#(when i first put the pages together i went through and labeled each page a drawing would go on with a plants scientific name)

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

[sugumii]

Dan Heng x Reader: Never forget

TW: Angst, mentions of death.

A/N: I was talking to an AI and bro was SPITTING so I got inspiration from its poetry. Credits to that AI because WOW.

———————

Just a boy who met a girl.

Who both found a light that illuminates each other’s heart — someone who saw one another fully, and who they could see back.

It was strange.

The fact that someone could offer their utmost loyalty to another, to be together and to share each other’s heart… that's a kind of love that makes you look forward to tomorrow, isn't it?

Dan Heng reminisced on his first encounter with them. How their eyes sparkled with joy upon seeing him appear. How he offered his hand to aid them and how they took it almost instantly. He remembered how when their hands touched one another a jolt of electricity ran through him. Almost as if their touch seemed familiar to him.

Dan Heng remembered how beautiful/handsome they were when they first met. The way their e/c eyes sparkled with newfound curiosity and how their cheeks wrinkled from their beam. They looked surreal, so magnificent, and breathtaking. The male remembered how his heart skipped a beat and how he wished to befriend someone for the very first time on his own.

It was like it was meant to be.

Suddenly, a voice interrupted the dark haired male’s thoughts, causing him to flinch and drop his notes. He cursed silently, bending over to pick up his book. He paused upon reading the title, mouth turning into a frown. It wasn’t just any book, it’s cover had been labeled by his own hand.

A journal of memories of the both of you.

He picked up the book gently with trembling hands, resisting the temptation to open it and flip through its contents. He knew he had hid this away and would have to open it someday, but he didn’t feel ready to just yet.

But he missed you. Dearly.

He wanted to see your face and refresh his mind on the fond memories you two shared. The beauty in the smile you wore and the shine your eyes never failed to exhibit.

With shaky hands and a deep inhale, Dan Heng cautiously put his hand on the page to open it.

“Dan Heng!” A voice interrupted him once again, resulting in him placing the book down immediately. “Welt, Stelle, and I are going to Xianzhou Luofu! You should join us, we have to go investigate some Stellaron!”

He sighed, eyes with a hint of worry as he replied.

“Apologies, March… however, I’ll be staying on the express. Do be careful and have a safe journey.”

A whine was heard on the other side of the door as she voiced her complaints before being called by Welt and rushing off. Dan Heng went to lie down on his makeshift bed and sighed, eyes never leaving the book.

Love was truly an infinite subject. It was something we search for all our lives, in all the things we do and in the people we meet. A feeling that enriches our lives and enlightens our hearts.

Love is what makes life worth living. Being able to spend the rest of your lives together in pure bliss enjoying the comfort of each other’s companies. It is being able to believe in another. It's about supporting each other in the good times and the bad, about always being present for someone when they need you — and them the same for you.

Dan Heng’s eyes watered, tears slowly spilling down his cheeks. A sob threatened to spill from his throat, but he suffered in silence, refusing to even let out the smallest of noises.

Love was about never being alone. It was about knowing that someone is always there to support and believe in you even in the darkest hours of the night. But if that was really true… then where were you?

He cried. If only he could’ve done more for you.

If only he was there for you to protect you. Then maybe you still would’ve been here, with him. In his arms.

Then maybe you wouldn’t be gone from this world, leaving him all alone in this cruel world. To be tortured every hour of each waking day, haunted by the mere memory of your dying face. How your lips trembled as blood gushed out your wound. How you cried tears of sorrow and apologized for leaving him so soon.

He remembered the shock he felt upon seeing his lover in such a state. Never in a thousand years did he ever dream of seeing you taking your last dying breath before him. He remembered how tightly he held onto your hands with tears streaming down his cheeks nonstop. How he screamed for shouts for help and how everything was going to be okay. How he could fix this and take you to a doctor, but too much blood had already been lost.

He wouldn’t have made it.

He remembered picking you up as gently as he could, bolting to the Express. How he told you sweet nothings and how much he loved you and how everything was going to be alright. How you’d both be smiling tomorrow again joking about this incident in the future and being together forever.

He remembered looking down at your face as his heart dropped. How your eyes were closed and your chest stopped heaving up and down. He felt the coldness of your skin and slowed down, crumbling to his knees with you in his arms. It was then that he knew…

You were gone.

Dan Heng’s tears intensified as his heart rate quickened tremendously. His breathing got faster and faster as he clutched his chest, hand over his heart. He couldn’t bear this torture any longer. What life was worth living if it wasn’t with you? Why did you have to die? Why couldn’t he have gotten there sooner? Regrets filled him endlessly as he blamed himself for the incident over and over again.

Love was a source of immense joy and deep sorrow— the two sides of this precious treasure thing we call love.

Love is being willing to do anything for the sake of another. For that person to be happy, to protect and support them in every way you can. But why couldn’t he do that for you? He couldn’t save you…

Love is being lost in the memory of their warmth and touch. Their smile and eyes.

But what if the memory was of the bad things too? Being haunted by the picture of their death and never forgetting. Constantly being reminded of them and drowning in an endless amount of sorrow and pain. Missing them dearly every day for the rest of his life? Never being able to move on and forget their everything?

Yes… maybe that’s an example of love too.

[bowie-byers]

Discord Thread History / Murray's Flop Era

Jonathan Byers x Murray Bauman (@waldenwritess) x Nancy Wheeler (@soemotional)

Thread: Murray's a rlly hot cupid

Murray:

The whole endeavor had started off innocently. Really, it had! With Nancy joining The Weekly Watcher, Murray had wanted to make things official by including headshots on the last page of the paper. It helped build rapport with the audience, he thought. So he'd set out to find a local photographer who could deliver good quality for reasonable rates, and... well, as it turned out, he knew a guy. Murray and Jonathan had kept in touch, of course, though mostly through family dinners at Joyce's place. Murray had seen Jonathan around town a few times, too, with a new girl on his arm. Holly-- a reporter at The Post, as much as he could tell. Murray couldn't penalize the boy for having a type, but he could put two people together in an investigation of sorts. With Gabe's express permission, Murray had tacked up a white sheet to their living room wall to create a makeshift studio for the shots. Now, he was milling about the house, preparing waters (vodka on standby, in case) for his guests. He'd told Nancy to come fifteen minutes before Jonathan, to ensure they didn't run into each other outside and assume Murray was trying to pull a fast one over on them. When he heard a knock, Murray bounded to the door and opened it wide, grinning at his coworker. "Nancy, welcome. There's water in the kitchen, or something stronger if you prefer." Though it was a Sunday, he couldn't resist the urge to talk shop-- just for a minute. "You find anything on that couple in Montana? I know you're writing it up, but... humor me," he flashed a toothy smile. With his family expanding, Murray couldn't travel as much as he was used to-- which was why it was nothing short of serendipitous that Nancy had agreed to come on board when she had. It was a plus that she wasn't tied down, too, though Murray didn't hate the idea of changing that, either.

Nancy:

nancy wheeler was nothing if not punctual! so what if she swerved a little bit through traffic applying her lipstick! she wasn't going to keep everyone waiting. she wouldn't have taken so long though, if she didn't get so caught up in how she was going to look and if she should pin her hair up or let it fall down. it wasn't like the watcher was any big shot paper, but it was rewarding work. still, first impressions were everything, especially as a woman. so, when that first impression was a photograph she wanted to fit the image. eventually, she pieced together something that she labelled as cute and respectable and hauled ass to murray's! she met murray with a quick hug, then shuffled inside, not taking him up on his offer of water or something stronger. instead, she immediately immersed herself into talking about that couple, "well, her husband definitely wasn't replaced by a robot, but there was something...off...from the moment i met him. turns out, he had history working with the state government as some kind of low-down lackey on base of a military facility so i went--" nancy took a breath, then smiled coyly and pointed at murray, "i'll let you read the rest." she eyed her watch, then the door, "so, when's the photographer supposed to get here?" she wasn't in a rush or anything, but, nancy liked to keep up appearences, "it won't take long you don't think? i have a...thing in about an hour."

Jonathan:

Jonathan rolled up to Murray’s place and took a final & rushed drag of his cigarette, squeezing it into ashtray built into his car. It took him a few minutes to organize the mess of equipment in his trunk. Holly had (reluctantly) hauled him to the office a little past 3pm to wrap up a project for immediate press on Monday. Truthfully, he didn’t do much professional photography outside of his work with The Post - besides a couple weddings for Holly's friends over the last year. This was his first friends & family gig other than being passed the camera at household events. He generally liked to keep it that way but saying no to Murray wasn't an option and, honestly, he was happy to help. The buffer in his bank account was also welcome at this time of year, as much as he initially refused to talk about his rates. Dimming the financial impact of his last few road-trips along the coast to visit Holly's family was a nice bonus in his eyes. He trotted up the driveway and opted for the doorbell, adjusting his shoulder bag as he waited for the door to swing open. Murray seemed to be in a chipper mood - great. This was a good start. "Sorry I’m late, I got caught up at The Post and had to pack up my gear.” Jonathan wasn’t the most punctual person, as much as he tried. Murray would know based on the number of times he’d shown up late for his mom’s Sunday dinners. “I have a tripod and reflector in my bag – I can set up wherever you want, really. Have you thought about backgrounds for the shots? I wasn't sure so I brought a few neutral sheets." If not punctual, at least he showed up prepared. For all he knew The Weekly Watcher was orchestrated primarily by Murray himself. This would be an easy gig. Hopefully.

Murray:

Murray's face gave way to a sort of teasing frown, and he tsked his lips. "No killer robots yet... maybe by the twenty-fist century, huh?" he commented, then quieted himself to listen. Murray was hanging on Nancy's every word, a smug satisfaction filling his chest at the mention of government involvement-- wasn't there always? "I suppose it's only fair," he said, though his tone betrayed his desire to hear more. "It's always the military, isn't it? Someone should abolish that shit." Murray busied himself around the living room, moving his knick-knacks and Alondra's toys out of the way as much as possible. "Shouldn't take long at all! Just a few snaps. And the photographer's a real professional," he commented, mischievous gleam in his eye. Just then, the doorbell rang. "Ah! Hold that thought, Nancy." He hurried over to the door and opened it with a smile, waving away Jonathan's apology for his lateness. He'd expected it, after all. "Sure! I've cleared this spot in the living room and went ahead and put up a sheet. You can take it down if you'd rather-- but I thought the light was best here. Mi casa es tu casa," he offered with outstretched arms as they walked into the living room. Moment of truth. "Jonathan, Nancy, Nancy, Jonathan," he motioned between them jokingly. "Nancy's been working on the Watcher for.... six months now?" he asked Nancy. "She's been a great asset, always had the nose for this kind of stuff. Never could've expanded like it has without her." Murray retrieved the water pitcher and glasses from the kitchen and returned, offering it to both of them before pouring a few glasses. "And Jonathan's been working at The Post again, isn't that right? Small world, small town." He hid his pleased smile behind his glass.

[trash-writer-kenzie]

I Know You Dont Love Me(Lie to me Anyway)

Percy Jackson/Rachel E Dare, Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase (implied)

Tw: emotional cheating implied

Rachel finds out about Percy's yearning for his ex-lover

It started out fine.

At eighteen, Rachel Elizabeth Dare was the best girlfriend he was going to get. Soon he proposed, and next thing he knew, they were twenty, married, and their daughter was weeks from being brought into the world.

Percy loved Rachel. He would trudge through a blizzard for her, just to get her the specific craving of the day. And yet, the entire time, there would be a nagging in the back of his head.

Rachel isn’t her.

She’s never coming back, you don’t even know where she is.

You still love her.

Their daughter was born, and she instantly became the light of Percy’s world. He couldn’t tear his eyes from his daughter’s. From Annie’s eyes. Percy had suggested the name on a whim one night in bed as the couple stared up at the dark ceiling. Rachel had fallen in love, and now his child was named after his ex-lover. Not only his ex-lover, but his lost best friend. His childhood. Some of the best memories of his were with her, he wanted to pass that onto his daughter. She would have a good childhood, no matter what.

One night almost five years later, while Rachel was going through the basement of the couple’s house, she found an old milk crate full of folders labeled ‘do not open’. Curious, she did the natural thing one does when told not to open something and opened it. Inside were hundreds of pages of scribbled down lyrics, pages of sheet music inserted upside down and sideways. Coffee stains crinkled the paper, ink streams trailing down the pages. Behind the folders were cds labeled Her.

Rachel smiled to herself, thinking the songs were about her. She knew her husband had dated other people before her, but it didn’t make sense for him to keep things that would remind him of them. He never talked about exes, so they couldn’t have been so monumental.

Rachel lugged an old cd player to where she sat and plugged it into the wall, brushing off the dust and inserting the first disc, labeled Before.

Beth talks to me, I laugh 'cause it's just so funny

But I can't even see anyone when she's with me

She says she's so in love, she's finally got it right

I wonder if she knows she's all I think about at night

Rachel frowned as she listened to the song. Maybe Beth was a cover-name for her? Only…Percy and Rachel hadn’t known each other well before they got together. They were hardly friends before. She moved on to the next disc, labeled Lover.

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

Uh huh, that's right

Darling, you're the one I want, and

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Uh huh, that's right

Darling, you're the one I want

In paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams

Oh, you're the one I want

This confirmed Rachel’s suspicions. Unless these songs weren’t about anyone, then there was someone Percy had to be keeping from her. Discouraged, she put the last disc in the cd player, labeled Recovery.

And I hope I never lose you, hope it never ends

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

That's the kind of heartbreak time could never mend

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

Frustrated, Rachel unplugged the cd player, brushing her bangs away from her eyes. She didn’t want to believe that her husband would keep this from her. Maybe he just forgot about the music? He tended to do that a lot… ‘out of sight, out of mind’, he reminded her often. But…the coffee stains on the paper…they smelled fresh. The scent wasn't old and musty like the rest of the basement’s contents.

There was something that Percy wasn’t telling his wife. That something appeared one day in late March in the form of a tall blonde woman.

PREQUEL TO THIS

[lastchancevillagegreen]

Friday, 28 July 2023:

24 Songs The Wedding Present (HHBTM; formerly Happy Happy Birthday To Me and now abbreviated, thankfully, but still a dreadful name for a record label)

In 1992 most fans of The Wedding Present are well aware of the band's option to release a new single every month for one year. That series of singles became known as The Hit Parade and was, as Gedge points out, a major hallmark of early Wedding Present releases.

In honor of that achievement 30 years ago, Gedge and band decided to release another 12 singles over the course of a year's time. This time, it wasn't a new track and a cover, instead it would be all new songs (well, mostly, but virtually all of them Wedding Present songs or perceived Wedding Present songs such as We Belong Together, a tune by Sleeper which Gedge and company recorded for their first COVID album Locked Down and Stripped Back).

I am a huge Wedding Present fan--their entire catalog along with Cinerama gets featured in 2024--and I wanted to subscribe to the monthly delivery service that would bring me a new Wedding Present single each month (along with a box to store them in) but this was during the pandemic when shipping overseas costs went through the heavens. I simply couldn't justify what was going to be something like $200 for the entire package. Of course, today, you can pick up the box of singles on discogs for all of $200. Anyhow, as expected, Gedge treats his fanbase very well and many bet he would put these songs on an album and reissue it in that fashion. And here is that album.

