes a task harder than easier. But it was weird, knowing that this time, they were both walking into that delicate situation and she could not just giggle her way into a grin from him.

“It’ll be okay. I know the steps and I know your siblings. I know all the ways to get under their skins - like, if Allison gets too curious, I’ll just call up that shitty sketch show she did when she was getting started? I think I’ve memorized just about - what are you looking at?”

Diego had paused, causing Y/N to draw to a stop too, just before the door. He was staring forward, jaw slack, strangely just past her - or even at her, she really could not tell. He seemed almost frozen, until she waved her hand and repeated the question.

“Nothin,” he said, voice gruffer than before. He coughed and drew forward, hand tighter in hers. “Just - you’re always a fucking surprise.”

And before she could ask just what that meant, they were standing in front of the door, and said door was swinging open, leaving her to awkwardly smile and accept the cheery Allison Hargreeve’s invitation to come inside.

“Hey, Y/N,” she greeted first, wrapping the girl up in a tight hug before moving onto her brother. “Don’t you two look nice, wow!”

She fought an eye-roll at the comment and bit back any snide remarks, no matter how good they were. “Thanks, but I mean, c’mon - you look great. California’s really suiting you.”

Allison had been filming her latest flick, a star-studded thriller and had been away for just about seven months. And it was true, what she said; her skin glowed and the smile on her face did not look so fixed, rather genuine, actually. Things sometimes could get tense and often the woman’s face reflected the sticky state of her relationship with certain siblings, but it was clear that was not the case yet, tonight.

“Thanks, but let’s not focus on me,” she cooed back. Her hands wrapped around Y/N’s, then Diego’s, tugging with a wide grin. “You two! Holy crap -- I mean, it was something we all hoped would happen, but -- it happened!”

“Ha - yeah, that’s...it happened.”

“You two are so perfect for each other, seriously. I’m just happy my brother finally got a grip and asked you out!”

Y/N shot Diego a sharp look, pointedly raising her brows at the woman, as if to ask what to do with that sentence. Of course, he made his own point to ignore her completely. Asshole, she glared.

“Let’s head in, yeah?” She said, eager to cut Allison off before the evening could start. There was no way she was going to lose this battle before even making it to the living room. “Where’s Grace and everyone?”

“Oh, everyone but Luther’s here now, and Grace’s in the kitchen - she’s excited to see you both, though, too.” 

 Okay, so there were two things that would somewhat balance out, at least. Luther and Diego would fight, without fail, just as they always did, but Grace was always a healing voice in his life, she’d hopefully keep him a bit calm. If he could be calm; it really felt like she was holding the arm of a ticking time bomb rather than a fake boyfriend. Just to be honest.

“Remember,” he gritted to her, lips brushing near her ear, “don’t mention anything.”

“Anything? At all?”

“You know what I mean.”

She drew past him and away from his arms, puckering her lips into a fake kiss as she followed his sister in. Diego followed close behind, but they both separated - him being tugged away by a seemingly desperate looking Klaus, her eyes immediately meeting with Vanya.

“Hey, Vanya,” she greeted, moving into a gentle embrace. It only lasted a moment, however, Y/N pulling away so she could study her friend’s face a bit closer.

It was obvious the trauma of past months still stuck with her, as it would anyone; worry lines and dark circles left gentle stains on the girl’s face, aging that seemed to happen so quickly. She still looked so tired, like sleep had escaped her for aeons and she had no clue how to earn it all back. But, Y/N mused, she did look better than before. Her smile was not so forced and she seemed to carry herself a bit more confidently - no more as scared to be in the Hargreeves hellhole of a mansion.

“How are you doing?”

“Good.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, a bit stronger that time. “Yeah, I’m good. Busy, with work n’all that, but busy’s...good,” Vanya finished, weakly shrugging. “Sorry. Does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense. I get it - keeps you going, keeps your mind occupied.” She sank into the sofa, comfortably close enough to Vanya while maintaining some distance. She did try her best remember the woman was still working through things and liked to keep some boundaries. “How’s all that then, with the orchestra? I can’t wait to see it, soon.”

She grinned at that, properly. “Don’t know, but hopefully...hopefully, things work out. But I - we don’t have to just talk about me.”

“Oh, no, I like to hear about this! It’s been too long, I feel like I’m missing out on your life.”

“I know but I mean, c’mon.” Her hand reached out to pat her knee, a gentle touch so rare for her. “I think - I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say here. Maybe congratulations?”

Y/N smiled gently. Her eyes flitted over to Diego, watching him talk for a brief second before turning her attention back to Vanya. “Uh, thanks...yeah, it’s definitely - it’s big. I don’t think even we were expecting it. But here we are.” Inwardly, she winced at her fumbling words. And the award for best actress goes to...

“How did you two...happen?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, shrugging back her nerves and fought for frozen composure. Her hands shook ever so slightly in her lap. “Oh, you know. It’s honestly not that great of a story, sort of blase.”

“Was he the one to ask you out?” There was an uncharacteristic sparkle in the woman’s eyes as she leant a bit closer, “I would never think he’d have the guts to actually do it.”

Y/N forced a laugh. “Well, I mean - somewhat, yeah. It was more of a mutual thing?”

Vanya frowned, raising a brow in question.

“He was just...over, it was late, and while I was cleaning up his wounds for the umpteenth time. We just got to talking about it somehow.” She looked back down to her lap. “We, uh, both decided to just throw logic out the window and give it a try, considering that everyone already thought we were together anyways. And, uh, here we are. Ha. Right?”

She probably had to work on that delivery, but Vanya at least took it all without a single question. Her smile grew and in a rare moment of affection, her arms clasped around Y/N tight. “I’m so happy for you,” she mumbled, drawing back almost as quickly as she moved in. “You two seem right together. Sorta always have.”

“Yeah...yeah, he’s great. Once you get past his grumpy exterior, he’s really quite the sweetheart.” Their eyes caught across the room, and without meaning to, Y/N smiled. Her head ducked away before she could lose her train of thought, leaving her to completely miss his shy grin back. “It just feels natural, y’know?”

Vanya nodded sagely. “I know what you mean. We all thought you two would have gotten together - everyone’s been saying it for years, but I don’t know if any of us thought it would actually happen.”

“Honestly? I didn’t think it’d happen either. But I’m...glad it did.”

“Good. M’glad you two have each other. You’ve always made him so happy, Y/N.”

She wanted to call Vanya out on that statement, ask just what that meant - but could she, really? Or was she supposed to take all the mysterious statements like that in hand and smile like she knew exactly what they meant? It was not like she could easily bring it up to Diego himself, without both of them feeling incredibly awkward. She guessed it was just supposed to chalk up to the same feelings the siblings had for Diego and her in general, the desire to get them together from the very start.

She just smiled the remark off. “It’s all still new, we’re just seein’ where this goes.”

“Right, of course.”

“Hey, darling,” a voice said from behind her. Y/N fought back the urge to snap at the pet name - which okay, was slightly better than the others, but she was not going to tell him that - and simply turned to look his way. He was smiling and holding a hand out to her, clearly waiting for her to take it. “Can you come help me in the kitchen?”

She smiled softly at Diego and rose. Her gaze shot back to Vanya, twisting to look more apologetic then happy. “I’m sorry to leave mid-con-”

“-it’s okay, no worries,” she said, waving a hand as though to pass the issue straight up. She took note that the woman never looked directly at Diego, just slightly past him - though she did smile his direction. “Congrats, you two.”

Diego merely nodded, making a sort of grunt noise in acknowledgement before gently taking Y/N’s hand and gesturing the way out. His hand moved to the small of her back, leading her forward into the kitchen where the ever-familiar blonde figure worked. Before she could ask why they had left the siblings (or why he had to slip a pet name in there again), Grace was turning around and her smile had to snap right back on.

“Mom, hi.”

Y/N remained back as Diego greeted his mother, watching as the two embrace. She could not help but soften her smile at the sight; despite her own anxiety, there was a sort of peace, existing between the two that made everything around her a little easier to deal with. He adored his mother, and had done everything he could for her. His love it was obvious even in the littlest of details. How he hugged her, smiled, even looked her way. She had seen him with such an expression before, she knew that, but could not place the place or person - just that it was rare to see him so at ease.

“It’s so nice to see you, Diego,” Grace cooed, resting a gentle hand on her ‘son’s’ cheek. She turned away from the man to smile at Y/N. “And Y/N! You look so beautiful tonight.”

“Thanks, Grace. As do you.”

The being mechanically nodded, just enough hesitation between each movement to show the still robotic features of the human-appearing woman. “Thank you, dear.”

“Uh, mom - I wanted to bring Y/N to you, for a reason.” Diego pulled away from his mother’s side to stand close to her once more, hand at her spine and nervous smile tugging at his lips. “I w-wanted to introduce her to you properly, now that we’re together.”

The next moments flash by so fast, she could not even say if they happened or if it was all just in her head. She could only remember his bashful smile and her red-lipped grin pressing into her temple, a warm voice wishing some sort of happiness and - well, truthfully, she had tuned out the second he had touched her lower back again. The moment he spoke, something had changed, and it no longer felt like a dangerous game played in jest.

She knew it was nothing, had to be so, but the way he said those two words. The smile that graced his lips - it did not feel the same as any other time they had mentioned their relationship. It felt real. Like she was a normal human being who was actually meeting a boyfriend’s mother for the first time, as though she was supposed to really feel nervous and shy but giddy to reach that milestone in their journey. Like it fucking meant something.

And that? That, was absolutely terrifying.

||

THE REST OF THE NIGHT WENT BY IN A BLUR. She could hardly focus on a thing, chewing mechanically through food she did not taste and smiling when it was necessary in conversations she did not hear. Dinner at least was pretty simple and she could get away with this easily, though. Everyone had something to say and every topic drummed up at least twenty minutes of arguing - so much so that their relationship was barely mentioned. Sure, they got a couple sly looks and a few comments from Klaus - but the rest was a breeze.

Aside from her own troubling thoughts.

She turned her gaze upwards, meeting those of Vanya’s across the table. The woman was frowning, and mouthed ‘are you okay?’, with raised brows. All she could do was smile and nod ever so slightly in an attempt to cover her distraught. She did not seem to believe her, but there was nothing she could do about that.

Her eyes turned back to the rest of the siblings, sensing a lull in the conversation, and finally spoke up. “How’s Five, these days? Hasn’t he missed what, like four of these dinners?”

“Three,” Klaus shot out, absent-mindedly swirling the mocktail in his glass with a dismal look. “And really, I couldn’t say. He says we’re too dense to understand his work.”

“He’s trying to hone his abilities, figure out how far he can stretch them. I think right now, he’s working on something in the 60s, but that’s just a guess.”

Diego huffed. “He always had to be the overachiever.”

Across the table, Luther scoffed and set down his fork. “He’s using his powers for the greater good, at least that’s something.”

“What’s that?”

She could practically hear the eyes rolling. Everyone knew what was to come, because as far as she knew, it happened almost every time. Some stupid remark that either Luther or Diego made, that made the either overreact - two big egos clashing with one another constantly. They had done their best to make up, but it never was perfect.

“What are you doin’, huh big guy?” He had stood up at that point, clutching his butter knife like it could be a real weapon - though anything was, with Diego. “What good have you been cookin’ up?”

“We all do our part.”

“Don’t bullshit me here with vague...bullshit!”

The comeback was admittedly weak, but it was still enough to get the brother riled. Luther stood up, flames for eyes, and smashed his fist against the table. No one even flinched. “At least I’m doing something - you’re a criminal, Diego.”

“Ex,” he gritted back. She could practically see the anger building inside him, and yet he managed to keep a thin level of calm, fueling his snarky tone with the rage. “That’s in the past, unlike everything you build your life on now. How long has it been since ‘dad sent you to the moon’. Huh?”

Y/N rested a hand on his, but it was brushed off quickly. So was her hiss to ‘stop’, unfortunately. She sank back perturbed.

“I’m doing important work, unlike you!”

“Unlike me - I save lives, Luther. Every single goddamn night. Putting what Dad did to us to good use. You-you sit on your ape ass and pine after Allison-”

“-dude, that argument is so old,” butted in Allison herself. “Please pick a new one.” She pounded against Y/N’s extended fist with a grim smile, accenting the point. “Also, you’re both embarrassing yourselves.”

She nodded, once more pulling at his arm - that time more successfully. “Please just sit down...baby.” It felt weird to add that on, but also odd not to. Like she needed that accent for a truly strong statement.

What mattered, though, was that it worked. His gaze turned to her with wide eyes as though surprised at her words - probably because ‘baby’ had never left her lips earnestly before. He sank back down and loosened his grip on the knife as requested, though the grimace did not budge.

Y/N smiled softly and moved to talk, but was cut off quickly by Luther, who was still teeming. “So just because of her, you want to be civilized?”

“Luther-”

“-be grateful, Spaceboy.” A wry grin tickled his lips, though he was anything but jovial. “I could still run this knife straight through your thick skull if you say one more thing.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“You should be.”

“And why’s that?” Luther pushed, almost as though he was eager to press all of Diego’s buttons. Like he wanted a show. “Why should I be scared of you, number two?”

“Don’t act like you’re above us all now,” he gritted back, glaring so hard she feared Luther might turn straight to stone. “I could still gut you like a fish, if I wanted.”

“And would your girlfriend want that?”

Y/N watched as his grip tightened on the knife, so tight his fingers were paling by the second. 

“Don’t fucking talk about her.”

She could almost read his mind; sense his next move. And whatever it was, it was not going to end in a good time. Fights with them only escalated until one of them were forced to step down - and it was never through just words. The two were too careless and competitive to just let the other claim victory. Luther got too riled to quickly, and Diego never knew when to stop. Maybe just the worst combinations of personalities put into one room, again and again.

But at that time, she refused to have the night ruined, or to go home upset. That time, was going to be different, and the Hargreeves family dinner could maybe have at least one smile leaving the table. She was not there for nothing.

“Diego, just step down.”

“I-”

-before he could finish his thought, or before anyone could comprehend what was going on, Y/N was moving forward. She tugged his face to her and without a grain of thought, pressed her lips to his. It was rough and she almost winced when their faces collided, but still she continued, doing her best to sell the illusion against a frozen Diego. Her hand slid to cup his cheek, subtly covering their mouths just enough to pull back. With eyes shut tight and lips barely apart from his, she spoke, “shut the fuck up, or I’m walking right now”, before closing the distance once more.

It was weird. In a lot of ways. She had not really thought hard about their first actual kiss, but had not imagined it in front of all his siblings at the dinner table as they all shouted and hollered at the sight. She also had not imagined - well, truly, Y/N could not have expected any part of the outcome. The immediate thought to just kiss him, then him frozen in complete shock, before melting in to her touch, presumably to sell the act. She had to admit, he was far from a bad kisser, lips moving surprisingly-

“-are we ready for dessert?”

When had Grace even left? Y/N had not seen her move from her chair, though she supposed in the chaos, that was not too shocking. The second her voice floated through the air, however, she pulled away from Diego and sank back into her seat with new energy. Cheeks hot and lips just the slightest bit swollen, she ducked her head, not eager to see the faces of those around her.

Especially not his.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Klaus said, eager to fuel her shame further, “but I definitely could eat. How about you, Diego, are you still hungry, or are you-” he cut himself off with a loud yelp.

She did not look up, but no one could mistake the whizzing of the butter knife and Klaus’ shout of surprise, narrowly avoiding the serrated edge going straight into his jugular. In normal circumstances, she would laugh her ass off at the sight, probably berate Diego even through her giggles - but all she could do was bite back the urge to run very far away, away from the disaster situation just created around her. BY her.

Y/N sighed and clutched her fingers a little bit tighter. So much for quick and easy.

||

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?”

“What the hell was what?”

“Why did you kiss me?”

Y/N stormed right past him, eager to find her way out of that house’s vicinity. However, just as she thought she was free, he caught her arm and pulled her back.

“Let me leave,” she mumbled, freeing herself and resuming her walk. Her frown only grew as she heard him follow. “Okay? We did dinner, great, bye now.”

“You kissed me.”

“I panicked!”

He chuckled grimly behind her. “You panicked - Y/N, that was a full on makeout in front of my entire family!”

“Well...Five wasn’t there. And Ben’s not fully here, does he count?”

“Not the point!”

She rolled her eyes and walked faster - though it was pointless, he always kept up. Screw him and his super human self. “I did what I had to do before one of you went too far. I’m sorry, I just - I panicked, and you weren’t listening to me!”

“I was.”

“You were not! An’ you were about to cut Luther’s head in two right then and there. I thought that in case of emergency - I had to do something, before dinner turned into a bloodbath.”

She had finally stopped then, clutching her thin jacket around her body as she shivered. He stood in front of her, fists in his pockets with a strange look in his eyes - unreadable, just as before.

“Sure,” he finally said, slowly. “I just didn’t think that was when we were going to...you know.”

Y/N shrugged. “It was bound to happen eventually. We both knew that.” 

“At our first couples outing?”

“Again, might I mention the decapitation act nearly committed?”

He half grinned at that, though his eyes remained stormy. There was something up, not necessarily with the kiss - more than that, though she could not figure out what. “Not a great excuse.”

“Saving you from prison time isn’t a great excuse?”

“No, I think...you were just that eager to kiss me.”

“Sure, if you mean so we could both walk out of there alive, yeah. I was down to kiss you - for the sake of that, only.”

“You were eager to have the chance, don’t kid yourself.”

She rolled her eyes and took a step back, distancing herself even more. Suddenly, even in the late autumn chill she felt hot, flashes of heat running up and down her body like her embarrassment decided to throw a rave without permission. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, toing the ground with her boot. “I didn’t want to make out with you in front of your family.”

Diego shrugged, a slyer smile building on his lips. “M’sure they enjoyed the show.”

“Gross.”

“I mean, you really went for it-”

“-stop, stop,” she begged, head in her hands. She could hear his laughter, feel it floating around her, but at least she could eliminate the sight of his smirk from the torture. “I get it. Okay? Can we forget about and just get outta here?”

“I don’t think anybody’s gonna be forgetting that anytime soon.” He mumbled something after that, but it was too low for her to catch. Diego stepped close to her, grabbing her arms so as to tug them away from her face, and pulled her forward. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

||

SHE COULD NOT SLEEP. Try as she did, Y/N’s eyes would just not shut; sleep had escaped her, this time all because of herself. Her brain would not turn off and the thoughts that she had ignored the day before were haunting her awake during the night.

She could not forget the kiss. It was stupid and meaningless and yet like a broken record player, it just kept going and going, over and over in her mind until she could knew it too well. Just as it would leave her mind, she would shut her eyes and it would be back - his lips on hers, his stubble pressed into her hand, jaw clenched, his own fingers pressed ever so lightly against her waist -

-Y/N sprung up and stormed out of her bedroom. Aimlessly she walked, pacing her apartment in nary but sleep shorts and one of his own black sweaters, left behind on one of his wounded nights. It was driving her mad. Really, truly, crazy. Just one kiss and she was plain-out insane. Amazing.

She could blame it on the moment, the rush of it all - or even the nerves that had been building from the very start of the evening. She was stressed and it all happened so fast and all she had wanted was for him to shut up before he got hurt...and maybe that was why she was so invested in the embrace. A great deal had been poured into the kiss, and her brain confused that with actual romantic feelings for the guy.

Y/N scoffed and pulled the shirt tighter around her shivering body. She was playing herself, and there was not even a way out. She could not turn her brain off, and definitely there was no way she would tell Diego anything. To admit she was still fixated on a heat-of-the-moment solution - not even a kiss, merely a solution - would be a huge mistake and one she refused to fall for. Besides, she grumbled, what was he to do? He had probably forgotten all about it at that point.

This was all so very, very stupid. And even worse? Very, very, very confusing, emotionally.

She should never have agreed to this fake relationship in the first place.

TAGLIST: @asexualmarauder​ @thatshellfiredean​ @the-bird-suit​  @rangotangomango​ @fandomsandmore394​ @thatkidofwarandpeace​ @antoouu​

#i need a favour series #diego hargreeves x reader #friends to lovers #fake dating #diego hargreeves oneshot #diego hargreeves imagine #tua x reader #the umbrella academy

[profitinaecho]

So You Wanna Spin Ch 6

Once in Santa Fe, Max and Liz roll their luggage to their separate but adjoining rooms and carefully avoid each other for the rest of the afternoon. Their conversation in the car had been very intense- and arousing. The lines were starting to blur between business and pleasure while they were on the road and Liz wasn’t sure that was a good thing. As a latina woman scientist, it was important that she keep up the utmost job integrity to be taken seriously.

“What should we have for dinner?” Liz doesn’t even ask if he wants to eat together any more. It is a guarantee that they are a team and eating together on the road.

“Not italian.” Max doesn’t even need to check his caller ID. He knows her by her voice by now.

“Why?” Liz is kind of craving eggplant parmesan.

“Too much garlic and what if you want to kiss me later?” He’s just teasing her- mostly. He wouldn’t complain if she wanted to though. He thinks about her more than he does any normal coworker. She drives him crazy.

“Max!” She doesn’t know how to handle this flirty side of him. She loves it, but she definitely shouldn’t encourage it. Not if she wants to stay professional.

Max chuckles. Her walls are starting to come down around him again. He can feel it. But he won’t push it until she is ready. He wants her to come to him willingly. “Italian it is. I’ll meet you in the lobby in ten.”

—————————

The next morning, Max and Liz find themselves interviewing a family that only speaks Spanish. Max tries to lead, but Liz ends up being the translator. The house is decorated eclectically and bright but homely.

“Buenos Dias” Mrs. Lopez smiles after leading them to the kitchen table with hand crochet lime green placemats. She sets a plate of meat and tortillas on the table for Liz and Max then turns to get them coffee. She is a petite middle aged latina woman with a cropped haircut that the younger generation would call a “Karen” haircut, but she just likes it because it’s faster to get ready.

Max picks up a couple pieces of carne asada, and loads them into a tortilla making a taco on his plate. After daintily sprinkling some salsa on it, he nonchalantly asks, “no lo quiero con preservativos?”

Mrs. Lopez gasps, scandalized as Max said he prefers to go without a condom and looks to Liz for an explanation. She expected them to come here to talk about her missing daughter not their sex life.

“I’m so sorry! I think he meant does this meat have any preservatives, right Max?” Liz quickly repeats herself in Spanish for the woman who nods in understanding and tells Liz that he is trying to impress her by speaking Spanish. Liz shakes her head and flushes at the idea. Whispering in Max’s direction, Liz informs him, “You told her you don’t want to wear a condom.”

“What? I… What?” Max flushes from the tips of his ears to his hairline. Technically, he does not. But this is not the time. Max clears his throat and tries to apologize. “Lo siento, estoy embarazada”

Liz shakes her head. “Max, you aren’t pregnant.” Liz explains to Mrs. Lopez that Max apologized and is embarrassed as Max suddenly darts out of the house in a tall bow legged breeze of cologne.

“Se fue corriendo” Mrs. Lopez comments, watching Max scurry out of the house.

Giggling at the woman’s observation that Max ran away, Liz quickly assures her that he did not and is just embarrassed at his poor recall of high school spanish. She continues the interview, taking diligent notes on her daughter, Heather’s last known whereabouts and any enemies she had.

—————————

After a long day of interviewing families and having dinner at a roadside diner, they return to their rooms to shower and get ready for bed. Digging through her suitcase, Liz realizes she is out of clean things to sleep in. She could sleep in her last clean outfit, but then she wouldn’t have anything clean to wear for work tomorrow. Giving in, she pads barefoot over to the door separating her and Max’s rooms and knocks twice quickly hoping he hasn’t gotten into the shower yet.

Opening the door shirtless in his unbuckled work pants, Max looks to Liz concerned. She only comes to him when she really needs something.

Liz gulps at all of the skin on display and tries to remember why she knocked in the first place. “Max, I’m out of clean pajamas to sleep in. Do you have a tshirt I could borrow or something?”  

Max steps back, inviting her into his room and walks over to his suitcase. Digging around, he pulls out a worn blue cotton shirt that he was going to sleep in but he will go shirtless so that she can have something to sleep in tonight. Handing it to her, he whispers, “If we don’t catch this bastard, he’s going to kill again.”

Liz gently takes the shirt from him and steps into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Oh, Max. We will figure it out.”

Max slips his arms around her waist and pulls her closer, resting his chin on top of her head. “It just feels like we’re two steps behind the killer, you know? We don’t even know who some of these victims are yet.”

“Hey? Max?” Liz takes a step back and waits for him to look at her. “We will. The two of us are an amazing team. If anyone can do it, it’s us.”

“You think so?” He looks at her hopefully, like she’s his world.

“I know so.” Liz can’t think straight when he looks at her like that. Before giving it too much thought, she hops up onto her tiptoes and crashes her lips to his. The world stops spinning as they find their way to each other once again.

Max traces the seam of her lips before gently slipping his tongue in her mouth. Their tongues briefly dance and at her groan, he squeezes her ass and pivots her towards the bed. The second Liz’s back hits the mattress and she feels Max’s erection pressing against her thigh, she shoves his chest- hard.

“Nope, nope, nope. I’m not going to be this girl, Max.” Liz is breathing hard and deliciously disheveled.

Max is rock hard and so confused. “What girl?” The girl of his dreams? The girl that rocks his world? The girl he gives everything to? Whatever she wants she can have it, just as long as they don’t stop.

“The girl who fucks her coworker on a trip and acts unprofessional then gets fired. That’s what girl.” Liz looks like she is going to cry she is so disappointed in herself.

“But what if we…” Max starts, wondering if they were in a relationship if she would feel better.

“Not right now. Thank you for the Tshirt, Max.” Liz quickly strides out of his room, before she does something stupid like turn around and jump him.

Once alone again in his room, Max rearranges his hard on and gives it a gentle conciliatory tug. You can’t always get what you want, he thinks.

After her shower, Liz pulls on fresh panties and Max’s shirt. She’s surrounded by his scent. It smells like rain.

—————————

“Put your hands up! Give me all the kisses you have, real slow.” Max whispers, coming into Liz’s room the next morning to bring her a cup of coffee just the way she likes it.

“Maaaaax.” Liz warns him. She hasn’t even brushed her teeth yet and last night was a mistake. She thinks. Maybe? The kiss was out of this world but they work together and she is always on the road working with different precincts. What kind of future could they have?

“Nice and easy….” He continues, taking a step closer. A shiver goes up Liz’s spine at deepening of his voice like it did when they were in bed together. Max is in low slung gray sweatpants and his curls are wild first thing in the morning

“We can’t.” She definitely can’t. She’s just wearing his worn Collective Soul t shirt and if she puts her hands up, it will lift up sinfully high and she will end up flashing him. Not that Max will mind.

“We could” Max sets her coffee on the bedside table in her hotel room and turns to face her, raising an eyebrow in question.

“We shouldn’t” Liz tries to remain stern.

“Why not? We would be great together.” Max gently takes her hands in his.

“Because it risks my entire career if I become that girl that fucks her partner then moves on to another precinct when things go badly.” Liz tries to maintain eye contact when Max flinches at her words.

