#now i’m going BACK to the same neighborhood to have some french food with my dad and we’re gonna pick up a cake for me bday :)

[deklo]

had coffee with my old boss :) she doesn’t have many new updates about the brewery but we chatted and gossiped of course. she’s so silly. she’s currently apparently on a heavy metal cleanse cjfncjfnchfb

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

Da Capo

Dialogue Prompt 16- " because I love you, is that what you wanted to hear " requested by @sunflowerishdolphin ( your last remaining request ) | TW- NONE |

Da Capo-(Italian: from the beginning); at the end of a piece of music or a section of it, means that it should be played or sung again from the beginning.

He shut the door behind him, locking immediately, putting those grocery bags on the counter and turned on the voice Machine , picking up the mails from the corner table reading who addressed them as he simultaneously heard the voice messages like his usual evening, a routine that had became a practice.

" you have 2 new messages "

" hey harry, this is Clint. Send me those pictures via e-mail, could you ? Call me when you get back "

Harry subconsciously nodded as he read the next mail addressed from the burrow.

" harry "

He stopped dead in his movements as he stared at the tiles on the floor, hearing that very familiar voice.

" I- I know I should not- you know- never mind. Uh, call me or not, whatever. Just- how do you end this-" the voice message echoed with rustling until it ended with a beep and harry couldn't bring himself to stop the beeping.

When one of the apple fell down over the ground creating a thud, harry broke free from his locked moment of strangeness and shut off the beep. He stared at the number long enough to remember his past, the horrors, the pain, the anguish, the agony of it all but he couldn't resist himself from Noting down the number on the notepad and just staring at it.

He had called, 1 year and 6 months later, he had called.

Harry left the notepad like it had been resting on the counter and went out to the garden to water his plants and get some peace from the quick Sand of the emotions that had started overwhelming in the presence of the noted down number. But it didn't help the rail of his thoughts that resulted in overflowing of the pots.

The evening had turned into a chilly night yet without a care he kept staring at the TV screen blankly, finding it hard to forget that voice message. That familiarity in the voice had almost Haunted harry every night in dreams and that un-advanced way of not knowing still how to end a voice message made harry smile if only for a moment but he was strongly reminded of how had things ended, in fights, In rush, in sadness, in heart break.

He wanted to call back and ask him why had he called, he even stood before the phone, dialing almost the entire number but could never gather the entire courage to actually call him back. How could he ? After everything that had happened, how could he?

It had been almost 1 and half year since harry moved to a small town in Paris living in a muggle suburb and still learning French but he had sat in his balcony drowning in rain, yet he never felt at home. He never wanted to leave Britain, London but what choice did he had but to leave everything behind and start new, a fresh start and yet all he felt was moving backwards. He loved it here, the neighborhood, the children on the streets, the grocery man, Adrian's little shop around the corner yet the smell of the Rain, the smell of laundry, the Blooming garden, the sunlight, nothing felt the same, not like how it was when he was with him. Nothing ever felt the same anymore .

Somewhere around blankly staring at the TV, the screen had Turned grey with no more left to watch when harry forcibly picked himself up and put himself to bed, relentlessly tossing and turning until sleep had returned to him like previous night's.

You can't stop thinking about me .

That's not true.

Do you really think so? Then why am I here ?

You tell me.

He sighed, his voice flourishing and sounding like the softest of breeze, you can feel it too, can't you, you know I will be there with you..

I can't feel anything. A pause.

You're coming?

Do you want me to ?

Harry tossed one last time, slowly opening his eyes in the silence of the night and the street light outside flickering with yellow and black. He sighed to himself as he sat right up and followed the line of sight to where the phone was kept.

" hi, draco, hi- uh, you called. I- didn't know about it- just got your message- I wanted to check what you called for so leave me a message or call me in the mor-"

" harry?"

Harry stilled with the phone pressed against his ear, his breathing sounding very clear like he had held the phone very close to himself as if holding it too close would make the conversation more real.

He stared at his feets on the ground comprehending how to respond, he had not expected draco to pick up-

" harry, you there ?"

" yeah, yeah. Uh sorry- I just- " he breathed " isn't it late ?"

" sort of yeah. I just- I came from a run "

" this late at night ?"

" yeah " he breathed.

Harry breathed.

" you called earlier ?"