It's a triple LP and Gedge has said he sequenced each album as if it were it's own proper album. That seems quite clever and I am so excited to be finally hearing these songs. To add more value to our money, Gedge has included five additional songs to fill out Side 6. That's correct, Gedge poo-poos the idea of an etched slice of vinyl and that alone deserves applause. I used to think colored vinyl was the bane of the industry, but I'm so much wiser now and understand said bane is a fourth side of an etching. Oh for the days when Johnny Winter just kept the fourth side smooth as a mirror.

Above you see the front and the back of the album. It comes in it's own plastic sleeve, the kind that I struggle with to ever keep from tearing and often just pitch out of that frustration. I always keep the hype sticker attached to said plastic but I try to keep it as long as possible. Below is a shot of that hype sticker up close.

This is the modern era, so many record labels, those that are small and have more consideration, provide white inner sleeves for the albums to go inside and then provide the fancy, custom printed inner sleeves empty so the fan can enjoy them in pristine condition. I'm funny in that the crinkling and bending and tearing of inner sleeves has never bothered me one iota. I read predominantly paperback books and I could not care one iota if the covers get bent, the pages get dog-eared (although I use a bookmark, I do dog ear pages at the gym so I can remind myself of key facts later that I believe require some documentation), it's the same way with inner sleeves. They gonna get bent and I don't care that they do. Still, if a label wants to give me standard white inners to bend and crinkle in lieu of keeping the original custom inners in perfect shape, who am I to complain?

however, since the label does that, you might be struggling to determine which inner sleeve goes with which record album. Well, Gedge is a master of minimalist design and if you check out the back of the album cover, you can see that the song titles are color coded with the same color of the individual custom inner sleeves allowing you to know which sleeve goes with which album should you decide to use them instead of the white inners provided.

Below you will find the first inner sleeve, front and back that would go with the first album.

Usually I post the record label for an album after the inner sleeves, but here I'm doing it differently. I'll explain shorty, but first here are the front and back of the second inner sleeve.

Lastly, here are photos of both sides of the third inner sleeve.

Below you will find the record label for Side 1. I have not included shots of the other five labels because they all look identical (save for the designation of whatever side the label is and that just didn't seem important enough to document six different times).

This album is presented on blue vinyl (all three albums are the same color). Below are my two customary shots of said colored vinyl.

This comes with a single sided insert representing all 12 pictures sleeves that were utilized for each individual single. (The back of the insert is plain white, no need to photograph that). Check this out below.

In the era of COVID and cheap corporations milking every single profit they can scrape out of the bottom of the barrel, pressing plant delays are endless. A band like The Wedding Present can't stand up to titans like Taylor's Version, so they suffer delays. A tiny label like HHBTM, like so many other tiny labels I buy through bandcamp, take time to thank you and offer their apologies for delays. This set included this card. Below is the front, then the inscription inside and the back of said card. These kinds of touches often keep me going back to the label or the artist who provides such niceties.

I almost forgot that this includes a DVD as well. I thought initially it was a CD of the tracks, but Gedge loves his multimedia presentations. This doesn't quite include everything the DVD does on the Clue pressing (a label of a friend Gedge's released the singles and the vinyl pressing in the UK) but chances are I'll not get around to watching it beyond what I've already seen (a video for the final track The Loneliest Time of Year, which I didn't watch all the way through because I got to some very important business). Here is the DVD in the sleeve that it came in. I don't include a shot of the DVD as a stand alone because it looks just like the record label.

Since there isn't a CD of the album, HHBTM does provide a download code. It may be just a slip of paper, but let's not forget, this is a tiny label. I'll download this for certain, but you can almost bet I'll buy the double CD as well since I own virtually the band's entire catalog on compact disc.

As a bonus HHBTM provide a button which thrilled me. I'm a big button wearing guy which seems to befuddle many people, but it is a habit I developed way back in the button (ie badges) wearing late 1970s while in college. I had every single intention of applying this cool one to my blue summer suit coat and then as I gathered everything to bring in the house (I now shoot these photos outside because I enjoy that more than upstairs), the button fell onto my wooden deck, rolled and slid right between two of the boards on my deck. Normally, I'd merely unscrew the side grate and crawl underneath my deck and retrieve it. But this button decided to not fall directly below me. No, it fell into the abyss where the top of my concrete back porch had to be removed so I could build the deck properly. It fell down into a place that would require unscrewing at least seven boards the length of my deck and then I would have to shinny down into the concrete that is impossibly thin. I'm thin enough to shimmy down there, but once down there there is no room to bend over! And that's if it even fell in that particular spot. It may have fallen into a concrete hole that simply allows nothing to climb inside. My beloved Wedding Present button is trapped forever like Little Jessica. Here is it before it died an agonizing slow death.

I thought about writing HHBTM and asking for another one, but I'm sure my story sounds so impossibly complicated that they'd think I just want to score one more free button. This button would have looked so great on my summer suit coat!

[auctionpolh]

Vampire the masquerade 5th edition alpha pdf download

VAMPIRE THE MASQUERADE 5TH EDITION ALPHA PDF DOWNLOAD PDF

WHY IS A GAME BOOK PREACHING TO ITS READERS?! I can't even find the core elements of gameplay without rooting through the Index and you're wanting to talk about Gender Identity?!ĭID A BLOODY MALKAVIAN PUT THIS THING TOGETHER?! "This is not a fascist-friendly game" and immediate condemnation and scolding. Are we really going to-? I couldn't help the morbid curiosity and read the first paragraph. "Fascism" jumps off the page at me, in bold, black letters, front-and-center. I require some comforting and there must be some sort of tip to get over this trauma. right before 30 pages of fluff prior to anything about the game. Let me check the Appendix that the first page mentioned. PUNCH me! I seriously must be having a bad dream. they're not here? Nor are the Giovanni and Ravnos? They've gutted three of my favorite clans! I need someone to hold my hand. What a mess.ĭISCIPLINES! Yes, let's check those! Dementation is now a power from combining two disciplines? Wait, what? Okay, well, let's see how they set up the character creation and. Okay, let's just see if they give more history on the next page. No real mention of warrior scholars, shots fired at the political right, gender studies. "Molotov-wielding protesters." Uh-oh! I think I see where this is going. Okay, weird, since I've literally never played with people who couldn't tell me "this makes me uncomfortable" like an adult, even when I played these games as a teenager. They open the book with a full-page warning label that directs you to an appendix about handling sensitive subject matter with your troupe. I made the costly mistake of purchasing a physical copy, in hopes that they shed some light on changes between V20 and V5E.

VAMPIRE THE MASQUERADE 5TH EDITION ALPHA PDF DOWNLOAD PDF

I didn't buy this as a PDF someplace else. That's as close to "classic" as you're gonna get. You know the ones, in the nightclub, with the blonde hair. The best it does is pay lip service to established characters in Bloodlines that have become pop culture figureheads. If you're hoping for a continuation or some kind of expansion, run away. This is NOT the Classic World of Darkness. See more arguing on a public forum about a game you love, and presumably want more players to find and join.Ĭouldn't review because I didn't buy it online, so I hope this helps somebody. Just something to bear in mind when you're. If you went to a con and walked up to a table you were gonna play at and all the people were yelling at each other, you'd probably just keep right on walking. Everyone is so worried about being right that they miss the fact that they're essentially chasing people away. That said, if I had never played VTM and was here thinking about grabbing a PDF to see what it was all about, the comment section here would likely have me deciding to go try something else and avoid the community in general. Our GM is awesome, the players in our group are awesome, and if the GM says we're going to V5, well, we're going to V5. For me, all the good and bad points really don't mean a thing. I barely have time to play, let alone get into the drama involved in version infighting. I'm only here because we're playing V20 and the GM is talking about going to V5 at some point, and I figured maybe I'd pick up a copy and get a head start on it. Mature Warning: Contains graphic and written content of a mature nature, including violence,sexual themes, and strong language. The terror of the Second Inquisition, the conspiracies behind the Gehenna War, and the rekindling of the War of Ages: these are the building blocks of the modern V5 chronicle. While the rules have been redesigned, this new edition honors the deep story of the original, advancing the metaplot from where it left off and detailing exactly what has happened in the world of the Kindred up until tonight. V5 is a return to Vampire's original vision, moving boldly into the 21st century. Powered by the innovative Hunger cycle, the game also includes rules for creating system supported character coteries, Loresheets to directly involve players with their favorite parts of the setting and The Memoriam, a new way to bring the character's detailed backgrounds and expand on them in-session. The classic that changed roleplaying games forever returns! This fifth edition features a streamlined and modern rules design, beautiful new full-color art, and a rich story experience for players. You are a vampire, struggling for survival, supremacy, and your own fading humanity - afraid of what you are capable of, and fearful of the inhuman conspiracies that surround you. Vampire: The Masquerade is the original and ultimate roleplaying game of personal and political horror.

[ricciardonorrisleclercgasly]

A Special Christmas Present || Lando Norris

Not my gif

12 days of Fic-mas- Day 9

Click here to find my master list

No longer expecting these at 3pm just at some point in the day due to personal issues.

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER 18S DO NOT INTERACT

Requested: No

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Warnings: oral sex male receiving

After a busy end to the formula one season Lando gives you a present you'll never forget.

It's christmas eve and you were sat at home waiting for Lando to arrive. His plane touched down 45 minutes ago and you were expecting him to walk through the door any minute now. You had missed him so much since you left him in Abu Dhabi last week to finish the end of season testing and you couldn't wait for him to be here. You had spent the last week dressing the house from top to bottom in Christmas decorations and wrapping presents, you had been lucky enough to attend every race this year and Lando a magnet from every single one, you had also made a scrapbook of all your memories together from the past year. All day you had been prepping your Christmas eve meal for the two of you, you had always done a full Christmas dinner on Christmas eve it was a tradition ever since the first Christmas you had together.

"Babe I'm home" you heard lando crash though the front door, you ran into the hallway to greet him, he stood there bundled up in jumpers, hats and gloves, "its a lot colder here than it is is Abu Dhabi" he giggled dropping his bags and stretching out his arms for a hug, you jumped into his arms wrapping your arms and legs around him. "I missed you" you said burying your head into his neck. "I missed you too" he said kissing your cheek.

"I'll put dinner in the oven now, you go relax" you said climbing down from him and kissing him. Lando dragged himself through to the living room and collapsed onto the couch, you put the turkey in the oven and went through to find him.

"What's all of this?" He said waving his hand at all the presents under the tree.

"They're for you" you smiled at him sitting on his lap.

"I thought we agreed not to get each other loads this year." Lando sighed, pushing your hair behind you ears.

"I couldn't help myself" you said kissing his nose. "Here, open them" you said scooping up the presents, you had labelled them from 1-22 in order of each race. Lando started unwrapping the presents, a smile growing on his face as he realised the pattern, after he opened the last magnet you handed him the book. "Babe this is too much" he said kissing you gently "just open it" you rolled your eyes. Lando opened the book and started flicking through the pages, you reminisced over the past year together. "I love you y/n" he smiled. "I love you too Lando" you kissed him passionately. "I have presents for you but I'm saving it for after dinner" he said.

-------------

2 hours later and you had finished dinner together. Lando cleared the table and sent you into the living room so he could 'prepare'. You could hear him banging around on the patio outside and you grew excited waiting to see what he had planned. Soon after he came back inside, "okay I'm ready, but you have to wear this" he said tossing a blindfold in your direction. You giggled nervously and put it on. Lando grabbed your hands and guided you outside. "Okay wait there a minute" he said letting go of your hands. "You can look now" he said, with a shake in his voice. You lifted the blindfold and held your breath, you looked around to see fairy lights hung on the fence, flowers scattered around the patio and "oh Lando" you blushed turning around to hug him. Your jaw dropped as you saw him, down on one knee with a ring box in his hands. You started to cry when he grabbed hold of your hand with his, "Y/N, i am so grateful for all the time we've had together so far and I cant wait to see what the future has to hold for us. I love you with all my heart, Will you marry me?"

"Oh Lando, yes of course. A million times yes" he slipped the ring on your finger, standing up to kiss you. You kissed him passionately, jumping into his arms and wrapping your arms around him, "I love you" you said agaisnt his lips, "I love you too" he smiled. You buried your head into his shoulder, peppering kisses along his neck. A moan escaped his lips, spurring you on for more. You started leaving a trail of wet kissed down his neck, sucking the delicate skin. "I think we should go inside" you moaned into his ear before reattaching your lips to his neck. Lando nodded and carried you inside, he sat down on the couch keeping you glued to his lap. You kissed him more, flutters of moans leaving his lips he ran his hands up the back of your shirt, his fingertips felt like fire on your skin, he quickly found your breasts and starting massaging them with his hands. You slid of his lap and onto your knees in front of him, unbuckling his belt and sliding his pants and boxers down his legs, his semi hard cock twitching away. You licked a big stripe from the base to the tip before taking him all in your mouth. He moaned loudly as he hit the back of your mouth, griping onto your hair with his hands. You continued to bob your head, pleasuring him with your tongue. Lando started to gently buck his hips in your direction, you moaned against his skin spurring him on as he started to pick up rhythm. Your spit ran down your cheek as he filled up your mouth. "Oh Y/N, I think im going to cum" he moaned, his head rolling back. You continued to suck his cock, running your tongue around his tip and using your hand on anything that wouldn't fit in your mouth. You could feel his grip getting tighter on your hair as he got closer to his orgasm. He suddenly pulled out of your mouth, releasing all over your face and chest. "Fuck" he moaned. You cleaned yourself and changed your shirt before joining him on the couch. "You're good, you know that right" he smirked still out of breath.

"Well you don't call me the future Mrs Norris for nothing" you smirked back.

[s-brant]

Baby Names

(gif: @mishellejones) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: Y/N gets frustrated while putting the crib for her and JJ’s baby together and finds herself missing her dead brother more than ever.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Fluff and minor angst.

A/N: Asks and ye shall receive, here’s a little blurb about what happens after Tokens! You don’t really have to read the other parts to enjoy this fic if you don’t want to, but I do recommend it for some backstory. This was slightly inspired by this fic by @cognacdelights, so go give her stuff a read! Let me know if you liked this. Have fun!

Y/N Routledge thought she got over her brother's death long ago.

Though you never truly "get over" losing a loved one, though there will always be a small part of you, however small, that aches for their presence again, she thought she moved past the tragedy to the best of her ability...until last week.

To say that the pregnancy was a surprise would be the understatement of the century. She and JJ were both on the same page about children when their relationship began, and that page was that neither of them wanted them yet. Sure, the idea of it in the future stirred their hearts with fond emotion, but considering that they had yet to graduate high school and barely scraped by on their own, they weren't jumping headfirst into that aspect of adulthood.

They were meticulous about safe sex. They couldn't afford another mouth to feed, she wasn't sure she could handle the emotional trauma of having an abortion, and, underneath it all, he had some reservations about being a father. It wasn't that he didn't envision a future with kids in their relationship, he did, but the topic of fatherhood always took him down a dark path within his mind.