“What if it doesn’t go badly, Liz? It could hurt my career too. I’ve never been willing to risk it for anybody but you. You’re worth the risk.” Max wills her to believe his sincerity with his eyes.

Liz sighs, her morale weakening. “I’ll think about it, okay? I promise. We got to get ready for work. Last day of Santa Fe then we will drop off all of the samples to be sent to be tested and pack for the next week in Las Cruces and El Paso.

“That’s all I ask.” Max assures her, leaving her room to go get dressed for the day.

#rnm Echo #max x liz #roswell nm #ficlets? Ficlets? #So You Wanna Spin the World Around

[mymelodyheart]

Starting Over Chapter 22 ~The Tale of the Night Part One~

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!  

Claire's heart started to beat a little faster as their hired Bentley slowly inched closer to the Hilton Hotel Glasgow. They were following a long line of fancy cars waiting for their turn to pull up, step out and parade themselves. She felt Jamie's gentle squeeze on her hand, but it didn't help quash the feeling of apprehension. She'd promised Jamie to stand by him but seeing the throngs of excited fans and reporters behind the installed barriers, made her want to curl up in a fetal position and not leave the car.

"Sassenach, are ye alright?"

Huh?  She turned and looked at him and saw the worried lines etched on his face. She gave him a feeble smile. "I'm fine," she lied, trying to convince herself as well as him. "I know events like this draw crowds ... it's just that I didn't realise it would be as crazy as this. I-it's one thing seeing it on TV or pictures, but this ..." She leans forward and waves a hand, the frenzy screams and shouts, giving her jitters. "There's a bloody mob out there. It's insane!"

Jamie gently drew her sideways against him, tucking her in under his arm. "Some people from the movie industry will be there too, that's why. Events like this like to invite big names to attract the media. And Prince Harry will be making an appearance as well, most probably to promote the Invictus Games."

"Invictus wot?" she asked absentmindedly, her attention fixated on the excited crowd outside.

"It's a paralympic-style sporting event for injured military servicemen and women. It's a foundation launched by Prince Harry," he explained, following her gaze.

Only half-listening, Claire closed her eyes and tried to breathe normally, focusing on Jamie's hand on her arms. It helped a bit to soothe her nerves. For a split second of weakness, she thought of suggesting to let her slip into the back entrance and meet him inside the hotel lobby after his pap-walk but remembered her promise to stand by him tonight and dropped the idea. "Does this get any easier for you?" Claire asked, glad for the darkened windows that hid them from the flashing camera lights.

"What? This?" He puffed out his cheeks and blew out air. "No. The public looks like the giant scary monster, but truthfully, I dinnae mind the fans. The problem is the media. The media isnae journalism as ye know it anymore. They turn everything into a bloody circus show."

She shuddered, remembering her indirect first-hand experience with the reporters and how they've made her looked like the cheating fiancée and Frank, the virtuous, pillar of the society, who could do no wrong. "Tell me about it," she whispered.

"Stations and news will gobble up anything - the more sensational the story, the better, anything for the ratings. Ratings are everything. Ratings mean money and lots of it. Perhaps it really is just a matter of time before they're funding the nefarious for the consumption of the people. There's nae more moral compass, only the most immoral become the victors in this industry, and so on. Morality is for losers, winners are the ones who "pushed the envelope." He looked at her, and she didn't miss the subtle change in his demeanour. "As I told ye before, the tabloids will feed the public some shite by publishing pictures, and when it's captured at a right angle, it could be taken in any context ye want. The news' outlets delight on that because the fans can make up their own stories and they write articles based on their speculations."

"Has it ever happened to you?"

"What? Speculations? Aye. Many times. With my reputation, I'm fodder for other celebrities' publicist, especially when movies or projects need to be promoted. I tend to get used for that end. I'm not saying my reputation was a made-up lie. I'm not proud of it, but I own my shit. The problem with this industry is when ye want to use their platform or be part of it, be prepared to whore yersel' literally or figuratively." He lets out a short laugh. "Thanks to them and the publicity stunts, I've increased my followings on social media, which of course, opened other avenues such us modelling for big-name products even if I've never done that line of work before. The upside - it made me loads of money."

"So, you reckon the network will want something from you?"

"Aye, most probably. But ye'll have yer say in it, Sassenach. This is nae longer just about me," Jamie's mouth pressed into a determined line. "This concerns ye too."

"But, this job means the world to ye, Jamie."

He twisted around to face her, and his hand stroke her cheek. "Dreams and priorities change over time, Sassenach. Ye come first now because I'll need someone who will hold on to my soul in that crazy world out there. But I'm warning ye. If ye agree to let me take on the job, there'll be a lot of things ye'll not like and perhaps disappointments. Whatever happens tonight, I'll need ye to trust me in this. Ye dae trust me, aye?"

Claire squeezed his hand. "Yes, of course, I trust you." She nervously glanced through the windshield and saw there was only one car left in front of them before it was their turn to get off. "I meant to go over things with you, Jamie. What do you need from me out there?"

His face softened. "Just be yourself and smile. Ye dinnae need to answer questions from the press if ye dinnae feel like it. If ye do though, dinnae reveal anything personal and give them an arsenal for future use." He leaned in and gave her a kiss. "And thank ye for being here with me. It means a lot."

She nodded and smiled weakly, still dazed from the surreality of the upcoming moment when they would step out as a couple. It was quite apparent they were both not looking forward to going out there, and for Claire, it was one hell of a circus show to go through just for a presenting job.

"Ye sure ye'll be okay?" Jamie asked. "There's still time to turn around if ye wish. There'll be nae hiding once we step out." His tone was guarded and tinged with concern. "I ken I asked ye to stand by me. But I can go out there by myself, present the award, listen to what the network has to say and if I dinnae like it, I'll leave, and we can enjoy Glasgow for the rest of the evening."

The suggestion was too tempting, and it would be an easy way out. But Jamie could lose out on his dream job because he would choose her. She didn't want that. Claire turned and saw him looking at her thoughtfully, earnestly waiting for an answer, as the ghost of past heartache resurrected in her head. When James Fraser loved, it was scary. The man put his entire heart out with the expectation that it would be crushed. Sometimes she worried at the way he looked at her and at the way she felt for him. It seemed too precious and too rare to explore knowing if it didn't work out between them, the heartache would be greater. If she ever lost this man, she would never recover. If he ever lost her, she feared for the man that he would become. She could only hope that their relationship would survive Jamie's new career.

Swallowing the odd lump in her throat, she gave him her best smile and summoned the courage. If he's willing to sacrifice his dreams, she was prepared to at least try and take this on too before he gave it up altogether. "Hey I'm a big girl, remember. I can tough this one out," she whispered, attempting to sound cheerful.

His handsome face lit up. Grinning, he leaned in for a final kiss before grabbing the handle of the car's door. "Weel, let's do this then, Sassenach.".

..........

Ah, bloody hell, here goes nothing!  

Claire inhaled deeply and took Jamie's hand as she stepped out of the car. She felt like entering into another realm as she was greeted by frantic screaming, knowing it had more to do with Jamie's appearance than her stepping out. It was very loud, more than she'd imagined it would be with a crowd such as this, and the deafening noise was reinforced more by all the shouting, cheering, camera flashes, instructions yelled out by photographers at celebrities, and security and ushers barking orders.

"Jamie! Jamie!"

"We love ye, Jamie!"

"Jamie, please sign this!

"Jamie! This way, please!

"Jamieee, selfie please."

Jamie's hand tightened and tugged her forward, her eyes blinking and squinting against the flashing of bulbs and set of lights beaming down on them. He leaned down to say something, but she couldn't hear over the screams of hysterical fans. Although she'd been a fan of Jamie for years, she couldn't understand the over-the-top hero-worship and grown women shrieking whenever Jamie smiled, winked or waved. People crying and all these hysteria for a retired rugby player was simply just beyond her.  Heaven forbid Jamie ends up becoming an actor. Unbelievable!

Jamie led her to the top end where the broadcast outlets were, namely BBC, ITV as well as UKSC, the network Jamie might one day work for. He subtly reminded her when to stop and where to look as the photographers furiously took their pictures. His eyes were on her the whole time, a knowing upturn tugging his lips and his hand always pulling her against him. He kissed her for the cameras as if it was his way of announcing she was his, and although Jamie ignored requests from the journalists to introduce her, she obliged them, despite herself, by smiling for their lenses instead. Claire was surprised not one of the photographers had recognised her as the infamous  Runaway Bride . She hoped her unknown status would remain for the rest of the evening, but she knew reporters were like a dog with a bone and it was only a matter of time before they caught on.

"Hey, Jamie, who's the pretty lady with ye?"

"Can we have a name, please?"

"The dress is gorgeous. Who designed it?"

"Jamie, a quick interview, please?"

"Sorry ye lot, time for us to go in," he deflected, pretending to look disheartened while putting one hand dramatically over his chest and another, tugging her elbow and leading her away from the crowd and into the double doors of the hotel. 

What a charmer!   Despite Jamie loathing the media, he had a way with the reporters, whether they were women or men. Not once he showed a hint of annoyance even if she could feel it pulsing from his aura. He was evasive when people asked questions but somehow managed to get away with it with a smile or a wink, lending them a sense of mystery. Maybe Jamie was born for this. He did everything with ease and was full of self-confidence in front of the watchful eyes of the public. Whereas, her, she felt like she was caught up in a current, whirled and tossed in every direction. Her face hurt from endless smiling, hand numbed from Jamie's constant hard grip and her feet already throbbed from the ridiculously high stilettos. She hoped Jamie's charms would be enough to tide her over when the media finally finds out who she was.

One hurdle down, a million more to go!  Once they made it through the hotel's lobby, her first thought was to grab a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, but Jamie kept walking and steered her through groups of people, nodding and acknowledging with a smile those who glance their way. 

"It wasnae so bad, was it?" Jamie murmured against her ear as they positioned themselves at the least populous area of the lobby. "Ye look so beautiful tonight, and everyone thinks so too. Ye've captivated the press and the fans." He took a couple of champagne from a passing blonde waitress who was beaming up at him, but he didn't notice the awed gaze.

"Captivated? More like inquisitive," she replied, taking a huge gulp from the bubbly Jamie gave her and scanning the crowd. "The press is probably running my picture through some facial recognition software as we speak. I hope with the amount of makeup Geillis plied on my face, they'll fail at their attempt."

"That's not how facial recognition software work, Sassenach. The app distinguishes a person based on the person's features and shape."

"I was afraid you were going to say that. Let's just hope the software they're using is crap or dated."

Jamie laughed, taking a step closer in her direction "Dinna fash. Sometimes media exposure can work to yer benefit."

Claire looked up and saw the amusement in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Weel, for one, Frank will surely leave ye alone now. He wouldnae want to jeopardise his career in case ye talk to the press. I'm presuming he'd be thinking, ye've been considerably unpredictable ever since ye jumped out of the church's window. Controlling people don't like unaccounted for surprises. And ye're likely to do something spontaneous."

"I guess you have a point ..." She sipped her drink and quickly changed the subject. "What happens now?" she asked, watching the elite and sports' celebrities rub shoulders together, exchange air-kisses and posed for the cameras with subdued interest.

Claire had never seen so much pretentiousness in one room, and she'd mingled often enough in Frank's circle to make that distinction. The need to impress was so palpable in the air when, in actual fact, almost every individual present was talented and gifted in their own way. It was too showy and flashy for an event that was supposed to be all about honouring sportsmanship and sports in general. The only thing that seemed genuine was the designer clothes they're wearing and their expensive perfumes wafting through the air. It seemed like the long tentacles of the world of celebrities have crept into the world of sports, blinding them with glitz and glamour. It was definitely not a scene she could get used to, and she felt, Jamie couldn't either no matter how much self-confidence he exuded and wanted the job.

"We're just waiting for Forbes," Jamie explained. "I told him I'd meet him here and he's supposed to update me on his talks with the network." 

"Forbes is your agent, right?"

"Aye. And speaking of the devil, he appears." Jamie gestured toward the tall, blonde and handsome man in a dark blue business suit, walking confidently through groups of celebrities. "Showtime," he whispered, shifting on his feet.

She downed her champagne in two mouthfuls and watched Forbes stopped and shook hands with Andy Murray, Scotland's professional tennis player. It was apparent Jamie's agent knew a lot of famous people and appeared comfortable around them as he greeted and addressed a few more.

"Jamie!" Forbes strode towards them in a way a famous person might. His smile Hollywoodesque as he shook Jamie's hand. He was younger than Claire thought, midway through his thirties and almost as tall as Jamie. "Sorry to keep you waiting," Forbes apologised. "Got held up in the office and then stuck in the traffic."

Jamie nodded. "Nae bother. We haven't been here for too long." He put an arm possessively across her shoulders and pulled her in. "Forbes, this is Claire, my girlfriend." Forbes took her hand and kissed it, smiling over it when she blushed. She felt Jamie stiffened, indicative of his lack of credence towards his agent. 

"Call me Gerald. Forbes is my surname. I'm a long time friend and confidante of Jamie. I'm surprised he hasn't introduced you sooner, but I've seen you in the papers. Have to say you caused quite a stir in Edinburgh, and the pictures that were published haven't done you any justice at all. You're even more beautiful in person." He dipped his head as if his next words were meant only for her ears. "Jamie's reputation precedes him. As we all know, he has a keen eye for beautiful women."

Claire swallowed and yanked her hand back. "A keen eye for beautiful women, you say?" She glanced up at Jamie before looking at Forbes squarely in the eyes. "Too bad it doesn't extend to his instinctual perception on human nature. Jamie is too trusting for his own good."

Taken off guard by her reply, Forbes stared at her for a few seconds, trying to gauge her meaning. When she didn't smile, he was left with no other choice but to give out a fake laugh that was so over-the-top and loud, a few people glanced their way. Jamie disguised his choke with a cough.

"That's sports agents for ye," Jamie remarked, squeezing her shoulder. "Cannae live with 'em ..."

"Can't sign a deal worth a damn without them," Forbes added, plastering his toothpaste advert smile back on his face and dragging his attention away from her. "Well, Jamie, shall we go somewhere private and talk business?"

"No. We can talk here," Jamie said smoothly, releasing Claire to grab more glasses of bubblies from a passing waiter. "It's simple, really," he started, passing a glass to her and then to Forbes. "It's either the network and I are on the same page or not. So which is it?"

The mega-watt smile on Forbes dimmed, as he cast a quick glance at Claire before looking back at Jamie again. "I reasoned with the directors, and they've invited both of you at their table for further talks."

"And?"

Forbes tugged at his tie. "They still want you to do a pap photo with Geneva tonight. And it would be wise if we told the press Claire is your PA in case her identity leaks out."

"I'll do a promotional photo with Geneva if that's what they want," Jamie said firmly. "As for Claire's identity, the press or some random fan has probably already figured it out who she is. The fans aren't stupid." 

"Fine, so what if they've figured it out," Forbes sighed, lifting a hand in the air. "Just release a statement saying Claire's working as your PA while she's out of a job or something. Or a close friend who came with you as your plus one for tonight. Or just say nothing at all, and I'll release a statement to the press for you."

Noticing the tension between the two men, Claire placed a hand on Jamie's arm. "Shall I leave you both alone. I'll be just right over there," Claire intervened. She knew how important this job was for Jamie, and she was more than willing to remain hidden from the public if that's what it took.

"No," Jamie replied, grabbing her hand, in case she did walk away. "Please stay." He gave her a pleading look. She couldn't say no, so she simply nodded hoping they would come to some kind of resolution. Satisfied she wasn't going anywhere, Jamie turned his attention once more back to Forbes. "You will not release any statement on my behalf, and I will not discuss my personal life to the press. I've never had, and I'm not about to start now. Anyone who's got eyes knows Claire is with me and hundreds of pictures have already been taken when we arrived. The only thing I am willing to talk to the press about is my work."

"Jamie, there won't be any work if the directors found out you are with the  Runaway Bride  and even more so if the word gets out," Forbes argued impatiently. "We can make those pictures disappear, and nobody has to know about Claire. And it's for her own good too."

Claire tried not to flinch, but both men noticed. Forbes gave her an apologetic look and Jamie squeezed her hand.

"The directors said they specifically wanted that?" Jamie asked in disbelief.

Forbes sighed. "They want an unattached Jamie."

"And yet, they want me to parade myself with Geneva? That doesn't make any sense at all," Jamie countered.

"Look there's something I need to tell you about Geneva. And you can't tell another soul ..." Forbes paused and eyed Claire.

Jamie noticed Forbe's hesitation. "Claire won't say a word. She's a doctor and has a duty of confidentiality to her patients. So this won't be any different," Jamie reassured his agent.

Forbes nodded and lowered his voice. "There are rumours within the IOC that Geneva used performance-enhancing drugs during the Commonwealth Games and Beijing World Championships and she may be consequently be stripped off her medals ..."

"And how is that my problem?" Jamie challenged.

"Well, this is where you come in. You know that Geneva's dad, William, is one of the directors of the network, right?" When Jamie nodded, Forbes resumed. "The IOC isn't the problem, and the majority of the committee can be bought, but it won't stop the rumours circulating. So daddy dearest wants to paint a nice picture of Geneva for the public by giving her a few stints on the sports network. They want you both to host the London World Championship during rugby off-season. Her exposure will unveil her to the public as a clean-living athlete, and so when the rumours grow its head, the public will dismiss it as mere gossip. And also, they want the public to perceive you both as a couple. There'll be no need for you to announce you both are. A few pap photos here and there and the fans will do the talking. You're the ideal person for the partnership with Geneva because well, you know ... you were well-known for your discipline in rugby. No drugs, no alcohol, five times best player of the year, Scotland's national treasure and all that shit. Get my drift?"

"And why me?" Jamie asked warily. "Surely, there are other candidates with the same background in sports as I have, a better reputation and could talk comfortably and eloquently in front of the camera. I can think of five on top of my head, and they're all living nearer to London."

Forbes shook his head as if he couldn't comprehend why Jamie still hadn't understood yet. "You come from an old family, Jamie. A family with a solid background, good reputation and the public is more forgiving with your past indiscretions compared to your peers. And that alone carries a lot of weight in William Dunsany's eyes."

Jamie gave a burst of short mirthless laughter. "And here I thought I was being considered for the job because they saw a potential in me." He shook his head in disbelief and slapped Forbes on the shoulder. "Sorry mate, thanks but no thanks."

"Jamie! We're talking about a million-pound contract here and a place in the network for two years. That's an incredible amount of money for someone who doesn't have experience in mass media. No one is asking you to break up with Claire. Just keep things between the two of you under wraps. That's not difficult, is it?"

"Aye, it is! Have ye lived under the watchful eye of the press? Claire will be living with me. How am I suppose to keep our relationship under wraps? The answer is no. I'm not putting Claire under that pressure."

"William Dunsany is desperate. Maybe I can arrange a better deal for you," Forbes offered.

Jamie arched an eyebrow. "Why is he desperate?"

"William Dunsany is about to be bestowed a knighthood by the Queen, and he can't afford any scandal or gossip tainting his family name. He thinks Geneva being linked to you would shift the focus away from the rumours."

"Sorry, Forbes. It's one thing piling this whole shite on me but ..."

Forbes raised both his hands and gestured to both of them. "Talk about it, the two of you. And I'll go and talk to Dunsany and get you a better deal. I'll give you both half an hour to decide." And then he turned and strode away before either of them could say a word.

Jamie took Claire's glass and set it on the nearby table and faced her. "Do ye want to talk about this, Sassenach?"

"I think we should," she whispered.

Without another word, Jamie took Claire by the elbow and led them to an empty conference room. Once alone and away from the crowd, they sat on a nearby table facing each other.

Claire spoke first. "Jamie, I totally get it. The money doesn't mean anything to you, and I know you love me, and I also know you're willing to walk away from all of this because of me, but ..."

"Sassenach ..."

"No, Jamie, hear me out first, please," she insisted, wringing her hands as she searched for the right words. "You're here because you want to be part of that sport you love so much and want to start your own rugby academy with the money you'll earn. I know we talked about this in the car before we got here, but I don't want to be the reason for giving up your dreams. I can't live with that. When two people love one another, they nurture and support each other. I want you to do this thing in London and build your academy."

He smiled and took her hands from across the table. "Sassenach, I appreciate what ye're saying but it doesnae matter. Besides, I get the feeling ye dinnae like London much and the whole palaver with the paparazzi, and I cannae do it on my own if ye decide to send me away. I'd miss ye terribly."

It was true what Jamie said. She hated London, but she'd also hate it if she didn't get to see him every day and see where their relationship go. Maybe this was a test and opportunities like this only come once in a lifetime. Of course, they could make their own opportunities, but more often than not they are sprung on you like a dare to test your skills, to see if you could take that leap of faith to make whatever it was a success. To continue to be dictated by fear, an excellent opportunity might slip away. Frank already took away so much by inspiring self-doubt in her, and she didn't want to be afraid anymore. She needed to take that leap first, for the sake of both of them. And although Claire didn't like the idea that William Dunsany could get a knighthood from her life-changing decision, Claire had a feeling Geneva was being manipulated by her father. She wanted to be beside Jamie to make sure it wouldn't happen to him and at the same time reach out to Geneva and help her.

Confident she made the right decision, she stood up, walked over to him and sat on his lap. Linking her arms together around Jamie's neck, she planted a kiss on his lips and smiled. "What if I said I want to come to London with you, would that change your mind?"

#melodyheart #startingover #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

[kagehinataboke]

For the prompt thingy do u mind doing tdbk with 48 and 75 🥺✌️ also I’m obsessed with u and your writing I visit your blog daily cause it helps to calm me down reading your fics !! Anyways thank u

ohhh anon, you’re after my fucking heart aren’t you? 🥺💖 this is accidentally a whole ass ride, i’m so invested

tdbk, [48] Fake Dating and [75] Bed Sharing

***

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Todoroki blinks innocently at the question. It wouldn’t be so annoying if he wasn’t… Well, himself. He’s holding a suitcase in one hand and a neck-pillow in the other, with sunglasses pushing his messy bangs up his forehead. He looks like a fucking moron, and he sounds like one when he asks, “What do you mean?”

“I mean why are you here, at my house, looking like that, when I’m about to leave for vacation?” Bakugou tries and fails to keep the irritation out of his voice. It’s hard when he’s dressed like a fucking tourist. Cargo shorts, sunglasses, and a fucking muscle shirt… Really?

“I invited him, of course,” Mitsuki says, appearing from behind them with a cooler in hand. She’s scowling at Bakugou in a ‘be nice and keep your mouth shut’ way. When she looks at Todoroki, her expression changes into a sincere smile. “Shouto is so polite and quiet, and he always brings me flowers when he comes over. I thought it would be nice to invite your boyfriend on our family vacation. Don’t you think, Katsuki?”

Yes, his boyfriend… It’s a long story.

To summarize, Bakugou was hit on by annoying girls one too many times. He was popular among other classes, apparently. They weren’t aware of his personality, is how Round Face phrased it. Whatever. After the fourth consecutive confession in one month, Bakugou decided he’d had enough, and hatched the idiotic idea to pretend to be gay.

Icy Hot wasn’t his first option by a long shot, but circumstances just seemed to work out between them. Now, it’s five weeks into their fake relationship, and Bakugou’s parents are ready to fucking adopt the bastard. And invite him on their family vacation, apparently.

Bakugou can’t even protest, because exposing them to his parents could lead to a snowball effect that will put him right back where he started. “Yeah,” he grumbles forcefully, “it’s the best idea I’ve ever fucking heard.”

“Good!” Mitsuki beams, patting Todoroki on he shoulder on her way to the car. “Now that that’s settled, let’s get going. I want to make it there before lunch.”

While she starts loading the back with Masaru, Todoroki shoots Bakugou a wide-eyed look. “I thought you knew I was coming. I had no idea Mitsuki didn’t tell you.”

“Whatever,” Bakugou grumbles, annoyed that he can’t stay mad at the bastard, even though he really wants to. “Just get in the fucking car already, Half n’ Half.”

Dammit… If they survive this trip, Icy Hot is so dead. And Bakugou’s mom, for secretly inviting him. Then again, he really should’ve seen this coming. Mitsuki loves Todoroki like crazy, for some shitty reason. Sure, he’s polite and thoughtful and kind of perfect, but what does that matter? He’s still annoying as fuck.

Like how he’s resting his head on Bakugou’s shoulder, for instance. How’s he even asleep right now? It’s not that early, and they only left ten minutes ago. This fuckhead. He can’t even push him off, or Mitsuki will blow a gasket.

Bakugou sighs, settling against his window. His shoulder is already falling asleep. It’s weird how Todoroki’s face is annoyingly peaceful when he sleeps. Messy, too, like everything he does. There’s hair in his face that Bakugou instinctively brushes away before he can stop himself.

Fuck, this trip already feels way too long…

***

“Wake up.” A hand rouses Bakugou from his sleep. He opens his eyes to harsh noontime sun, and a head of messy red-and-white against his cheek. Todoroki, who’s still asleep. The hand belongs to Mitsuki, though, and the way she’s looking at them both makes Bakugou’s face go red.

He quickly opens his door to stumble away from Todoroki, who wakes up after smacking face-first into the seat. He trails after Bakugou blearily, nearly stumbling into one of the decorative lampposts outside their hotel. Bakugou has to grab him by the collar to save his face. “Moron. Walk on this side.”

The group of four makes their way into the lobby, where Mitsuki collects two room keys from the front desk. She hands one of them to a still-delirious Todoroki. “This is for your room, dear.” To Bakugou: “I got you boys a separate suite.” Her smug expression is annoying as hell.

“Fine.” Bakugou snatches the key from Todoroki’s hand. “See you later, then.” Jokes on her: he doesn’t mind sharing a room. They’ll still have plenty of space to avoid each other.

Or not. There’s only one bed. Mitsuki has one-upped him yet again. It’s like she’s trying to be a bad influence. Does she want them to fuck? Because that’s certainly how this looks, as creepy as it sounds. Or is it just a room malfunction? Bakugou isn’t about to ask his mom to find out.

“You’re sleeping on the floor,” he says to Todoroki instead—but the idiot isn’t beside him anymore. He’s already on the damn bed, face-first in the pillows and dead asleep. Is he a fucking kid?

Bakugou sighs through his teeth and sets his suitcase in the closet, falling across the unoccupied side of the bed. He glares at Todoroki’s soft features, pissed at himself for wanting to touch them. This damn fabrication has gotten out of hand. It’s messing up his head.

Maybe he should end things. But… it’s strangely hard to think of doing so. Since they strutted ‘going out’ Todoroki has been way less annoying. There are sides of him that were invisible before, like how he gets quiet when he’s really overwhelmed, and how he has a soft spot for animals. Or how he’ll cry sometimes, when he thinks no one is looking. Just a few, silent tears that disappear in seconds.

Fuck, this shouldn’t be so complicated. Bakugou closes his eyes and tries to clear his mind. But in the end, all he can manage to do is fall asleep while still thinking of Todoroki.

***

When Bakugou wakes up, it’s dark. He extends his hand in the blackness, fingertips brushing against cool skin. He stops breathing for a second before he remembers: Todoroki is here, too. Close, here. His soft breath tickles Bakugou’s cheek.