" yeah " a long pause before he released a rolling breath and spoke again " I'm visiting Paris and I- I know you're there, so I was just wondering if you'd like to meet sometime if you're free of course ?"

Harry's fingers coiled to the telephone loop, a little smile forming over his lips as he whispered " Sure. When ?"

" this weekend "

" I'll pick you up ?"

" that'd be- nice " he breathed.

" okay "

" okay "

They breathed.

" I'll send the details via mail " he added

" okay "

And they finally cut the call but all harry did was stare at his feets on the ground crossed together as if it offered any peace.

_______________________________

The sun had rose like usual with the birds chirping just outside Harry's balcony, the usual ringing of his alarm clock went unnoticed as harry stepped out of the long shower. He padded across the room water dripping down his neck due to his washed hair, finally shutting off the Alarm. He stared at the watch as minutes stroke by, his mind lost in the moving of the minute hands until a shiver has ran down his spine and he dropped the clock on the bed and fetched the shirt and the pants he has decided to worn a day before. The same blue flowy shirt and the same Khaki pants.

Anxiety was not a surprise visitor anymore as harry fidgeted wearing his watch over his rest and tying his shoe laces that at some point, harry left them be thinking that if he'd fall, he'd fall. He ran all around the apartment going from one room to another to living room because his things were scattered all across until finally the clock stroke 12 and harry left the apartment in his second hand ford from 1985.

Harry leaned against his car in front of the France ministry of magic building waiting for draco to come with sun bouncing over his soft brunette hair, checking his watch every minute or two.

And there he was, the same boy walking through the door carrying 2 bags in a soft cotton red faded shirt and washed blue jeans.

" waited for long ?"he asked awkwardly.

Harry shook his head as he took his bags and dropped them in back seat.

" I- harry- I just wanted to ask something "

Harry frowned but nodded as he opened the car door for draco.

" this isn't awkward, is it ?"

Harry huffed out a breath, glancing behind draco for a moment. Was it awkward,of course but he Wanted to settle through the awkwardness and not be like one of those people who can't visit their ex.

" it is a bit but we'll settle in. After all we're friends, right ?"

Draco chuckled softly before he nodded " we can be "

Harry smiled before he stepped away and let draco take the passenger seat and settled into his driver's seat as well.

" Hungry ?" Harry asked as the ignition roared.

Draco nodded " very "

" I know just the place " harry smiled putting on his sunglasses and drove to exactly where he needed to.

________________________________

Things remained a bit awkward with draco as harry adjusted to all new information and forgot thinking of draco as an ex he scrambled away from and reminded himself more to treat him like the way he used to before the relationship happened.

But despite that the wicked angels that remained on Harry's shoulder reminded him to be careful this time and even if he harry heard them, he ignored as he served draco the croissant he has freshly picked up from the bakery around the corner.

" what about the eiffel tower ?" Draco asked as he sipped his lemon tea, taking the plate of croissant away from harry.

" it's overrated but worth it. It's better in the evening, I'll take you there " harry replied as he ate his own.

" oh shit- I forgot. I had to be at work 15 minutes ago. I'll see you later yeah " draco hurried with his baked food and picked up his bag he has came with and disapparated from within the apartment.

Harry collapsed down on the chair thinking to himself what was he doing. How could he just forget everything and move on and pretend like nothing happened like he had been doing for days. He hated the pretending, the " I'm doing fine without you " act or we're better as friends act, he hated it but as draco would come from the hotel every afternoon and sometimes stay by till the evening, harry would allow himself to relish in those moments and let be.

"the real question is do you really want to be friends or not ?" Jade asks as she dressed the mannequin with new shirt introduced in this work fashion line.

" i- i don't know jade. Do I want to forget everything and move forward, yes but I can't just look at him pretend we don't have a past " harry kicked the ground as he was leaned against the wall in the cubicle with jade and the white mannequin for display.

" Harry, the past is the past. It doesn't matter anymore. And you know the whole thing about ex's can't be friends,it's shit, I'm friends with my first boyfriend " jade replied with the pin between her lips as he tucked the buttons together.

" your first boyfriend is gay now. You're not helping jade-"

" look harry. Is it worth it ? Is it worth spending time with him? Is it worth meeting him again everyday ? Is it worth being friends with him again ? Those are the real questions " She asked with her head titled for emphasis, her hands in the air waiting for his response.