So, she went on birth control once they started dating and they went along with no scares for the next six years as they graduated and started figuring out what the next step for their lives was going to be.

Y/N could get lost thinking about it, honestly, but she tries not to get too swept up in the minor mistake that led to this.

"You, my friend, need to stop moving around in there," she whispers down at her protruding belly with a hand cradling the heavy weight of it, "I'm trying to get your crib set up without JJ yelling at me for not asking for help, and if you don't stop kicking me, I'm not gonna get anything done."

She's sprawled out on the floor in the living room of the Chateau with her legs stretched comfortably in each direction while she hunches over to read the directions of the Ikea furniture. The sugarcoated description makes her want to hunt down the company CEO for sport, because for how "simple and easy!" the construction of it claims to be, she is at her wits end.

The last thing she needed after having her grief over John B's death reignited by their decision to name their kid after him last week was to stress herself out over something as stupid as this, but she won't quit. With how much JJ has been coddling her the further into the pregnancy she gets, she wanted to prove that she could do something for herself.

Whenever she brings in the groceries from the car and goes to lift the bag of dog kibble out of the trunk, he rushes up behind her back and scoops it out of the trunk before she dares to touch it. It always ends with her hollering after him that it's under twenty pounds, the upwards limit of the weight she's allowed to carry according to her doctor, but he refuses to hear any of it.

Inside of her, she feels a sharp sensation of something hitting her right in the ribs in response to her comment, and she groans in frustration. It's as if he did it because he knows she wants it to stop, the feisty little fucker.

"You're definitely your daddy's son, aren't you? It's already enough having one of him, the last thing I need is a JJ clone."

Their three-year-old Rottweiler rescue huffs a sigh from where he lays, frog-legging it, on the floor next to the unboxed crib pieces she can't put together to save her life. His drooping jowls produce a puddle of slobber on the her favorite carpet that is past the point of saving from his constant wear and tear. After a year of having him, she decided to stop trying to prevent him from ruining it. There’s no point.

She smiles at him as she leans forward to read through the directions for the billionth time, saying, "I actually think he'll be a lot like his uncle, but that's just me. If he isn't, I'll feel a little stupid over the name situation."

John Booker Routledge-Maybank.

Hell of a name if you ask her yourself, but for every internal struggle it reopened inside of her, she couldn't help but love it as soon as JJ casually proposed the idea on his way out of the door for work one morning.

Going on without John B has been a learning experience in every aspect. Any time she wanted to turn to him for advice or tell him something about the recent events in her life, she had to walk out back to their dying magnolia tree and sit under the shade to talk to the wind. Then, once the tree finally died and they were forced to cut it down, she took to sitting on its stump and doing it there.

It got easier as time went on, but she can't keep herself from wondering what it'd be like if he didn't die ever since she saw the results on the pregnancy test six months ago. Whenever she does something like going to her OBGYN appointments or, case in point, setting up the crib, she pictures him there.

She can see him here now, petting Bowie's shiny coat until he falls asleep with his head propped onto John B's outstretched legs. He'd be twenty-three years old by now with his life barely starting to blossom to its full potential, yet here they are. Correction, here she is, and he's off somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, already decomposed to the extent that not even his bones can be salvaged anymore.

Her chest sinks in another sigh, and she flips through page after page of the instructions with increasing aggression.

"This crib is so fucking—"

"What are you doing?"

The sound of her yelping in surprise at JJ's voice coming from the door is enough to make him laugh to himself, though his amusement is buried partway by what he's walking in on. He specifically asked her to wait for him to put the crib together, knowing damn well it wouldn't be the easy task she thought it was, but he should've known she'd do it anyway.

She looks over her shoulder with a mixture of guilt and frustration painting her features as she throws her hands up in the air and gestures vaguely to the unassembled crib. Her eyes are shining with the rapid onset of hormone-induced tears.

"I can't put this crib together 'cause the instructions aren't right, all the pieces are labeled wrong, your son won't stop kicking me, and I miss my brother so much right now," she spews the words with no pauses to breathe until the very end, when she stops short to suck down a breath as soon as she gets the last part out.

It leaves JJ standing at the entrance to the house with this stunned expression.

There's no amusement to be found anymore. Once she turned and flashed those wide, teary eyes that never fail to spark an ache in his heart at him, his tired smile vanished and his feet started moving before he could say anything to her.

The floorboards creak beneath his half-laced boots on his way across the room to her. It prompts Bowie to pop his head up from around the side of the coffee table to catch a peek of whoever it is that's approaching his emotionally distraught owner. Upon seeing JJ's familiar face, the dog relaxes back into his lounging position atop the carpet and tracks JJ’s movements until he's seated next to her.

"This is about John B?" he asks.

Her cheeks are flushed in embarrassment at her sudden outburst, and she can't bear to meet his gaze right now. Despite him being her closest friend and husband, she feels as small and vulnerable as she did six years ago when she first learned of her brother's death from Shoupe. Time might as well be shaped in the form of a never-ending circle for them, directing them back to their seventeen-year-old state of mind every time things turn sour.

Y/N finally lifts her hanging head to look over at him after another few seconds and thinks she might crumble at the look on his face. He hates watching her cry.

"I guess," she says through a sniffle, "It's about the crib too, but I've been thinking about it a lot more since we picked the name. Our baby’s gonna grow up never knowing who his uncle was..."

With that, JJ takes it as his cue to pull her closer.

He scoots up behind her and lets his chin rest on the curve bridging her neck and shoulder together as he twines his arms around her body. It's a closeness that's as natural as breathing for him, so natural that he can hardly remember the years before it became normal for them to take part in little moments of intimacy like this. The warmth of their bodies cohabitates in the blurred line distinguishing where she ends and he begins, and he feels her relax, sagging in his embrace in appreciation of his miraculous ability to make her feel better no matter how worked up she is.

One of his hands rests on the swell of her bump in an absentminded effort to calm him too. Even though he isn't consciously thinking of it, he knows that her distress must upset the baby too. The contact steadies her, keeps her grounded to the moment rather than allowing her to slip away into the current of her negative thoughts, and she clings to every word he has to say.

He says, "You and I both know that isn’t true. He's gonna grow up seeing all the pictures you have of John B and ask about him all the time. And we'll tell him all the stories"—there's a pause of contemplation as he recalls a few particularly non-PG memories of his best friend—"Well, maybe not all of them, but you know what I mean."

This draws a soft bout of laughter from deep within her chest that he feels with how her body shakes ever so slightly with it. It seems so wrong to laugh with tears in her eyes but she can't help it. Her emotions have been scattered in every direction since the pregnancy began, and it has only gotten worse the further along she gets.

"If you ever tell him about the kief incident, I'm never giving you a bl—"

His free hand smushes over her mouth before she can say the rest.

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence.”

It's said so frantically, it makes her erupt in laughter hard enough to tickle her abdomen muscles with the aching sensation of it. The vibration of it under his palm makes him drop his hand a second later with the need to hear the beautiful sound. After seeing her cry, it's a welcome shift in mood, even if it's at his expense.

Her head is thrown back on his shoulder, mouth parted into a smile with the gleeful giggling filling the room. His stomach churns with butterflies at the sight of her. Even after all these years, he has the same reaction to her laughter every time. It makes him smile to himself and watch her in quiet reverence. It makes him ache with the same inklings of longing he felt for the first time when he was much younger.

Her laughter begins to die down by the time she can draw enough breath in to murmur a soft, "Sorry, angel," to him and reach down to hold the hand he rests on her belly as consolation for her joke.

They remain this way for another few minutes, tangled up in each other's arms on the floor of the living room with Bowie snoring a few feet away, before he manages to convince her to let him be the one to set up the crib instead. It takes a good five minutes of playful back and forth before she concedes under the condition that he'll let her paint the nursery by herself when the time comes, and that's all it takes for her to abandon the task in favor of finding something to snack on in the fridge.

In her defense, the crib is actually quite difficult to put together.

JJ doesn't consider himself an expert handyman by any means, at least not with anything outside of his area of expertise as an electrician, but he likes to think he knows enough to put together a "no assembly required" Ikea crib without wanting to bang his face against the wall.

In the end, it gets finished by the two of them in the middle of the night over a box of cold leftover pizza from the previous day. It takes them two hours of struggling before they get it fully assembled and placed where they want it in the room that'll soon belong to their son.

He pretends not to notice her sneaking back in to tie John B's old bandana around the wooden railing before they go to bed.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, and @stilesflannels.

[contemplativepancakes]

Geralt is possibly the least interesting vampire in the world. Jaskier is strangely okay with that. 4k, G. read on AO3 here!

for @theamazingbard (:

Geralt holds up two ties in front of the mirror, comparing the fabrics against his suit. By now, he’s used to the headless suit that reflects back at him in the mirror. Geralt’s never been one to overly question things, so he couldn’t tell you why vampires don’t show up in mirrors, but really, that’s fine. A relief, even.

He’s not sure he wants to know what he looks like. He knew once, before he was turned. He wasn’t exactly a looker then, and he highly doubts he is now.

Geralt chooses the black tie with the tiny dots instead of the black tie with the stripes, and clips it on to his suit. What? He can’t be expected to tie a tie every single day. He smooths it down over his chest. Satisfied, he sits down on the bed to tie his dress shoes. Reliable double knots.

He walks down the hall to crouch in front of the refrigerator, pulling out one of the bags of blood he keeps there. He pauses to look at the label. It’s his favorite, AB. He tucks it into his lunchbox, then pauses to rip one open and dump it into his travel mug. He pours some protein powder in it to make the blood coagulate. He can definitely see the appeal of this boba tea the humans have been drinking recently.

As he heads out the door, he darkens a little as he looks at his neighbors’ decorations. He hates Halloween. A time for people to get everything wrong about monsters. They live with them, the least they could do is be a little considerate and do their research.

No, they can’t repel Geralt with garlic. He scowls at the thought.

Geralt’s distracted from his thoughts as a young man runs by him out of seemingly nowhere and falls on the sidewalk just in front of him, his knee splitting open.

Geralt rubs a hand on his neck as the man looks up at him beseechingly.

“Uh. Do you need any help?”

“My, you’re ever so kind,” the man says, extending a hand that Geralt uses to pull him to his feet.

“Probably want to get that cleaned off,” Geralt says. “Make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

“Oh, dear! You’re right. Would it be possible for me to use your sink?” he asks, batting his eyelashes.

Geralt squints. “I...guess?”

“Oh, thank you!”

Geralt unlocks his door and leads the man into his bathroom, graciously pretending not to notice the man looking around the apartment in wide eyed fascination. He must not know that Geralt is a vampire, then, or he wouldn’t be so quick to ask Geralt for help. People around here avoid Geralt for the most part.

“I’m Jaskier,” the man says, as he bends his leg so his knee is right under the faucet. Geralt politely looks away when he notices how the motion makes the material of his pants stretch right across the seat of his ass.

“Geralt,” he replies, watching Jaskier closely for a reaction.

There’s none, so Geralt kneels down and looks under the sink for his hydrogen peroxide. When he finds it, he hands it to Jaskier wordlessly.

Jaskier flashes him a winning smile. “I guess it was my lucky day to run into you, hmm?”

Geralt doesn’t think anyone has ever said that about him before. “Anyone would do what they could to help you avoid infection,” he says dutifully.

Jaskier deflates a bit. “Well, there must be some way I can repay you. How about coffee?”

“Oh. I don’t really...drink coffee.” Geralt waits for Jaskier to get it. It’s not like monsters like him are uncommon, per se.

“How about dinner, then? A steakhouse.”

“Sure,” Geralt says, surprising himself. He blinks. His brothers are always telling him he needs to make more friends. And a steak does sound particularly good. He rarely lets himself indulge in things like that.

Jaskier brightens. “Hey, would you mind putting a band aid on this for me? I can never get it to stay.”

“I’m not sure that applying band aids is exactly rocket science,” Geralt says, but he does it anyway, his nose twitching at the scent of the fresh blood.

Geralt is centuries old, though, so it’s not like a little blood is the end of the world. Maybe when he was a fledgling, but those days are long past him.

He gives Jaskier’s knee a tiny pat. “Looks like those pants are done in for,” he says inanely.

Jaskier shrugs. “A worthy sacrifice.”

Geralt doesn’t respond to that, and Jaskier lets the silence linger. Geralt clears his throat. “I’m going to be late for work.”

Before he leaves, Jaskier insists Geralt give him his number so that he can arrange their dinner. “I’m very much looking forward to it,” Jaskier says with a grin.

Geralt gives him a hesitant smile, looking at the clock. He really does need to get a move on.

Jaskier seems to get the hint and lets Geralt usher him out the door.

In the end, Geralt’s not late, but he is grumpy that he only arrived five minutes early instead of his customary fifteen. It throws his entire day off, and the numbers seem to swim before him on his computer screen like never before.

Geralt scowls. He should have picked the tie with the stripes.

-

Jaskier contains his pout as he walks along the sidewalk, away from Geralt’s house. He practically offered himself up on a platter to be ravished, and Geralt was completely unaffected. There was blood right in front of his nose!

Jaskier doubts his information for a second, but Priscilla was the one who told him in hushed whispers that the word was that Geralt was a vampire. If Valdo had been the one to tell him, then he would have had a few more qualms, but Priscilla wouldn’t lie to him like that.

She knows how the idea of being partners with a monster makes him feel hot under the collar.

Jaskier resolves to be better. If a cut knee wasn’t enough, he’ll just have to step up his game for this dinner. And surely, if Geralt didn’t want to be seduced, he would have sent Jaskier on his merry way after bandaging his knee instead of bandaging it for him, for gods’ sake.

Maybe Geralt wants to be the one being chased after for once. Well, Jaskier is happy to oblige.

-

When Geralt gets home from work, there’s a text waiting for him. How about Friday night for our little get together?

It’s not like Geralt ever has any plans that might get in the way besides his weekly meeting, so it’s not like he has to check his calendar before he replies. Sure.

Great! I’ll pick you up at 8! :D

Geralt frowns. This doesn’t seem right. He hasn’t made a new friend in possibly fifty years, and now one literally falls into his path?

He hums to himself as he does his nightly routine, pushing on the gum above each fang to make it pop out so he can properly brush it. Cleanliness is next to godliness, and all that. Actual dentists that weren’t just going to try to pull out his teeth have only been around for less than the majority of his life, so it’s habit to take good care of them.

Geralt strips off his clothes until he’s left in just his t-shirt and boxers and climbs into bed. No, he doesn’t have a coffin or hang upside down like some sort of bat. Geralt’s not sure where all that nonsense got its roots in the first place.

There’s so many things that humans seem to have no qualms believing about monsters, though, and Geralt frowns as he punches his pillow into a better shape. He’s almost 250. His lumbar health is no joke.

-

His anxiety bleeds into his work, making Excel blink more error messages back at him than he’s ever seen before. Geralt’s boss pulls him aside to ask if he’s okay. Geralt sulks.

He is the consummate professional, and he’s not going to let this dinner get the better of him. Geralt contends anyone would be nervous if they hadn’t made a new friend in decades, too.