He can somehow see him clearly in the dark. His whole face relaxes in his sleep. Bakugou’s only seen it once before, when he fell asleep while they were studying. In the middle of the night, it’s a much more… private thing. He isn’t sure why he can’t tear his eyes away. Or his hand, which has settled against Todoroki’s face. His skin is crazy soft. His lips, too. They’re thin, but smooth under Bakugou’s thumb. Shit. Has he always looked like this?

Their lips brush, and Bakugou is genuinely shocked. He hadn’t realized he was going to do it—or wanted to. Did he want to? If he didn’t want to, he wouldn’t have done it.

Todoroki shifts, and Bakugou sucks in a breath. But it’s fine: he‘s not waking up, just readjusting. He jerks his hand back to his side and turns away, silently scolding himself. What the fuck was that? He just did that to a sleeping person…

Wait. That’s not the fucking problem here. He kissed Todoroki. Annoying, rude, oblivious, stupid as fuck Todoroki, who he isn’t supposed to like. Or want to kiss again.

Shit. Shit. This isn’t good, especially when they’ll be stuck in the same room—in the same bed—for two whole weeks. Does Bakugou really… No. No way in hell. He’s not going to finish that thought. There’s no sliver of a chance that he has feelings for—

Fuck!

“Bakugou?” Todoroki’s tired grumble scares the everliving shit out of him. “Why are you awake?”

“Nothing,” Bakugou snaps irritably, pushing his stupid pretty face into the mattress. “Go back to sleep.”

Todoroki yawns and rolls over without complaint. He’s passed out again in less than a minute. Moron. He always sleeps like the dead.

Bakugou turns away from him and scoots to the farthest edge of the bed. He can’t slip up like that again.

But why can’t he? They’re in a fake relationship, so if real feelings were to develop, then… As terrifying as it is to think about, not much would change. Things have been changing between them for a while now. Todoroki might feel the same growing tension Bakugou does.

It’s better to test it out. He shouldn’t do anything until he’s sure…

***

“The beach?” Todoroki turns to Bakugou with a skeptical expression. “Why do you suddenly want to go there? I thought you said saltwater was ‘the devil’s sweat’ and you ‘wouldn’t be caught dead’—“

“Shut up. I changed my mind, okay?” Bakugou scowls, forcing down his anxiety. There’s supposed to be fireworks at the beach tonight, so he’s planning to confront Todoroki about their possibly-more-than-friends-or-rivals feelings. Pretty straightforward, he thinks.

“Okay. I’ll go if you really want to.” Todoroki turns back to his suitcase, which he’s been rummaging through for ten minutes now. “…I can’t find any sunscreen. I think I forgot to pack it.”

Bakugou pushes him aside. “You would literally fucking die on your own. Here.” He finds the bottle and passes it over with a roll of the eyes. “It was in plain sight, you moron.”

“Sorry.” Todoroki frowns at the bottle. “I wonder how much I need, though… It’s not really that bright outside.”

How the actual fuck is this idiot bastard still alive? “Give me that.” Bakugou snatches the sunscreen irritably. “Strip and turn around.”

Todoroki obeys complacently, as always. He takes off his shirt and faces the window, giving Bakugou free range of his broad back. His skin is so pale that it’s a surprise he hasn’t gotten sunburned already. Bakugou has been staring at him for several seconds when he remembers what he’s supposed to be doing.

The sunscreen glides over his skin, and Bakugou gets distracted again by the lean muscle of Todoroki’s back and shoulders. It’s not like he hasn’t seen it before, but touching it is an entirely different thing. When Todoroki turns around to face him, it becomes even worse.

Bakugou looks at his bare chest and swallows thickly. This is too much. “Do the front yourself,” he grumbles, shoving the sunscreen into Todoroki’s hands with an angry blush. Fuck, he’s such a weakling.

“But don’t you need some—“

“I’m fine!” Bakugou straightens his shirt collar nervously. No way can he and Todoroki be shirtless in the same room right now. “I’ll put it on later. Just hurry the fuck up so we can go.”

The whole walk to the beach, Bakugou keeps searching himself for signs that this is all in his head. That he’s so used to fake-dating Todoroki that he’s become confused. But no matter how long he dwells on it, he can tell these are genuine feelings. The sappy, fluffy, disgusting, butterflies-in-stomach type of feelings that he despises so much.

He can’t stop watching Todoroki and noticing stupid shit. Like how his eyes reflect the ocean, and how his wet skin glistens in the sunlight, and how the water drips down his— Fuck. The world is doing that slow-motion, movie-moment bullshit. This is a fucking disaster.

“Are you okay?” Todoroki approaches, slicking his wet hair back with one hand. He doesn’t pay any attention to the giggling girls ten feet away who he probably just indirectly impregnated. “You’re not swimming.”

Bakugou is about to preach his hatred of the ocean when he remembers he was the one who suggested they go. “…I’ll come now.”

He pulls off his shirt, fidgeting under Todoroki’s direct gaze. The bastard is terrible at reading people. “Stop fucking staring at me. I’m coming.”

He moves to the water’s edge cautiously. Not that he’s afraid of it: the ocean is just gross. Todoroki passes him to wade right in, pausing to look back at him. He’s got this tiny, strangely soft smile on his face. Fucking unfair.

Bakugou wants nothing more than to follow him when he smiles like that.

***

By the time the fireworks start, Bakugou has forgotten about them for several reasons, the most prominent being the sunburn covering his whole upper body. He forgot to put on fucking sunscreen. Go figure.

The second most prominent is Todoroki, who‘s rubbing aloe on the aforementioned sunburn. He brought some to the beach, prepared asshole. When the fireworks start, he’s just finished applying a second layer.

“Oh, right. There are fireworks.”

Dammit. Nothing is going according to plan. They were supposed to be walking back to the resort, alone, by now. Bakugou glances around frantically for a backup. “Icy Hot, come over here with me for a second.”

“What? Behind this rock? Why? We’ll miss the—”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Bakugou pushes him against the rock and steals his next protest with a kiss.

He had originally planned to talk to him, but this is much more straightforward. Depending on how Todoroki reacts, he’ll know his feelings one way or another. And thank fuck he kissed him instead, because he isn’t being punched. He’s being kissed back. Rather violently.

The fireworks drown out most sound, but Bakugou is sure his heartbeat is loud enough for everyone within a ten-mile radius to hear. He can barely hear himself think. Not that he is thinking right now. How could he with Todoroki’s tongue in his mouth?

Fuck, this is too much. He can’t breathe. But when he tries to pull away, Todoroki’s hands on his shoulders firmly keep him in place. His mouth doesn’t know anything beyond this bliss, but his lungs are cursing the day he was born.

“Wait—“ Bakugou gasps for one, two breaths before Todoroki’s lips are on his again. This plan, he realizes, is quickly starting to backfire. He should’ve factored into consideration that the other party is fucking annoying, and might be as equally pent-up as he is. That’s clearly the situation at hand.

To get back in control, Bakugou catches Todoroki’s bottom lip roughly between his teeth. They stare at each other, struggling to breathe, fireworks exploding in their eyes. For a long time, Bakugou doesn’t know what to say. Then he exhales, and what slips out is a quiet, “Fuck.”

Todoroki licks saliva from his lips, though which of them it belongs to is a mystery. “You kissed me first,” he says, almost defensively.

“Obviously I know that, dipshit.” Bakugou covers his mouth, fighting off a blush. “I didn’t think you’d kiss me back.”

“So… you didn’t want me to kiss you?”

“I… I did…” Bakugou’s face grows warmer. “I just wasn’t expecting it, okay?”

Todoroki grabs him by the shoulders. He’s actually enthusiastic, for once. “Does this mean that you sincerely like me? It does, right?”

“Calm down!” Bakugou presses him back when he gets too close. He didn’t expect it to be so hard to admit out loud. “I… I guess I do…” Todoroki looks like he’s going to kiss him again, so Bakugou puts an arm over his chest. “But hold on a second! We need to fucking talk this out!”

“Oh.” Todoroki seems dejected. “You’re right.” Despite agreeing, he keeps a firm hold on Bakugou’s shoulders, as if struggling to hold himself back. “I was sure this would solve everything. Kissing, I mean.”

“Are you really a moron? There’s so much other shit we have to figure out.” Bakugou can’t help but laugh. This situation is just too ridiculous. “We’ve been pretending to date for months, and now to switch to the real thing? It’s gonna be complicated as fuck.”

“That’s okay.” Todoroki takes his hand and flashes one of his rare, quiet smiles. Quiet in the way that it’s barely a whisper across his face. It’s never looked as breathtaking as it does right now. “As long as it’s you, I don’t mind complicated.”

As much as he wants to call him a moron or push him away, Bakugou lets Todoroki kiss him again. He doesn’t really mind ‘complicated,’ either.

#SO #INVESTED #WHYYY #might have to make this a whole thing tbh #fake dating is just #the shit #todobaku #trope prompts #answered asks #calla.txt

[cruecifymesixx]

Love and Leather /part eleven/

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: drunkenly writing chapters. Enjoy :)

Warnings: language, sexual(??? Is that a thing? Don’t worry, it’s not smut...yet (;)

Taglist: @oskea93 , @brideofdraculana , @aryssav , @miserablecunt , @electradestiny , @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol , @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies , @venus-calum , @justjodeye , @fandomshit6000 @supernaturalvikingwhore , @are-we-real , @hi-my-name-is-riley , @extremesadnerding , @thatbandchick39 , @awkwrdcait , @dillightfulpickle , @baiabouk, @awesomealmostdopestudent , @madsthegroupie , @martabastic, @brooklyn-antiques, @romanticvengeance, @moonlightxcal, @countrygirlswonderland

Nikki’s POV

“She’s your problem Sixx.” Tommy said while slamming his hotel room door in my face not wanting to deal with me anymore tonight as I was holding onto Vanity who was a drunk, fucked off on heroin mess

“Fucking Christ.” I mumbled, “I heard that.” I looked at Vanitys glazed over eyes as they were trying to roll into the back of her head, “Lets get you to bed so you can sleep.” I said and pulled her along by her hand, “Sixx, slow down.” She said while trying not to trip over her own feet, “Just...ugh..god damnit.” I huffed getting irritated but I know I shouldn’t be because it was my fault.

I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder and continued walking down the hall way. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her struggling to pull down her dress as it was rising up. I smirked at myself and kept walking until we got to my room.

I unlocked my room and dropped her on the bed, “Rude.” She scoffed and I rolled my eyes, “Just go to bed.” I said while plopping down on the couch across from the bed and closed my eyes,

“Why did you even have smack?” Vanity asked me, my eyes opened and i stared at her.

I couldn’t dare look at her golden eyes and tell her what I’ve become, “I uh...someone just gave it to me.” I replied nervously, but I knew that she knew I was full of shit.

“Oh, okay.” She stated, but then I noticed her face get clammy, “You okay?” I asked her while getting off the couch and walking to her as she got off the bed. “Just sit down.” I told her but she shook her head, “Is my brother okay?” She asked with closed eyes as she was swaying back and forth, “He’s okay Van, he’s with Tommy and Vince.” I reassured her and she nodded “Mhmm.” Was also she could say, not being able to form a coherent sentence, she was way too fucking high, I can’t believe I did this shit to her man.

She sat down on the bed, nearly missing it, “Nikki I’m gonna throw up.” She told me and I got up and grabbed a trash can and handed it to her. I held her hair back as she started puking again, “I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.” I told her as she was finished. She wiped her lip with a tissue that was close by and looked at me through teary eyes, “I’m fine.” She said blankly, and put the waste basket on the floor.

She grabbed by forearm and used me as a crutch to stand up, “I don’t want to wear this.” She told me while shimmying out of of her dress and sliding it down her body.

Jesus Christ.

I wanted to smack myself across the face to wake up from this dream. She was standing there half naked, only wearing a black thong. I couldn’t help myself, my eyes traveled down her body. She had her naval pierced and a small rose tattoo on her hip that I never knew about. It looks as if it was done at a house party. My eyes traveled back up to her chest, I wanted nothing more then to fucking play with those tits. I had to adjust myself through my pants with the ideas that were popping into my head.

I bit my lip while trying to push the inappropriate thoughts I’ve had about her for the past year out of my head. “You enjoying this?” She asked me,

I was so preoccupied with my thoughts that I didn’t even notice her looking down at me. I cleared my throat, trying to find anything else in the room to look at, “Can you give me something to wear please?” I nodded quickly and got off the bed and walked over to my suitcase and rummaged through it finding an old ratty muscle tee. I handed it to her while not making eye contact with, “Thanks.” She mumbled while slipping it on,

“Do you have any booze? I want some more.” She asked me, “I think you’ve had enough partying for one night, Van.” I said softly and she rolled her eyes and stumbled away from me, holding onto the wall and going over to the fridge. The shirt itself barely covered her ass, I have to fucking take a cold shower after this.

“Ah ha!” She said while holding up my bottle of Jack and taking a sip of it, “why’d you give me smack? That’s so fucked up.” She said while walking over to me and putting a hand on my shoulder while she held the bottle in the other.

“I just i don’t know, I thought it would be funny....but it wasn’t obviously.” I explained to her and she nodded, “What do you think of my tits? Are they as nice as the girls you fuck?” She asked while cocking her head to the side and taking another sip,

I smirked at her and let out a laugh, “Doll, they’re better.” I answered her, trying to keep my thoughts at bay with her being this close to me, but my eyes couldn’t help look up and down her body again, and she noticed it.

She takes another sip while gripping my shoulder trying not to fall backwards. Her hand glided over my shoulder and rested on the back of my head, her fingers weaving through it and gently tugging to make me look up at her, “Do you want to fuck me Nikki?” She questioned me in a seductive tone.

Of course I wanted to fuck her, I’ve thought about it since the first time I met her way back at the diner. She’s been my greatest chase to date and the only woman who hasn’t thrown herself at me and begged me to fuck her senseless. I wanted to fuck her, hell maybe even make love to her. I wanted to hear her scream my name, I wanted to feel her cum around my cock, I wanted to make her mine.

“‘Course I do doll face, but I wouldn’t when you’re fucked up like this.” I told her and her eyebrows raised in surprise, “But don’t you fuck those whores when they’re fucked up off your drugs and alcohol?” She asked me and I nodded, “But you’re not a whore Vanity, you deserve more then that if we were to ever fuck.” I explained to her but also being careful of what I told her. I didn’t want her getting any ideas of me maybe or maybe not having feelings for her.

She laughed, “How romantic.” She teased me and I rolled my eyes, “What makes me different? Why won’t you just fuck me right now? I know you want too.” I sighed, she was asking too many questions right now. All of the right fucking questions but she wasn’t sober enough for me to do anything about it.

“You’re fucked up Vanity. I’m not gonna take advantage of you.” I told her while avoiding her eyes at all cost as they were screaming for attention and for me to touch her.

I got off the bed and stood in front of her, “Why don’t we get you in bed and to sleep, Alright?” I told her while pulling back the blankets and taking the bottle from her,

“Y’know...I think you’re scared to fuck me and that’s why you won’t do it.” Vanity said in a matter-of-fact type of tone, god why did she always have to fucking push my buttons,

“Vanity, you aren’t going to taunt me into fucking you. It’s time for bed, you’re fucked up.” I said with a little bit more bass in my voice. God, I wish she was sober so I could fuck her the way she wants it.

She crossed her arms over her chest and huffed, “Maybe I should go find someone that would fuck me right now.” She retorted, immediately putting a scowl on my face.

“Maybe Vince....he fucks every girl.” She told me and i clenched my jaw, “Vanity, you only want me to fuck you because you’re fucked up. You would not want this if you were sober.” I tried hiding my anger from her. My skin crawled at the thought of Vince, let alone any guy touching her the way I want to touch her.

“You know what...fuck it, you go fuck Vince and I’ll go fuck the first girl I find in the lobby, hm about that?” Vanity stared at me as I let my jealousy bubble over, “Sound good to you?” I said bluntly while trying to hold back an eye roll.

“I mean...are you giving me permission to go fuck Vince?” She wanted clarification and I just about lost my shit,

“I don’t give a fuck what you do Vanity...let’s go to their room and you can get what you fucking want. I don’t fucking care.” I said, hands shaking in anger as I started walking over to the door,

But Vanity fell onto the bed cracking up in hysterics, what was so god damn fucking funny to her?

“God, I love you.” Vanity said, but quickly sat up and looked at me, “Not like that...but as in your so easy to mess with it’s fucking priceless.” She said while trying to control her giggles. She walked over to me and grabbed my hand and pulled me back to the bed so I can sit with her,

“I wouldn’t fuck Vince even if if he was the last guy on the face of this planet.” She told me, and I tried calming myself down, “Yeah, I wouldn’t fuck Vince either. Not my type.” I told her while trying to play off how jealous I got, at least I got a laugh out her,

“So are you gonna show me your dick or not?” She asked, eyes full of hope. I got annoyed with her and stood up and lightly pushed her onto the bed so she was laying down, “Goodnight Vanity.” I told her before walking over to the couch and laying down, but she sat back up,

“Why are you sleeping over there?” She asked yet another stupid question, I wish she would just shut up and knock out already.

“Because you’re in the bed tonight, obviously Van.” I said, trying to avoid laying next to her at all costs knowing only dirty, disgusting, sleazy thoughts would keep me up all night. I saw her tits already tonight. If she shows me anything more I won’t be able to control myself and she will be under me naked and a sweaty, hot and bothered, dripping in cum mess.

I snapped out of those thoughts when a pillow hit me in the face, “Vanity! Knock it off!” I shouted at her and she gave me a shit eating grin in return, “You slipped me smack, make me throw my guts up and you won’t even come hold me as an apology?” I perched myself up on the couch. I couldn’t tell if she was serious or not,

I laid back down and put my hand behind my head, “You’ll regret it in the morning princess. It’s better if I stay over here, just go to sleep.” I spoke softly and I heard her sigh, “Fine, goodnight Nikki.”

I rubbed my face glancing at the alarm clock seeing how late it was, this woman is gonna be the fucking death of me.

#the dirt #the dirt movie #nikki sixx #nikki sixx fan fic #nikki sixx imagine #motley crue #motley crue fan fic #1980s #alcohol #douglas booth #writing #my idea

[mikotyzini]

Earth to Echo - CDAD oneshot

As the title suggests, this is NOT a RWBY oneshot!  It’s based on this story I read a few months ago called Charon Docks at Daylight written by @mezoereed, which was...basically, zombies, gay girls, and angst.  (I recommend it!  And you can read it here: https://www.fictionpress.com/s/3095130/1/Charon-Docks-At-Daylight)

“Echo!”

The sound of her name drew her gaze away from the book she’d been reading in the lobby of the med center.  Spotting the young girl rushing towards her, she smiled and set the medical textbook beside her.

“Hey Kara,” she replied before reaching out and greeting the tail that never left Kara’s side.  “Hey Wolf,” she said before turning back to Kara.  “What’s up?”

“You wanted me to let you know when they got back and...they’re back!”

Echo’s heart jumped at the words, and she immediately stood up.

“They are?” she asked, more out of surprise than questioning Kara’s information.  When Kara nodded, however, Echo felt the girl’s infectious smile spread to her lips.  “Let’s go greet them then.”

While Kara accepted the invitation with a big smile and nod, Echo tried not to let her own excitement get the best of her.  Genevieve had been gone for several days on a mission - several long, lonely days and even lonelier nights - but Echo didn’t want to be that person.  The one that couldn’t stand a few days apart without becoming a clingy mess.

Still, she struggled to control her pace so as not to leave Kara and Wolf behind while hurrying to the front gates.  The moment they rounded the corner, she saw the Strykers parked just inside with soldiers unloading supplies and equipment.  And when she saw Genevieve, her heart did an embarrassing jump that she’d never admit to.

The next second, however, confusion mixed with her overall happiness.

“Oh!” Kara exclaimed, adding a small hop for emphasis.  “They found people!”

Based on the strangers talking to Genevieve and Blake, as well as the crowd of onlookers, Kara was right.  Echo couldn’t remember the last time the squads found survivors and brought them back to base.  From what Genevieve said, finding survivors was growing rarer and rarer, and, on top of that, sometimes the people they found had no interest in joining the base.  If they’d survived this long on their own, they were comfortable taking their chances from here on out.

It was a group of two - a middle-aged man and a girl around Echo’s age - both with backpacks around their shoulders and weapons strapped to their hips.  From that fact alone, Echo knew they must be friendly, or at least friendly enough that Genevieve didn’t view them as a threat - a remarkable feat considering her propensity to be overly cautious with people she didn’t know.

“Wow, she’s pretty.”  

As soon as Kara made the remark, Echo felt a twinge of dislike pull at her lips.  But the new girl was pretty.  Tall, with an athletic build and blonde hair falling just past her shoulders, she looked like she belonged in a mall more than a military base.  And she was looking at Genevieve with an intent smile that Echo didn’t particularly enjoy.

“Thanks, Kara,” she said, sparing a smile for Kara and ear scratch for Wolf before joining Genevieve, Blake, and the newcomers.

“ - you should see April for your injuries,” Blake was in the middle of saying before gesturing to a long cut on the man’s forearm.  “She’s in the med center.”  Turning around, he pointed out the building Echo had just come from.

“Thank you,” the man replied with a nod of respect.  “And what about our belongings?”  

Before Blake responded, Echo took the opportunity to catch Genevieve’s attention and pull her away from the conversation.  With Blake handling all the talking, she wasn’t needed for this anyway.

“Hey,” Echo said in a low voice once they moved several feet away.  She couldn’t stop the smile that appeared as soon as Genevieve met her gaze with warm brown eyes and a hint of a smile.

“Hey.”  Genevieve’s gaze went to Echo’s lips, but she quickly looked away and shifted her weight between her feet - almost always the consummate professional in public.

“Looks like you guys did pretty well.”  When Echo turned towards the Strykers, she caught the new girl’s gaze before pointedly ignoring her and nodding to the bags of supplies being carried towards their ultimate destinations.

“Surprisingly well.”  After glancing over her shoulder at their haul, Genevieve finally smiled.  “It helped that Layla and Tim locked the supply cabinets years ago.”

“The new people?” Echo subtly nodded towards the newcomers, whose conversation with Blake was wrapping up.

“Yeah, they’ve been holed up inside for years but were willing to help once they heard what we were doing.”

“Is that why they got to keep their weapons?”

If Genevieve heard the slight resentment in Echo’s tone, she didn’t acknowledge it while shaking her head.  “We got attacked by a group of Ferals while loading up.  It was either let them keep their weapons or risk our lives trying to keep them safe.”

By now, Echo knew better than to question Genevieve’s judgment on missions.  It just sucked to remember that she’d had to earn the right to carry her weapon while these people got the opportunity through circumstance alone.  Before she could respond, however, she caught sight of the new girl - Layla - walking over to them.  

Echo couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about the girl bothered her.  Her tall, lean figure.  Her too-bright hair.  

It wasn’t until Layla smiled that Echo figured it out.  It was that look.  The look she hadn’t seen in years but still immediately caused a visceral reaction of dislike.  The look that brought back so many memories she’d rather forget, yet here they were again.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Layla said before turning towards Genevieve with that charming smile still in place.  “I just wanted to say thank you again.  For letting us come back with you, but also for taking on that Feral for me.”

“Oh.”  Looking genuinely surprised by the gratitude, Genevieve smiled and nodded once.  “Of course.  That’s kind of what we do.”

“Taking on full grown Ferals with nothing but a knife is what you do?” Layla restated before laughing and shaking her head.  “Pretty sure I’ve never met a girl like you.”

No one heard Echo’s jaw snap shut, and she ground her teeth together when Genevieve glanced her way.

“Uh, thank you.”  It didn’t look like Genevieve had more to say than that but, fortunately, Layla gave a small wave and headed after her companion.

“I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, see you.”

In the short silence that followed, Echo knew she shouldn’t say it.  She knew she should keep her mouth shut, but she just couldn’t.

“What was that about ‘not risking your lives’ for the new people?” she asked, hearing the agitation in her tone.  And, from the way Genevieve sighed, she heard it too.

“We were trying to make it out of there quietly - you know how it is.”

“I knew how it was…” Echo grumbled.  Once again, she was reminded of how much she hated being left behind.  Not only did she get restless on base, but the idea of Genevieve fighting Ferals without her put a ball of terror in the pit of her stomach.

“Hey.”  Feeling a hand gently touch her cheek, Echo looked up and found warm, patient brown eyes locked onto hers.  “We went through this...we knew it would be more than a day trip, and with your headaches…”

“I know.”  Cutting Genevieve off before she launched into another spiel about safety, Echo leaned into the hand on her cheek.  “I just...hate being left behind…”

“And I hate leaving you behind…”

Hearing that simple admission, Echo felt better.  At least if she was stuck here missing out on all the action, someone else felt bad for her.

“Well, what are you going to do now?” she asked as a subject change, preferring to forget her self-pity for now.

“I need to debrief the guys.”  When Genevieve walked over to the door of one of the Strykers, Echo followed.  “But I’ll see you at dinner?”

Echo wanted to argue for more time together.  Instead, she watched Genevieve haul a large duffel bag out of the Stryker and set it comfortably atop one shoulder.  If Echo had to guess, the bag probably weighed a good eighty pounds, but Genevieve treated it like it was nothing.

“You know…” Echo said, taking a step closer and setting her hands on Genevieve’s hips.  “Pretty sure I’ve never met a girl like you.”

“Oh stop.”  Gently pushing Echo’s shoulder away, Genevieve shook her head but failed to hide a smile.  “Just make sure you’re at dinner on time - I have stories for you.”

The casual comment caught Echo’s full attention.

“What kind of stories?” she asked, but Genevieve simply waved over her head while walking away.  Watching her go, Echo sighed in pure, genuine relief.

With Genevieve back on base, Echo was happy.  She’d be even happier if there weren’t so many responsibilities preventing them from spending every second together, but dinnertime would roll around soon enough.

Until then, she busied herself the best way she knew how - mindlessly patrolling the perimeter of the base while searching for any potential weak spots.  Not that she needed to check - the official patrols checked every inch of fence regularly - but she felt better seeing their security with her own eyes.  It helped her sleep at night.

Fortunately, the fence looked the same as it always did - sturdy, unbroken, and humming with electricity.  Nothing to report there.

Once her extended stroll wrapped up, she headed to the cafeteria right away.  Normally, she’d go to the barracks first to meet Genevieve and walk over together, but tonight they were meeting there instead.

With dinner just getting underway, the line wasn’t long and the tables were predominantly empty.  After grabbing a bowl of food - another vegetable stew - she spotted a familiar face and headed across the room to join them.

“Hey Micah,” she said while sitting down across from the boy.  “How’s it going?”

When he merely raised the book in his hands as a response, Echo nodded and said “gotcha” before falling silent.  Apparently, he’d decided to read rather than participate in conversation tonight, which was fine with her.  At least he tolerated her presence now, just like he’d promised to do if she found Genevieve.

She would’ve gone to the ends of the earth looking for Genevieve anyway.  Earning Micah’s somewhat-forgiveness was just an added bonus.