Harry sighed closing his eyes, opening them again and spoke " I think. He's changed a lot and he's different now"

" well there you go and you know what, even if you don't want to be friends or anything, he's just visiting. He's not going to stay here forever you know and you barely visit home, so friends or no friends, it won't matter much" jade shrugged as she put the mannequin the hat and stretched her neck backwards to check the entire look before nodding to herself and stepping out of the cubicle, harry following him.

" I guess you're right " harry mumbled. Jade nodded and they departed to their response departments of work.

When the evening arrived he met draco Outside his work building and strolled off to where they could disapparate from without being noticed.

" it's a beautiful place " draco suddenly said as they were walking down the streets.

" it is " harry hummed nodding, pocketing his hand.

" don't you ever-" Breath " like miss home ? Everyone else?" He asked

Harry thought for a moment before he replied with all he could think of " it's a part of starting fresh. I miss people back home but I love it here too, everyone's nice "

" but doesn't it ever get lonely ?" Draco asked as he now walked right by Harry's side.

" sometimes but other times I just forget " harry shrugged looking forward before crossing the road.

" forget what ?" Draco asked as he ran to maintain his pace with harry.

" forget that I'm lonely. The best way to not get lonely is just not to think of being lonely " harry shrugged as he for a moment looked at Draco before he entered the dark Empty alley.

" is it easy ?" Draco asked as he stood before harry taking his hand for side along disapparation.

Harry gazed at draco, allowing the free sensation of holding his hand making him feel closer to home before he took a step forward towards draco.

" no "

And disapparated.

Part 2 & 3

might turn into a series fiction. @drarrywords thanks for beta reading this..

300 followers appreciate dialogue Prompt requests open

Angst prompt requests open

[petri808]

Nalu Yakuza Au *cover art by @jmoart214 💜

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |

The tit for tat game was well known to both of their top confidants and lieutenants because it had been going on ever since Natsu and Lucy broke up. Plus, it was hard to get around such knowledge considering most of them came from the same neighborhoods. These intrigues ebbed and flowed like waves. Months could pass by without any interactions between the two, at other times they’d go back and forth continuously until one of them finally gave up, and on the odd occasion ended in a huge fight that led to another round of ignoring each other. Up until now, it had been kind of amusing to watch them torture each other because it was better than a drama shows on television. But that didn’t mean Natsu, and Lucy’s friends didn’t worry about one or both being truly hurt one day because of it.

“It’s fine,” Natsu rolled his eyes as Gray chastised him after the soapland incident. The two men were at Natsu’s home after work hours and supposed to be relaxing. But clearly his friend didn’t want to drop the subject. “What’s the big deal?”

“Dude, you let yourself be blindfolded in a public space! Have you forgotten what kind of business we’re in? What if it had been an assassin instead?”

“Oh, that’s just ridiculous. We’re talking about Lucy’s company, and I trust their security measures because she has just as much to lose if a hit took place there.”

“Still, you should be more careful, at least take a bodyguard with you…”

Natsu’s eyebrow twitched in irritation. “And what, so they can watch the show? We got any voyeurs on the payroll? Cause I can’t think of anyone here who’d wanna see another guy getting his balls fondled!”

Gray ran a hand down his face. “So not the mental image I wanted. You’re missing the point.” He sighed. “Natsu you are the head of this clan, and your safety is my top priority.”

“I get it, I get it,” Natsu drawled.

“And frankly,” Gray continued, “you’ve become distracted by her lately.”

“Tch! No, I haven’t!”

“Yeah, you are. You think I haven’t noticed? I know you drive by her place sometimes. I know you’ve followed her to that coffee shop she likes to frequent. But ever since her employee was robbed, things have escalated again.”

“You’re imagining things and apparently spying on me. I’m just keeping an eye on the competition.”

“Watching over you is my job! That’s not spying.” Gray crossed his arms. “And oh, it’s no doubt that you’re keeping an eye on her. That’s why you went to Katsunuma’s party and to soapland too. The problem is you’re getting sloppy and sloppy gets people killed.”

Natsu groaned. “Are you done yet? We’re supposed to be enjoying the baseball game, not psychoanalyzing my life.”

“Almost.” Gray placed a hand on his friends’ knee and leaned in. “Natsu, you’ve been chasing that tail since high school, just lock her down and convince her to work together already.”