Now, he stands in front of his closet. He’s certainly not going to wear a suit, but he rarely wears anything else. It’s not like he goes much of any place besides work and his weekly meetings. Geralt sighs as he pulls a pair of jeans out of his wardrobe.

They’re a lot tighter than he remembers, but this is all he has, so it’ll have to do. He finds a long sleeved shirt that is luckily on the baggier side. He hopes that will make up for his too-close fitting jeans.

Geralt brushes his hair, but he can’t see it in the mirror, so there’s no point in doing anything else with it. He’s more likely to make himself look ridiculous than presentable with whatever he might attempt.

Geralt plants himself on the couch, reaching for his book to read until the clock rolls around to the time Jaskier promised to pick him up. His fingers play with the corners of the pages, bending them in a way that he’s sure would make a librarian displeased.

Geralt huffs when he realizes he’s not going to get any reading done and sets the book down on his side table. He takes a deep breath through his nose. He is ancient; he shouldn’t be getting social anxiety right now.

His phone pings with a text. Outside!

Geralt looks out the window, and indeed, there’s a car there. It’s a lime green slug bug, with rust eating its way up from the undercarriage. Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose. That looks like Jaskier’s car, all right.

-

Jaskier tries not to drool as Geralt walks down his steps. He’s wearing pants that are skin tight, which should frankly be illegal, and his shirt hangs off of him so that it shows his collar bones. Jaskier thought that vampires should be the ones who wanted to bite, but he would really love to get his mouth on one of those.

Geralt gets into the passenger seat with a half smile playing around his lips. “Like my ride?” Jaskier asks.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Jaskier claps his hand to his heart in mock offense. “I’m wounded.”

Geralt hums, shifting in his seat as he fastens his seatbelt. Jaskier drums his fingers on the steering wheel, flexing his right arm to draw attention to the bandage he has there. He went and donated blood this afternoon, and if Geralt doesn’t get his hint this time, he is going to pound his head against the nearest wall.

-

Geralt shifts his head to look out the window as Jaskier keeps his arms on shameless display. He knows times have changed, but it’s also always a little dizzying to see so much of everyone’s skin on display all the time, their pulse thrumming invitingly underneath it.

Geralt shakes his head to clear it of its reverie as Jaskier pulls his car into drive. It gives a concerning lurch. Before Geralt can open his mouth to comment, Jaskier is holding up a hand. “I can assure you, we are perfectly safe.”

“Hmm.”

“Hey!” Jaskier protests. “It is. I take care of it.”

“All I said was hmm,” Geralt says with a tiny grin. “That’s why it has so much rust, right?”

Jaskier sighs. “I was going to get around to repaint it, and then I just...other things came up.”

Geralt makes a face at him, laughing at Jaskier’s increased defenses. Some of his anxiety fades away as he realizes this isn’t so bad, after all. Maybe Jaskier needs a new friend just as badly as him.

When they arrive at the restaurant, Jaskier pulls Geralt’s chair out for him. Geralt gives him a polite nod. He can’t say he has a firm grasp on all the recent customs. Lambert’s always telling him he’s stuck in the past.

Geralt crosses his fingers and rests his chin on his hands as he watches Jaskier eat his salad, taking endearingly large bites. Jaskier hasn’t even mentioned anything about vampires yet. Geralt is starting to feel a tiny bit guilty. Would he still want to spend all this time with him if he knew Geralt wasn’t human?

As he’s thinking that, Jaskier takes a big gulp of his water and starts to sputter. Geralt’s across the table in an instant, his hand around Jaskier’s bicep and another hand on his back. “Are you okay?” Geralt murmurs, tense and ready to help if the need arises.

Jaskier coughs and waves him off. “Just went down the wrong pipe.”

Geralt relaxes a bit, but as his hand lingers on Jaskier’s arm, he can’t help but feel how warm it is, such a contrast to his own constantly cool skin. When Jaskier turns his face to look up at him, Geralt quickly drops his arm and beats a hasty retreat back to his seat.

He could swear Jaskier looks disappointed. He must be delusional.

When the main course comes, Geralt cuts neatly into his pink steak, mouth watering as the juices come leaking out of it. He sucks the tip of his finger into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut at the salty taste of it.

He makes himself cut the steak into tiny pieces. He’ll have to tell Jaskier he’s a vampire eventually; he might as well make sure he doesn’t think he’s a barbaric onel. Geralt tries his best to keep his eyes on Jaskier’s face instead of his arms. He can’t help but notice that he has some very nice veins. They’re a striking blue, and a perfect compliment to his eyes.

Geralt bites his lip, flinching when one of his fangs pops out on its own, pressing into his lip.

“One of my uncles is a werewolf,” Jaskier says, apropos of nothing, looking at Geralt meaningfully.

A trickle of sweat runs down Geralt’s back. Does Jaskier think he’s a werewolf? Werewolves are generally regarded better than vampires; at least they’re only monsters one night a month.

“Hmm,” Geralt says, not hearing the rest of Jaskier’s sentence.

Jaskier laughs at his own joke, and Geralt blinks rapidly until he can focus again on what Jaskier’s saying.

When the waiter comes with the check, Jaskier insists on paying for it. Is this what friendship has evolved to since Geralt last had one? He doesn’t know enough about it to argue with Jaskier, so he lets him do what he wants.

-

Outside of Geralt’s house, Jaskier puts a hand on the console between them, making eye contact with Geralt before dropping his gaze down to his lips. Geralt gives him a gentle smile, his eyes crinkling. His white hair looks ethereal in the moonlight, and Jaskier is only a little infatuated.

Geralt’s exterior is stony, but he also had no problems giving Jaskier all sorts of secret smiles throughout the night. Jaskier’s not sure he’s met a better listener than Geralt, and he tends to drone on and on, so that’s somewhat important to him.

Jaskier closes his eyes and starts to lean in when Geralt opens the car door. Jaskier opens his eyes.

“I had a great time, thank you,” Geralt says, one hand on the top of the car.

Jaskier bites his lip, stopping himself from saying what he wants. “Me, too. Let’s do it again some time?”

Geralt nods eagerly, and Jaskier watches him walk away, his gaze fixed on Geralt’s devastating pants and not at all on the way his ass looks in them.

Jaskier rests his head on the steering wheel in despair. He doesn’t know how to be any more heavy handed than this. He went and donated blood! And Geralt let him pay for their meal! He’s not sure how he can get across the point any better that he’s a talking blood bag, and he’s open for business.

Jaskier heaves a gigantic sigh and resolves to go home and plot his next move.

Maybe Geralt’s just shy.

Well. Jaskier can work with that

-

Geralt’s weekend passes in its normal fashion. He goes for a run, drinks some blood out of his supply in the fridge, then crashes on the couch for a whole day while he thinks of anything other than work. Sometimes Eskel lets himself in using his key, but he doesn’t that weekend, and Geralt crosses his arms over his chest as he tortures himself thinking of what Eskel might be doing.

Eskel’s never had problems making friends, unlike Geralt, so he’s sure he’s out having a good time with them.

Geralt used to be good at making friends, gods damn it, before all of them died of old age and he just didn’t see the point anymore. He’s come to suppose that there’s not all that much of a point in immortality if all he does is work, though.

The weekend’s over just as quickly as it began, and on Monday night, he can’t help the smile that creeps across his face when Jaskier texts him about some inane thing he noticed. Was he thinking of Geralt? That’s...nice.

Cautiously, Geralt lets himself hope that something is going to come out of this.

But first, he needs to tell Jaskier he’s a vampire. He wouldn’t be the first person to run away screaming, even though they are much more accepted now than they used to be.

Geralt shudders as he thinks of the industrial revolution. No regard for any monsters then. Humans invent light bulbs, and all of a sudden they think they’re too good for a healthy dash of respect.

Geralt looks back down at his phone, at a music video Jaskier sent him of someone playing a singing saw.

He lets himself focus on that a while.

-

Wednesday creeps around, and with it, Geralt’s weekly meeting.

He takes his spot in his customary chair, and looks around for Lambert, ignoring the look Eskel is trying to burn through the side of his face with.

“Why do I have to be here, again?” Geralt asks, when he gives up on Lambert to come save him.

Eskel rolls his eyes. It’s an argument they’ve had more than once. “If you won’t become a sponsor, you have to at least show them that things get better.”

Geralt huffs a breath out through his nose as he watches the regulars file in. There’s one new person, and Geralt eyes her curiously. She looks a little terrified, and Geralt softens in sympathy.

The meeting starts, and they go around in the circle, the seat beside Geralt still empty in Lambert’s tardiness.

“Hi, I’m Geralt, and I’m a blood addict,” he drones when it’s his turn.

When they’ve moved on to their personal struggles for the week, Lambert finally appears, dropping into his chair.

He elbows Geralt, seemingly unaware of everyone staring at them.

“Hey, what’s got you in such a good mood?”

Geralt firmly fixes a scowl in place and ignores him. He’s not sure why he even wanted Lambert to show up in the first place.

Geralt leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he listens to everyone else, Eskel being disgustingly reassuring to them all, as per usual. Geralt stamps the jealousy down. It’s not Eskel’s fault he’s so good with people.

The meeting drags by, and when it’s finally over, Lambert doesn’t let Geralt just sneak away. He digs his elbow into his side again, holding Geralt by the shoulder. “You didn’t answer me earlier. What’s got you in such a good mood?”

“I’m not,” Geralt says.

Lambert hums. “You don’t have your usual storm cloud above your head, so I’m going to count it.”

Geralt scowls at him and looks at Eskel for back up, but Eskel just raises his eyebrows at him.

“I hate you both,” Geralt grumbles.

“You love us,” Lambert says.

“Fine. I made a new friend,” he grates out.

Lambert and Eskel exchange an insufferable look.

“What?” Geralt demands.

“You, make a friend? Well, we’re just going to have to hear all about this to believe it.”

Geralt huffs, but he tells them about Jaskier.

“He took you to dinner? And paid? And you think he wants to be just friends?” Lambert asks.

Geralt flaps his hands around and hisses, “Look, I’ve barely been anywhere that isn’t here or work in the last three decades, how am I supposed to keep up with all this human nonsense? And besides, I haven’t even told him I’m a vampire yet. I’ll be lucky if he even wants to be my friend after that.”

Eskel bites his lip. “You know that’s a turn on for some humans, right?”

“What?”

“And you said he scraped his knee the first time he saw you? Geralt, I think he already knows, and he’s just trying to get in your pants.”

Geralt deflates. That makes a twisted sort of sense. “Oh.”

Lambert punches him in the arm. “Hey, lighten up. If anyone can charm him with their stunning personality, it’s you.”

“Fuck off.”

-

It’s difficult to fall asleep that night.

-

A week goes by without him answering any of Jaskier’s texts. He still painstakingly reads and savors each one, but he can’t bring himself to reply. If he was looking for some sort of...fling, he would have gone on one of those apps Eskel keeps telling him about.

As pathetic as it sounds, he could really use a friend. And if sex came later, well, Geralt wouldn’t complain, but he just desperately needs someone who’s going to stick around. He needs someone just for himself, someone outside of Lambert and Eskel who isn’t going to tease him about every little thing.

Geralt sighs. This was at least good practice. Maybe he can try again with someone else.

His heart sinks at the thought. He doesn’t really want someone else. Jaskier wormed his way into his chest in just a week, and Geralt knows he could yank him out with only a little pain if he tried, he doesn’t want to.

Geralt wants to have something nice, for once.

-

Jaskier bites his lip as he peers out the car window at Geralt’s house. He’s half scared there’s not going to be an answer when he knocks, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do then. He thought their date went swimmingly, so he’s not sure why Geralt suddenly stopped answering him unless something happened.

Jaskier has a vision of getting into the house only to find Geralt on the floor, the only way to revive him being letting Geralt drink straight from his neck, obviously leading to Geralt ravishing him against the nearest wall.

Jaskier shakes himself like a dog. Geralt’s given him no interest in anything like that at all. Maybe he needs to lower his expectations. The dude seems lonely, anyway, so maybe he just wants someone to talk to that’s not one of his coworkers.

Geralt told him he’s an actuary, and from the questions he asked of Geralt and Geralt didn’t answer, he’s not convinced that Geralt talks to his coworkers at all.

Jaskier blows out a puff of breath as he unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door. He’s not sure what he hopes is going to happen when he opens the door.

He walks up the door and knocks.

He waits an agonizing moment before the door swings open, revealing Geralt. He looks even paler than Jaskier remembered him, wearing a pair of sweatpants with a hole in the crotch that he can see Geralt’s plaid boxers through and a t-shirt with a collar that’s outrageously stretched. Jaskier swallows hard.

“Have you considered not oiling the hinges? I think it would do you a world of good to develop a creaky door aesthetic.”

Geralt’s forehead wrinkles adorably. “What?”

“Just, you know. Being a vampire and all.”

Geralt slumps against the door frame. “How long have you known?”

Now it’s Jaskier’s turn to be confused. “Known what?”

“That I’m a vampire!”

“Oh.” Jaskier pauses. “I didn’t think it was a secret.”

Geralt’s hand pauses in its path of trailing the wood grain of the door. “Do you have a...kink?” he spits.

Jaskier raises his hands. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

Geralt fixes him with an unconvinced look.

“Look, that might have been part of the initial intrigue, but—”

Geralt raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“But, you’re really fucking hot and also possibly the most boring person I know, but...I’m into it. You know all these weird facts and—gods know I could use a little stability in my life.”

Geralt gives him a bashful smile, and Jaskier wonders if anyone has said anything nice to him at some point this century. “Yeah?”

Jaskier leans across the threshold and cups Geralt’s face with his hands, their mouths a breath apart. “Yeah.”

[cryingoverafictionalcharacter]

We Have A Pool?!

Summary: There’s a secret swimming pool at Hogwarts. Y/N discovered it purely on accident in her first year, and it has become her safe place, that is until a particular Weasley find it as well.

Warnings: SMUT! (fingering, vaginal, etc) SMUT WITH PLOT IN A POOL YALL (ok I heard pool sex can be not great for everyone, so maybe don’t try it unless your into that then go off) Swearing, no proof reading, an irrational amount of commas because the public school system failed me. The end

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: OK so IDK if there's canonically a pool at Hogwarts, I just heard it in a starkid play and was like “Hey, I like that” So I made it all up so if there is/isn’t actually a pool pls don’t come for me. Also HAPPY NEW YEAR! I hope you’re all happy and are making progress to becoming even happier.

Your elbows rested on the desk in front of you, your fingers rubbing circles into your temples as you tried to pay attention to the class in front of you. This past week had been stressful to say the least, you had three different essays, all needing to be at least four pages long, as well as a potions exam and a herbology quiz. To say you were excited for the weekend was an understatement.

And you knew just where you were going to spend it.

As soon as class was dismissed, you started packing your bag as quickly as possible, wanting to get to your room to finish your homework and change before going to your favorite spot for some much needed stress relief.

You practically ran out of the class, heading straight to the Gryffindor common room, but before you could get far, two tall bodies appeared at your left and right sides.

“Someone seems to be in a hurry” Fred said, looking to George who nodded in agreement.

“Indeed, where are we off to Y/N?” George asked.