While Micah read, Echo mindlessly ate dinner and scanned the cafeteria for Genevieve.  It wasn’t until the room was nearly full - people talking and laughing after another hard day’s work - that Genevieve walked through the doors and immediately caught Echo’s gaze.

Just looking at Genevieve reminded Echo of how long they’d been apart.  Three whole days...and she felt every second in the look Genevieve gave her.  Being apart for a few hours felt like too long sometimes, but three days?  Too much could go wrong in three days...which was why she’d worried practically nonstop.

Part of her believed that Genevieve felt the same because, instead of getting in line for dinner, she walked over to the table and dropped into the chair beside Echo with a sigh.

“And you told me not to be late,” Echo teased while bumping Genevieve’s shoulder, silently rejoicing in their proximity.

“I’m sorry.  I got caught by basically everyone I passed.”

“Must be nice to be so popular.”

“I don’t know if I’d put it like that…”

“Micah,” Echo said, gaining the boy’s attention.  “Isn’t your sister popular?”

“Gen, you’re one of the most popular people on the base.”  When Micah rolled his eyes, the corner of Genevieve’s mouth lifted with humor.

“Since when do you side with Echo?”

“Since she’s right.”  When Micah stuck his tongue out before going back to his book, Genevieve huffed in amusement.

“It’s not a popularity contest.”

“But if it was,” Echo butted in.  “You’d be winning.”

For a moment, Genevieve looked like she wanted to argue.  Then she laughed and leaned into Echo’s side.

“Whatever you guys say.  I’m just happy to be back.”  When Genevieve reached across the table and ruffled Micah’s hair, Echo smiled and felt her heart hum with content.  Unfortunately, the feeling evaporated as soon as she noticed an unfamiliar yet all-too-familiar face heading towards them.

Though Echo narrowed her eyes, Layla didn’t appear to notice.  Or, if she did, she wasn’t at all deterred from tapping Genevieve on the shoulder.

“Hey Genevieve,” she said, smiling when Genevieve turned her way.

“Oh, hey Layla - how’s everything going?”

“Pretty good.  Tim got that cut cleaned and stitched up - April said he’d be better in no time.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah, it is.”  Pausing for a second, Layla thought about her next words before finding another winning smile that made Echo dislike her even more.  “But, uh, Blake told me I should have someone show me around base.  And I thought...who better to show me around than the girl who can take on a Feral with her bare hands?”

Genevieve chuckled at the compliment, but Echo’s brow furrowed even further.

“Ok, sure.  You want to go now?”

Of course Genevieve agreed.  She was too helpful to turn down that type of request, especially when paired with a compliment like that.

“I can introduce you to the kitchen staff first,” she added while standing.  “When you’re deciding where you’d like to help out, that’s always an option.”

“Where do you help out?” Layla asked while turning to leave with Genevieve.  The feigned innocence in the question wasn’t lost on Echo, who watched with a growing frown while the two headed towards the kitchen.  

An ugly feeling was brewing in her chest and, unfortunately, she had a name for it - jealousy.  

“You’re really going to let her get away with that?”

Surprised by the question, Echo turned and found Micah shaking his head at her.

“What do you mean ‘let her get away’ with it?”

“I’d never let someone try to steal my girl like that.”  When Micah’s eyes slid towards the end of the table, where Kara was in the midst of an animated conversation with Mal, Echo raised one brow.

“You better not let Dugan catch you looking at her like that.”

Immediately turning red, Micah focused on Echo instead.

“I’m just saying...all that girl talked about in the clinic was how amazing Genevieve is.  I know Gen’s awesome, but she’s not worth that much praise.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that, either,” Echo replied with a huff, but her gaze slipped to the doorway of the kitchen where Genevieve and Layla were talking to one of the cooks.  Layla stood needlessly close to Genevieve, their shoulders grazing in a way that looked too coincidental to be an accident.

“You have to show her that Gen’s taken,” Micah added.  “Stake your claim.”

“‘Stake my claim?’”  Saying the words out loud, Echo emphatically shook her head.  “If I ever said something like that around your sister, she’d kick my ass.”

When Micah sighed and picked up his book, Echo thought he was finally giving up.  And he might have been, but then he shook his head and said, “She played soccer too.”

That pushed Echo over the edge.  And, before she knew it, she was stalking over to the kitchen to interrupt the pair.  Like hell was she letting Layla win Genevieve over with some nice smiles and conversations about soccer.

“Hey, Gen, sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk to you.”  Gently taking Genevieve by the elbow, Echo pulled her a few steps away before letting go.

“Echo?  What are you doing?”

Now wasn’t the best time to figure out what she wanted to do.  All she knew was that she needed to break into the conversation somehow.  Now that she had, and now that Genevieve and Layla were staring at her, she needed to come up for a good reason for the disruption.

“I thought I could help you give the tour,” she offered with a forced smile.  “You know, give some pointers and stuff.”

It was the best way she could think of to keep the two from flirting all night, but Genevieve’s eyes immediately narrowed at the suggestion.

“...why?” was all she asked while studying Echo with an intensity that made her scuff her foot on the floor.  

“Just...trying to be helpful,” she mumbled.  

The answer wasn’t good enough - she knew that the moment Genevieve shook her head.

“It’s ok.  I know how much you love giving tours.”  After giving Echo one last searching expression, Genevieve smiled and patted her shoulder.  “But I’ll see you later tonight, right?”

That wasn’t the answer Echo wanted, but she knew better than to force her way through Genevieve’s decision.  Before she left, however, she had to try one last time - she had to remove a bit of the desire and want from Layla’s eyes.

“Right,” she replied with a flimsy smile.  “But uh, before you leave.  I uh, I was hoping for a kiss.”

Eyes widening in surprise, Genevieve looked around the cafeteria - filled with people - before turning back to Echo.

“Right now?”

What she really meant was right here, in front of all of these people.  Echo didn’t care so much about the other people, but in front of Layla was exactly what she wanted.

“Yeah, just a short one?”  She knew it would reassure her if they kissed right now - that it should ‘stake her claim’ and send a clear message that Genevieve was off limits.  Unfortunately, that plan hinged upon Genevieve saying ‘yes.’  And, from the confusion and borderline discontent in her eyes, that probably wasn’t going to happen.

“Layla, can you give me a minute?”  When Layla nodded, Genevieve pulled Echo far enough away that they could talk in private before dropping her arm.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.  God forbid I ask for a kiss from my girlfriend…”  Echo knew she was laying on the guilt pretty thick, and it immediately backfired when Genevieve frowned.

“Ok,” Genevieve replied in her ‘I’m trying really hard not to get annoyed but I still am’ tone.  “How about this?  You figure out what’s wrong, and I’ll see you later.”  

When Genevieve turned to walk back to Layla, Echo let out a disappointed breath and felt jealousy consume her.

“Fine, whatever.  Have fun getting hit on by Soccer Barbie.”  

She barely made it two steps away before Genevieve grabbed her by the arm and spun her around.

“‘Soccer Barbie?’  What the hell are you talking about?”

“The hot blonde who keeps hitting on you?” Echo replied, feeling her jealousy spill over as agitation.  “You know, the one who can’t stop making eyes at you and telling you how amazing you are?”

“That’s not what she’s doing -”

“Uh, yeah, it is.”

It looked like Genevieve wanted to argue.  Instead, she furrowed her brow then shook her head.

“Well who cares, anyway?” she retorted.  “It’s not like it means anything.”

“It means something to me!”  

Echo immediately regretted the force behind the words.  But she’d already said it, and Genevieve’s eyes had already widened in surprise.

“Echo…” Genevieve tried again, in a much softer tone this time.  “What’s going on?”

Running a hand through her hair and sighing out loud, Echo suddenly wished she hadn’t walked over here.  She should’ve just left it alone and dealt with her issues how she normally did - mainly, by hitting something.

“It’s nothing -”

“No, it’s something,” Genevieve interrupted.  “I can see in your eyes that it’s something.”

Since when could Genevieve read her eyes so accurately?  Echo didn’t know when the change had happened, but now it was almost impossible to keep her thoughts and emotions from being picked up.

“I just...don’t like people hitting on you...” she muttered towards the floor, knowing she had to give Genevieve something.

“But why?  Imogen hits on you all the time, and you don’t see me pouting about it.”

“That’s different.”

Genevieve crossed her arms at that response.

“How is that different?”

Not having an answer that didn’t sound completely hypocritical, Echo sighed and hung her head.  She understood why this bothered her so much, but she really didn’t want to say it out loud.  Unfortunately, Genevieve deserved to hear an explanation for her behavior.

“It just...reminds me of before.”

Looking up, Echo watched Genevieve mouth the word to herself before realization sprang into her eyes.

“You know…” Echo continued.  “Before all of this.  When the hottest guys in school tripped over themselves for you while I was...nobody.”

She’d hardly turned towards the floor before a hand tilted her chin up and lips met her own.  The kiss was firm, open, more loving than she deserved, and gone before she could reciprocate.

“I love you,” Genevieve whispered, her brown eyes willing Echo to believe.  “No one can take me away from you.”

And between the kiss, those words, the look in Genevieve’s eyes, and the way she still held Echo’s chin with one hand, Echo smiled.

“Not even if they played center field for the Olympic team?” she joked, feeling lighter than air now that Genevieve had put her fears to rest.

“Midfield,” Genevieve corrected her with a smile.  “And no.  Not even if they were a midfielder on the Olympic team.”

Sensing that the window was still open, Echo leaned forward and stole another kiss - this one soft, lingering, and filled with the emotions she could never put into words.  But she was...grateful...that Genevieve put up with her insecurities.  Not only put up with them but knew just what to say to make her feel special and loved.

“Ok,” she said while patting Genevieve on the hip.  “Have fun showing her around.”

“You’re ok now?”  

“You’ve convinced me I was being immature.”  When Genevieve huffed, Echo responded with a playfully serious look.  “But I expect more reassurance later tonight.”

When the simple sentence lit a spark of desire in Genevieve’s eyes, Echo couldn’t help a smirk from appearing.  

But “we’ll see” was all Genevieve said before returning to Layla, whose expression had completely changed after witnessing that interaction.  Gone was the intent to pursue.  In its place, confusion and just a little chagrin that she wouldn’t get what she wanted.

“Such a tease…” Echo replied with a shake of her head before walking back to the table.   

Even though she’d said it earlier as a joke, it was true - she’d never met a girl like Genevieve.  And she wasn’t letting such an incredible person go without at least...staking her claim.

#oneshot #cdad #charon docks at daylight #zoe reed

[honeymoonjin]

enjoy your stay - chapter six

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven

A/N - Just for now, I’m trialing not putting in chapter links on this post to see if it helps more people see it since the tumblr search function cuts out posts with links. If there’s not a big difference, I’ll put them in later, but to see the first chapter if you’re a new reader, please click on my blog and check out my masterlist.

ENJOY YOUR STAY ↳Boss!Namjoon, Chef!Jin, Receptionist!Hoseok, Bellboy!Jimin, Bartender!Jungkook, Accountant!Yoongi, Photography student!Taehyung ↳Some inappropriate language and cursing. Later chapters have sexual content.

SUMMARY ↳Working the graveyard shift at a hotel isn’t the most exciting job in the world, but your coworkers are certainly happy to have you here.

CHAPTER SIX ↳It’s hard to navigate the line between professional and personal relationships, and you find yourself beginning to make deeper connections with some of the night shift workers.

The lobby’s carpet has just been properly cleaned, and the wet-dog smell still permeates the wide-open space. When you get there, the muscles in your arms creaking with the weight of the reams of paper you’re holding, you’re shocked to find Hoseok not at his desk.

Did he really need the paper that badly?

Instead, Jimin’s rocking back and forth on the roller chair, enjoying the opportunity to rest his feet for once.

His bellboy cap rests at a jaunty angle on his head and the top few buttons of his jacket are undone.

You call out to him as you approach, and he sits up with a grin. “Where’s Hobi?”

The grin falls. “Hello to you, too.”

You roll your eyes and dump the heavy load on the desk, rubbing your upper arms and wincing. “Hello, Jimin. Where’s Hobi?”

He huffs but doesn’t argue further, and his angelic smile returns. “Maybe if you showed up to work on time, you’d know.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “I don’t suppose a certain someone kept you up all night, huh?” He blinks. “All day, that is.”

You kick half-heartedly at his shins. “No, dipshit, the exact fucking opposite, actually.”

Within a second, his teasing drops. “You talked to Jin?”

You nod lamely. “Yeah,” you breathe, “we’re good.”

He’s not convinced. “But not good-good, otherwise you wouldn’t be so gloomy.”

You swallow hard but don’t respond. “Seriously, where’s Hoseok? I need to let him know I’ve got the paper he asked for, and you know that idiot probably doesn’t know how to load it in to the printer, so I need to tell him how to do that.”

Jimin resumes his lazy swaying back and forth, and shrugs. “He’s out getting the cake for Jeongguk.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m getting the cake for Jeongguk. Hoseok doesn’t even know where the bakery is.”

Jimin huffs. “Okay, well, he isn’t doing that, then. I don’t know.” His tone is clipped, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him truly irritated. His eyes are lowered, and he won’t stop bouncing a knee, so clearly, he does know, but you decide not to press it.

“I guess I can show him next time I stop by,” you allow, noticing the flash of relief on the boy’s face. You lean your hip against the desk and stare down at him, smirking. “So, you’re on receptionist duty, huh? What if someone calls and needs your assistance in their hotel room? Will Mrs. Kang miss out on your delightful company tonight?”

He levels a look at you, but the corners of his mouth turn up. “Actually, Mrs. Kang already asked me up to her room while Hobi was still here, so hah!”

“That’s…not an achievement.”

Jimin fiddles with his cufflinks a little more before looking up at you. “There’s a dance competition in the next town over this weekend that I’ve been practicing for, I’m really excited. It’s got a cash prize, too.”

You smile at him. “Oh, good luck! I’m sure you’ll do amazing, I watched a bunch of your videos on YouTube and you’re really good!”

His cheeks pinken with the praise, but he still looks a little nervous. “Yeah,” he breaks off with a quiet laugh. “I was thinking, maybe you’d like to come with? Only if you want to, of course, no pressure,” he insists, then looks back down at his hands.

“Yeah, I’d love to, Jimin! I’m sure you’re even more talented in person.” You frown, eyes flickering around the reception desk. “Wait, I think Hobi is looking after his sister’s kids this weekend, he probably can’t make it.”

He hides a smirk. “What a shame.”

You push off from the desk and give his shoulder a squeeze. “Just text me the details and I’ll be there.”

He calls out your name before you get five feet away from the desk. “Or we could carpool? It’s like an hour’s drive each way, and there’s no point using up twice as much petrol.”

You agree breezily. “Why are you acting so weird? Don’t be nervous about the competition, you’ll kill it! Anyways, gotta go, but I’ll see you later.”

You’re too far away to make out the reply he mumbles.

The bar is your next stop of the night, and normally it consists of you popping your head inside, yelling out to Jeongguk to ask if he’s all good, then continuing on. Apart from the odd request for more bar snacks or napkins, nothing ever goes on there, not at this hour of the night, so you haven’t really had much to do with the youngest member of staff.

Tonight, however, is different. At this point, with so many strange things happening in the past twenty-four hours, it should really be no surprise that even this quick routine is disturbed.

Jeongguk doesn’t answer when you call his name, and for the first time since working here you see he’s wearing glasses. He’s glaring intensely down at something you can’t see behind the bench.

You make your way towards his side of the room, still trying to get his attention, but it’s not until you actually reach him and push at his shoulder lightly that he jumps in surprise and looks up at you. “Oh, it’s you. I don’t need anything, thank you.”

You get up on tiptoe as he goes back to what he was doing before, and you can see a mess of paper and pens on the other side. “What are you up to?”

He looks up again, impatiently, but then seems to realize what he’s doing. “Oh, shit, please don’t tell Namjoon I’m studying on the job! I promise if a customer comes along, I’ll-”

“Woah, woah,” you soothe, “it’s fine. I won’t say anything. What are you studying for?”

He nibbles on his lower lip. “Statistics. We have our final coming up and if I don’t get at least a B I’m going to fail the course and then I’ll be a whole year behind and my parents will hate me, and I just don’t have time for this, and I’m stressed and argh! It’s driving me insane.”

“Wait, are you going to uni every day then coming here and working all night? No wonder you’re stressed. Jeongguk, that’s crazy.”

He tucks his fingers underneath his wire-rimmed glasses and rubs at his tired eyes. “Nah, it’s an online degree, but it’s a lot of work and it takes me an hour and a half to get here by train from my parents house, so… Yeah, I’m a little stressed out.”

You narrow your eyes. “Why do you have a job 90 minutes away from your house?”

He slumps down, bending at the waist to rest his forearms on the bar. He tucks his chin into his hand and stares up at you with his wide eyes. “Hotel management degree. Since the course is online, we need to get real-life experience. Mom used to teach Namjoon when he was at university back home, so she asked him if I could get a place here.”

You poked at his arm gently. “So, you should be doing my job,” you tease.

He just nods miserably. “I started off helping Namjoon in his office, but it’s just so boring, and this was the only other opening.”

He seems to have given up on studying for now, standing up and absentmindedly shuffling the papers into a neat pile. You sit down on a bar stool. “Jeongguk,” you say softly, “why are you doing a hotel management degree if you don’t like doing hotel management?”

He shrugs. “Mom and dad want me to own a business like them. Hotel management has a high employment rate because people will always need hotels. And I live with them, so I can’t exactly say no.”

“Of course you can say no! It’s your life!”

He frowns even deeper and shakes his head. “I’m just going to graduate, work for a while to make it look like I tried, then do something I actually want to do. Then they can’t get mad.”

You process this for a few moments. “So, you’re doing something you hate, just because your parents want you to, and you feel like you have to because you’re living under their roof?”

“Yeah, you get it.” He shrugs again. “That’s just life.”

You shake your head slowly. “You’re too young to settle for something that makes you unhappy. If you moved out, maybe moved here, you wouldn’t have to feel like you owed them, and you wouldn’t have to deal with the transit time, and you could switch to a degree you actually enjoyed.”

A flick of hope gleams in his eyes before he schools his expression. “With what money? I can’t afford to move out.”

“I’m living in a two-bedroom apartment by myself. I was going to rent it out, but I didn’t want a stranger living in my house. If you were okay with it, I’d be happy for you to stay there.”

“I can’t afford it,” he insists, less emphatic than before.

“Consider it a birthday present. Look, I don’t need the extra money since I’ve been surviving just fine on my own for a couple years, and I want you to be happy.” You reach out and squeeze his hand as it occurs to you that this is the longest conversation you’ve had with the boy and you’re already offering him a place to stay. Damn you and your intense need to help everybody. “If you could choose any degree, what would you actually want to do?”

“Computer programming,” he answers without hesitation, “you learn to make your own video games by writing code. I’d love to be a game developer one day.”

“Then do some research on studying computer programming, and if you find something you like, my apartment has a free bed if you need it. And unlimited Wi-Fi. It is 2019, after all.”

He laughs, and you can’t help but feel warm inside when he finally cheers up. “Thanks, noona. I’ll think about it.” He starts putting his study materials back into his bag, but his eyes are distant. “You know what,” he starts, “I reckon my parents would actually be pretty proud if I moved out and took some responsibility. They always complain about me moping around the house all the time.” He smiles at you as you get off the stool and turn to leave. “I’ll think about it,” he repeats softly.

It’s amazing how a decent conversation and an act of kindness can improve even the worst day, but you have a spring in your step as you head towards the restaurant. Even an awkward encounter with a… oh, what would you call Jin? Even an awkward encounter with the man who lovingly rejected you couldn’t bring down your mood.

On your way, you bump into Hobi who’s heading the way you came. He’s pouting, but his eyes are narrowed in his classic expression of annoyance. “Where were you?”

He blinks at you. “What do you mean? Jimin told me you asked me to meet you in the storage closet. I’ve been there for the past forty fucking minutes!”

You shrug slightly in confusion. “I never said that. Jimin must’ve been messing around with you. Wait,” you question, “why would you think I would want to see you in the storage closet, anyway? It’s so musty in there, and there’s a daddy long legs on the ceiling.”

He sticks his lower lip out even more. “I mean, at first I had no idea. But I had plenty of time to think about it while standing in there in the dark, and I thought maybe you had some tea so hot that you couldn’t risk telling it in the lobby. So, I got curious and stuck around for as long as I could. Eventually I had to pee, though, and once I left, I felt stupid and decided to come find you myself.”

You can’t help the bewildered grin that stretches across your face. “If I poked a stick in your ear, do you think it’d just come out the other side?”

“Hey,” he whines.

“You should really use that skull as storage, it’s a shame to see it sit there all empty.”

“Hey!” He shoves your shoulder pettily. “If you had some hot details about the gloriously weird sex you probably had with Jin, then I wanted to know! It would’ve been worth the wait!”

And there goes the good mood. “Nothing’s happening with me and Jin anymore. At least not now. Sorry I don’t have better gossip for you, Hobi.”

He sighs and wraps an arm around you. “Don’t worry about it. I think the fumes from the disinfectant got me a little high, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time.” His voice is joking, but he squeezes you a little tighter. “I’m sure you’ll find someone, muppet. If Yoongi wasn’t so gay, I’d be happy to share.”

You bark out a laugh. “I think I’ll survive on my own, but thanks, Hobi.”

He squeezes your shoulder one last time and detaches himself, jogging back down the hallway, presumably to give Jimin a piece of his mind.

Normally, at this time of night, Jin is the only one still in the kitchen, mucking around with flavor combinations, writing out a grocery order for Namjoon, or heating up some leftover dinner special as a midnight snack.

Today is surprisingly no different, and he’s noisily slurping up some al dente pasta when you slip into the kitchen.

He looks up at you straight away and gives you a gentle smile. “Nice to see you. Truly.”

You nod. “You too, Jin.” The two of you fall into a lapse of silence which you break with a sigh. “Don’t you have some sort of joke for me. I don’t know, an obscure pun about salt, or something?”

He blinks at you and sets his chopsticks down quietly. “I’m a little tired,” he murmurs. “I’ll be sure to tell you next time I think of one.” His eyes are on you as you pick up the filled-out order form on the kitchen island he’s eating at.

You run your thumb lazily over his chicken-scratch handwriting, not meeting his eyes so that your courage didn’t falter. “You were right.”

“Right about what?”

You click your tongue in disappointment. Before the whole freezer fiasco, he would’ve made some joke about how he always is. “This isn’t fair. Refusing to give me a chance because I don’t know the real you, then never being yourself around me.” You shrug. “Just tell me you don’t like me, or you changed your mind. I don’t know, tell me you’ve suddenly realized after all these years that you’re gay. But don’t make me think there’s a chance when you clearly aren’t interested in giving it to me.”

Speech finished, you exhale noisily, wetting your dry lips and blinking into the glare of the fluorescent bulbs above his head.

He doesn’t answer for a few moments, and like usual, his silence is the most painful sound.

“There isn’t a chance.” His voice is blank when he finally speaks.

“I don’t believe you.”

“What the fuck do you want me to say?” You blink at his rough tone and jerk your head back down to make eye contact with him. His face is dead serious, and his eyes are heavy with emotion. “Do you want me to lie to you and tell you I’m some sensitive, romantic, old soul that wants to buy you flowers and never leave your side? Do you want to give me years of your life, only to realize that I’m never there? That I hang around the restaurant for hours after closing just because I can’t bear to go home and see the disappointment on your face that I forgot our anniversary yet again? Because that’s exactly what my ex went through, and before she left she made damn well sure I was aware of how much of a shitty boyfriend I was. I wasted her time, and I’m not going to waste yours.” He pushes the half-empty bowl away from him as if in disgust and leans back into his chair in defeat. “I can’t tell you I don’t want to be with you. I can’t tell you that wasn’t one of the best kisses of my life. But I can tell you, with perfect fucking honesty, that if you chose to be with me, you’d be signing up for nothing but let-downs and misery. And I’m not going to let you do that.”

All of a sudden, confronting him seems like the stupidest idea. You’ve ruined his day yet again with a pathetic display of desperation, and you feel stupid that one rejection wasn’t enough. You clear your throat. “Message received, Chef Kim. I won’t bother you again.”

Neither of you meet the other’s eyes.

He says nothing.

You nod once, then leave.

Namjoon isn’t in his office when you finish up your final rounds a little after 3, and you sit in morose silence for almost an hour before he returns, clearly in better spirits than you.

“Phew,” he breathes, collapsing into his chair, “mission accomplished. Younger brother no longer angry at me? Check.”

You muster up a smile. “If he does need a job, I wouldn’t mind him helping me out. I just don’t have that much to do.”

He waves you off. “It’s all good, he’s going to take inventory for all our stock, one department at a time. He should earn enough money to buy a camera and then some.”

You tilt your head. “But didn’t the day staff do that two weeks ago?”

“Tae doesn’t need to know that.”

Your smile turns genuine and you let out a soft laugh. “You’re a good brother.”

The compliment makes him a little shy, and he turns away from you to hide his blush, quickly changing the subject. “Listen, Jeongguk told me about the whole moving out thing.”

You can’t help but raise your eyebrows. “Geez. That was quick.”

He nods and scoffs a little. “He was just about bouncing off the walls when I dropped off the new shipment of scotch. He wanted to tell me about it to make sure there were no staff policies against it before he said yes. Sweet kid.” You agree with him. Namjoon turns back to you with a serious look in his eyes. “And very sweet of you, Miss Mother Theresa. You didn’t have to do that.”

You fiddle with your hands nervously. “He deserves it. And the room is just sitting there, so…”

He nods once. “Well, there’s nothing against it in either of your contracts, so go ahead. I’m really glad we have you on the team, Y/n,” he finishes with a softer voice.

You smile. “Me too.”

TAGLIST (message me or send an ask to be put on the taglist)

@fandomarchive00

#bts scenarios #bts au #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts x reader #jin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook x reader #enjoy your stay

[punkpoemprose]

December 5th- Like Other Girls Do

Universe: Modern AU

Rating: M (Mature, but no sex yet)

Length: 2287 Words

An extension of the “Is This Seat Taken” Universe I wrote a while back (Oh my God it was 2015!). This had to be broken into two separate pieces because it was becoming excessively long! So here we are Pt 1/2, strongly worded smut to follow!

Anna had never imagined that she would have planned out her “first time”. As soon as she was signed up for college, she had assumed that it would just happen some crazy night with a nice guy she met at a party or something like that. It was how it always seemed to happen on television and in the smutty novels she’d hidden under her bed in high school.

She’d been close with a freshman year boyfriend who had hardly been a boyfriend in any way that counted. He’d been interested in her for her name, had taken her out once or twice and had never kissed her, but had tried once or twice to get her into his bed. When she’d smartened up and left him, she’d tried to go on the rebound but had found it much easier to sit in her apartment with a container of chocolate ice-cream and a marathon of 90’s cartoons.

It had barely been a blink and she was in her senior year and with all her exams and the advent of boxed wine, her tub, and a waterproof battery powered boyfriend being a viable option, she hadn’t really given cherry popping much thought. Yet, she was on the bus back home with a man at her side that she hadn’t sought out in the slightest and they were both boiling over with a sort of nervous excitement.