Natsu snorted a laugh. “Gray we all grew up together, so what in all these years makes you think that’s a possibility? You know damn well Lucy’s not a woman you can control without her consent.” Natsu knew that, and frankly he loved that part of her. In fact, it made him even more fired up whenever he thought about it, just like a treasure you don’t just find but must win at the end of a game. “I’ll find a way, some day.”

“Well until that day arrives, could you promise me you’ll be more cautious?”

“Fine, fine,” Natsu waved his hand. “I’ll back off of Lucy for now.”

“Good.” Gray relaxed back onto his recliner thinking the drama was over.

“However, there is a new guy I want surveillance placed on.”

“Who?”

“The bartender from the party.”

Gray groaned. “Seriously? Why? He’s just a bartender!”

“I don’t trust him.”

“Was he spiking the drinks or something? Dealing drugs at the party?”

“Maybe.”

Gray huffed. “You really gonna try that? Do I look like an idiot? This is just straight jealousy talking.”

“I don’t care! I want someone to dig up what they can on the guy!”

“No, what you wanna know is if he fucked Lucy that night!”

Natsu jumped up with his fists clenched. “Fuck you!”

“Fuck you too!” Gray stood up and matched his boss’s energy. “Unless you give me a damn good reason to check into him, I’m not wasting my guy’s time! You might be the boss, but don’t you fucking forget who you’re talking to! I’m not some punk off the streets!”

Realizing he was taking things too far, Natsu sat back down. “Sorry.”

Gray sighed and plopped back down too. “I only joined because you asked me to and you’re my best friend, then I helped you build this new empire, so I’m just as invested in protecting it as you are. But Natsu, personal emotions have led to the downfall of many in this business, and as a friend, I’ll check you any time I think you’re going to far.”

“You’re right…” Natsu sighed too. “She just gets me so worked up.”

“Don’t I know it,” Gray laughed, but stopped when Natsu glared at him. “Sorry, it slipped out.”

“But I swear, there’s something suspicious about him. When he saw me, I thought he just reacted because he thought I was Lucy’s boyfriend or something, but the more I think about it, he might have recognized me.”

“Well, that wouldn’t necessarily be suspicious either.”

“True. But the look in his eyes just made me wonder.”

“Alright…” Gray groaned, “if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll have someone do some digging. So, you said he has orange hair and glasses, and the name on his tag was Loke?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s an unusual name, shouldn’t be too hard to check on.”

Over the course of a couple of weeks, Gray sent out feelers for any information on this Loke guy. Katsunuma junior gave them their first small lead that the bartender had worked the party through a local food catering company. That catering company was a legitimate business who had both full-time staff as well as independent contractors brought in per event as needed. Loke had been one of the latter. From there Gray obtained a last name, de Lioncourt.

According to his sources at the local precinct, Loke de Lioncourt had no rap sheet, no prior dealings with police, and for all they knew was an average citizen. The man’s Line blog profile listed him as a 28-year-old, Japanese/French American, model and bartender, and it was filled with pictures from events, parties, as well as many gorgeous women— none of which contained Lucy. But as Gray trolled through the man’s feed, he did come across one person he recognized and passed the information along to Natsu.

“Wow, she’s in a bunch of photos,” Natsu mumbled as he scrolled through the blog.

“Well, considering Cana’s reputation are you surprised. Parties and alcohol are the two things that woman lives for.” Gray laughed. “Now see, this makes sense to me. Lucy and him, not so much.”

“Tch… still pisses me off he even tried.”

“Lucy’s a free woman, she can go out with whoever she wants to.”

“We’ll see about that,” Natsu mumbled low.

“What was that?” Gray asked with a raised brow.

“Nothing.”

“Better be nothing, cause this is a dead end. He’s just a flirty bartender. It’s how they make tips.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine.” Natsu sat back in his chair. “So, back to business. What this I heard about some missing stock?”

“Oh, right. One of the warehouse clerks noticed a shortage, but when I checked with Yura, he said the books were fine. I had him show it to me, and it appears the numbers were just inverted by accident. So, instead of 185 kilos, it’s supposed to be 158 kilos.”

“Did you talk to the clerk again? Does he have any history of messing up like this?”

“Nah, he’s one of our better clerks.”

“Just keep an eye on it.”

“Sure thing, boss. By the way, have you seen Gajeel today?” Gray questioned. “I haven’t seen him.”

“He called me this morning said he wasn’t feeling well, thinks he ate something bad for dinner last night.”