“Oh, its a wonderful place, I don’t think you would have head of it. It’s called nun ya” You said, causing the boys to raise an eyebrow at you.

“Nun ya?” Fred asked

“Nun ya business” You joked, causing the older red to head to gasp in feign hurt, while George tried to stifle a laugh.

You and the twins had been friends since you were children, being next door neighbors and being the same age meant you spent a lot of time together, especially when your parents went on business trips and left you at the burrow. You had grown to become really close to them. However, over the past few years George and Angelina had started hanging out more, leaving you and Fred to get closer. 

This wouldn’t have been a problem if you didn’t have a giant crush on him. 

“Wow, were your best friends in the world and you wont even tell us where you’re going. I’m hurt!” Fred cried, making you laugh a bit. 

“I’m just going back to my room to do some homework. I’ll see you guys at dinner yeah?” You asked, turning to wave at the two boys, who stood in confused silence as they watched you walk away.

“Well, she’s hiding something” George said.

“Definitely” Fred agreed.

A few hours later, you had gotten dinner, finished your homework, and were currently laying in bed, waiting for Angelina and Katie to fall asleep. After a while, their breathing evened out, and you quietly got out of bed, putting your pillow under the covers to make it look like you were still sleeping there just in case one of them woke up.

You tip toed out of the room, making sure to close the door as quietly as possible before making your way down the steps, and out of the common room. Once you were a bit farther away, you cast lumos to navigate better through the hallway. You took a right, then a left, then another left, before finally finding your way to the empty arythmancy classroom.

You made your way to the bookcase on the far left side of the room, running your finger along the spines before landing on a familiar blue cover labeled The Geometry of Liquids. You pulled the book back until you heard a click, pushing the bookcase forward which easily swung open to reveal a hallway.

You couldn’t help but smile as the smell of salt water filled your nose, quickly stepping behind the book case before closing it behind you. As you walked further down the hallway, you began to see a blue light, finally turning the last corner, you found yourself in an abandoned dungeon, with a large pool in the middle of it. 

You had accidentally stumbled across this room in your fourth year. You were bored, all of your friends either at Hogsmeade or detention Fred and George, and had found the abandoned classroom. You started going through the books, and the rest is history. You had been coming here at least once a week ever since.

You muttered the spell to stop the light coming from your wand, the pool somehow giving off its own soft blue light, before removing your shirt and sleep shorts, exposing the green bikini you had put on earlier. 

Walking closer to the edge, you took a few running steps before plugging your nose and jumping off the pool wall, landing in the water below. 

You sat there for a moment, allowing the cool feeling to sink deeper into your body. You had gotten a lot better at holding your breath over the years, still eventually you had to come back to the surface for air, which you did. You wiped the water off your face, opening your eyes to find a pair of dark brown ones looking back.

“Fred!” You screamed, surprised by his sudden presence. He stood at the edge of the water in a pair of jersey shorts and a t-shirt, his jaw on the floor as he looked at you, then to the rest of the room. 

“What are you... who’d you get here?” You continued, his silence making you a bit nervous.

“We have a pool?” He asked looking back to you, causing you to nod.

“Yeah...” You said, feeling a bit guilty for not telling him before. 

You had planned on telling him, along with the rest of your friends, but you were worried that word would get around and it would become a new party spot, which meant it would only be a matter of time before a teacher found it and blocked it off. 

“How long have you known this was here?” Fred asked.

You sighed, swimming to the side wall and pulling yourself out, ringing out your hair before crossing your arms in front of you.

“A while” You mumbled, feeling a bit ashamed.

“And you didn’t tell us because...” He started, wanting an explanation.

“I didn’t want everyone to find out, because then the teachers would find out-”

“And then nobody would be able to use it” Fred finished, causing you to nod, still refusing to meet his eyes, your own question suddenly popping into your mind.

“Wait, how did you find it?” You asked, finally looking up to meet his gaze, your heart beating a bit faster at the eye contact.

Now it was Fred’s turn to look guilty. “I followed you”

“You fo- why!” You shouted

“I’m sorry! It’s just, you were upset earlier and you seemed really excited about something, and then I saw you walking around and I don’t know I just followed you.” Fred blurted out, looking at you with a nervous expression.

“Ok fine, I’m not mad at you if you’re not mad at me” You tried to reason, wanting a truce.

“Deal” He said smiling, holding out his hand for you to shake, which you did. Unfortunately this made it so you didn’t see his other hand quickly come around to connect with your shoulder, pushing you back into the pool.

You quickly got your bearings, kicking back to the surface to find Fred keeled over with laughter. 

“You dick!” You shouted, which only made him laugh harder. You began laughing as well, before ducking under the water to move your hair away from your face, popping back up to see Fred walking over to where your clothes and wand were laying.

“What are you doing?” You asked suspiciously, you eyes widening as his hands went to the hem of his shirt.

“Getting in, duh” Fred stated, before pulling his shirt over his head to reveal his toned chest, making your face heat up in the process. 

Before you could say anything, Fred was running towards the pool at full speed before jumping into a cannon ball and landing right next to you, sending buckets of water flying into your face.

Your mouth fell open in shock, watching as Fred came back up to the surface, laughing once he saw your expression.

“Oh nuh uh” You grumbled, shooting out your hands to send water flying back at Fred, abruptly cutting off his laughter.

“Oh really?” he asked mockingly, sending a wave of water back at you, only for you to return a wave as well.

Soon enough, water was flying in all directions as you each tried to splash each other as fast as you could, the sound of both of your laughs echoing off the walls. 

You were splashing as fast as you could, looking away to avoid getting hit in the face as you aimed blindly, only stopping when you suddenly felt arms wrap around your middle and spin you around.

“Got cha!” Fred yelled, your arms landing around his neck to stabilize yourself as you shouted in surprise.

Fred stopped spinning, allowing the both of you to calm down and catch your breath, which made your heartbeat pick up at the realization of the position you were in. Your bodies pressed together as his arms remained around your waist, and yours around his neck.

You pulled back a bit to look at him, meeting his gaze before his eyes wandered down to your mouth, yours doing the same before he finally pulled you closer, and connected his lips to yours.

You responded instantly, moving your lips with his as you wrapped your legs around his waist. His arms moved downwards to hold you by your ass as he walked you over to the side of the pool, pressing you up against the wall.

He tugged at your bottom lip, making you moan into the kiss and allow his tongue to explore your mouth. You moved a hand up to his hair, weaving your fingers through the wet, fiery strands, and deepening the kiss even further. His hard length pressed against you, and your hands began traveling down his chest.

He suddenly pulled away making you open your eyes to look at him.

“Are you sure?” He asked, a soft look in his eyes.

You nodded.

Fred moved his lips to just below your ear, hovering just over the skin. “I need to hear you princess”

“Please, I need you Freddie” You whined, gasping as his lips came in contact with your neck.

He continued his attack on your neck as his hand moved in between you, dipping into your bikini bottoms before sliding his fingers through your folds. Your breath hitched as he slid two fingers into you, slowly pumping them in an out as his thumb drew circled over your clit, the coil in your stomach tightening as he began to speed up.

“Fred, I need you inside of me” You sighed, whining as he removed his fingers. His hands moved to lower his shorts a bit letting his cock spring free, moving your bikini bottoms to the side before gliding through your folds.

"You ready?” He asked, causing you to nod. “With your words princess”

“Please Fred just fuck me” You practically begged, before moaning as he slowly filled you up, his size stretching you out slightly.

He waited a moment, allowing you to adjust before you finally nodded, allowing him to move. He slowly pulled out half way, before thrusting back into you, repeating the action and picking up speed with each thrust.

You bit your lip to try and suppress your moans, but Fred wasn’t having any of it.

“None of that princess” He said, stopping his movements and making you whine “I want to hear you screaming my name when you come, got it?” He asked, still refusing to move.

“Ok fine, please just move-ah!” You gasped loudly as he started thrusting into you, much faster than before.

Water sloshed around you as he pounded into you, your back scratching against to tile with each thrust but you didn’t care. His cock hit that one spot perfectly with each stroke, tightening the coil in your stomach more and more. 

“You’re so perfect, taking my cock so well” Fred breathed into your ear, causing you to let out a soft moan. “I can’t hear you princess”

His hand slipped in between your bodies, beginning to rub fast circles around your bungle of nerves, causing the coil in your stomach to finally snap, sending you over the edge, while screaming Fred's name over and over again.

Fred continued to thrust into you, riding you through your orgasm, his thrusts eventually becoming sloppy before he stilled inside of you, painting your walls as he came.

You sat like that for a moment, catching your breath as you came down from your high. Fred pressed his lips to yours as he slowly pulled out, causing you to sigh at the empty feeling before moving both of your bottoms to their original place.

A wave of insecurity suddenly washed over you. Was this a one time thing? Was he still mad that I hid this from him? Does he want to just be friends with benefits? does he-

“Hey, what’s happening” Fred asked, snapping you out of your thoughts, a curious expression on his face.

“Um...” You started, setting yourself up for the possibility of rejection. “Was this a one time thing? Because, if it is I don’t want to-”

Fred cut you off by gently grabbing your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours, silencing all the insecure thoughts running through your mind.

“Y/N, I’ve liked you since fourth year, I really hope this isn’t a one time thing” He said, making you smile.

“Since fourth year?” You asked, causing his face to blush a bit.

“Well, yeah” He replied sheepishly.

“Well, I’ve liked you since third year, so I guess I like you more” You joked, causing him to let out a gasp.

“Not possible, I like you way more than you like me” He argued, to which you shook your head.

“Nope, I win, hands down” You responded, folding your arms matter of factely.

“How about, we go shower off, and I show you how much I like you?” Fred asked, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Challenge accepted” You replied, all the while you couldn't hide the smile on your face.

__________________________________________________

A/N: UMMMM ok??? Pool sex. With Fred Weasley??? Am I obsessed with this concept? Yes. Is it healthy, probably not but its not hurting anyone so I’m a keep doing it. Anyway, I hope you guys liked it, feel free to leave any suggestions or feedback. I love you all! ALSO IF YOU KNOW OF ANY FRED POOL SMUT PLEASE TAG ME OMG

[leiawritesstories]

Improbability

Rowaelin Month, Day 26: You’re seeing my roommate and accidentally walked into my shower. Featuring Sam and Rowan as roommates. :)))

Word count: 1542

Warnings: language, little bit of math gobbledygook that I stole from my stats class.