He’d just finished work, she’d just finished her last final, and now a month into dating and dancing around the will they or won’t they, he’d anxiously and a bit sweetly asked and planned out a night for them to get to know one another in the biblical sense. He’d wanted to take her out to dinner, but she’d insisted on the takeout she was holding. Sitting through a meal with the anticipation of what they were going to do would ruin her appetite, she’d warned him, and she’d wanted her favorite Chinese as a reward for finishing out her schoolwork anyway. He’d offered to pick her up from school, but she’d wanted to take the bus, it was after all where they’d met in the first place, and it kept them from being alone in awkward silence. The hustle and bustle of others around them on the commute was enough to keep her from focusing on her own nervousness. Or at least she’d thought that it would be.

They’d decided that they’d do it at her apartment and she’d cleaned meticulously despite him having spent the night there on several occasions in the past. She’d washed the sheets and folded hospital corners into her bed. She’d bought herself her first set of lingerie that was meant to be sexy and was wearing it beneath her sun dress, hoping that it was the right thing to do to surprise him. It was what the girls did in the other, more adult, romance novels that she was now hiding under her bed.

She’d bought wine and she’d bought condoms and she’d counted the steps between her bed and her bathroom. She’d bought a copy of Cosmo, she’d thrown out the copy of Cosmo, she’d been too embarrassed to check out the copy of the Kama Sutra from the library and she’d overthought every single way in which the event could go down. She’d done her research, started birth control, cried a lot from both the research and the birth control and now with tonight being the night, meticulously planned and thought out, she felt like she was going to be sick.

Another crowd loaded onto the bus and Anna looked down at her feet. She knew she had no business being as nervous as she was after four years of it being anything but a big deal, and yet she was anxious. She’d always been of the mentality that it would “happen when it happened” and now she was planning and counting down seconds and wondering when exactly she’d lost her nonchalance. Her leg was bouncing, and she was stricken by curiosity as to why her younger self hadn’t worried more about the act.

She felt his arm wrap around her shoulder gently. He was warm and solid at her side, pulling her tight to him as strangers took seats at their sides.

“Cold?” he asked, and she realized that she was shaking more than she’d thought. The May heat had been unseasonably sweltering, but with the sun having gone down, the thin fabric of her sundress, and the air conditioning of the bus she was feeling a bit chilly.

She nodded. It was the easier answer, and it was at least partially true. Of course, she was almost entirely certain that he knew there was more to it than that, but he was pulling her closer against him and taking off his denim jacket to rest it over her shoulders.

She didn’t know quite why she was tearing up, but she ducked her head back down and snuggled into his jacket, feeling overwhelmed. She could feel his hand running up and down her arm gently through the fabric and she closed her eyes and focused on it. The noise around her settled into a hum and she allowed herself to be comforted by the way he pressed his lips to her hair as they rode along.

Kristoff, for all his nervousness and gentlemanly nature, had never shied away from tasteful public displays of his affection for her. Anna appreciated it, particularly now that she needed it. Despite the source of her nervousness being attached to him, and what they’d be doing soon, she found that his warmth and affection was just as comforting as it always was. He always knew just how to help her, and even from their first meeting, he always had.

When the bus stopped, he picked up their takeout and lead her from the bus with his hand in hers. The air outside was less chill, but Anna felt comfortable still wearing his jacket. Now that they were just minutes away from being in her apartment, she found her nervousness fading to the background somewhat. For all her concerns, she was with Kristoff, and if she’d learned anything in the past months, it was that everything was okay when she was at his side.

“You know we don’t have to do anything,” he whispered as they entered her building’s elevator together.

It sent a pleasant chill down her spine to hear him address it. His voice was low and husky and while she knew that he meant what he was saying, she could also tell that he was looking forward getting her into bed. That alone was enough to get her feeling a bit warm.

The lobby had been quiet, and she hadn’t seen many lights on as they’d approached the building. It was too early for everyone to be in bed and so she determined that most of her neighbors were enjoying a nice evening out. She wouldn’t complain about the matter given that someone hearing them through the walls or floor had been one of the concerns she’d spent hours overthinking.

“I want to,” she said in response, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks, “It’s just that… you know I’ve never…”

He nodded, “And you know I haven’t either.”

She nodded. It was uncharted territory for them both. The furthest they’d gone before had been a bit of heavy petting that had made her feel like a teenager again and had left her wanting more. She couldn’t help but to wonder what exactly he had in mind for the evening given that she’d worried about everything else.

The elevator dinged when they reached her floor and he gestured to let her out first. Her apartment was the furthest from the elevator and she felt as if the hallway was endless as she walked toward her door. He was close behind her as they made their way, and she was careful to keep his jacket from falling off her shoulder as she dug into the pockets of her dress for her keys.

When the door was finally within reach, she fumbled a bit with the lock, but managed to open it and enter her home. It had been meticulously cleaned and it still smelled like lemon cleaner, which hit her when she opened the door. It was partially because of what he was coming over to do, and partially because she liked to clean to avoid studying. She’d managed to hack her sense of accomplishment by counting a clean house as something just as positive as a book chapter read. It had done little for her education, but quite a lot for her mental health.

She heard the door close behind them and she toed off her shoes slowly as he removed his and brought the food to the kitchen table. Her apartment was small, and as such there weren’t a lot of places, she could hide to recompose herself. He could clearly see her nervousness as she hung his jacket up, and she could feel his eyes on her.

His arms were around her again. He held her tight, but not restrictively, around her waist and she sighed when he leaned down to press his forehead into hers.

“I know I just said it, so I won’t again. I want you to be comfortable, okay? Nothing you don’t want.”

Anna closed her eyes and sighed. She hated her lack of confidence when she was usually the one taking the lead. It was just that she didn’t like the sense of not knowing what she was doing at all. Normally she had enough of a sense of the things that she was getting into with him that she felt at least somewhat comfortable, but now there was no amount of reading and research that made her feel ready for a practical application.

“Kris, can we just… sit on the couch and see where it goes? I’m sorry. I thought I’d be ready, but I’m not sure.”

He didn’t respond, but she felt herself being swept up into his arms and when they reached her couch, he set her down carefully before sitting at her side. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and she could feel his smile against her skin. He was close to her side, but she knew that he wasn’t going to get any closer until she did. He’d always been good about barriers, always apologizing if he thought for even a moment that he’d overstepped a boundary and always going out of his way in every context to make sure she felt comfortable.

The way he behaved when it came to her comfort was one of the many reasons why she’d wanted to become intimate with him in the first place and was certainly what had lead her to want to take things to a new level.

She swung her legs up onto his lap, a pretense which was more for her benefit than for his when it came to taking things slow as she’d just asked. She knew that she’d be in his lap entirely within moments but nudging her legs onto him first felt like a good place to start.

Kristoff’s hand went to her legs and, still leaned in, he shifted from her cheek to the edge of her jaw, kissing slowly down to her chin and then back up until his lips met hers fully. His hand was running up and down the tops of her legs slowly, always staying below her hemline, but teasing at the skin that was just at the line.

She kissed him back and leaned into it, feeling so much more comfortable in the charted waters of a couch make out session that she was emboldened by his affections. Her thighs spread apart, and she shifted herself, as expected, into his lap, her legs on either side of his. His hand moved north, but not dramatically so such that his hands were gripping her hips as she was moving her body closer to his.

The moments where she had to break their kiss to move felt like a travesty, and she was quick to recapture his lips each time. She liked to kiss him, especially when she was the one leading and deepening their contact. She enjoyed his allowing her to be in charge and when she bucked her hips forward against him, she swallowed the groan that left his lips.

All the articles she’d read and mental checklists she’d written escaped her when she felt his hands grip her hips more tightly than he had before and when she’d felt him pressing into her through her panties. Her skirt was already hiked up around her, fabric shoved to the spaces between them that she could stomach to have space between. She couldn’t think of how to move, so she pivoted her hips on instinct, kissing him as she did so until she could no longer differentiate between his panting and her moaning.

His hands were under her skirt and her lips were on his neck by the time she had the good sense to realize that her fears had been abolished and her confidence had been built back up to acceptable levels.

“Could we maybe take this to my bedroom now?” She asked, panting against his hot skin, lips tasting like sweat and feeling swollen.

“Oh God yes!” Was his response as he stood and carried her with her legs wrapped around his waist toward her bedroom door.

She could only smile into his neck in response, feeling for the first time in the day that she had nothing to worry about.

#kristanna advent 2018 #kristanna #modern au #smut to come #I wrote this one in halves #The second half will go up tomorrow #I am very behind #Someone remind me to go for lower word counts #Please

[1d-sexualdesires]

SPY HARRY (Pt. III)

THIS IS A LOT OF SMUT YOOO

Part I 

Part II

Recap…

“When all of this is over and we're back home I’m taking you out on a proper date.” He said and she smiled. “Seriously.”

“Okay.” Suddenly his phone started ringing loudly, snapping him from their moment and he hurried to answer.

“Hello?” He heard panting and crackling, “Niall.. hello?” He called once more. Y/N stepped out of the bathroom, a concerned look on her face as Harry turned to her.

“Harry, get the fuck out of the hotel! You need to go now! You have two minutes! Get out now!”

*****

Harry hung up the phone in a panic and looked up to Y/N, his eyes flooded with concern and fear.

“We need to go now!” he shouted and she ran across the room zipping up her bag and slipping into her shoes. They are always prepared to be on the run, that’s how you survived. Harry was slipping on his shoes and in seconds they were out the door, running down three flights of stairs until they reached the lobby.

“It’s completely taken, Harry.” She whispered, closing the door gently.

“We have one minute to get out.” He said looking at his watch.

“The kitchen!” She said looking down the hallway from the stairs.

They ran faster than they ever thought they could. Harry was shouting ‘run’ ‘get out of here’ to the employees in the kitchen in their native tongue, but they were barely half-way through when a large bang shook the entire building. Then everyone started running to the back entrance and they managed to slip out and keep running when another bang was heard and she turned around for just a moment and watched it catch fire and people were running out and screaming and Y/N couldn’t help it as she just started crying. All of those innocent people, it was her fault they found them, it was her fault Harry was nearly killed, this was her fault. Harry glanced back for a moment only to find that he had lost Y/N.

“Y/N!” He shouted, walking back slowly, trying to spot her, “Y/N!” There was just so much chaos and he saw the top of her head, standing still amidst the flocks of people running past her and he tried to go against them until he grabbed her hand and just pulled her into an alley she couldn’t even breathe from how hard she was crying and he held her tight, let her cry for just a bit. “We need to keep moving. We can’t stay here, Y/N.”

“S’my fault, it’s all my fault. They only know we’re here because of me that first night.” She gasped and rushed and he shushed her.

“It’s not. They would’ve found out somehow. But right now we need to get to safety and make sure that these people can’t hurt anyone else, okay?” And she nodded slowly, catching her breath. “There’s another hotel not too far, we’ll stay there. C’mon.” He said, taking her hand and pulling her along. They were across the street from the hotel, they tried to look a bit more presentable and he pulled out his phone and dialed Niall.

“Harry?!”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Oh fuck, thank god. I’ve been crying like a twat. I think they jammed the reception.” Niall rambled.

“We’re good, we made it out. Thanks for the warning, mate, really. You saved our lives.” He said and Y/N sighed, reaching out for Harry’s free hand and squeezing it gently before pulling away. “Look we need you to put in a booking for a suite it’s a Hampton, located in Istanbul Kayasehkir. Yeah, one’s fine.” He said and Y/N knew he was referring to the bed. “Alright, thanks mate. I’ll see you soon.”

“I better see you soon.” Niall said, “Be careful and say hi to Y/N.”

“I will, bye.” He mumbled before hanging up. “Niall says hello and we should have a room now, so lets head on in, yeah?” She nodded and reached for his hand and he glanced down.

“We’re newly weds, remember?” She stated flatly and he nodded, intertwining their fingers and hurrying across the intersection into the building. He led them to a counter where they were greeted in a very friendly manner.

“Reservation Name?” She asked, smiling wide.

“Johnson.” He said confidently and she looked through, a bit surprised he presumes because she probably didn’t recognize the name.

“Okay, I see you here. You are room 351, that is the 4th floor, balcony as requested. Anything else we can do for you?”

“Is it possible to get one of those ‘Do Not Disturb’ signs?” He asked and she nodded before eyeing Y/N over once and then turning around to retrieve the keys and their sign.

“Enjoy your stay.”

“Thanks.” They both said and headed into the elevator.

“She was totally jealous.” Y/N said, a light air to her tone since her little meltdown in the alley.

“She really was, I caught that too.” He said and she chuckled. “Do you think she was jealous of you or me?” He asked quietly and Y/N snorted.

“Definitely me. She had been looking you over since we walked in.”  

“No way?”

“Yeah, you’re eyes aren’t getting any sharper, Styles.” She teased and he giggled, right then the elevator stopped and the doors slid open. “this way.” She said and he followed.

They reached their room which Niall assured was closest to the staircase and they slipped inside quietly. Shutting the door gently and they both pulled out their weapons and did a sweep of the room, when everything was clear they relaxed and pulled their things into the bedroom. This was a suite, so it was slightly larger than their previous room, the bed was ample and they had a small entertainment space. They settled in and then Y/N hopped in the shower as Harry prepped their work space, then he hopped in and soon they were both around the coffee table looking at the intelligence they had acquired from Niall. It turns out that the one purchasing the weapon was the curator of a museum, he was actually American-born, he was already a person of interest as Y/N and Harry had worked against him before.

“So the gala they’re having over the weekend is when the exchange is happening? Both parties of interest will be there… We need them to think we’re gone.” She said and he nodded in agreement.

“The alias for this hotel was completely new, so if they try to find us, which they will look here first, we’re in the clear.”

“Have Niall book two flights; one for me, one for you to separate locations under common aliases. And we’ll somehow get into that gala.”

“Yeah, that’s smart.” She smiled as he typed away on his laptop. Probably sending the information to Niall.

“So he’s book the flights, they’re for tonight. Hopefully they’ll think we got called back.” Harry said before looking up to her and she nodded. “So, if you want to scooch this way… we can see the layout of the museum.”

“Blueprints.” She said and he looked to her and she held back a smirk, her eyes still fixed on the screen, her lack of acknowledgment causing him to just continue.

“Anyway… we can pose as catering staff. The loading dock is here so this corridor is probably our best rendezvous point.”

“Are we neutralizing or do we want to take him?” She inquired.

“Neutralize.” He stated flatly and she nodded. “Whoever has a clear shot takes it. We should try to imprison the one whose flat we broke into. He has all the contacts, he’s the one everyone networks with.”

“Got it. Let’s just take these few days to scope the place out, lets set our traps mentally, we each go a different day. The day of, lets head in at least four hours early and get set up.” He nodded in agreement.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“We should probably get to bed, we have a long day ahead of us.” She said before letting out a long sigh.

They got ready for bed and did a sweep once more, her in the suite and him in the hall and the balcony. Y/N finished before him so she took to undoing the bed and closing all the doors, closing the curtains, and drawing back the covers, and out of a little paranoia she slipped a gun under her pillow. She was just settling in when Harry walked back in from the hallway, announcing himself with a brief ‘it’s me’ as he had done every night they’d been together. She was relaxed now and turned off her bedside lamp and he followed suit she could hear him rustle around for a moment before the bed dipped and he was under the covers. She enjoyed pilllow talk with Harry, sure nothing sexual had occurred beforehand, but it was still pillow talk. These were the most honest and intimate moments she’d had in her life and her favorite part of this mission so far. She turned to face him before whispering to him.

“Are you awake?”

“Yeah.” He responded and she bit her lip before continuing.

“You know, I’m never able to sleep when I’m working. M’super paranoid about everything and just can’t do it. I cannot sleep, that’s why my missions are completed so quickly. I can’t sleep unless I’m home, in my bed, with my dog. But this time, I have slept like a baby every. Single. Night.” She says in a marked manner.

“Why’s that?” He inquires.

“Maybe because I’m not alone? But that seems odd because despite me not being alone it’s not as if I know you and trusted you 100% from the get go.” She explained and he hummed, very understandable. “But then I realized that I feel so comfortable around you, unlike I’ve felt with lots of other people. There’s just an air of familiarity about you I guess.” She whispered and he spoke up.

“I think now would be a good time to tell me your Prince Harry story.” And she giggled.

“Now?!” She laughed and he smiled bright.

“Yeah. I mean, I’d love to know as much as I can about you before we don’t see each other for a long, long time.” He reasoned and the air became thick with sadness and reality.

He was right, in their line of work who knows the next time they’d see each other. Or if they’d ever see each other again and that idea made a weird lump to form in her throat and for her stomach to churn in a way that made her sick. The idea made Harry feel awful and regretful for even bringing it up, because the silence that fell over them was heart wrenching. He wasn’t going to deny that his nights had been better, too and that he enjoyed observing her, and loved her shy little smile, or her smart-ass quips. The thought made him sick, plain and simple.This same fact that he had just put out there was one of the reasons why Y/N found herself surging forward and straddling his hips before pressing her lips to his.

Y/N sighed as his hands slid up her smooth thighs and finally settled on her hips, his thumbs sneaking under her shirt and making small circular motions against her skin. It was a soft and simple kiss, their lips slotting for a bit followed by tons of little pecks. One of Y/N’s hands held his jaw and the other was against his bare chest, but despite this power move she was a bit scared to proceed. With her heart thumping wildly in her chest and the adrenaline still pumping through her veins she allowed her tongue to just press against his lips for a moment and not again, but he got it, she wanted him to take over and he did so quite eagerly.

“M’gonna flip us.” He mumbled against her lips and she nodded, allowing him to sit up and then sliding under him.

Y/N leant up, searching for his mouth again, which he gladly gave her, pressing her down until she was fully lying and he trailed his lips from her lips to her cheek and she gasped, turned her head to the side allowing his lips to suck lightly at her jaw and neck. She let out the most pathetic and high-pitched mewl when he let his tongue press against the area right where her jawline and neck met and just sucked at the skin softly, he groaned as her nails pressed into the back of his shoulders, loving that he had found her sweet spot. Once he was certain that he had left a little mark there he brought his lips back to her own, pressing a sloppy kiss to her lips before rearing back.

“You really don’t want to tell me the Prince Harry story.” He mumbled right into her ear, his warmth breath tickling her caused goosebumps to cover her arms and they both sniggered.

“Oh, I’ll tell you.” She said and he smirked.

“Go on.” He stated before kissing her lips quickly and then retreating.

“It was at some sort of party they were having and the lot of kids-“ he interrupted with another kiss and he let his hips press down onto hers, making her stutter a bit, “W-we were in another part, trying not to be a bother and we were playing one of them games and the girl he wanted to kiss refused to kiss him! Can you believe it?” She asked and he chuckled, kissing her deeply, letting his tongue roll in gently before pulling back.

“I can’t. I would’ve kissed him just to make him feel better.”

“Well that’s exactly what I did, mind you I was like 11.” At this revelation Harry broke into a fit of laughter and she followed suit.

“He was like 17! How did you manage that?” He was full on wracking because of how hard he was laughing now and she delivered a light swat to his bum.

“Stop making fun or I will not reveal my secret on getting prince’s to kiss me.” She stated, not being able to hold back the tiny giggles that his laugh was emitting from her.

“Okay, okay. Seriously. Tell me.” He said, his thumb ran against her forehead, moving away little baby hair that were sticking to her skin.

“I was fearless back then, literally the most confident. When the game ended I went over to him and said “Only a lunatic wouldn’t kiss such a fitty!” And then kissed his cheek. And he smiled, said thanks and kissed my cheek back. And that’s how Prince Harry and I kissed.”

“I’m a bit disappointed… I thought it was like- one of our kisses.” He said and that made her heart do funny things.

“I was 11, Harry. I just didn’t want him to be sad.”

“You’re so nice.” He said before pressing his lips to hers gently, “But you’re story’s title is a little far-fetched.”

“It’s meant to be an attention grabber, dummy. If it was called something else you probably wouldn’t have even wanted to hear it.”

“I’d hear all your stories.” He confessed and she smiled brightly, like a moron to be precise and he loved that. “So how’s everything between you two now? Any awkwardness, discomfort?” He asked and she shook her head.

“Not at all, in fact, every other time I’ve had the pleasure of greeting him he always kisses my cheek.”

“A lucky man.” He said and she smiled.

“No offense to Prince Harry, but I think you’ve got him beat.” And at that he was beaming and pressing his lips to her once more.

Harry was kissing her more deeply, tongue tasting every inch of her mouth and swallowing the moans slipping past her lips as her center pressed against one of his thighs. When her back arched off of the bed he wrapped both of his arms around her waist, pulling her up a bit as he knelt on the mattress, guiding her hips over his muscular thigh and groaning at the sight of her nipples pressing against the light t-shirt she was wearing and at the way his thigh was starting to feel damp from where she was rubbing herself. He let her back onto the mattress where she sat up and pulled off her shirt and he bit his lip at the sight of her bare chest, the bulge in his boxer-briefs was growing in size. His lips attached to hers quickly before trailing down to her chest and letting his tongue out to lick at one her nipples, he groaned with her when his lips closed around it and sucked, released, and then pressed the flat of his tongue against it before enclosing it in his lips again.

“Harry.” She whimpered and he groaned, acknowledging her cries, “I want you.” At this he pulled away from her and kissed her cheek.

“You sure?” He inquired and she nodded, her hands coming to his face and caressing softly.

“Want you so bad it even hurts a little.” She confessed, “I’m so ready for you.” She said softly, causing him to moan at her words. She snuck her hand between them, his chest was heaving as he felt her reach into her knickers and rub softly a feathery moan left her lips and she brought her hand back out their eyes were now well adjusted to the dark and he could see her fingers come up right before him and he didn’t hesitate to lean forward and wrap his lips around her two fingers, sucking eagerly to get her taste off of them.

“Yeh taste so fucking good, baby. I could eat your little cunt all fucking day if you’d let me.” he confessed and she smiled.

“Harry, please.” She whimpered, her hand rubbing up against the bulge in his boxer-briefs causing him to shudder, “Want to feel you.” He groaned, his thoughts moving a million miles a minute but all he seemed to be able to ask was the following.

“When’s the last time you’ve had a proper shag?”

“So long ago.” She admitted, “Like a year and a half, ‘dunno, can’t remember.”

“Fuck, baby, how?” He asked in disbelief, kneeling back and peeling off her panties.

“No time? I’dunno.” When the material was gone she spread her legs for him.

“I want you to come so many times you’re begging me to stop.” He said and she moaned. “Want me to make you come with my fingers?” He asked and she nodded.

“Yes, please.” He loved how polite she was and made him feel more powerful and useful and in charge and that really did wonders for his ego.

He swears he was close to coming undone when he let his index and middle fingers rub up against her. She was indeed ready for him. When he sunk one finger in and she tightened around it he felt it around his cock. He was moaning at the idea of stretching her a bit, struggling to get his thick cock into her tight, little hole. He moaned at the thought of the extremely tight, borderline painful squeeze around his cock as he sunk into her gently. He was reeled back from his thoughts when she moaned loudly as he hooked his finger up into the spongey spot deep inside of her, the one that had her head thrashing and her thighs closing around his hand for a moment.

“Ready for another one?” He asked and she nodded and he pulled his finger out, sticky with her arousal and he just wanted to suck it clean, but held back and introduced a second finger, hooking them at her entrance, stretching her a little bit before pressing them into her slowly, her eyes fluttered closed when they were in completely and moaned loudly when he pumped them in and out of her at a faster pace. “Rub yourself for me. How you like it.” He groaned and she did as she was told, her fingers rubbing tight circles over her clit as he pumped in and out of her until her breath hitched in her throat and her tummy began to quiver. “That’s it, are you going to be a good girl and let go for me?” She hummed in response, “Alright baby, let me feel you coming undone, want to feel it around my big, thick fingers.” Her back arched off the bed, her hands flying to fist at the sheets as a huge wave of pleasure wracked her entire body, her legs attempting to close around his hand, but he pressed it open, working her through the pleasure and into her sensitivity.

She thought he was going to stop, but in a moment he picked up the pace, just as relentless as before causing her to cry out an “Oh fuck!” As her body shook with pleasure once more, her eyes screwed so tight that she was seeing colors against her eyelids, her fingers hurt from how tight she was gripping the sheets and her whole body was tingling and trembling as he slowed down the pace and gently slipped his fingers from her. She looked so pretty when she was all fucked out, her eyes still closed, her chest rising and falling rapidly and he dropped down, pressing her legs up and moaning as her fingers pulled hard on his hair when his tongue dipped into her slit, licking her clean, once he was done he pressed spongy, sloppy kisses to her thighs, loving how if he’d suckle too hard she’d yank his hair. He slowly worked his way back to her pussy until she bucking her hips toward his mouth, he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked gently, letting his tongue brush against the swollen, sensitive bud, he knew she was ready when he felt his chin becoming a sloppy, sticky mess.

“Please, Harry. I want it.” She whimpered.

“You want what?” He asked, feeling cocky and confident, his cock, aching to be inside her, balls feeling swollen and heavy as they hung a little lower when he removed his undergarments.

“You.” She whined and he smirked.

“Say it, Y/N. Say it for me, baby girl. Tell me exactly what you want.” He was dragging it out, torturing himself as he squeezed his hand around his girth and then hovering over her, guiding his cock between her folds and for his head to press against her clit, making her moan a curse.

“I want your cock. I want it so fucking bad.” She whimpered against his lips, his breathing heavy. “Want to feel it inside, please, please.” She implored, “So deep that it hurts a little, want to know that I’m making you feel so, so good. Want you to moan and groan when I tell you how big you are and to be gentle because you barely fit. Just want you to feel as good as you made me feel.” She whimpers and he kisses her hard. This is a side of her he never expected, she was doing everything right. She was stroking his ego to the point that he could get off just by her words. He’s always been a little bit of a narcissist with a shameless praise kink. It gets him off when he knows he’s doing things just right and someone acknowledges it.

“You’re so perfect.” He whispers, the vibe around them changes in just a moment as he kisses her as gently as he can, letting her know that he means it. She’s perfection incarnate to him. When he pulls away however, it’s back on, “Ready for me, love?” He asks and she nods, her heart pounding in her chest out of nerves and her nails digging into his back.

He guides the head of his cock against her slit once more, lubing it up before guiding it down to her entrance. His eyes are fixed on the area where they’re about to connect and he glances up to her eyes and she just smiles softly, her eyes holding a million different looks that want to say a million different things and from one moment to the next everything changes. He feels nervous, all confidence has fallen from him, his heart is pounding hard in his chest. Before he works himself up too much he looks back into her eyes and with that he presses himself forward, her walls tighten around the head of his cock tremendously causing him to moan out a pathetic and feeble ‘Fuck, baby’. Her nails dug into him even harder as she gasped at the feeling of him.

“You okay?” He whispered and she nodded.

“Yeah, please keep going.” And he obliges, a small wince leaving her lips as he presses more of himself into her. “You really are fucking big.” She half laughs and he bites his lip, loving the compliment and because he knows it to be true.