“Tch, seriously? Thought he had an iron stomach?”

Natsu shrugged. “Must’a been some bad sushi or something. We ain’t got much happening today, so it’s fine. Anything else? I got some stuff I need to finish.”

Gray tapped his chin. “Just a reminder you have an appointment with our tech guy dropping by later this week to go over some upgrades on the system.”

“Like I’m supposed to know anything about that stuff, it’s what I pay him for.”

“You still gotta approve it,” Gray shrugged and took his leave.

Once the man was completely out of the office, Natsu opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a nondescript box he’d hidden inside. He grinned to himself. It was time to make another special delivery. Even though he’d told Gray he was backing off the whole Lucy and Loke subject, there was no way he was gonna let it slide. Natsu didn’t care if the man seemed legit, and he wasn’t the first nor would probably be the last that he’d eventually scared away. And besides, being a Yakuza boss had a lot of down times too, easily filled with having a little fun.

Today’s little care package was being sent to Lucy by a courier service and Natsu just had to drop it off to the delivery company. Just a normal company like Kuroneko Yamato so it wouldn’t rouse too many suspicions. It was turning into a fun game for him just coming up with ideas of what he could do to rile Lucy up or irritate this Loke guy. Natsu chuckled to himself. So far, his favorite prank was a box of small sized condoms and a bottle of enhancement pills that he’d had delivered to Loke while on the job at another party. He’d even snuck in to watch it delivered, gaining a good laugh when the man took a peek in the box and frowned at its contents.

It was childish, but Natsu didn’t care. Every day for two weeks now, something new was sent to Loke. Random gifts like children’s candy to a toy gun, a big bottle of lubricant wrapped in a bow, a week’s worth of meals sent for lunch one day, even an empty box with rocks inside it just to drive the man crazy wondering who in the world was sending them. Lucy too wasn’t immune to his pranks, though hers had a different feel to them. Flowers with no note attached. Tickets to a canceled show he made up. A supposed dinner invite from Loke that wasn’t real— okay that was to test her, but she didn’t fall for it. And today’s little care package fit right into his prank scheme.

Natsu dropped off the package at a Kuroneko Yamato office with the address instructions already filled out and paid the company’s employee extra to keep their mouths shut. ‘She’s gonna kill me one day,’ he laughed to himself as he rode back to his office. ‘If it’s suffocation by her boobs it wouldn’t be a bad way to go!’

“Anymore stops sir?” The driver asked Natsu.

“Nope. Back to the office.”

He looked at his watch. The package should be arriving at Lucy’s office within the hour. Give or take another to open it, and by 4pm he would be receiving another phone call. Maybe he won’t answer it. Oh, that would piss her off even more! ‘Well, if she’d just take the hint...’

The afternoon was supposed to be mellow at headquarters that day. No shipments, and no appointments. But when Natsu got back, another general in the organization named Jellal Fernandez came to his office to inform him of a problem. One of the new local restaurants in their territory was refusing to cooperate and he wanted to know how Natsu wanted it handled. They were right in the middle of discussing it, when Natsu’s office door flew open with a loud bang!

In stomped Lucy who immediately threw a box at his head, causing Natsu to duck and Jellal to pull his gun.

“Don’t!” Natsu screamed at his general and motioned for him to stand down, to which the man complied. “Do you have a death wish Lucy!”

“Get. Out.” She snapped at the general. “Get out! This is between me and your boss!”

Jellal looked to Natsu, who nodded his head to scram. “I got this, don’t worry.” The man holstered his gun and left, but Natsu could see he’d stayed right outside of the now closed door.

“I take it you didn’t like the gift,” Natsu pretended to stay calm.

“Gee, me throwing it at you give you that impression? I know it’s you sending all these damn deliveries to me and Loke. That needs to stop now!”

He crossed his arms and scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Play dumb all you want. Just stop! Why are you even doing this?!”

“Take a guess,” he sneered back.

“I could’ve sworn we were adults now, but apparently I’m the only one who grew up. Stay out of my love life Natsu!”

“So, you admit you’re sleeping with the guy!”

“That’s none of your damn business! I can fuck whoever I want!”

“Not as long as I’m alive,” Natsu growled back.

Lucy crossed her arms. “That could be arranged.”

“Is that a threat?!”

“Yes! If you don’t stay out of my love life!”