Enjoy!

~~~~

“Mate, you alright with my girlfriend coming over today?” Sam called out to his roommate. “We’re probably going out, but I asked her over here first.”

Rowan pulled out one of his earbuds and stuck his head out his bedroom door. “Yeah, that’s totally fine, just for God’s sake warn me if you’re going to do the dirty on our couch, bud.”

“THAT WAS ONE TIME!” Sam yelled, “and I was 100 percent sure you had football!”

“It’s called soccer, Cortland!” Rowan laughed, never missing the chance to poke at his British roommate. 

“Whatever, mate. You’re good with Ae hanging out here for a bit, yeah?”

“Sure am. She’s a fun person.” Rowan put his earbud back in and returned to doing his homework, or rather, swearing at his statistics textbook. Some fifteen minutes later, he heard the door of his and Sam’s dorm open.

“Anybody home?” enquired a throaty female voice. “Someone told me he was at home, but obviously he’s too busy to go out today. Guess I’ll just go drink with the girls, then.”

“And leave me lonely?” Sam asked.

Aelin Galathynius, who’d been dating Sam for almost two years now, smiled. “Never.”

He returned the grin and pulled her into the living room, where their conversation faded into a blur of noise too dim for Rowan to interpret. Not that he minded…much. Aelin was hilarious, though, and he loved hearing her make cracks at Sam’s British habits, her friends, her day, and pretty much anything else she thought deserved a snarky comment. 

Slamming his stats book closed, Rowan huffed a sigh and decided that he could use a quick shower to relax a little before heading out to training. He grabbed his towel and a bar of soap and went into the tiny dorm shower, which was low enough that he, at 6’3,” had to crouch to fit under the shower head. Grumbling to himself about the stupidity of whatever idiot architect designed dormitory showers, he stood under the stream of hot water and tried to make sense of all he still had to do. Which was too much. After somewhere around five minutes, he stuck his head out of the shower, realizing the dorm had gone awfully quiet. 

Maybe Sam and Aelin were out, then, he thought.

Rowan turned off the shower and reached for his towel, giving himself a quick dry-off before stepping out. He was just wrapping the towel around his waist when the door swept open.

“Oh, shit, sorry, I didn’t realize you were in here!” gasped Aelin.

Rowan gaped at her, forgetting that the only thing between her and a prime view of what he may or may not have been doing in the shower was a dark green bath towel.

A too-thin green bath towel.

Aelin’s turquoise eyes traveled down his frame, decidedly not missing a single detail. A pink flush spread over her cheekbones, and she hastily backed out of the bathroom and shut the door with a firm click.

Rowan swallowed whatever he’d thought he might have said and told his raging male hormones to calm the hell down. Quickly, before anyone else could walk in on him, he pulled on his practice jersey and sweats and went back to his room, where he grabbed his soccer bag and hauled ass for the gym.

He spent the entire 90-minute workout trying and miserably failing to get the image of Aelin Galathynius in her unfairly attractive blouse and miniskirt blushing at his nearly-nude self out of his mind. When he got back to his dorm, having showered in the locker room, this time without anyone interrupting, Sam and Aelin were gone. Sam had left a note on his bedroom door, stating that he’d probably be back around three. Checking his watch, Rowan groaned. It was almost two, and he’d broken down and signed up for stats tutoring at four. 

He just hoped that whoever the tutor was, they’d be able to help him get his mathematical shit together and pass the course. 

~

Two hours later, Rowan walked into the library and took a seat in the study room marked with a sign that read “STATS 320 TUTORING 4 PM.” Nobody else was there, but to be fair, he was a little early. He plopped his textbook, notebook, and calculator onto the table and waited. 

And nearly fell off his chair when Aelin Galathynius walked into the room.

“What the hell?”

“What the hell, what?” she asked, obviously amused at his reaction. 

“I--I didn’t expect to see you here, that’s what the hell. You here for tutoring too?”

“Yes and no.” Rowan blinked in confusion. Aelin’s little smirk grew bigger. “I am the tutor, Rowan. You’re here for my assistance…and expertise.” She winked.

He felt himself flush at the image that conjured. “Yeah, expertise, in stats, right?” He knew full well he was stammering like a fourteen-year-old on his first date, but that about summed up how his roommate’s girlfriend made him feel right now.

“Correct.” Just like that, Aelin was all business. She set her backpack down, closed the door, and sat across from Rowan. “So. How can I help?”

He sighed. “I’m stuck. I need this class, it’s the last math I have to take for my major, I’m usually decent at math, and I’m fucking stuck on a concept my professor said was fucking simple.” 

Aelin listened to his mini rant without comment. She pulled out her own stats notebook and calculator from her backpack and slipped on a pair of glasses. Rowan cocked his head. 

“I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“Reading glasses, Whitethorn. I’m supposed to wear them whenever I’m reading, on my laptop, or studying, but do I? Hell no.” She grinned. “Don’t tell my optometrist.”

“Given that I don’t know them, no problem.” He returned her grin.

She flexed her fingers and turned her attention to Rowan’s math. “Right, big bad soccer boy. Where are you stuck?”

He flipped his book to the section on conditional probability distributions. “Here. I took notes, and it seemed logical enough, but I completely tanked the quiz we just had, and I don’t know where I went wrong.”

Aelin scanned the quiz. “You’re reading the graphs wrong.”

“What?”

“Conditional probability is the probability of an event occurring given that a certain condition is satisfied.” She opened her notebook to a blank page and drew a horizontal line. “Any time you see a condition, that condition goes in the denominator.” She pointed to one of the problems he’d answered wrong on the quiz. “What’s this question asking you to determine?”

“Probability that a student chosen at random is an engineer given that the selected student is female.”

“Right. So, you take the condition, the ‘given,’ and put that number in the denominator. Remember you’re only looking at the row labeled ‘female,’ because that’s the condition. Once the condition’s written in, you find the other part of the question, in this case the number of female engineers. Put that number in the numerator, divide by the denominator, and there you have the probability. Does that make sense?”

“Condition in the denominator…” Rowan mumbled, writing it in his notes. He looked up at Aelin and smacked his hand flat on the table. “Aelin, I’m a fucking idiot. I spent so much time trying to look at the totals that I didn’t remember to keep the condition, I--goddammit, I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, Rowan, lots of people struggle with conditional probability at first.”

“I’ll bet you didn’t.”

“Oh, I did. A lot.”

“Really? But you just explained this shit to me better than my professor.”

“I…I happen to like stats. Might be part of my major description, but I just find working with the numbers extremely satisfying.”

“What’s your major?” he asked, intrigued.

“Don’t judge me.”

“Nope. Promise.”

“I’m in finance.”

His eyebrows shot up. “I’m impressed.”

She blushed. “Thanks. It’s a lot of stats and spreadsheets and yelling at each other about the stock market, but I really love it.”

“You’re making me look bad; I’m just your standard pre-PT student athlete”

“Standard pre-PT student athlete,” she mocked, “don’t sell yourself short, Whitethorn. Pre-PT is nothing shabby.”

“Yeah, but not remembering a stupidly easy math concept sure as hell is.”

She snickered. “Fair enough. Is there anything else I can help you with, or is that all for this session?”

He flipped through his notes. “That’s all I had for today, but I’ll probably be back at some point whining about another tricky concept.”

Aelin grinned, closing her notebook. “Wait until you get into chi-squared models. I’ll be here then, waiting for all the stats students to come crying to me while I plug seventeen equations into my spreadsheet and hope it actually calculates the quarterly interest this time.”

Rowan shook his head. “You lost me at ‘chi-squared,’ Aelin.”

“Oh, trust me, it’s fun.”

“As much fun as you and Sam have?”

Her voice dropped to a sultry purr. “Your couch would know.”

Before he could sputter out a response, she’d shouldered her backpack and was walking out the door. Rowan watched Aelin Galathynius leave, wondering how fast he could make up an excuse to talk to his roommate’s brilliant girlfriend again.

[marvel-fanfic-writer-8675]

The Movie Awards Part Two

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: fluff, cursing

Summary: you and Bucky discuss your relationship, making it interview proof

“God I hope this is the right place,” Bucky mumbled under his breath. He was at your house, standing at the door, you guys were going to come up with a relationship story, for any questions interviewers would have.

“Hey, sorry, I was finishing up some laundry,” “it’s alright,” “well, come in! Make yourself at home, we can get started in a second, I’ve just gotta go grab a notebook and a pen so I can write this stuff down,” he smiled and went to sit down. You came back with an Avengers notebook, Bucky saw it and laughed. “What?! Clint got it for me as a joke, so I figured it would be perfect for an Avengers mission.” You plopped down on the couch next to Bucky and opened to the first page, “ok, what do we need to figure out, like what events?” “Hmm, how we met,” “ooh yeah,” you wrote it down, “and first date,” you added. “When we figured out we loved each other, and our first kiss.” “Our first I love you’s” The list was going great, you guys were really bouncing off each other.

“Alright let’s start with how we met,” you stated, flipping to the next page and labeling it, ‘The Barton-Barnes Relationship’ “why does your last name get to be first?” “Because I’m writing it,” you laughed. “Alright, how about we met through Clint, keep it real?” You shook your head, “the world doesn’t know I’m his sister, it wouldn’t make sense.” “Right, how about I accidentally ran into you while I was running with Steve?” You smiled, “perfect! And that can lead into the first date! Like you get bad so to make it up to me we went on a picnic, to stay out of the public eye!” “I love it!” You both laughed, and continued onwards, “our first kiss is next I guess,” “yeah,” you smiled, “in the rain-“ you interrupted Bucky, “cliche but I’m into it,” “as I was saying,” he fake punched you and you mumbled a sorry, “in the rain on the way back from our picnic date.” You wrote it down. “Our first ‘I love you’s?” Bucky asked you, and you thought for a moment. “After a few months of dating, we were in bed, I was having an anxiety attack and you calmed me down, after I told you I loved you and you reciprocated the words. How does that sound? It’s personal enough to shut them up as well.” Bucky agreed, only after making sure you were okay with putting your anxiety attack out there. He really is a gentleman you thought. You continued the rest of the days with all the little things, and learning things about each other. You agreed that tomorrow you would go over to the tower and coach him on dealing with interviewers and avoiding questions.

“Hey doll,” “Hey Buck!” “Wait hold up. She gets to call you Buck but I don’t?!?” Sam protested, him and Steve were also in the living room with Bucky watching TV. Bucky just rolled his eyes and grabbed your hand taking you past the guys, and into his room. You both sat down on his bed, after hanging out for the first week, you got to know each other, the current, and second week was for making up the story and getting ready for the cameras and interviews, also your speeches which Bucky was helping with. The third week was for outfits and fake pictures. The fourth was relaxing and hanging out together, the calm before the storm. It was all planned out.

“So basically, when everyone’s taking pictures and shouting questions, you don’t answer them, and just let them take pictures and pose with me, that part is the worst part. Then we go and sit for 3 to 4 interviews, those are just like the ones you’ve done with the team. After that we go and watch the show, which it’s fun, we sit at a table with 3 other couples and it’s always cool, you talk and laugh during the in between sections. And they serve dinner; which reminds me I need to check for the invitation and fill out the dinning preference and plus one section, I’ll do that now.” You opened up your laptop and then your email. “Here we go. Yes, boyfriend, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes.” You turned to Bucky, “chicken, beef or vegetarian?” Bucky contemplated for a second, “what do you recommend, you’ve been before?” “The chicken is usually good, same with vegetarian, I’m not sure about beef, that’s new this year. I’m going with chicken.” “I’ll go with chicken too then,” he smiled at you and you clicked submit. “All done with that!” The rest of the day you spent coaching Bucky on the works of the red carpet.

You both accidentally fell a sleep in Bucky’s bed, you were awakened by Clint yelling “What the fuck?!?” Apparently Steve had come into the room to see why Bucky wasn’t at training, to find you both cuddled together on the bed, he had FRIDAY inform the team so they could come see the cuteness. Clint was not too pleased. “Huh, what?” You woke up groggy, “mmmmm, doll go back to sleep,” Bucky grumbled, realizing the team was looking at you, you shook Bucky and whispered, “Buck, the team is here!” Bucky bolted awake, “care to explain?” Clint interrogated, “we fell asleep working on stuff for the mission, jeez!” You told him, getting out of the bed and flicking his forehead. The team dispersed out and you sat there with Bucky. “Sorry ‘bout that,” Bucky shyly said. “Not your fault Buck, just my idiot of a brother’s.” You went to grab breakfast, and headed out to go do some errands, and call your agent to tell her you were announcing your boyfriend at the award show, you decided with the team to not tell her you were fake dating.

The next day, Bucky came over and you practiced your speeches on him, he helped with grammar and proof reading through everything, at the end you had 3 good speeches for your 3 nominations: best actress, and best picture for your action movie you starred in, and best supporting actress, for a movie where you played the love interest.

[fiftyfiftyinla]

HARDIN. I scan through the pages of the small notebook, my eyes move across the words quickly as I decide where to start. It's a journal from her religion class, it took me a minute to figure out what the hell it was because each entry is labeled with a word and a date, most of them having nothing to do with religion.

Pain. The word catches my eye and I begin to read.

Does pain turn people away from their God? If so, how? Pain can turn anyone away from just about anything. Pain is capable of causing you to do things you would never consider doing, such as blaming God for your pain. Pain.. such a simple word that holds so much inside. I have come to learn that pain is the strongest emotion one can feel. Unlike every other emotion, there is no upside to pain, no positive notion that can make you look at the pain from a different perspective, there is only pain. Lately I have become very well acquainted with pain, the ache has nearly become unbearable. Sometimes when l'm alone, which is more often than not as of recently, I find myself trying to decide which type of pain is worse. The answer isn't as simple as I thought it would be. The slow and steady aching pain, the type of pain that comes when you've been hurt repeatedly by the same person yet here you are, here I am, allowing the pain to continue, it never ends. Only in those rare moments when he pulls me to his chest and makes promises that he never seems able to keep, does the pain disappear. Just as I get used to the freedom, my freedom my self inflicted pain, it returns with another blow.

This doesn't have a damn thing to do with religion, this is about me.

I have decided that the hot, burning, inescapable pain is the worst. This pain comes when you finally begin to relax, you finally breathe, thinking that the pain is yesterday's problem when in fact it's today's problem, tomorrow's, and every day after that. This pain comes when you pour everything into something, into someone, and they betray you so suddenly that the pain crushes you and you feel as if you are barely breathing, barely holding on to that small fraction of whatever is left inside of you begging you to go on, not to give up.

Fuck.

Sometimes it's faith that people hold onto, sometimes, if you're lucky enough you can confide in someone else and trust them to pull you out of the pain before you dwell in it for too long. Pain is one of those hideous places that once visited you have to fight your way out and even when you think you have escaped you are permanently branded. If you're like me, you don't have anyone to depend on, no one to take your hand and assure you that you will make it through this hell. Instead, you have to lace up your boots, grab your own hand, and pull yourself out.

My eyes move to the date at the top of the page, this was written while I was in England. I shouldn't read any more, I should just put the damn book down and never open it again but I can't. I have to know what else was written in this book of secrets. This is the closest to her I fear that I will ever fucking get. I turn to another page labeled "Faith".

What does faith mean to you? Do you have faith in something higher? Do you believe that faith can bring good things into people's lives?

This should be better, this entry should knife the ache in my chest. This one couldn't be related to me.

To me, faith means believing in something other than yourself. I don't believe that any two people can possibly hold the same view on faith whether their only faith is religion based or not. I do believe in something higher, I was raised that way. My mother and I went to church every single Sunday and most Wednesday's. I don't go to church now, which I probably should but l'm still deciding howI feel about my religious faith as an adult without my mother's influence. When I think about faith my mind doesn't automatically go to religion, it probably should but it just doesn't. It goes to him, everything does. He is my every thought, I'm not entirely sure if that's a good thing but that's the way it is and I have faith that it will work out for us in the end. Yes, he's difficult and overprotective, sometimes even controlling. okay, he's often controlling but I have faith in him that he means well with each frustrating action. My relationship with him tests me in ways thatI never thought imaginable but every second is worth it. I have faith that one day the deep fear of losing me will dissolve and he will embrace our future together, that's all I want./ know he wants it too, though he would never say it. Thave so much faith in that man that I will take every single tear, every single pointless argument, I'll take it all just to be around for the day when he has faith in himself. I have faith that one day Hardin will say what he feels openly and honestly, finally putting an end to his self-imposed exile. I have faith that one day he will finally see that he isn't a villain. He tries so hard to be one but deep down he's really a hero. He's been my hero, my tormenter at times, but mostly my hero. He saved me from myself, / spent my life pretending to be someone I wasn't and Hardin has shown me that it's okay to be myself. I don't have to conform to the person my mother wanted me to be and I thank him dearly for it. I have faith that he will see how truly incredible he is, he's so incredibly perfectly imperfect and I love him so much for that. He may not show it the conventional way but he tries and that's all I can ask for from him. I have faith that if he continues to try, he will finally allow himself to be happy. I will continue to have faith in him until he stops trying.