The squeeze around his cock is suffocating and when he’s in about half way he retreats and sinks back in to about the same degree, and he pulls back once more, finding her eyes before pressing himself forward, but this time he goes past the half-way point and he doesn’t stop until he feels his balls right up against her, his eyes screwed shut as he gets used to her, he could nearly cum at the way she’s clenching around him, adjusting to his intrusion. Y/N is just moaning and whimpering about how good he feels as he presses his lips to hers and pulls back out, time after time. He delivers slow, steady, and deep thrusts, holding back the urge to come undone, he’s more than ready, but he doesn’t want this first time with her to ever end. So instead he gives himself a little break, pushing himself balls-deep and kissing her with all his might, resting his weight on his knees and bringing his hands up to her face, holding her soft skin, caressing at her cheeks as he kisses her forehead and nose and chin and lips.

“You’re so pretty, so fucking perfect.” He whispers, delivering the sporadic thrust here and there. “God, you’re everything, you know tha'?” he compliments and lavishes her in pretty little words for a bit and she relishes in the care she’s getting, moaning every time he pulls back a bit only to sink back into her, it feels like he’s going deeper each time.

“Can feel you in my tummy, H.” And he smiles at the nick-name, “Love it. Fucking love it.” What’s really getting her off is knowing that he’s so deep that she can feel his balls smacking at her skin every time he delivers a thrust. There’s a comforting feeling while he’s inside of her this way.

Eventually he pulls back and starts picking up the pace, his balls are so full of cum that they’re aching a bit. He loves a little pain, it even hurts a bit as he feels them smack up against her. He just wants to be close to her. So he surges forward, holding himself up with his elbows on either side of her as he lets his hips snap back and forth at a faster pace, he moans when her nails rake down his back and her ankles cross behind him, hands pressing into his bum as she moans for him to cum.

“You first.” He pants and she whines.

“Do it with me. Want to to feel it.” She gasps and he moans.

“Whatever you want, baby.” And she kisses him deeply, “Get me there, c’mon.” He urges and she kisses him hard.

“Please cum inside of me.” She cries, “Want to feel it dripping out of me, please.” He moans at her begging, “I want it.”

“Yeah?” he asks and she nodded.

“Please, give it to me, H. Please.” His hips stutter in their rhythm as he feels the pleasure taking over and she tightens impossibly tighter around and gasps, her breath hitching in her throat before ehe feels her warmth coating him. “Harry, fuck, fuck. Harry.” She whimpers feebly, her body shaking and the way she moans his name sends him over the edge.

He groans  hard, gritting his teeth together as a very distinguished tingle travels from his head to his toes, causing him to just press forward as hard as he can and stilling as he lets go. A little grunt escapes his lips for every spurt of cum that he releases into her tight, little cunt, he moans at how he literally feels her filling up. His lips press to hers hard, kissing her with whatever energy he has left until he feels himself softening and just pulls out of her. He falls onto his back, panting as he finds her hand and slots their fingers together. When they’ve come down he slips his boxer-briefs back on and heads into the bathroom, cleaning himself off and then bringing back a towel damp with warm water and a dry one. The light from the bathroom gives him enough light to see clearly.

“Press your knees up fo’ me, babe.” He says quietly and she does as he says, her heart pounding in her chest at his sweet gesture. He wants to get hard all over again as he sees how wet she still is, but he glances up to her and sees that she’s proper fucked out. “Push out.” He says and she again, obliges to his instruction and he bites his lip when he sees his cum slowly drip out of her cunt. “Fuck, baby.” He literally whines, he’s never actually cum inside a girl before. The idea of it was always present, an erotic fantasy, definitely something that got him going. But seeing it with his own eyes had his tried and spent cock swelling up again. He looks up to her, with an almost pained look in his eyes and whispers “Can I?” And she bites her lip, nodding, he begins leaning down.

“Wait.” She says softly, pressing herself up onto her elbows, “Want to see.” She admits and he moans, delving into her, desperately lapping it all up, sinking a finger into the make sure everything comes out. And well, by the time he’s finished his cock is painfully stiff again and she begging him to please make her cum once more, pleading for one last time and well, who is he to deny such a pretty, little thing as Y/N.

#1D-sexualdesires #smut #one direction mini series #harry #Harry Styles #harry styles smut

[laltre-stelle-blog]

I Am A Horrible Vampire

Chapter Two: How Do I Adjust?

I found out I was a child of the night, on a Saturday morning. How ironic. It might as well be the worst Saturday morning I’ve ever experienced. That entire weekend might be the worst weekend of my life.

First, because I had to explain to the day guard why there was footage of me coming into the building covered in blood. Thankfully, Bill is gullible and I said that I had come from a crazy party where someone had thought it would be funny to pull a Carrie. He bought the story and let me off the hook no problem.

Second, I had to clean my apartment. I didn’t time myself exactly but I could have sworn it took me 7 years to get the blood out of my walls, floors and ceilings. I duct taped my fridge back together and cleaned up all the glass, even if i spent much of the day stepping on it and wincing. When I stood my table backup, it nearly fell on me because one of the legs were broken but I fixed it up with my duct tape. I finished cleaning as the sun set outside my shattered windows. That was when I realized I had laundry to do. Sighing heavily, I gathered all my blood soaked stuff and brought them down to the laundry room.

It was hard to drag a bedsheet, 4 pillowcases and two blankets covered in blood down the hallway to the laundry room without getting noticed. Maxine, the old lady that lives in the suite next to mine, just happened to be coming back from the laundry room. But luckily, she’s almost completely blind in her left eye.

‘Hello Libby…’ Maxine greeted me. For some odd reason she always thought I was her granddaughter Libby. I looked nothing like Libby; she had long, auburn hair and I had short, dark brown hair; she a good foot shorter than I was and she wasn’t as stick thin as I was back then.

‘It’s Russell, Maxine. Your neighbour.’ I told her gently.

‘Libby, you sound so different...Are you trying out something new with your acting career?’ Maxine asked in her shaky old lady voice.

I shook my head but smiled. ‘Maxine, that’s because I’m not Libby, I’m Russell from 409.’

I saw a look of realization cross her face. ‘Ohhh Russell, how are you doing? I haven’t seen you in so long...Why don’t you stop by for tea anymore?’ There was a tinge of sadness in her tone, she finally looked in my direction.

Guilt poked at my not-beating heart. ‘I’m sorry that I haven’t been around much, Maxine. Life just gets topsy turvy every once in a while.’ I said avoiding her gaze.

‘Well, if you need anything, my door’s always open.’ Her voice held a happiness and willingness of sorts.

‘Thanks Maxine.’ I said with a happiness of my own.

She smiled at me then walked past me to get to her apartment.

I let out the breath I didn’t even know I was holding. I was thankful that she didn’t say anything about my sheets. I don’t know what excuse I would have made to explain them, had she asked.

The walk down to the laundry room was quiet after seeing Maxine, which was strange because I lived on the most crowded floor of this building. It was like one of those times that time and space feel warped around you. At that time I didn’t mind though, all I cared about what cleaning my sheets.

I finally reached the laundry room and found it empty. I silently thanked God for blessing me with this empty laundry room. I loaded up my laundry into the nearest washer and that’s when I heard the beating again. At first it started out soft, like an afterthought in my head but soon it got louder and louder.

Looking back on this, I realized that the reason why going to the laundry room was so quiet, it was because the Thirst was blocking out all other noise. The beating was a lot more subdued then that it was the night before but maddening nonetheless. I left the laundry room and rushed to leave the building entirely.

Gladly Bill was off for the night already and the night guard was new and didn’t know me much. He ignored me as I made my hasty escape out of the building. Walking through Montpellier at night was always something I loved to do. The stars were different out here than they were in other cities, maybe I just think that because I grew up there my whole life—and well my unlife. But tonight wasn’t a night to stargaze. Tonight was different, tonight I was on the hunt.

The beating of hearts got louder when I left the building, it was like I was wearing headphones and that was the one song playing. Lub, dup, lub, dup, lub, dup. Over and over and over again. I nearly reached for a little girl that passed a little too close to me. I could almost smell the blood running through her fingers that brushed passed me. It was getting harder and harder to control myself as people flooded the streets to enjoy the nightlife. I took to the back alleys again, using the cover of the night as a safe haven.

I can now consider myself an expert when it comes to the alleys of Montpellier, they’re like a second home to me now. Navigating them is a piece of cake, but I have yet to discover where every twist and turn will take me.

The farther away I got from busy streets and sidewalks, the softer the beating got. Of course it didn’t completely disappear, things still live in the alleyways. Rats would scurry past me as I traversed the urban maze behind the buildings, their little hearts making the same pitter patter noise as their feet. I couldn’t resist anymore and later I began draining them as they passed. Rat’s blood isn’t the most appetizing thing but it was enough for me then. I don’t remember exactly how many of them I drank from that night but I do remember a pile. This night ends the same as the night before, except I passed out in a garbage can.

Waking up on Sunday morning was like waking up on Saturday morning, except I smelled disgusting. I somehow got myself stuck in the can I fell into but I got out by literally busting the tin can open. It was strange at first, considering I had no idea how powerful I was. But hey, I got out of there. I think the one thing I liked about drinking from rats is that it wasn’t as messy as drinking from deer. I wasn’t as bloody going home but I did smell like trash.

‘Is that stench you Russell?’ Bill the day guard asked as I wandered into the lobby of the building.

I nodded. If there was anything I kept from my life and brought into my unlife it was my not-morning-person-ness. And Bill was a morning person, to my disdain. So I kept my distance and my silence as I went back to my apartment. Killing Bill was definitely not on the agenda that day.

I never thought I’d say that I hated to take a shower, but I now do. I found out as I tried to wash the stench of rat blood and garbage from my person that vampires don’t mix well with running water. In fact, it burns us, quite badly. I remember having blisters running across both my shoulders and down my back, it was hard to sit for a good week or so. I now have to take baths. Which is relatively easy since I do have a bathtub but my whole, lanky and bean pole frame doesn’t fit in it completely. But I will take that over burning my entire body. I also found out that scented soaps also don’t like my new body. I still don’t know why.

Getting used to brushing my teeth without really seeing them was hard, because I didn’t really know where to start and of course, I had no one to ask. In the end, I came up with a little pattern to go by. Front, side, side, back and repeat for at least 3 times. Brushing fangs were a little more difficult, they only really come out when I need to feed, it’s like a primal instinct of sorts. Forcing them out didn’t really work, I just ended up hurting myself and trust me cutting yourself on your own fang isn’t at all pleasant. It’s like cutting yourself with a really sharp knife, except the knife is covered in even tinier knives and they dig into your skin. Not nice.

Finding a salve to put on the huge blisters on my back might have been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my unlife. Regular topical creams didn’t agree with my skin, it was making it worse instead of better. What turned out working was this really old—I’m pretty sure it was fucking expired—lotion, my mom got me when I first moved out. It was made of all natural stuff and I bet had I used it earlier in life, maybe it would have smelled better, but it did help me sleep with all the blisters on my backside.

Strangely enough, I slept in my own bed that night. It was like the Thirst wasn’t in me. There were not heartbeats, no slushing and pumping of blood through veins, none of the usual ‘I must feeeed!’ bullshit. It was quiet, and I liked it. Funny that I could sleep at night and live in the day. It was like I was bending vampire lore or something. I felt weirdly rebellious. Now I’ve heard that most fledglings live that way for the first few years of their unlife, but of course back then I didn’t know that.

#chap2 #fantasy #modern fantasy #urban fantasy #writers on tumblr #writeblr #mine

[quagmireisadora]

[Eonsook / Kibum] Talk it Out

The car is stalled for nearly half an hour, radio playing old instrumental music that sounds vaguely familiar but something that he doesn’t know the name of. He finishes the last cigarette of his pack, throws it out the window, rolls up the glass, and starts to drive.

In the lobby he’s greeted by the guard, who welcomes him and asks how his day has been. They exchange pleasantries like that for a while, and then Kibum waves at the man as he heads to the elevators. The marble of the walls looks recently polished. The carpet smells like it has been conditioned thoroughly. More pleasant music assails his ears as the empty lift arrives. He enters it, presses the button for his floor, then whips out his phone. It’s a habit he’s long developed. Whether it be a two minute wait or a two second pause, Kibum reaches for his phone in those nothing moments; those moments when his mind threatens to switch off but he needs it engaged for what’s about to come. There are no texts, no missed calls, no updates pending his attention. So he quickly dials the number as he exits on his floor.

“Are you here?” he asks.

“No, did you want me to be?” the voice on the other side replies, unsure.

“No, no, that’s fine. I just got home,” Kibum reassures. “Hey, when you’re here – just text me. I’ll be down.”

The call ends at that, and now he is standing at his front door. He nearly reaches for the doorbell in his absentmindedness. But as he realizes that would be weird, he keys in the number lock and the door clicks open.

Eunsook is upon him immediately. “Sorry, not yet, not yet, don’t come in yet. Just – wait for a minute,” she says, then shuts the door in his face.

He frowns, stutters a befuddled wh-what? But he waits. Five minutes pass in the silence of their lobby before he tries again. There is the muffled sound of beats coming from their bedroom. He takes his shoes off with unnecessary caution, carefully shrugs off his bag and quietly hangs his coat on the hanger in the entryway. He looks around the deserted living room, peeks into the uninhabited kitchen, cranes his neck to check the verandah. “Y-yeobo?” he calls out tentatively.

“Come on up,” she replies.

Kibum puts on his house slippers and advances towards the staircase, the thumping music getting louder with every tread he passes, every riser he leaves behind. He has an inkling of what he will find once he is in their bedroom, and the sight of Eunsook in soft green lacy lingerie is not unexpected. 

She stands with her shoulder against a wall on the far side of the room, head tilted as if saying why are you standing all the way over there?

Kibum starts to shake his head, face suddenly alight at how beautiful, how stunning his wife looks in that. But right now is not the time. “Yeobo, listen – hold on…” he puts his hands up in front of himself. As if he is surrendering himself to her and to all of this – the heady music, the scented candles, the dimmed lights, the silken sheets. He is surrendering himself but he isn’t giving himself up. “Y-yeobo—” he tries talking over the beats.

“Shh~” Eunsook saunters over and places a finger to his lips. It travels to his collar and begins unbuttoning him. “Just sit down: here,” she leads him to a low bench in front of the dresser and takes his shirt from him. “Sit here, yeah, like that. Relax.” It comes out sounding line an order, not a suggestion. Her eyes are a dark amber in the lighting. Her hair is gossamer midnight. Her lips are soft and coloured a light orange. Her breasts appear to be tightly bound – almost straining to get out of her negligee. Her lashes are think, casting shadows on her shimmering cheeks. Never before has Eunsook looked so inviting.

Her hands run along the length of his thighs, bunching the cloth up as they near his crotch and then stretching it when they travel away. Kibum stares, nearly forgetting himself. He watches her through his gradually inflating lust and is about to bend forward and kiss her. But there is a buzz in his pocket that wakes him from his reverie.

He jumps up, provoking a shocked sound from her, walks to the music stand and switches it off.

“Baby,” Eunsook is confused. “What’s… what’s the matter?” She closes the distance between them again, reaching out to caress his forehead they way she always does.

“I…” Kibum gulps. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be doing this tonight. I know how much you want to make this a special night, I know—” he nods, holding her by the elbows. “But this is very important. I need to tell you right now.”

Eunsook’s expression changes from jumbled to apprehensive. “What…” she nervously begins. “What is it?”

Her husband looks at her, looks at the way she looks back with trust; with absolute and undying trust. Eunsook has never been as unquestioning with anyone else as she is with Kibum. This is what made them fall in love in the first place – that they bring out unexpected qualities in each other. They bring out the best in each other. This is why they married, and faced no objection from their families, heard no backlash from relatives and friends.

Kibum thinks of all this and wonders if he is about to make the biggest mistake of his life. “Yeobo, I’m…” he begins. “I’ve been seeing someone else--f-for a while now.” He blurts it out, and then waits for the recoil on it.

“I know.”

Eunsook’s face is calm and reassured all of a sudden, as if all her uneasiness was somehow transferred onto Kibum by touch. She slips from his grasp and walks to her wardrobe, rifling through her clothes and bringing out a silk robe.

He watches her with alarm he tries to tamp down, so that she can’t tell from his face how utterly shocked he is in that moment. “You...” he frowns. “You knew?”

She nods confidently, and talks as she ties her robe up. “Her name is Choi Minjung, twenty-six years old. She lives in Bundang-gu in an apartment with two other girls, but she has family in Incheon who she visits often.” Eunsook pulls her long hair over a shoulder and begins braiding it. “She works in the same building as you, and you two have been having an affair for a year. Quite a beauty, isn’t she?” she asks, looking up at him.  

“H-how...?” Kibum begins.

“Does it matter?” Eunsook counters, then shakes her head as if answering her own question. “What matters is I know,” she bobs her head in affirmation. “I know.” Kibum’s disquiet only deeps as his wife smiles pleasantly, strolling around the room as she swings her hands, clapping them when they meet before and behind her. She does this whenever they’re meandering through the park, making idle talk - he has never seen her do this at home and it only worsens how he feels.

“You know,” she begins, conversationally. “I read a story once. About a woman who fell in love with a man. This man - he lived hundreds of years before her, so she never met him, never knew what he was like. Never had any contact with him besides hearing stories of him. Sounds crazy, right?” she checks before she goes on. “People around her called her crazy, too. Asked her: that man. He doesn’t exist. How can you love someone that doesn’t exist?” Eunsook shrugs dramatically. “The woman would say: I don’t need him to exist to love him. I don’t need a body,” she motions with her hands, walking over to where her pajamas lie folded neatly, and pulling a pair on. “I have enough love in me to only think of him,” she taps her temple. “Only keep him in my thoughts and love him anyway.” She stands with her hands on her hips for a moment, staring at the floor. “Love beyond the limits of existence...” she mumbles.

Kibum is suddenly disappointed - in himself, in her, in everything that has happened today and for the past year. He is disappointed beyond measure. “Yeobo...” he tries.

“Hey, I’m fine,” Eunsook waves him off. “I’m fine, whatever.” She walks towards the bed and plonks down on it. “I mean, it’s your choice, really. If you want her to move in with us, if you want to move in with her. Whatever you want - I’m happy with whatever you want.”

Kibum wishes he had more cigarettes left in that pack. “I…” hestarts, then purses his lips, considering a retreat. But no, he has made a promise, and he will go through with it. “I am… I’m going to leave. You,” he confirms. “I’m moving in with Minjunggie, she’s picking me up in a few minutes,” the nickname comes out sounding stupid at a time like this. “The house is yours, anyway,” he says. “And… and if you like, I can leave the car here too.” 

“No, I’ll be fine,” Eunsook tells him. They stay silent for a long time, steeping in the gracelessness of it all – an ill-timed confession, a despondent acknowledgement, a pathetic declaration. And then Eunsook suddenly brightens up uncharacteristically. “We should get you ready to leave, then,” she says, and enthusiastically darts for the storage, wheeling out his suitcase and opening it up on the floor. 

“H-hey, I’ll do that, you should—”

“I always pack for you, though?” Eunsook responds in simple terms. He watches her as she meticulously folds his sweaters and his shirts into the bag, stuffs socks in the corners and layers scarves above the set, lovingly running her hands over the fabric once or twice. “Remember to keep warm now, it’s going to be winter soon. And don’t forget to wear gloves when you’re going out at night – you know how you always forget,” she mumbles instructions as she packs his belongings and when she’s done, she zips it up and looks at him. “You’ll have to start taking better care of yourself now that I won’t be around to nag you,” she jokingly says. 

“I’ll… I’ll have Minjunggie with me,” Kibum immediately regrets opening his mouth. But Eunsook maintains her sweet façade. “You—you take care of yourself too,” he tries to fix the damage. She shows some sadness for the first time at that, and reaches out to him, hugging him lightly before stepping back again.

“Go,” she says, swiping at her cheeks with her thumbs. “Go on,” she encourages. 

Downstairs, Kibum loads his belongings in the back of Minjung’s car. He looks up at the living room window one last time. 

 Eunsook immediately hides behind curtains and weeps harder.

#sept challenge #onkey #het! #drabble

[siobhom]

Fic: Five times Captain Santiago calls Jake Detective Peralta

Pairing: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago 

Rating: PG-13 

Word Count: 3741 

Genre: Fluff, Angst 

Summary: He watches the clock, fingers tapping, knee now bouncing. The new captain will be here in five minutes and Amy still hasn’t arrived. He texts again. ‘Do you need me to stall? I will totally run into the lobby like a crazy person and spill coffee all over the new captain for you.’ 

1)

Jake taps his desk anxiously- he’s being ridiculous- Amy isn’t even due in for another twenty minutes. Except they’ve got a new captain starting today and Amy’s always at least thirty minutes early on those days. There’s nothing in the schedule she could be running late from and she definitely wasn’t sick that morning. Jake can’t help imagining car crashes or vengeful perps.  

He turns towards the sergeant’s desk for the fourth time. The chair’s still empty. Amy hasn’t silently snuck in in the two minutes since he last looked. He turns back to his phone. The new captain will be here in fifteen minutes. There’s no good reason Jake can imagine for Amy not being here. His gut is twisted in fear. He decides to send a text.

‘You okay babe?’

Before Jake can even start to worry about why she’s not answering, she replies.

‘I’m fine. My shift starts at 09.00’

‘I know. The new captain starts today.’

He feels dumb sending it. This is not information Amy would forget.

‘I know. I’ll be there on time. Don’t worry Pineapples.’

The bad twist in his gut unwinds slightly but still remains. Is something wrong? She wouldn’t lie about this. Unless she wants to make sure he doesn’t make a bad first impression and she’s waiting to tell him later. She’s probably fine. Still, he doesn’t think he’ll calm down until he sees her.

He watches the clock, fingers tapping, knee now bouncing. The new captain will be here in five minutes and Amy still hasn’t arrived. He texts again.

‘Do you need me to stall? I will totally run into the lobby like a crazy person and spill coffee all over the new captain for you.’

‘No babe. Calm down. I’m right where I need to be.’

Jake frowns at the response, turning again towards the empty sergeant’s chair. Maybe Amy’s waiting downstairs, planning to meet the captain there and discuss the squad in the elevator ride before introductions. He shrugs to himself and tries to relax. Two minutes left.

The elevator dings. Jake turns. The elevator opens and Jake’s jaw drops to the floor.

Amy Santiago is standing there in a captain’s uniform.

She strides into the bullpen purposefully to applause and cheers. She allows herself only a brief grin before settling into a professional smile. She’s making a speech but Jake’s too busy being excited (and stopping himself from pulling her into a celebratory kiss that he’s sure Amy wouldn’t appreciate right now) to really hear what she’s saying. Amy continues into her office, calling one of the detectives in with her.

Amy calls in each detective one by one. Jake is half-tempted to push in-line and sneak in there. But he’s not going to undermine her authority on her first day. He does frown slightly as Hitchcock is called in before him. Then again, maybe Amy doesn’t feel the need to have whatever conversation she’s having with the others given that they’re married. He can’t help but feel a little left out.

“Detective Peralta.”

Jake absolutely doesn’t knock his chair over in his rush to the captain’s door.  

Jake shuts the door behind him, he can’t stop grinning. “Congratulations!”

Amy grins back. “Thank you and no. We’re not doing whatever crazy celebratory scheme you’re concocting.”

“There’s no scheme. I have no scheme.”

Amy gives him a knowing look. “Uhuh. Sure.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I couldn’t tell you before everyone else. That would be special treatment.”

Jake’s grinning so wide his mouth hurts. “Of course.” He leans in for a kiss.

Amy pulls away. “We can celebrate tonight, at home. And we need to meet with HR again.”

Jake groans. “Didn’t we already do all the stuff when you became my sergeant?”

“Yes, but now I’m your captain, there are more forms.”

“But we’re married!”

Amy raises an eyebrow. They’ve both been cops long enough to know that being married doesn’t stop people from being shitty to each other.

“Okay, when are we meeting with HR?”

 2)

Jake watches Amy arrange things in her new home office. She’s clearly making it an exact replica of her captain’s office. It’s so perfectly Amy and Jake can’t help but find the whole thing adorable. He has tried to help a few times but has been shooed back out. So he just stands here.

Until she calls, her voice hard and stern, “Detective Peralta.”

And he realises that the office set-up was for him too. And oh, he loves her so much.

Jake quickly enters.

“Sit,” Amy orders, tone cold, and he does so eagerly.

She walks behind him, leaning down to whisper into his ear, “Remember your safe word?”

Jake nods. That’s their only discussion of the scene, and Jake loves the anticipation.

(There was a time when Amy would insist they discuss any scene in meticulous detail before starting and they still had an A2 chart denoting the intricate details of every yes, no and maybe. But it’s been long enough now that they know what each other enjoy).  

Amy picks up a case file (likely filled with blank pages- there’s no way she’d bring an actual case file home) and idly flips through it.  

“I’ve been looking at your latest report. It’s very disappointing. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry captain; I’ll do better next time.”

“Next time? When I’ve already given you so many chances? Hmm. I don’t think so. See Peralta, you’re a useless detective. A disgrace. Which is why I’m demoting you back to beat cop.”  

“Just give me one more chance, I’ll be better, I promise.”

“I doubt that. Having you as a detective is no use to me, but maybe you could be useful to me in other ways.”

Jake’s already half hard and he has to fight the urge to just rip his clothes off right then. “What do you mean?”

Amy steps towards him, undoes the top two buttons on his shirt, and runs a finger down his chest. “Convince me of the advantages of keeping you in your current position.”

“What? I don’t…I don’t think that’s…”

“Or maybe I’ll just fire you all together.”

“No. Please don’t. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Then maybe we can come to an arrangement. Here are the rules: you are mine now, to use as I please. You obey me unconditionally; do exactly as I say without argument. And only speak when given permission. Does that sound like something you can do?”

Jake swallows. “Yes.”

“Good. You better not fail me Peralta. Or you can kiss your gun and badge goodbye. Now get on your knees.”

3)

Amy isn’t too worried about being Jake’s commanding officer. Starting out commanding the young uniform cops downstairs, there were a few Jake’s she had to deal with. And she did so well. Except it’s been less than a week of being Jake’s commanding officer before she realises it’s going to be a lot more like dealing with an Amy. Except a bad one, who has never been an Amy before and therefore has no idea what he’s doing.

(“So does anyone have ideas for the new filing system?” Amy asks, standing at the front of the briefing room for the first time as a captain.

“We could do it alphabetically,” Jake says.

And she’s about to give him a look for his glibness before she realises it’s a sincere suggestion. Amy has to tamp down her usual competing-with-Jake-response – alphabetically by what, suspect? What if you don’t have one? By victim? Then what if it’s a drug bust with no victim. By type of evidence, that’s just a mess. At least if you had said numerically by case file no. that would be something. Alphabetically, that’s terrible- she’s his superior officer now, they’re not competing anymore. So she merely nods and asks for more suggestions.  