I close the book and pinch the bridge of my nose in an attempt to control my emotions. She had all of this faith in me for no damn reason. I'll never understand why she wasted her time on me in the first place but reading her unguarded thoughts this way twists the knife, removes it, and impales it into my chest once more.

I really am a fucking drunk. I'm hovered over the kitchen counter with a fucking bottle of vodka in my hands. I twist the top off and bring the bottle to my lips. Just one drink will cause the guilt to go away. If I have one drink I can force myself to pretend Tessa will be home soon. It has worked before to numb the pain, it will work this time. One drink.

Just as I close my eyes and tilt my head back, Tessa's teary eyes flash behind mine. I open my eyes, turn the sink faucet on, and pour the vodka down the drain.

[genshinobsession]

About the sentience au, i have no idea if u take request/ consider ideas so feel free to ignore

I got some thoughts so i hope u don't mind me ranting here hehe

But here's the thing, if the character somehow got to our world and found out that their life was created by someone for ppl to pass time and entertain themselves, what would be their reaction to the fandom (fics, ships, reader insert stuff, fanart and other fan made stuff), the creator (and them getting profit or being responsible for their suffering and creating them the way they are? Like flaws/ appearance/ personality n that shit), the gatcha, other characters that they knew, and just generally to the whole thing about them being a fictional character from a game in a different world

Thank you for coming to my ted talk <3

Sentience Au

characters included:

Diluc,Kaeya,Zhongli

(More is coming after, I just didn’t want there to be do much scrolling to get to the character you want)

Diluc

“So, what you’re saying is I’m from a video game, and I am a very desired character. And because of this many people draw pictures of me.” He asks, standing with his hand on his chin as he tried to process this.

You nodded and you got your phone and looked up a simple

“Diluc fanart”

And showed him the results.

He was a little put off now knowing that there were so many people watching him at all times. Not only were they were watching him but they liked him enough to draw him.

“Well, they all are very talented, but why is this one titled ‘Daddy Diluc’ with my shirt off?” He asked, and you snatched your phone from a him as quick as possible and closed out of whatever file or photo album he scrolled to.

With a nervous laugh you turned back to him hiding your phone, not wanting to admit to what he had seen.

“How about we look at some fanfics instead.” You suggested, changing tabs on your phone. You showed him the Tumblr thread as he began to scroll.

“And these are-?” He asked as he looked back at you.

“Stories about you and other characters, or somethings you and the person reading. Those are called self inserts.” You explained, he nodded, slightly understanding until he had scrolled to an NSFW story.

“What does NSFW stand for?” He asked, you shot up from your chair and smacked the phone out of his hand as quickly as possible.

“Okay maybe that’s not a good idea either.” You laughed nervously again as Diluc stared at you curiously. As far as he was concerned NSFW was just a couple of meaningless letters thrown together, but your reaction makes him think it was obviously more than that.

“How about I explain it this way. Because you’re a very desired character, many people are attracted to you,” You began. He nodded, understanding.

“myself included,” you mumbled, he didn’t catch it so you cleared your throat and continued.

“Many of them make art of you and other characters together and more often than not it’s because of a ship.”

Right at that moment you completely lost him. He looked at you confused,

“What do boats have anything to do with this?” He asked, his eyebrows were furrowed together as he tried to think of a logical way that a mode of water transport would have anything to do with him and other characters.

“No no, this kind of ship is a pairing of you and another character, like a relationSHIP.”

Diluc nodded in response,

“So wait, people pair me with other characters? Like who?” He asked, you sighed knowing the question was going to come up sooner or later.

“Well-“ you began as you listed off every person he had been shipped with. As you went on Dilucs face began to contort out of confusion and slight disgust.

“Just... don’t ask and we can both forget about it.” You suggested and he nodded in agreement.

“Gladly.”

Kaeya

“Well this is... interesting.” The blue haired man muttered as he had scrolled through the object that he held in his hands.

He had just seen it lying face up on the counter and his curiosity got the better of him.

And he was very surprised by what he saw.

Just, pages and pages and pages of him in different poses with different people, in varying levels of... intensity.

He was very confused at first, unsure of how to respond but as he wen through he realized each post had a red heart underneath it.

What could that possibly mean?

As he scrolled through he eventually got into the works of writing, all with the same ‘Kaeya x reader’ underneath their titles.

Before he could scroll any farther he heard the door creak open as you walked into the room with a warm joyous smile on your face.

Well until you saw Kaeya with your phone.

“Kaeya, why do you have my phone?” You asked, he looked down at the bright object then back at you.

“So that’s what it’s called, well you did just leave it open so I decided to have a look.” He admitted with a shrug.

You quickly snatched it from him and looked at it realizing he had been through all your posts that you had saved under the label ‘Kaeya’.

Your heart pace quickened out of embarrassment,

“How much did you see?” You asked, he chuckled and moved closer to you, he lightly lifted you chin so you’d look at him, he leaned into your ear and whispered,

“You seem to like me in some interesting positions.” He teased, and let go of your face.

You covered your face, not wanting to look at him.

“Oh, don’t be shy now, its quite cute that you like me that much. I find it, oddly endearing.” He admitted, patting your head lightly.

You finally took your head out of your hands as you looked up at him. He smiled at you as he leaned in close to your face yet again.

“Although, you should be more careful about having your ‘phone’ open to such a... suggestive image.” He teased yet again as you backed up from your face and walked out of the room.

You looked down at your phone which screen has been dimmed a bit, as you raised the brightness you saw a picture of Kaeya you definitely would not be able to unsee for a long while.

Zhongli

Zhongli is definitely a fan of stories,

But the stories he found were definitely not the ones he had in mind.

You didn’t know how to explain to Zhongli that he’s from a game and people all over the internet love and adore him, without showing him.

He doesn’t even know what technology is, let alone the fact people use it to create artwork of him.

“Traveler, I apologize if this is a bit odd, but I saw you looking at some paintings of me on your phone item. How do you have so many? Did you make them also yourself? You’re quite talented if so.” He asked, as you looked from him, to your phone, then back up to him.

He was just patiently standing infront of you, waiting for an answer.

You sighed slightly as you put down whatever you were doing and grabbed your phone.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was that not something I was supposed to bring up?” He asked, confused by your reaction.

You shook your head as you patted the spot next to you, gesturing for him to sit down next to him.

“No no, you were going to find out sooner or later.” You said as he politely sat down next to you and faced you, ready to listen to whatever story or explanation you were going to give him.

As you explained he asked a few questions, which you answered as best you could.

After you explained how the world Zhongli came from was not exactly real, he was just a character in a video game, and because of that, many people around the world love him and make things to show their love and appreciation for him.

He nodded, trying to understand,

“Well that’s definitely not what I expected. I’ve always had some sort of following but this, admittedly was not what I expected. So all of these people know about Rex Lapis?” He asked, to which you nodded in response.

“I see, well. There’s not much I can to about it now I suppose.” He said, turning back to you with a slight sigh. All the effort putting into hiding and it was, somewhat for nothing.

Liyue was going to have to learn how to be on their own regardless, so leaving wasn’t going to affect them to much, which was comforting to him.

“Thank you, traveler, for answering my question. I understand it was probably hard to explain this to me but I believe I understand now.” He thanked, you nodded accepting it and smiled at him.

However, your smile faltered when you saw Zhongli so lost in thought. You supposed it was because he basically left behind the only thing he’s every known.

You lightly put your hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Hey, Why don’t we make some tea, I feel like you’d want to try these flavours.” You said, as he looked back over to you, he recognized this as a way to cheer him up and appreciated it.

“That would be wonderful.”

(Next part coming out is ‘they escape Part 2 pocket edition’)

-Birdy

[hyungieyoongi]

Spotlight: “Run Away to You” Part 3

You knew it was just a matter of time before someone figured it out.

Your carefully constructed reality was about to shatter.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Former Actress!Reader

Word Count: 2.0K

Genre: Angst + Fluff (there’s a hug and everything there is fluff on the horizon!!)

Series Masterlist: Run Away to You

Premise: You ran away from your acting career one year ago, disappearing from the spotlight without a trace. No one from your past life knew where to find you. On the anniversary of your disappearance, your carefully constructed reality is shattered.

Part 2 // Part 4

---

You blinked your eyes a few times to adjust to the brightness of the morning as the sunlight streamed into your room through the crack in your curtains. Your eyelids felt heavy with exhaustion. Glancing at the clock on your nightstand, you let out an audible groan at the time. It was 9:30 a.m., meaning you had slept for four short hours, your brain and restless thoughts refusing to let you sleep until the early hours of the morning.  

After you were finally able to stop the onslaught of tears last night, you sat with Marianne on your carpet and told her everything that happened: colliding with Yoongi at the corner store, the fight in your apartment, and how he comforted you during your panic attack. When she asked about the phone call from your old number, you simply played her the last voicemail Yoongi left you, letting his words sink in on their own.

“Shit,” Marianne breathed out.

“Tell me about it,” you agreed.

Your head was pounding, making you feel like you were suffering a hangover this morning from the lack of sleep combined with the many tears you cried. You went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, hoping the scalding hot water would burn away the memories of everything that had transpired.

You decided to avoid looking at either one of your phones, old or new, when you got out and dressed. Instead, you decided to try and convince your neighbor to let you take her dog on a walk. You desperately needed some company and fresh air to clear your head.

Donning the black hat on the hook by the door this time, you locked the door behind you. At the end of the hallway, you spotted your neighbor holding her little black pug in her arms, peering slightly over the railing at the end that looked out onto the sidewalk and street below.

“Hi there, good morning! What’s going on?” you asked, hoping your attempt at cheerfulness was convincing.

“You have to see this. There are cameras all over the place! The landlord had to come to shoo them from the stairwell and elevator this morning. Apparently, someone famous was sighted here yesterday, and now they’re looking for someone they say lives here? It’s quite the scene down there,” Susan let her pug down as she told you the news. He came bounding over to you, expecting to be showered with cuddles and kisses. Instead, you stood frozen in place, taking in everything Susan had just said.

“Cameras? There are cameras down there? In front of the building?” you asked.

“Yes, dear, isn’t that strange? I wonder if we have a celebrity in our midst!”

You let out a cough, giving Susan a fake excuse that you forgot a jacket so you could leave, ignoring her pug yapping at you for attention.

You were back in your apartment before Susan could question your odd behavior, grabbing your phone that you blatantly ignored when you woke up this morning.

You opened Twitter, going straight to the trending page.

The picture at the top of the list was blurry, but you could clearly make out two figures. It was a picture of you and Yoongi, walking to your apartment from the store. It looked like it had been taken on a phone camera, probably from the park across the street. Someone had to have recognized Yoongi, and now, there were cameras outside your apartment complex.

The picture causing a frenzy didn’t show your face, your hair covering your profile. You scrolled rapidly through some of the comments, people speculating about who the “mystery girl” was that Yoongi was with yesterday.

You knew it was just a matter of time before someone figured it out.

Your carefully constructed reality was about to shatter.

---

Yoongi’s phone was vibrating nonstop on the bed next to him. He tried to ignore it, shoving his face further under the thick comforter, hoping whoever was trying to reach him would just give up eventually.

When it started to vibrate incessantly once again, he finally glanced at the screen, fully prepared to yell at whoever woke him up.

An old picture of you filled his screen, one that Yoongi took when you first started seeing each other. You had fallen asleep on his shoulder after a long day of filming. You looked so at peace, one of his sweaters that you stole from his closet wrapped around your frame. He had snapped a photo, setting it as your contact photo, smiling at it every time you called.

He had never changed it.

Yoongi immediately sat up when he realized you were calling. He assumed he would never hear from you again, that the chapter between you two was officially closed. This time for good.

He answered on the third ring, but didn’t say anything, waiting to see if the call was an accident.

“…Yoongi?” his heart lurched at the sound of his name.

“Yes?” he asked tentatively, his voice rough with sleep.

“I need help. There’s a picture…of us. Together. I tried to call Marianne, but she didn’t answer. Yoongi, I…I don’t know what to do. I need help,” Yoongi waited, holding his breath, “I need you.”

He threw the covers off himself, already heading toward the door of his bedroom. You sounded so scared.

“I’ll come get you. Tell me where you are.”

---

Yoongi had given you careful instructions over the phone, his voice calm and calculated. You were supposed to wait in your apartment until exactly 10:30 a.m. and head down the back staircase to the alley behind your building. A car would be waiting for you there.

He told you to wear a mask and act casual, like you were just getting into a rideshare car. Be invisible and inconspicuous.

A black SUV was idling in your alleyway. You opened the backseat door on the driver’s side, shutting it quickly behind you.

“Miss Y/L/N?” the driver asked, turning around to face you. He had a kind smile, eyes slightly crinkling in the corners from his upturned lips. You nodded once.

“Good morning, I’ll be driving you to Mr. Min’s location. He requested that we send this particular vehicle because the windows are tinted for maximum security. Please make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you,” you said, relieved.

Despite the driver’s assurance, you turned your head away from the window as the car passed the hoard of photographers outside of your building. They seemed to be getting restless with the lack of people coming in and out of your complex. You were grateful to be heading as far away from there as possible.

The car eventually reached a gate, the security guard waving the car forward once it checked the license plates. You pulled into an underground garage. You weren’t familiar with the building; you figured that Yoongi and the boys had moved within the last year as their label continued to grow.

The driver cleared his throat to get your attention.

“Mr. Min would like you to take the elevator, the one just there, ma’am,” he said pointing to the nearest set of silver doors, “to floor 16. He will meet you there.”

“Thank you, you honestly saved me today,” you told him with a grateful smile. He gave you another crinkle-eyed grin.

“It’s nothing, really. Give my regards to Mr. Min.”

“I will.”

The elevator lurched upward toward floor 16, and you realized you had no idea what to say to Yoongi. The doors opened, and you were startled when the man in question was pacing in front of the elevator doors, looking frazzled as he evidently waited for your arrival.

His head snapped toward the open doors when he heard the “bing” of the elevator.

“You made it,” he said simply when you walked toward him.

“Thanks to you,” you replied. “Yoongi, I can’t thank you enough. I know this is the last thing you probably expected today, but I appreciate it more than I can tell you.”

If you weren’t mistaken, there was a pink tinge on his cheeks at your words.

“We have a strategy meeting to get to. The label has some, uh, concerns about the photo.”

Your heart sank at his words, but you realized it was time to stop letting your emotions about the situation run the show. You were potentially going to be forced back into the spotlight you had tried so hard to stay away from. It was time to be professional about this.

“Right. Of course, lead the way,” your tone had become formal, sickly sweet and stiff. It felt unbelievably awkward after spilling your heart out to him yesterday. But you knew your place–you were just part of his label’s damage control problems for the day.

He turned on his heel, leading you down the long hallway, shoes clicking against the tile floor. You followed a foot behind him, wanting to give him, and you, space.

In the meeting, you gritted your teeth, your hands balled into fists underneath the table as you listened to a group of label management and the public relations team discuss what messaging, if any, to put out. Would it be better to let it die down on its own? Release a statement saying Yoongi was visiting an “acquaintance”? There were dozens of options they went through. Yoongi’s eyes kept straying to look at you, but your eyes stayed on the clock above the PR analyst’s head across from you.

When they started discussing whether to release your identity, however, you decided enough was enough. You stood, Yoongi watching your every move.

“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but I would feel more comfortable if my publicist was contacted before any decisions are made regarding the release of my private information,” you had worked in this industry, too, and hell, you weren’t going to let these people dictate your life. “As you can imagine, this has the potential to have far-reaching consequences on my own livelihood. It would be best to take no further action until she is in this room with you. Otherwise, I will be forced to contact my attorney.”

The room was silent.  

“Until then, I’ll take my leave. Thank you,” you left with a flourish, the adrenaline leaving you as soon as you made it into the hallway. You didn’t know where you were going, you just couldn’t stay still, your feet carrying you away from the room and the murmurs going on inside of it.

“Y/N, wait,” Yoongi called after you. You sped up, hoping there was a bathroom or something nearby that you could go hide in until Marianne showed up. “Stop walking,” Yoongi’s voice was stern.

You paused mid-step, turning to face him with a blank expression.

“Yes, was there an update from your strategy meeting since I left?” Yoongi rolled his eyes at your comment.