And it continues over the next few days. Jake keeps making suggestions for all sorts of things that are either ridiculous or completely insane. And he’s also spending forever on his paperwork trying to make it better- even though Holt already got Jake to make it the best he could, and now he’s just over-reaching. He’s also got a bet running with the squad that he’s going to beat his personal best in felony collars for the year. He’s doing great work. Until Amy finds him sitting at his desk at midnight looking like he’s on the brink of burning out and she has to tell him to calm down and stop trying so hard.)

She’s quickly reminded of the first year of their marriage where Jake was so ridiculously desperate to prove he was a good husband.  

Jake has never cared about his captain’s approval; sure he’s cared that they think he’s a genius, but not their approval. He does care about Amy’s though.

*

Amy has an incredibly complex and detailed system when it comes to assigning cases, one she’s honed over the past five years of being a sergeant. It considers fourteen variables for each detective: skill-set, strengths, weaknesses, current emotional well-being, current mental well-being, current physical well-being, situational relation to the case, case-specific experience, case-specific knowledge, potential bias, time between last similar case, case preference, current case-load and her gut instinct. A set of twenty-two variables for each case, sorted into twelve sub-categories. And a time-table balancing different level cases.

(And each of those variables has its own myriad of considerations. For example, if a case falls under the weaknesses of a detective, if appropriate she may still give it to them as practice, but not give them one if they already have a similar case or are not in optimal emotional and mental condition, to avoid a potential slump.)

So she knows the accusation of bias is a vindictive one. And she explains this with a power-point laden with detective performance statistics and case-assignment spread-sheets and precinct rate of completion pie-charts and scatter-graphs. Yes, she does give Detective Peralta some of the best cases; it’s not a dis-proportionate amount considering he’s one of the best detectives the precinct has. It doesn’t take more than a cursory glance at his stats to prove this.

And her superior officers give her sympathetic smiles and tell her this is the way of the world. There are people upset that the rising star of the NYPD is a Latina woman and those people are determined to do something about it. This is the only opening she’s left them. And they tell her it would be best if she deals with it before it becomes a serious issue.

“What do they want you to do?” Jake asks that night.

“Not give you any big cases.”

“Well you could just do that.”

Amy scrunches up her face. “Okay, first of all, that’s a completely inefficient and irresponsible waste of resources. And secondly, would you even be okay with that?”

“No.”

“Exactly.”

“I can transfer,” Jake offers.

“No. You shouldn’t have to. It’s my problem to deal with. If I give in now it will just be worse later.”

“Maybe you should just be really strict and harsh on me at work. Then they’ll have nothing to pounce on.”

Amy raises an eyebrow, thinking back to Jake’s Amy-tendencies with her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You take that back! It’s a brilliant genius idea. And I am a brilliant genius for suggesting it.”

Amy rolls her eyes. “And you would be okay with me treating you like that?”

Jake smirks. “Of course. I’ll know it’s not real. And you know I enjoy it when you denigrate my poor detective skills.”

Amy stares at him. “So you’re suggesting I treat you like I would in our bedroom to make me seem less biased?”  

“Come on. It will be fun.”

“Jake…”

“Do you have any better ideas?”

And, despite making a very long list, she actually doesn’t. So she agrees.

*

Amy’s almost certain it will be a disaster. So much so that she almost makes a bet with Jake. She’s doesn’t though because she’s a great captain and knows that it will likely increase said disaster ten-fold.  

Jake’s a mix of amused and anxious the first time Amy calls him out. He thinks it’s just because it’s the first time and he’s not used to Amy being that way. But over the next few times it just gets worse. It’s not fun like he thought it would be. But he hides his true feelings well. He doesn’t want one of them to have to transfer.

At home Amy repeatedly asks him if he’s sure he’s okay with the whole thing and he jokes that she’s reaching mother-hen levels of concerned and that he understands the difference between real and fake. She still tells him he’s a great detective and that makes him feel a little better.

As the first week of the plan draws to a close Jake finds himself triple and quadruple checking to make sure everything’s perfect. Amy always manages to find something to nitpick though, that’s kind of the point. It’s stupid, he knows it’s fake. But the whole thing has him on edge. She hasn’t even pulled him up that many times. He’s had previous captains who were on his case way more. But there’s no one’s opinion he cares more about than Amy’s and having her say these things is beginning to bring him down.  

“Detective Peralta.”

Jake tenses.

“One minute!” Jake says, in what he hopes is a stable tone as he runs to the bathroom.

It’s fine. Everything’s fine. It’s just that he’s disappointed Amy again. And he can’t do anything right. And he’s always disappointing her. He’s a terrible husband. And she’s going to divorce him. And he’s going to lose the best thing he ever had. And now he’s crying. He holds his hand over his mouth, wipes the snot coming out his nose. He’s being an idiot. None of this is real. It’s a plan, all fake. Amy loves him and knows he’s a great detective. He knows this. But it still feels like the world is ending. Like maybe Amy’s taking this chance to tell him what she really thinks. And he can’t get control of himself. He’s terrible and useless and pathetic. And Amy will be better off without him. And he’s trying to calm down but failing. And maybe he’ll just die right here in this bathroom. Pathetic.

Then there are hands pulling up his shirt, fingers sliding underneath around his waist. Amy. And just like that the dark spiral mellows. And he’s fine. Amy’s here. She hasn’t left. Everything’s okay as long as she’s here.  

 4)

Jake finds Amy sitting on the floor of their living room with papers spread all over the place.

“What’s this?”

“I’m trying to come up with a new rota system that both does what the brass wants and still works.”

“What happened to the plan of riding me? It’s going perfectly. Everyone is convinced.”

“Jake, I found you crying in the bathroom.”

“I wasn’t crying. I’m fine. That was allergies.”

“Sure it was,” Amy looks back at all the papers, “This is impossible.”

“Why don’t you just make a rota based on who hasn’t had a similar case the longest?”

“You want to give Hitchcock and Scully the same cases as everyone else.”

“I obviously meant excluding Hitchcock and Scully.”

“Yeah, I know, that’s an extreme example, but it still doesn’t work, if I’m not going to pay attention to what’s the best for the cases and what’s the best for the detectives working them, then what’s the point?” She stares forlornly, “I think I’m going to have to transfer.”

“No you’re not, I’m going to get you an appointment with Holt.”

“Jake I can’t just go running complaining to Holt every time I have a problem.”

“You don’t have to complain. Just talk to him okay, he’s awesome at advice.”

*

Holt says, “Ignore them.”

“I can’t just ignore my superior officers!”

“Your methods are beyond reproach and your spread-sheets demonstrate this. No one can penalise you for this.”

“No one cares about my spread-sheets! They said people will say I could’ve twisted the stats, even though I discussed possible multi-colinearity and showed them the analysis both with and without outliers! They said people are going to look at the situation and make up their minds and not care about anything else!”

“It’s unfortunate and it’s hard. I can’t tell you what to do. But if you give in and transfer, people will always find something to pit against you. But I have managed to get to where I am today, despite several clashes with the brass, because I do my job well and I do my job right. Just keep doing what you’re doing; do your job well and right and you will be fine.”

“Thank you.” Amy sighs, she knows he’s right.

*

So Amy stands tall in front of the precinct and assigns cases as she knows they should be.

And when Jake closes a big case, she smiles and says, “Good job Detective Peralta, well done.”

 5)

“I’ve decided to take the sergeant’s exam,” Jake says.

“Really, but you love being a detective. This isn’t about the whole issue the brass has with us is it?”

“Well, that’s what got me thinking about it in the first place…”

“Jake you shouldn’t have to…”

“BUT… I was going to say, but the more I thought about it the more I wanted it. I really want this Ames.”

“Really? That’s great.” Amy grins and playfully punches his shoulder.  

“Yeah, I was never going to be a detective all my career, I always knew I would move on eventually, when I was older, but I guess I’m growing up.”

*

The sergeant’s exam is so hard. Jake is so lucky Amy’s helping him study otherwise he would be totally screwed. They’ve just transitioned to the ‘week of exam’ binder and, even though they’re both exhausted, he grins as she quizzes him. He’s so nervous. He didn’t think this would matter so much, it’s not like there won’t be another exam to take if he fails. But the idea of being a sergeant has sunk deep in his bones and he can’t remember the last time he wanted something so bad.

Amy hugs him. “Stop overthinking, you’re going to do so well.”

*

Amy flicks through the pile of sergeants exams that she still has to mark. She’s about half way through, thirty left to do and a meeting in two hours. She can do this. Amy opens the next exam paper and immediately slams it shut again. It’s Jake’s. Of course there’s no name or other identifying information but she recognises his hand-writing straight away. This shouldn’t have been sent to her, it’s clearly a conflict of interest. She puts it aside and brings up the exam marking guidelines, so that she can quote them accurately when she sends the exam back unmarked. Amy doesn’t want Jake to get penalised for this stupid mistake someone made.  

She reads the entire guidelines and then the handbook twice. There’s nothing. It’s apparently perfectly within the rules for her to mark her husband’s exam paper. Amy still intends on sending the paper back though; just to be completely above board. But there’s no harm in having a quick look to sate her curiosity.

She leaves her pen on the table and reads through the paper, keeping a mental tally of his marks. Amy deducts two points for grammar and adds them back. She knows she’s harsher than most examiners when it comes to this. Amy then deducts them again. Every examiner has areas they are harsher on and areas they’re lighter on. If she doesn’t do this accurately then the entire hypothetical exercise is pointless.

If it’s an obvious pass she’ll send it off to be marked by someone else without another thought. Amy isn’t sure what she’ll do if the opposite is true. It’s not something she gives her mind room to consider.

Amy stares at the paper when she’s finished. One fricking point. He’s going to fail by one point. Except there’s nothing in the rules saying she can’t mark it herself and it’s only one mark that needs fudging which would be the easiest thing in the world. She could just deduct one point instead of two for grammar. No one would need to know. It would be beyond rebuke. It’s insane that she’s even considering this. But she knows, oh she knows how much this means to Jake.

But the rules are everything to her. The making of her core. Without rules there’s just chaos. And this, who gets to achieve a new rank, this is something important. It’s what she stands for. Can she really compromise herself in this way? She has to, for Jake, she has to. She loves him so much and he needs this, badly. But it will haunt her, devour her, take her apart from the inside. Amy can’t lie here. This is who she is.

She hates this. The thought of doing this to Jake, her Jake. She sends the paper back, unmarked. And hopes Jake won’t come to resent her for it.

She tells Jake of course, she has to, words tentative and gentle and nervous. And he’s upset of course. Not with her, he says, he’d never want her to compromise herself for him. And he wouldn’t want to cheat his way to being a Sergeant. And everything’s fine. But she knew he’d say these things and she isn’t worried about today or tomorrow. She’s worried what happens six months or a year or two years down the line.

*

When the results letter comes, Jake discards it unopened onto a pile of papers like he doesn’t care. Amy knows that’s his important stuff pile though. Amy itches to open it, but she understands his need to prepare himself. That is until it’s still sitting there two days later.

“I doesn’t matter,” Jake says, “I know I haven’t passed.”

“Detective Peralta,” Amy says, voice soft but firm. “Open the letter, that’s an order.”

Jake swallows, shutting his eyes as he pulls the sheet of paper out of its envelope. Before finally, dramatically, looking at it. He grins. “I’m going to be a sergeant.”

#peraltiago #jamy #jake peralta #amy santiago #brooklyn 99 #fic #my peraltiago stuff #my brooklyn 99 stuff

[hoyoungy]

Elevator | Taehyung

genre: fluff, comedy, neighbor au | taehyung x reader summary: you’re stuck in an elevator with your favorite neighbor to hate just minutes before the new year. luckily, he has chinese takeout with him word count: 1724 a/n: happy belated birthday to taehyung! and happy new years to you all ~

New year’s eve didn’t give you the luxury of calling off of work. In fact, it did the exact opposite - extended hours. Because of course your boss’s mentality was, ‘oh, no one else is going to be open on new year’s eve, we’ll make loads more if we stay open later!’

He wasn’t wrong - he was actually right on the money. A lot of money. The best part about staying open late was that you made a lot of tips, so at least you left with over a hundred in your pocket. You just didn’t want to admit he was right.

But the money didn’t make up for your exhaustion or your never ending hate towards certain customers. It was always your regulars who got too comfortable and would say ‘I really don’t want to pull the ‘let me talk to the manager’ card, but looks like I’ll have to today’ and for some reason that card was always pulled more frequently during the holidays. You’d think during the holidays that customers would be a lot nicer, but nope.

’Tis the fucking season, am I right?

Your nose and cheeks burned red from the chilling wind but the warmth of your apartment complex lobby helped a little bit. You pushed the up button on the elevator and waited patiently. You were so ready to rip off all your sweaters, pour yourself a warm, bubbling bath, throw in rose petals and pretend you had a significant other who did all of this for you. What a way to ring in the new year.

“If it isn’t my favorite neighbor ~” a voice equivalent to nails on a chalkboard sang beside you.

You rolled your eyes dramatically and faced your blond neighbor. “Hello, Taehyung.”

Out of all the apartment complexes you’ve lived in, Taehyung was the worst neighbor you’ve ever had. You saw him all too frequently in the hallways and every single time, he always asked ‘where’s my hug?’ Taehyung was the where’s-my-hug guy! Like, can you believe? That obviously wasn’t even the worst of it - he always asked for ingredients to cook, always sang too loudly, and you can’t even count how many times you’ve housed him because he was so drunk that he locked himself out of his place.

“You don’t have to be so formal with me, my love.” You gagged when he winked at you. “What are you doing coming home thirty minutes before the new year?”

“I wanted to have one last tinder hook up of 2017,” you said bluntly.

“Without me?”

“Gross, I’m kidding. I was at work.”

“Unfortunate.”

“How about you?”

Taehyung holds up a bag of Chinese takeout in front of you with a grin on his face. “Delivery guy came.”

“That’s how you spend your new years?”

“No other way I’d rather spend it, to be honest.”

He’s the first to enter the elevator as you look at him with a quirked brow and followed suit. You always though Taehyung was the party type of guy, considering all the times you’ve housed him, he smelled like women’s perfume and like he paid too much for a beer on tap. So hearing he’d rather stay home alone with tons of Chinese takeout was surprising.

You both stared outside the glass elevator, taking in the sight of all the twinkling lights and the people outside awaiting the fireworks. It was a very festive and beautiful sight to see, although it was weird sharing the moment with your favorite worst neighbor.

“You didn’t tell me about your plans,” Taehyung noted.

“That’s because I don’t have any.”

“Well, if you’re lonely tonight -”

“No.”

“What!? C’mon, you never want to hang out!”

“Actually, I do have plans,” you smiled smugly at Taehyung’s surprised expression. “A very handsome and sexy bubble bath is waiting for me at home.”

“Three’s company, you know.”

“Oh, shut up, you pervert -”

The elevator suddenly halted, throwing you and Taehyung to the floor. You could already feel bruises forming from the impact. Normally, others in the same situation would panic, especially minutes before the new year. But you, on the other hand, thought that this was the cherry on top to your day. Looking at the floor number, you let out a loud groan. Of course you would be stuck at the level just below.

You didn’t bother standing back up. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Let me call the police, or whatever this button does,” he said, pressing the red emergency button.

“Hello? Are you ok in there?” A voice asked over the intercom.

“Yes, we’re fine,” Taehyung answered. “We’re stuck.”

“Ok, stay calm. There’s a lot of traffic in the streets right now, but we’ll get to you as soon as possible.”

“How soon is soon, exactly?” you asked.

“Two hours at least.”

“Two hours!?” you screeched.

“We’ll see you soon,” they said, and they hung up.

“Two hours,” you repeated. “Two whole hours. In an elevator. With Kim Taehyung.”

“The one and only,” he said, pulling out one of his five boxes of takeout. He handed you another pair of chopsticks. “Lo mein?”

Begrudgingly, you took them and ate the greasy noodles, earning a cute smile from the boy sitting beside you. You both leaned against the door of the elevator, watching the people below you setting up to watch the fireworks.

“At least we have a good view,” you said sarcastically.

“And it’s warm in here.”

“I guess it could be worse.”

“What could be better than being stuck in a warm elevator with a nice view, shitty takeout, and a hot guy?” he smirked.

“Do you always try this hard with other people?”

“Honestly, no, I don’t.”

“Why do I find that hard to believe.”

“Because you never gave me a chance.”

He merely shrugged and gave you a small smile. But there’s something about the tone in his voice and the look in his eyes that seemed much sadder. You opened your mouth to retort, but you quickly filled it with more noodles.

From all the failed attempts of asking you out and flirting, you never seriously thought about the intentions behind Taehyung’s actions. It was hard to believe that someone like him - someone so charming, flirtatious, and as much as you hated to admit it, so cute - could never just have you as his sole target.

After an entire box, you both felt the sluggish toll on your bodies from the umami taste. Looking at your phone, you noticed five minutes were left of 2017.

“Jeez, only twenty minutes have passed?” Taehyung said, peering over your shoulder. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. You stood up and walked toward the window. “Cheers to 2017.”

“Do you regret anything from this year?”

“I wouldn’t say regret - more like I wish I spent $30 a month towards more important things instead of wasting it at a gym that I never go to.”

“Hey, there’s still hope! New year, new you.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” you chuckled. You looked at Taehyung, who was now standing next to you, eyes sparkling from the decorative lights. “How about you?”

“You remember those blue contacts that I had for a little bit? With my short haircut?”

“Oh, the one that made you look like King Joffrey from Game of Thrones?”

“In which you proceeded to call me King Joffrey Baratheon, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm.”

“Yeah, what a great couple of months that was.”

“I liked how you waited that long after you moved in to tell me that,” an airily laugh left Taehyung’s lips.

“I didn’t want to be mean just yet.” Looking out the window, the countdown to two minutes popped up on one of the buildings.

“I guess I also kind of regret all the nights I’ve crashed on your couch,” Taehyung continued.

“Only kind of?”

“Don’t hate me, but uh, I kind of faked being drunk and losing my keys on some of those nights.”

“What!?” you screeched. You hadn’t noticed, but as the minutes passed while you were talking, Taehyung had gotten quite physically close to you.

“And by some of those nights, I mean all of those nights.”

“Taehyung, what the hell!?” you said, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Why in the world would you do something like that!?”

“It was the only way for me to get close to you!”

“You couldn’t have asked me out to lunch or something like a normal person would!?”

“Oh, don’t act like you would have said yes.”

“I might have…!” Taehyung gave you a blank stare. “… Ok, so maybe not, but really? You had to resort to that!?”

“You never said no.” Taehyung took a step towards you, leaving a small gap in between.

“Even so, I mean, you could have tried convincing me to go out on a date with you! I would much rather have you bother me about that than waking up to loud banging on my door and having to carry you to my couch. You know, just because you’re skinny, doesn’t mean you’re not heavy because, surprise! You are, in fact, a very heavy person, and I, for one -”

Oh, how cliche was it for Taehyung to grab your face gently and pull you in for a light kiss as the fireworks bursted in the air. Just because his lips were soft, you were supposed to suddenly fall for him? Was this supposed to be romantic? Or hide the fact that he faked being drunk for a whole year just to get close to you?

Well, whatever the reason, it was definitely working.

You sighed before hitting his chest playfully.

“Ow, hey!”

“Don’t interrupt me like that!”

“Happy new year ~!” Before you hit him again, he grabbed both of your wrists and wrapped them around his neck before slipping his own around your waist.

“Yeah, whatever.” You pulled him down for another sweet kiss under the fireworks.

“… You didn’t purposefully stop this elevator, did you?” you asked after pulling away. You knew your answer when he gave you a cheeky grin. “I hate you.”

“Happy new year ~!” he chanted again, kissing you before you nagged him some more.

What a start to the new year for you.

#bangtan bookclub #95line.net #btswritersguild #vocalkingsnet #taehyung #kim taehyung #bts #bts taehyung #bts scenarios #bts imagines #k-pop #kpop

[wwecreaturesofdarkness]

Past Lives (Part 2)

This is the part the reader goes with Finn. not sure when 3 will be out maybe later this week ENJOY!!!!

 Warnings: smut, demons and werewolves, cussing

He stood there looking like a god. Even his breathing looked like it was a masterpiece. You never stared at him and took him in before this, but after the fight and now the break up you had with Baron it didn’t surprise you at all you started having feelings.

“What’s the matter, love?” you knew he was Irish but the accent still took you by surprise. “Did wolfie tuck his tail between his legs?”

His eyes held a storm in them. He didn’t move. Something inside you told you to run, but your legs wouldn’t let you.

“Ah,” he lifted his head some. “Ya didn’t know I knew about ol’ Baron Corbin and you?” He smiled.

You moved to him. He always seemed so inviting and warm. After the fight with Baron you didn’t know where you stood but Finn seemed to be a good person to talk to, maybe just a shoulder to lean on.He is the Demon King after all, he knows about supernaturals.

He threw his car keys at you. Let me change, I know ya have some questions, meet me by my rental in 10.” He turned his back to you and headed into the locker room.

Everyone went ot Finn about their supernatural problems. Even supernaturals went to him. He was one of the oldest and knew the most. It never surprised you that Baron, your werewolf boyfriend and oldest wolf, didn’t like him. You always brushed it off as an old feud.

You stood by a black SUV with your arms folded as you watched your friends leaving. Finn was late, but he had a hard match so you didn’t complain much.Not until Baron walked out with 3 other girls on his arms. He was laughing and holding the girls closer with each giggle. He made sure to make eye contact with you and lick his lips. You rolled your eyes and squeezed yourself more to keep from screaming ‘so much for wanting to get back together’ you thought. 

Finn saw what happened and slowly made his way to you. “I gave ya the keys to get in.”

“I didn’t want to.” You huffed out and handed them back to him. “Plus, Baron just kinda dumped my bags at the door and I need help picking the makeup case up.” you motioned to the box next to you.

“Got it.” Finn loaded everything in and helped you to the passenger side of the car. He closed the door behind you and you buckled in as he jumped in the driver’s seat.You rode to the next city in silence. Finn would slowly move his hand to your thigh and you would push it away. 

Finally he looked to you.“Baron is an alpha, those girls are his normal mates.” He put both hands on the steering wheel. “Look the whole locker room wants to fuck ya so you have 2 choices.”

“Oh yea?” I tried to sound stronger than what I was. I tried to put my game face on for this but I wasn’t ready.

“I can read right though ya.” Finn smiled wider. “That doesn’t work on me. so either you go talk to the dirty wolf or you stay with me tonight, which I’ve already called the hotel and set up.”

You whipped your head around to him. You felt the anger boiling up under your skin. ‘how dare he think he can just take you from him’

“I’m THE Demon King, you don’t think I know what you’re feeling?” his eyes never left the road. “You’re a rare breed (Y/N). I haven’t seen your kind in a long time and the fact that, that werewolf, if that’s what you wish to call him, isn’t willing to treat you right then it is my duty to do it.”

“I know what I am Balor.” You hissed out.

He parked the car and grabbed all your bags before you even were around to help. He was checked in and handed you the extra key when you entered the hotel lobby. You followed him to the room, opening the door since he refused to let you carry anything.When you walked in you noticed there were 2 beds. Your face must have told him what you were thinking.

“I’m a demon, but still a gentleman.” He brushed past you and took a change of clothes into the bathroom.

You grabbed your sleep shirt and shorts and waited on the edge of the bed you picked. This was going to be the first time in 2 years you weren’t next to Baron within a week. You were so deep in your thoughts you didn’t hear Finn come out of the bathroom.

“Love?” his voice was so sweet in your ears.“hmm?” you looked up to see him standing right in front of you with gym shorts on. You were taken back a bit, but didn’t react to him much.“Go change, you’ve had a rough night. Ya need some rest.”

You nodded and went to change and came back out. You felt empty, alone, knowing Baron was with those girls and here you were with the demon himself. At least you were alone in bed. You pulled the blankets over your head and tried to get some sleep.

But the nightmares started.

It was nothing new to you. Ever since you fully accepted what you were these came and went like the ocean waves. You could feel yourself toss and turn.You could hear the screams and the crying and all you could see was blood red. The people in the dream seemed to turn against you. They pointed at you screaming with fire and flames you always tried to run you always tried to get away but Baron always woke you up before you got away.

But you remembered he wasn’t there.

The nightmares lead you to the graveyard, past the tombstones of hundreds you remembered. You ran and ran until you hit the forest tree line. The trees even seemed to be watching you as you tried to escape the screaming villagers. You could see a throne made of branches in front of you and a dark figure with bright white teeth.He looked so familiar.As you got closer you realized who it was.

“Balor?” you yelled in the dream.

His eyes flashed up to you, his smile widened and the trees around you danced causing the people’s screams to stop. He never spoke a word. He turned his back to you as you felt something sharp in your side. You looked up to see Baron standing there in wolf form, his claws dripping with fresh blood.

“Balor!” you sat up in the hotel bed.Finn was turning a light on next to you. His eyes searched for an answer to your scream. He caught a glimpse of it and pulled you into his chest. You didn’t fight him. You felt the tears well up and you wrapped your arms around his neck. He held you against him and rocked you trying to calm you down. When that didn’t work he picked you up and sat you back down on his lap. Once you calmed down you realized how you were sitting.

“Sorry,” you tried uncurling your legs from around his hips. “Sorry,” you tried moving quicker and avoiding eye contact.

“It’s ok (Y/N).” Finn helped you as much as he could. He let you settle on the bed for a moment and then smiled to you. “You’re beautiful, (Y/N).” he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “It seems you are more involved in this stupid war from the past than I thought.”

You kept your eyes down. Did you dream that part because of how Baron made you feel? No, he always stopped it before it got that far, maybe he knew about it. maybe it was just something crazy that happened because your were so close to Balor. You looked up to see Finn standing there was a coffee cup.

 “Would you like some?” he held it out to you. You nodded and smiled trying to wrap your head around this still. Finn kept quit, drinking his own cup from his own bed. He seemed to know you needed space. just enough to think what just happened.

“I called out your name.” you took another drink.

“I heard.” He leaned himself against the headboard. “Startled me a bit.”

“sorry,” you put the cup down and tried to curl back up in the blankets.Finn flipped the light off as you tossed and turned some more. It felt like hours went by. You turned to the clock. 4 AM, it’s red light read. Only 30 minutes since you woke up.

“Finn?”

“Yea?”

You stood up and walked over to his bed. It was like your legs had a mind of their own. You didn’t want this, did you? You tried to reason on the short walk but your knees hit the edge of the bed. His back was to you, but he flipped the covers off himself and patted the spot next to him. 

“Come on,” he sounded as if there was a smile in his voice.

You curled up next to him, breathing in his scent. ‘Pine wood,’ you thought. ‘just like the forest in the nightmare.’ The scent though, didn’t make you want to run, instead you seemed to press yourself against him more. Without effort you felt safe, your legs intertwined wit his and your hand sat perfectly on his chest as if he was made for you. His arms wrapped around you holding you close.

“How long has it been since Baron held you?” his voice was steady almost sleepy sounding.

“um,” you bit your lip. “3 months?”“6,” 

He nuzzled into your hair. “Even though you lay with him, a persons scent disappears after about 5 months. His is barely lingering on you. And it’s only there from sharing a bed.”

“oh,” you felt yourself growing sad again.

“I’m here,” he held you tighter. “I’m here if you need me for anything.”

He was right, 6 months ago Baron had pulled you to him in bed. It was even longer than that since you had sex with him. You questioned it a lot, but knew he was working really hard at a title shot. So you blew it off as he was tired.But so was Finn.And here you were wrapped into his arms and into his body like you owned him. 

You moved yourself up to look him in the eye.“Finn?” You brushed your hand along his cheek bone. 

His eyes darted open to expose the almost black ones, you knew as Balor’s. Your eyes never left his as you moved your lips to his. His arms moved across your body to hold you closer. The kiss stayed soft until you bit his lip.Finn pulled away from you and smiled.

 “I think ya need some sleep love. I don’t need a wolf hunting me down.”

“He told me we are done.” You pushed yourself to him again.

“Then why me?”

“I just feels right.” You closed your eyes.

“Are ya sure? he sounds liek hes tryin win ya back.”

“you’re a demon and you’re asking to make sure I want this?” you chuckled. “I need to feel something after that nightmare, I need to feel you.” You begged.

Finn took that as the green light. He flipped you on your back and tore your shirt and shorts off.

“Ive been waiting.” He moaned into your ear as he kissed your neck. “I’ve been waiting for so long.” 

He knee was against your slit. He pressed gently with it as he kissed your neck. he grabbed your breasts, kneading them in his hands and pulling on your nipples. This was a s much attention you had in months.His mouth worked its way down to your core. He kissed your thighs softly then looked up to you with his devilish smile before wrapping his arms around your legs and devouring into your clit. It didn’t take long for you to feel yourself tighten around his tongue. You ran your hands through his hair as your body shook under him.

“Finn,” you cried out, trying to regain yourself enough to return the favor. You tried sitting up but he pushed you back down.

“6 months he wasted. I’m going to make that up.” his mouth found yours and kissed you like you were his air. He slid himself inside you and gave you time to adjust. He was thicker than Baron and your body needed a second. Finn kissed your neck more and then took a nipple into his mouth.

“He didn’t even fucking mark ya.” He mumbled. “I’m going to change that.” He sat back up and thrust into you slowly at first then harder, each time rougher than before. He wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled you up to him. In one motion he had you up against the wall on the other side of the room.You moaned his name, wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his cock grind against you in every way. You felt yourself clench down on his hard member, but he didn’t stop.

“Hold back until I mark ya.” He whispered in your ear. “it’s an amazing feelin.”

You nodded trying to do as he wished. 

Finn’s teeth extended into the long sharp fangs that filled his mouth, he kissed you hard one last time before sinking his teeth into you collar bone. His nails dug into your ass and you felt his cock throb inside of you. You couldn’t hold back anymore. You screamed his name louder then you had ever screamed before. You clawed at his back  and pulled yourself on him more. 

you wrapped yourself around his tighter moaning into his ear.“More,” you begged. “Please Finn more.” 

Finn laid you down on the bed, but still kept himself inside you. You both still throbbing from the feeling. Finn’s mouth caught yours again as he pushed harder into you hitting your G-spot. He wrapped his arms around your legs pulling your hips off the bed and went faster until you screamed again.

“One more time love,” he smiled down to you. “Then I’ll be done ok?”

You bit your lip nodding again. you couldn’t find words to speak to him. You could feel your core tighten from him inside you. He clawed down your leg as he rocked himself inside you. He leaned down to kiss you. He kissed your neck where he bit and you whispered to him.

“Come inside me again Balor.” You kissed his neck as he pulled away from you.It was on your command. His body stopped and his pushed as hard as he could into you.

“Fuck (y/n),” he yelled to you. He moaned your name as he shot his load deep into you. You answered with your own screams. He leaned down and took his new place on your lips. It was sweet and soft. He kissed your forehead as he rolled to the side.

“Damn,” you curled into him as he tried catching his breath. “I never would have thought that.”

“Thought what?” you pulled yourself to him more. You wanted to touch every part of him still.

“That a wolf would waste that.” He smiled. “Stay with me?”He sounded like he was pleading. 

He brushed over the bite mark he made in your collar bone. It burned a bit still but that was expected after laying a claim mark. You sat up for a moment and made your way down to his hip. You extended your own fangs and pushed them into his skin. He moaned under you as you placed your own mark. 

You sat back up and smiled.“Stay with you.” You smiled to him.

He pulled you into his arms and wrapped himself around you before covering you both in blankets. 

Somewhere in the distance you heard a single howl in the night. 

#finn balor #baron corbin #fanfic #werewolf #demon king

[allthevmff]

Haunted

by Scandalpants

I'm trying not to think about you Can't you just let me be?

~Almost Lover, by A Fine Frenzy

Chapter One - Monk

The deep blue spreads slowly, herding the sun over the horizon. Tonight's sunset isn't Midas; it grants only a touch of pink and orange before its benefactor slinks off to light up another part of the world. He picks a memory to match in tone, staying away from any after he moved to Neptune. He's not in the mood for those tonight.

He lets himself remember his mom, and a dreary day when he'd been ten and they were still living in Los Angeles. Just his mom and dad were home, his sister thankfully gone, staying with a friend for the weekend. The sky was a slate gray, the deluge of rain keeping him stuck in the house.

But he'd been so bored. His father, Aaron, was in one of his moods, the kind that usually kept Logan outside even when his stomach growled for food. Logan ran toward his room to get another Hot Wheel for the chase scene he was putting together on the living room rug.

Aaron lay on the couch, reading a script with his feet resting in Lynn's lap, and looked up. "Logan! When you come back here you will walk. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir." It didn't take a genius to hear the threat in his dad's voice. Logan forced his feet to slow, and made his way quietly to his room. He considered moving his setup to the bedroom, but it had already taken an hour to get just how he wanted it and didn't feel like starting over. He just had to remember to walk.

Moving in measured steps on the way back, he dropped to the rug and put the car in place, smiling at what he'd created. He started to execute the scene he pictured, making what he thought were realistic siren and explosion sounds in a low voice.

Logan was surprised when he felt his mom drop to the carpet behind him, curving herself over his back and whispering in his ear. "I have a great idea. Let's go build a fort in your room. Then I'll make popcorn and hot cocoa and we'll have a picnic in it."

He wanted to say no so he could finish his car chase idea but, catching the tight, angry expression his father wore, he realized he messed up. Maybe it was the noises he made, or the way he'd spread his toys over the carpet. It didn't matter why; Dad was mad again and it was his fault.

So, instead of arguing, he asked his mom to help him clean up his cars and they did just as she'd said. The fort they built was cozy and private, using chairs borrowed from the guest bedrooms to create a circle enclosed with sheets. They enjoyed the picnic she'd promised while playing hours of Go-Fish and War, marooned on their own island where Aaron didn't live.

That night she tucked him in and, like always, brushed the hair off his forehead before placing a kiss on it and whispering, "I love you, Logan."

Another memory tries to invade his mind. A night in a hotel lobby when he truly realized his mom was dead. He had bent over and grabbed his knees, and then—

No. Not tonight. Go back. Remember Mom tucking you in.

And he does. Remembers again the motion of her brushing back his hair and then laying a kiss on his forehead. How both gestures made him feel loved. He remembers the soft way she looked at him when she said his name.

The sky now dark, he tucks the memory away where it belongs, with the name. He isn't Logan anymore. He hasn't been for a long time.

Heading down the stairs, he evaluates his options for the evening. He's not tired. There isn't a lot of entertainment on the Penelope to begin with, and this is the last night of an extra- long run. Their route usually takes them on a three-week circuit; however, another tub in their four-reefer fleet is laid up for repairs so they've been going straight for almost six.

All the time at sea has exhausted the crew's meager options for amusement. He's read every book he brought at least twice, and is saving a third reread of Lonesome Dove for tomorrow. The large flatscreen broke about a week ago so group movies are out, and he's not in the mood to watch one alone. There are a few games on the shelf in the mess, but he's played more chess with Carlos this month than he'd ever thought possible. As for the rest, this isn't the kind of crew that considers Milton Bradley a good time guy. Since payday isn't until tomorrow, everyone is too broke to play poker.

Not wanting to head for his berth just yet, he walks to the mess to see if there's any coffee. Most of the seventeen-man crew is hanging out in there, restless like he is. Once they drop off their load at Coquimbo in the morning, it will take the day to reach their home base in Antofagasta, in northern Chile. They'll get a week of freedom before it all starts again.

As he enters the room, only Carlos calls outs "Monk" in greeting. Nobody else looks up.

His first week on the ship some cleversmith teased him about taking a vow of silence and called him 'Monk'. The cleversmith left to work on another boat, but the name stuck.

He doesn't mind; it's as authentic as the name on his passport.

The coffee is fresh and hot. Monk grabs his java, then sits on the couch, closes his eyes and tilts his head back while listening to the others in the room.

Predictably, the guys' conversation is focused on how they will spend the time off. Captain Diego runs a dry ship so, as usual, the talk is as much about getting drunk as it is about getting laid. Monk hasn't had a drink in over eleven years, nor does he want one, so the discussion about alcohol bores him. As for getting laid, he doesn't get a lot of charge hearing about other people's sexual exploits. He seemed to outgrow that vicarious thrill about the time he watched the video of his—

No. No. If you can't keep your head straight, go to bed.

Nobody says anything to him as he swallows down the last of his coffee and puts the mug in the bus bin. That doesn't bother him; he's used to slipping in and out of these rooms unacknowledged.

Though, when they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, somehow corporeal ghost never made it to the top of the list.

He hesitates a minute before going into his room. The evening is beautiful, though chilly. The cold doesn't bother him and he's spent more than one night sleeping on deck, staring up at the stars until he can't keep his eyes open. He discards that notion tonight, though. The mood the other men are in, they won't be settling in any time soon and their laughter carries.

He attempts to read a little, but gives up after a few minutes and turns out the light. His memories want to come to the surface and it's taking an inordinate amount of concentration to keep them locked away where they belong.

So he turns his thoughts to Eva. She's his salvation on nights like these, when he would otherwise give in to every thought that tries to pull him backward. Knowing he'll be with her tomorrow is the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. This job, this lifestyle, works for him on many levels, but he's happiest during the one week a month he gets to spend at home with her.

Nine years as lovers; hard to believe it's been that long. Monk feels content knowing he'll be with her soon. He'll stroke that dark skin and kiss those sweet, pink lips. He'll sink into her softness and fall asleep holding her sturdy form in his arms.

One more day, sweetheart.

Moving his hand down, he strokes himself; sometimes that's all that's needed to help him sleep. He imagines Eva's large, warm hands touching him as his own hand moves. He pictures her soft, warm mouth lowering down on him. As the pressure builds he envisions that mouth replaced with her straddling him, dropping down and bucking her hips until he calls out her name.

As often happens when he's doing this alone, he has to push away memories of a smaller woman, one with fine, silky hair and petite hands that were always a little cold. The name that falls from his lips begins as Eva, but extends into something else. Saying it aloud is as much of a release as the rest of this act.

Sated, his mind finally stills and he drifts into a quiet sleep.

The next morning, they pull into Coquimbo and unload the shipment of Argentinian beef they're carrying. As reefer ships go, theirs is moderately sized, only about sixty meters long. The cargo doors are built into the side of the ship, and the stock is removed by forklifts, hand trucks, and a lot of old-style muscle. It takes a couple hours, but knowing they're almost home puts everyone in a last-day-of-school mood. Their planned replacement cargo is small, but before they begin loading it Diego waves Monk over.

Though he spent a fair amount of time at home with his mother, Diego also traveled the world on his father's ship. His accent is slight, and he oddly sounds more like he's from Southern California than South America.

"I've been fighting with Manny in the business office. We just got pulled for another job, and I couldn't get us out of it. Dammit! It'll add another five or six days between picking up our cargo, taking it to Los Angeles, and coming home. We'll drive straight through, with no stops. To pull that off, I need both you and Carlos to help me with taking shifts at the wheel. Es Bueno?"

No. No "es bueno". You're from El Salvador, dude. I'd think you'd know what bueno means and use it correctly..

Shit. Monk's been looking forward to spending the next week at his La Culpa beach house, surfing and hanging out with Eva. But he also knows that they need three helmsmen, so there's not a lot of options. He nods - Eva will understand. Diego rarely asks much of him beyond the norm, so he can delay his homecoming by five days.

"Ok. We only need a small crew; three for bow watch, and three to handle navigation and engine checks. There'll be help with the loading and unloading at both ends. I know Carlos will help drive, and Javier will stay on as cook."

Javier cooking is a good thing? Tell me our cargo is frozen rats again and I may die of starvation.

Diego and Monk walk over to where the other men mill around, wondering why they aren't loading up their cargo yet. With a loud whistle, Monk gets their attention so Diego can speak.

"Change of plans. We got a one-time job. It means another five day stretch."

The resultant moans sound like the death rattles of a herd of zombies. Diego raises his hands and bobs them up and down as he lowers them.

"I know, I know. A couple navigators assigned to the Angelica live here and agreed to help us out, but I need four more, three for bow watch and one navigator. There's good news and bad news. Good news, is double pay, and you'll get two weeks off when we're done. Whoever doesn't work it, another boat is coming through in an hour to take you home."

The men look more appeased and the grumbling lessens. Monk sees a couple of the crew raise their hands, and then lower them when Diego talks again.

"Now the bad news. Something went down; there is an American yacht about 45 knots from here. The crew and all the passengers are dead. The bodies need to go into cold storage and be transported to L.A. We just got hired for the job."

Oh. That's one delightful little detail Diego left out. Who knew rat cargo could be topped?

The men shift and shuffle their feet, looking at each other and whispering. This time no hands are raised. The desire to go home is pretty strong, but Monk suspects it isn't why the majority are hesitating. When they are out at sea conversation often turns to ghosts and legends. Spending even a few days with a boatload of bodies is enough to unsettle anyone, but especially a bunch of superstitious sailors. Monk feels a little queasy himself at the thought.

I think I just figured out the perfect setting for another Reanimator sequel, though.

Diego nods, knowing their concerns as well as Monk does. "Come on guys. Double pay? Two weeks off? No volunteers?"

Not surprisingly, only a handful of guys put up their hands. Monk groans at the slim pickings. The navigator, Louis, is an okay guy. He's just a young man who doesn't yet have a family, so the extra sea time isn't an inconvenience. But the others are ones who drifted into this job because a conventional life just didn't suit them. They bring brawn, rather than brains, to the crew; Chuck is a braggart and an asshole, and George follows Chuck like he's a messiah. Winston, though a hell of a nice guy, has the IQ of a mollusk with special needs.

And, oh yeah, there's that whole gullible, hypochondriac thing. I swear I could convince him he had water-elf disease.

They have to wait for the other two navigators to show up, and spend the time filling the freshwater tanks, disposing of garbage, and loading the food stock to get them through the next week. Since this jaunt wasn't planned, their choices are limited to what they can exchange with other ships docking, and the supplies loaned to them by their sister ship, La Concepción, when it comes to pick up their leftover crew.

Awesome, ragtag rations. What the hell are we going to do with currants? I have to remember to tell Javier not to get creative.

When they finally get underway, Monk hangs out in the helm while Diego points the ship toward their destination. Anxiety laces his boss' voice. "What the hell, Monk. It's good money and we just have to tell ourselves its meat, right? We transport meat all the time. There's no difference, right?"

Nope. Absolutely no difference between people who were walking, talking, thinking human beings, and a bovine whose best skill was sticking its tongue entirely up its nose.

Monk shrugs; he won't interfere with this need to rationalize. They're three hours away from picking up their cargo regardless of how they feel about it, and it's obviously freaking Diego out a little. The guy is in his fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair and a face that looks like it was taken off, put out in the sun to dry, and then stretched back on. He's been a sailor most of his life and believes in much of the lore and legends that come with the life.

Diego lets out a huge sigh, and looks over at Monk. "They say it's over thirty bodies. I want the large port bay lined with visqueen to keep it from getting contamined."

In case they leak? Okay, that's just gross.

Grimacing, Monk heads off to find his help. It's just after lunch, and at this time of day the crew that isn't working is usually hanging out in the mess. He can find a few loafers for the task.

Monk enters the room to a round of raucous laughter from four men sitting, their bodies oriented to face a portly fifth man, Chuck, who's standing with one foot on a chair, leaning toward the group. "…so I came home, naked, staggerin' drunk, and covered in puke. With a parrot I got, who knows where, sitting on my shoulder." His shoulders shake with laughter. "That's when she finally decided it was time to throw my ass out."

Stifling an audible snort, Monk avoids eye contact with anyone until he's sure he can keep his face from showing the derision he feels.

I've seen you naked, Chuck. Something tells me the parrot wasn't the deciding factor in that decision.

He's heard this story before, as have most of the other men. But time moves slowly when you're trapped on a boat with the same people, travelling the same familiar waters, and even repeated stories break the monotony.

It's Chuck that notices him first. They aren't friends; Monk can't stand the man, but Chuck doesn't know that. Every snarky comment Monk's ever thought has been held back and, since Chuck understands subtlety about as well as he understands women, the other man is under the illusion they are actually friends. No matter, it makes things easier since they have to work together.

"Monk, hey man! We're talking about things we've done to piss off broads. Got a story to throw down?"

How about I throw down a helpful tip, instead? Calling them broads might be what's pissing them off.

Monk stares at the man in answer. He has many stories to throw down but he won't allow himself to think of them. Most of the time he doesn't even allow himself to think of the names of any of the women he's angered, except for Eva. Instead he distracts himself in these moments by imagining all the ways he'd like to hand Chuck's ass to him.

Shoving a handful of live, baby eels into that hole on his faces. Make him keep his mouth closed until he swallows them. At least he'd be quiet for a few minutes.

After a couple of seconds of waiting, Chuck shakes his head. "Nah? Well, makes sense. Women are harder to piss off when you aren't talking to them or nailing them, right Monk?" Chuck laughter follows his own statement, as he looks at the other men to join in.

Hmmm…with women, my tongue has gotten me out of as much trouble as it's gotten me into. One more thing Chuck hasn't figured out, I guess.

No one else laughs at Chuck's taunt, instead shifting their eyes away and shuffling uncomfortably. Monk's used to this, too. He knows there's speculation about him. The crew accepts his muteness; it's not the strangest trait a sailor can have. They respect that he's a hard worker and Captain Diego's right hand. But that's all they know, and that bothers them. Rumors have gone around that he's everything from an assassin, to a descendent of Black Bart.

Whenever there's a new theory, Diego tells him and they share a laugh. The most recent is that he is a government spy. Why Monk would spend eleven years working on a refrigerated cargo boat, or which government he's working for, doesn't seem to matter.

But Diego keeps his secrets, the few he knows. Thinks the crew being scared keeps them in line. They initially bonded over their alcoholism, though Diego told let on he banned booze from the ship for religious reasons; no one wants to know their Captain and First Officer are drunks. Diego is the only one that knows about Eva and the beach house. And, due to a long night spent reading the abbreviated story Monk wrote down for him, Diego is the only one that knows Monk never leaves the ship when they're in the U.S. because he is an American, and his passport says something different.

Monk points to three men, George and the two navigators loaned to them by the other ship, and indicates they should follow him. George isn't bright, but the job ahead of them is easy. Though he doesn't know Connor or Vincente, he wants the opportunity to find out what kind of workers they are.

They grab the visqueen he indicates on the way, then follow him to the refrigeration bay and watch while he makes their needs clear. He's gotten good at using pantomime to give instructions. With the four of them working, they have the bay cleared and prepped like a kill room in just under two hours.

It's another hour before they spot a ship. It's a large luxury yacht, the kind that carries as many crew members as it does passengers. The Chilean police force is anchored nearby. Diego anchors the Penelope as close as possible, though they are still several hundred yards away. Even a moderate sized reefer like theirs needs some lead room for stopping.

They use the winch to lower the smaller boat from the deck to the water. Diego selects two guys, Javier and Louis, to accompany him. Connor stays by the radio, relaying the plan after Diego reaches the other ship and checks in. The bodies are being photographed, tagged and bagged, then will be loaded six at a time onto the smaller boat Diego took with him. The rest of the crew stay on their reefer to unload and place the corpses into the refrigeration bay.

The day is beautiful; sunny and hot, with enough of a breeze to make it comfortable to stay outside. The guys start up a shuffleboard game, interrupted briefly when a helicopter flies over their head to land on the yacht. Within a few minutes Connor tells Monk that two FBI agents will accompany the bodies back to L.A. Berths need to be cleared and cleaned for them.

The FBI. Fuck. A yachtful of dead Americans. Rich, dead Americans. Monk should have realized the U.S. feds would be involved. A wake of fear goes through him, and he forces it down.

There's no reason they should care, or even ask about him; they're coming on the ship for the bodies and nothing else. Nobody pays attention to the bus driver. All he has to do is keep his mouth shut, which isn't a problem. His quiet, hidden life will stay just that.

Logan Echolls has been gone for a long time. He can damn well stay gone.

The ship's central hub consists of a four-story rectangle. The entire fourth story is a glass encased wheelhouse, with an upper deck that allows the bow watchman a 360 degree view around the ship. On the second and third levels are several berths that sleep two to three people each, and the master head and shower room. Lastly, the main deck level has another head, a mess, and a galley on one side. On the other side are a few storage rooms, and three private berths with outside entrances, one occupied by Monk, one normally occupied by their third driver, Carlos, and the last by Andy, a senior crew member who has gone home during this trip.

It's Carlos' and the Andy's rooms that will be used by the feds playing body escorts. Monk assigns Chuck the room prep since it will keep the guy out of his way for a while. Little is required other than making up the beds and going over the rooms with a dust cloth, but it takes five minutes to make this clear with motions. However, from experience Monk knows written instructions are wasted on Chuck.

Incredible. Chuck can barely read, but acts like he's smarter than me because he can recite a limerick.

In another hour the first boatload comes over, accompanied by a couple of the cops from the Carabineros de Chile, and they spend the rest of the afternoon in staggered shifts. The fragrant, black body bags are unloaded from Diego's small boat via a net and pully system, then placed side by side on the floor in the cold storage.

It's surprising, the weight of a body after death, which makes the work hard. Also, their unfortunate guests have been gone long enough that there is no rigor. They have to have a man on each end of the bag, pulling as well as lifting, or it tends to sag at the middle. It takes a few awkward tries to figure this out, but they soon work out a rhythm.

The gruesome work naturally leads to talk of death; other bodies they've seen, family members who've died. Monk tunes them out.

No way, man. Think about Eva or book. Think about surfing. DO NOT think about that.

After the last body is loaded, while the cops take the small boat back to the yacht, Monk and the other men go clean up, taking extra-long showers to wash away the imagined contamination of death.

Monk returns to his berth and his books. The smell from the bodies is still in his nasal cavities, removing any appetite for dinner. He pulls out a book at random and retreats into a fantasy world until it's time to watch the sun set.

Climbing the final flight of stairs to his spot, a small observation deck on the third level, Monk is irritated to see a pair of dark boots on the floor above his head. This is unprecedented. Everyone knows he has staked out this corner to watch the sunset. Eleven years on this ship and he's been out here, alone, every fucking evening. And he likes it that way.

He doesn't ask for a lot. He gets the job done and keeps to himself, doesn't complain or cause any trouble. Diego depends on him to run the crew and he always delivers. The least they can do is leave him alone for thirty minutes a night. Just because they aren't doing their usual work right now doesn't mean this has changed.

Taking the last few steps, he comes around the wall to toss overboard whoever is sitting on his bench. But it's not a member of the crew. Instead its confirmation he's finally managed to make himself go crazy. He'd thought allowing himself only this time each day to dwell on the past would keep him within the lines of sanity, but apparently he was wrong. Because if that were true, he wouldn't be imagining Veronica sitting there.

But, as frightened as he is for the trick his brain is playing on him, he's also grateful. She's been just a memory for so long that the mirage is welcome. Even if she looks different. Her hair is shorter and straighter than the last time he saw her, and a little darker. She's rounded out a bit more, adding a slight fullness to her face. There are faint lines at the corners of her eyes, her cheeks are wet with tears, and she wears a familiar, irritated expression.

Funny, you'd think when I finally got around to hallucinating about her, she'd be smiling at me. But this actually makes sense, since the last time I saw her she was also crying.

Just as he's about to give her a smile, she snaps at him. "Trying to have a private moment here. Do you mind?"

Her talking is what makes him realize she's real. Thirteen years since he's heard her voice, and he's been remembering it wrong. In his mind it was just a decibel higher, and friendlier. But no, it was always like this; just low enough to be sexy, and brimming with snark.

He can't move. It's as if his feet are soldered to the floor and, instead of watching the sky, he's watching the golden, fading light on her skin.

You found me. How did you find me? After everything I did to disappear! What the hell are you doing here?

The words are caught, panic snagging them in his brain before they can ever attempt to leave his mouth.

She glares at him, her eyes narrowing in anger. Her hands wipe at her cheeks. "If you're going to insist on being here, can you at least turn around? You didn't pay for the show."

He has no idea what to say to her. She's owed an apology, but if he apologizes for one thing he'll have to apologize for a thousand. Better to wait for her to lay into him, and deal with her accusations individually.

But instead of the tirade he expects from her, she turns her head slightly, enabling her to avoid his gaze but still keep an eye on him. When she lifts her right hand to wipe at her cheek again her jacket falls open, revealing the gold badge on her hip.

You're FBI? Shit. I don't know if I should be proud of you, or scared. Is this some fucked-up twist of fate, or did a little Mars-nipulation get you here?

Either way she doesn't seem surprised to see him now. He doesn't know what to do with a Veronica that hesitates to yell a list of her grievances at him. Even the amount of time and distance that has separated them shouldn't make her treat him with the coldness of a stranger.

Come on, Veronica. You always come into a fight with a set idea of how you want to bring me to heel. Let me know what you want from me.

While he's just continued to stare at her, not saying anything, color has filled her cheeks, creating a blush made of pique. Her silence, combined with obvious fury, has him impatient to get this started. Just as he's about to end this standoff, she stands up and stomps toward the stairs.

"Fine. It's all yours tonight. But I call dibs tomorrow."

He's frozen by this unexpected turn, watching as she glares at him for the first couple steps of her descent. Their eyes don't connect, and he doesn't know if it's because of the sunglasses he's still wearing, or because she's so angry at him. Long after she's gone he continues to watch the stairs, both hoping and dreading that she'll come back.

Is this your game, Mars? Track me down in a place where you have me captive for the next three days, then make me sweat it out? If I know you, and I still might, I bet you won't make any part of this easy.

A/N: A huge debt of gratitude to nevertothethird for so many things: Encouraging me to continue with this story, your brilliant beta advice, not holding back on either praise or criticism, and for suggesting the song Almost Lover by A Fine Frenzy as the accompaniment to this story. Not only does it fit perfectly, you've played cupid between me and a new favorite artist.

A/N: I am finally on tumblr (link is in my profile) so maybe I'll catch you there as well. As always, please review. Even if it's to tell me this story line is completely bonkers. I may not argue with you, but plot bunnies have to be fed or they start eating your brain.

via FanFiction.Net: Veronica Mars, Last Updated https://ift.tt/1xolg6i March 25, 2019 at 05:20PM

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