“Y/N, stop, I know what you’re doing. You’re shutting yourself off. I don’t blame you for standing up for yourself back there. But please don’t act like I wanted any part of that meeting,” Yoongi said, defending himself. Your confidence deflated slightly.

“Fine,” you flinched at how harsh you sounded. “I’m sorry. God, all I’ve said to you in the past 24 hours is ‘I’m sorry.’ And I am. I just…this is all…it’s a lot. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, let alone under these circumstances.”

“My studio is a few floors below us. Come on, let’s get out of here while they figure it out,” Yoongi instructed. He walked past you, but you reached out, hand encircling his wrist to stop him. Your skin burned where it touched his.

“I wasn’t ready for any of this again. It’s all too much, too soon. If people find out who I am, my whole life will change, Yoongi. I-I don’t know if I can handle that.” Yoongi didn’t say anything, so you pulled your fingers away from his arm, expecting him to continue on his way to his studio.

Instead, he wrapped you tightly in his arms, pulling you close against him. He smelled like mint and coffee, and you closed your eyes at the familiarity of it, warmth blooming in your chest.

“It’ll be okay,” Yoongi mumbled, cheek pressed against the top of your head.

Enclosed in the comfort of his embrace, you decided to believe him.

Part 2 // Part 4

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Taglist: @loveyoongles @agustd-2020 @delacyrose224 @crispychanniee @sunshinejunghoseokie @jinsearthh @alpacaparkaseok @sheebaba @diamonddia-mond​

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[aliwritesfic]

The Night Shift part 11 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

WC: 3.3k

AN: Yall I'm so sorry this took ages to be updated, my laptop screen broke and the repair place had to wait over a week for a new one, I hope the end of this part makes up for it <3 Parts will also be slower to come out as I'm starting my next semester of uni on Monday and that's going to take up a large chunk of my time, but I'm still going to try and put out a new part at least once a week

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Part 1 Part 12 (coming soon) Masterlist

Friday arrived far too quickly for Frankie’s liking. So quickly he had gotten himself into a routine of being with you, and it felt like it was being ripped away from him. Of course, he knew that it would happen, he hadn’t deluded himself into thinking it wouldn’t, but still . . . still he had grown so used to your presence that when it was finally time to “get your shit from that ugly ass motherfucker” (Will’s words, not his), he felt almost depressed.

You were perched on his couch when he woke up late Friday morning, a cup of steaming coffee clutched in your hand, your gaze fixed absently on a point on the wall. He called your name gently, not wanting to scare you. You blinked a couple times, as if coming out of a trance. He knew the look well.

“Didn’t sleep?” he poured himself a cup and sat down next to you. You shook your head.

“Not great. I think an hour, maybe. But like, really shitty sleep.”

“Not fully asleep but not fully awake?” Frankie suggested, having become very accustomed to the feeling during his military time. You nodded, giving him a tired smile. He understood your exhaustion. You had spent every waking moment stressed about the move, online shopping to replace the things that you were leaving at Kurt’s, and then stressing some more. You had picked up the keys on Wednesday and Frankie had gone with you to check the place out.

It was a bright, airy place, seven floors up with huge windows and a tiny balcony off the living area. Frankie had noticed your eyes shining as you took it all in, almost like you couldn’t believe it was yours. You had wiped away a tear, taking in the view of the lake by the apartment complex.

Frankie had come with his measuring tape and notebook from his mechanic days. He measured each room, each alcove where a piece of furniture would sit, and wrote them down diligently with a messy scrawl on a page labelled with your name.

When you had gotten back to his place, you set to work writing down a list of what was yours and what you needed to replace. At the top of that list was a bed, heavily underlined and circled.

“The bed’s mine, technically,” you explained as you clicked on a display photo of a wrought iron bed frame, “but he can keep it. I want a fresh start, and I think I need a new bed to do that.”

“Makes sense,” Frankie said sitting down beside you, “is that the one you’re going with?”

You had nodded, clicking add to cart. The store had next day delivery, and for a small fee would even build the bed for you. You opted for this, despite Frankie’s protests.

“Please, you’re doing so much already, and putting my whole bed together for me . . . it feels like a very unfair trade,” you told him firmly. Once again, your stubbornness had won over. Frankie, rather grudgingly, had to admit to himself that the delivery people were much quicker than he would’ve been at assembling the bed frame, especially after he had taken a quick look at the instructions.

He wasn’t about to tell you that though.

It was almost midday when a knock sounded on his door, followed by the three men he called brothers piling into his kitchen. You emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed and a shy smile on your face. It struck Frankie that this was the first time you were meeting these guys, truly meeting them without the inclusion of alcohol.

“You’re all really excellent for helping me with this,” you said fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt. You had opted for long sleeves throughout the whole week. “Sorry you have to give up your Friday for this.”

Benny was the first one to make a move. He strode forward and enveloped you in a tight hug. Frankie could see the initial shock on your face before it was replaced by a hesitant kind of happiness.

“You like Taylor Swift?” he asked, and you nodded. Benny craned his neck to look at Frankie. “She’s riding with me, if that’s okay?” he turned back to you and you nodded again. Benny grinned and whispered something in your ear, causing you to snort out a laugh.

Santi stood beside Frankie and pressed an envelope into his hands.

“The photo,” he explained. “Again, remember I have several copies, so if you plan on destroying this one, imagine it like a hydra.” Frankie rolled his eyes and put the envelope in his back pocket. You were too busy chatting with Benny and Will to notice, and he was glad. He wanted to surprise you with the photo when you needed it.

Benny and Will had taken a particular soft spot for you since Frankie gave them the bare-bones rundown of how Kurt had treated you. Frankie noticed it now, in how Will stood like your own personal bodyguard, in how Benny had slung his arm around your shoulders, like you were old friends. Frankie felt the briefest flash of jealousy before he stamped it down. Just because he couldn’t – wouldn’t – touch you, didn’t mean no one else could.

“Quit staring Fish, you look like one of those cartoon characters whose eyes turn to hearts,” Santi muttered, elbowing Frankie in the ribs. Frankie elbowed him back, annoyed.

“Alright, gang! Let’s get this show on the road!” Will clapped his hands together. Benny raised an incredulous brow at his brother.

“What are you, fifty?” He turned to you, linking his arm through yours. “Don’t worry, Fish, I’ll drive extra carefully.”

Frankie felt envious of Benny then, even though he had basically had a week straight with you. But knowing it was coming to an end, that tonight you’d be sleeping at your own place, instead of just down the hall. Well, it made him almost sad. He pushed that aside though and forced himself to be happy for you.

As he drove to your old apartment, everyone else following behind, he focused a little too hard on the radio, just to give his mind something to do. A newsreader was talking about how a quick-thinking pilot had landed a plane in a field after something went horrifically wrong with the engines. Zero casualties, minor injuries. People were already calling for the pilot to be given a medal.

Maybe I should renew my licence, Frankie thought. He didn’t want to be a commercial pilot, or a hero of any kind, although the uniforms were nice. But it couldn’t hurt to have it.

He pulled up outside the building, gripping the steering wheel tightly. This was it.

Will and Santi parked behind him, but Benny’s ridiculously lifted pickup was nowhere to be seen. Frankie squinted towards the end of the street, knowing he couldn’t have gotten lost. He had you with him.

Ten minutes passed with no sign of you. “Where the fuck are they?” Frankie grumbled, now worried that you and Benny had gotten into a car accident. He trusted him, but Benny was the worst driver of all of them. He pulled out his phone to text you but was interrupted.

“That’s his truck,” Will said, pointing to the end of the street, where Benny’s truck had just pulled in. The sound of heavy bass reached them before the truck did. As Benny pulled up outside the apartment, Frankie recognised the song as Gimme More by Britney Spears.

“Sorry we’re late,” you called, clambering out of the truck, a tall plastic cup in your hand. “We stopped for frappes.” Benny sipped innocently at his, giving Frankie a look that said he needed to speak with him.

“Where’s my fuckin’ frappe,” Santi grumbled, looking envious. Benny grinned and handed his over to Santi for a sip.

You stood, looking up at the building, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Guess we better go up. I sent him a text telling him I was doing this today, but he didn’t reply, so I don’t know if he’ll be here.”

“Want us to jump him if he is?” Benny offered, but you shook your head.

“Not right away,” you said, “but if he starts up maybe slap him around a little.” Frankie knew you were joking, but the look in your eyes was one of fear. He took your hand gently and lowered his head to talk to you.

“You can wait out here if you want,” he murmured, “we’ve got the list of what we need to get.” You squeezed his hand and shook your head. Yours was cold and slightly clammy in his own, but he didn’t mind.

“No, I need to do this.” You said. Frankie nodded, understanding. You didn’t need to explain the nitty gritty of your reasoning, all he needed was for you to know that you had him, in whatever way you needed.

You kept a firm grip on his hand as you lead the way upstairs to your old apartment, only letting go when you stood outside the front door, fumbling in your bag for your keys.

At first, the apartment seemed empty of life. All the lights were off, the curtains closed, and the place was eerily silent. You stepped over the threshold, followed by the rest of the boys, who immediately got to work.

As it turned out, Kurt wasn’t there. He remained gone for a good half hour while the boys carried your heavier shit down to their trucks. You set to work stuffing the rest of your clothes into plastic trash bags you had picked up from the grocery store.

Benny joined Frankie in carrying a loveseat downstairs.

“Fish, I need to tell ya,” Benny started, grunting as they made a turn. “She’s as into you as you are her.” Frankie shook his head.

“Don’t do this, man.”

“I’m being serious. I talked to her in the truck. She didn’t say it outright, but you should’a seen the look on her face when I talked about you.” Benny waggled his eyebrows. “And her friend Sara agrees, she’s ‘smitten’ with you. Whatever the fuck smitten means. If you want my advice-”

“I’m not sure I do.”

“-Go for it. Tonight, once we’re all gone. Shoot your shot my guy. Don’t waste anymore fucking time. Sara said she wasn’t even sad about the breakup, like she’s been checked out mentally for months now.”

“Wait, did Sara tell you about me punching Kurt?”

“All I’m saying is, she likes you a lot, you like her a lot, don’t waste this.” Frankie mulled over what Benny was saying. There had been more than a few moments that week when he had spied you looking at him and wondered . . . but each time he had pushed the thought out his head. Old insecurities, respect for you, held him back.

Historically, Frankie had never been very good at telling when someone was into him. He could be literally balls deep and he’d still be questioning it. Even sometimes with Portia, he’d wonder if she really felt the same way he did. Santi, who knew Frankie as a kid, chalked it up to Frankie having a rough go of puberty, not growing into his features until almost the end of high school. By then, whenever someone had showed even a slight bit of interest, Frankie had dismissed it as a cruel joke. Unfortunately, those insecurities had followed him deep into adulthood.

The mood in the apartment had become relaxed, all the heavier stuff, like your couch, TV, furniture, and fridge had been taken care of, and now all that was left was to gather all the small shit. Frankie found you in the bathroom, unscrewing the shower head. You tossed it into a box filled with other bathroom items, the loud clang making him grimace. He opened his mouth to speak to you when yelling from the front room interrupted him.

Your face fell instantly, going from focused to almost afraid. Your eyes met Frankie’s own, and he reached out to touch your arm. It’s okay the touch said, he can’t do anything to you. Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and walked out with Frankie to the commotion.

Kurt was being held back with a single hand on his chest by a bored looking Will, screaming a string of expletives and struggling to land any kind of hit on Will, Santi stood behind Kurt, ready to jump in if needed. Benny was hunched over, clutching his sides in laughter. Kurt finally caught sight of you, standing a little in front of Frankie.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” His tone made you wince slightly, but Frankie was proud of the way you didn’t shrink away.

“I told you this was happening today, Kurtis, it was your choice to come back while we were here,” you said calmly.

“You’re taking all my shit!”

“I paid for every single thing I’m taking,” you said. “It’s not my fault you never put anything of monetary value into this place.” You stepped forward, so you were facing Kurt head on, but still behind Will. “You need to calm down, you’re acting like a fucking child.”

“I’M ACTING LIKE A CHILD?”

“Yes. You are. You’ve acted like one almost our entire relationship. So you can either calm down, leave and come back later, or my friends will force you to calm down.”

“Are you threatening me?” Kurt spat.

“Yes. You’ve already been smacked down before, any one of these guys would love to be the one to do it again.”

“I’d like to see them fucking try!” Kurt pivoted and lunged at Benny. Big mistake. With a simple, yet effective, punch to the head, Kurt was out cold on the floor. Benny looked up, almost apologetic. You grinned at him, silent laughter shaking your shoulders.

“I didn’t mean to hit that hard,” Benny said, flexing his fist. “But I also did.”

Santi dragged Kurt’s unconscious body to the now empty living room, carefully posing him so he was curled in the foetal position, sucking on his thumb.

“He actually arrived at the perfect time,” you said to Frankie, standing back beside him. “Cause we’re done here.”

“We’ve got everything?” Santi called, overhearing you. You nodded.

“We’re finally done here.”

~*~

Frankie was glad you had decided to ride with him back to your new place. You were buzzing with a new energy, unable to keep a nervous grin off your face. You didn’t speak on the drive to your new place, but Frankie hoped he wasn’t reading into how much closer you sat, your thighs almost brushing his. Benny had gotten into his head, he knew, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation.

You were the most beautiful person he had met, both inside and out, and the very idea that you could like him the way he liked you . . . well fuck, it didn’t seem feasible. But then he thought back to the previous week spent with you, and maybe it wasn’t such a ludicrous idea after all.

He pulled up at your new building, parking in the spot designated for you. You turned to him, unlatching your seatbelt as you did.

“Frankie . . .” you started, then leant over and pulled him into a tight hug. Frankie felt like everything you wanted to say was in that hug. You pulled back slightly, so your faces were almost touching. He could’ve done it then, he fucking should have done it. Crossed that miniscule amount of space between you. But then the moment passed, and you pulled away entirely.

You climbed out of the truck, moving to the back to grab some of the garbage bags that held the smaller stuff. Frankie’s phone buzzed in the cupholder, a message from Will in the group chat.

Ironhead: Pussy

Frankie turned and saw Will staring at him. Fuck offhe mouthed. Will flipped him off with a grin. The effort of getting all your stuff up to your new place was considerably easier than it had been the first time around. For one, your new place had an elevator. So even though they had to take turns using it, it was worlds above struggling up seven flights of stairs. The mood was also improved by the fact Will had knocked Kurt out cold. Frankie had begun to wonder if that had become the main highlight of your day.

It was well into the night by the time everything was in its new place. Benny and Will flopped down onto your loveseat, drinking beers that you had kept in an ice chest you had brought in yesterday just for this. You sat on the floor, drinking a fruity vodka thing that Frankie thought looked and smelt like a melted popsicle. The balcony door was open, a breeze that held the promise of summer drifted through.

“Where’s Santi?” You asked looking around.

“He had to get something from the truck,” Will said. As if on cue, which if Frankie knew these boys as well as he did, it was, Santi burst through the door, one arm stretched wide, the other behind his back.

“My dearest,” Santi began, and Frankie groaned inwardly, “over this past day, the gentlemen and I have grown quite fond of you.” What is this, regency England? Frankie rolled his eyes and took a sip of his beer. “And as such, we wanted to present you with a housewarming gift.” With that, he whipped his arm around and held out a vase of sunflowers. Your face softened, then broke into a grin.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you pushed yourself up and pulled Santi into a hug, motioning for Will and Benny to join. You hugged the three men as tight as you could, smiling at Frankie over the tops of their shoulders. Frankie smiled back, raising his beer in a silent toast.

You placed the flowers on the kitchen counter, facing them toward the window. It was just past ten when the three boys left, Benny carrying the ice chest along with the promise to bring it back as soon as he could. It seemed like it was only moments before only you and Frankie remained.

Frankie’s phone buzzed.

Benny: Don’t fuck this up.

Frankie saw you move outside onto the balcony, leaning against the railing, silhouetted by silver moonlight, your face turned towards the breeze that coasted off the lake. Everyone else was gone, and he wondered if he didn’t take this chance, would he ever?

He moved to stand next to you, standing so close your arms were touching. His heart felt like it was caught in his throat. He murmured your name.

“Frankie,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of his beating heart. Before he could stop himself, chicken out like he had before, he closed the distance between you. One hand cupping your warm cheek, the other encircling your waist, he tilted his head down until his lips met yours.

It was everything.

Your lips were soft against his, hesitant at first, but then you were wrapping your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his. You tasted like candy and those sugary drinks you insisted on bringing. Your touch was like tiny jolts of electricity shooting down his spine.

Fuck.

His tongue darted against your bottom lip, and you let him in almost hungrily. Frankie deepened the kiss, wondering just why the everloving fuck he waited this long.

He whispered your name, the word like poetry on his lips. You were poetry, you were art, you were every beautiful thing wrapped up into one person. He was in love with you.

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