“A woman shouldn’t be sleepi—”

“Don’t you finish that sentence!” Lucy grabbed a stapler that was within reach and chucked it at Natsu’s head. “Stop trying to control me!”

“Are you crazy?!”

At that moment, Gray barged into the room. He’d heard the screaming from the other side of the office, and when he got close enough to see Jellal standing outside the door, he became alarmed. Why would a general leave Natsu vulnerable! The man told him their boss told him to leave, but as the sounds inside escalated, Gray couldn’t wait anymore.

“Stop it!!” Gray got between them. “What are you two doing! Lucy you shouldn’t be here!”

“Then tell your damn boss to leave me the fuck alone!” Lucy spat back. “Ask him how he’s been harassing Loke and me!”

Gray turned to his boss with a groan. “Natsu, we talked about this!”

“Tell Gray what you been doing!” Lucy pressed. “Show him the stupid packages you send!”

“What packages?” Gray looked to Lucy, then repeated the question as he stared at his boss. “What packages?”

“Tch,” Natsu crossed his arms, “it’s not even that bad.”

Lucy stomped over to where the box fell and picked it up, pulling the contents out. “Bullshit!” She snapped as she held up a very racy, red nightie with flame prints, a pair of fluffy handcuffs, and a large dildo. “See this shit?!” Lucy shook the floppy latex toy at Gray before chucking it to the ground again. “He includes messages too,” then handed the man a folded piece of paper.

Gray read it aloud, “to make up for what playboy lacks. Had it custom made to my size wink wink. Ugh, seriously man,” he tossed the letter.

Natsu shrugged. “I was just having fun.”

“This is the yakuza, not a daycare!” Gray snaps. “I’m not here to babysit the boss so he stops harassing the competition! There’s more important business to worry about!”

“That’s right listen to Gray,” Lucy sneered.

Gray turned to her. “Oh, you ain’t innocent either, so don’t even try it. You both do things to purposely rile the other up and get mad when there’s consequences. Stop it!” He looked back and forth between the two. “Just stop it already!”

Natsu and Lucy looked away from the man with scowls on their faces. Neither wanted to admit he was right.

“Jellal,” Gray called out. When the man entered, he instructed him to escort Lucy out of there. “Next time, just call me instead. It’s best you two just stay away from each other. Got it?!”

“Yeah,” Lucy grumped.

“Got it?!” Gray questioned his boss.

“Yeah,” Natsu mumbled.

“Fucking like high school,” Gray ran a hand down his face in irritation. “You two need therapy.”

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 5

We back at it again because I love this right now

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

After smuggling Derek into my room via the window, the interrogation began. He sat in my computer chair, leaning over, resting his arms on his legs.

“Uh, first I want to say thank you for saving me again.” I began. He looked up and nodded. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“And uh, you’re a werewolf.” I said, starting to pace back and forth, “Is Scott a werewolf?” 

“He is.” 

“Did you bite him?” I paused, crossing my arms over my chest. 

“No, I’m an omega. Only Alphas can give people the gift.” He said. You call that a gift? I’d like a receipt.

“Is there a cure?”

“There’s a legend that says if the beta, one of the pack, kills the alpha then he will become human again. But I don’t even know if that’s true.” He explained. That meant Scott’s odds were not looking good and this werewolf thing is permanent. 

“Were you bitten by the alpha?” I asked, sitting down on the edge of my bed. 

“No, I was born with it. My family was a pack. After…” He paused, “After the fire, my older sister became the alpha since she had been trained by my mother to be the new matriarch. I came back here because I hadn’t heard from her. Now we know why.” 

“I’m so sorry.” I looked down at my socks. These questions were making him bring up what must have been incredibly painful memories and bringing up the fresh pain of the murder of his sister. 

“The thing following you in the woods was the new alpha. He killed her for her alpha spark.” 

“Alpha spark?” 

“It can transform a beta, or an omega into an alpha. It’s taken when the alpha is killed by either of those. Or it can be transferred willingly.” This was a little more complicated than I thought. I knew that there were hierarchies in wolves, but who knew it translated to werewolves?

“Why is the alpha coming after me? You said it was following me.” 

He leaned back in the chair, “Well, he’s either looking to eat you. Or he wanted to turn you.” At my shocked expression he added, “Probably the latter. He’s a new alpha so he’s trying to start a pack, probably why he started with Scott. Speaking of, you need to tell him to stop seeing Allison.” 

“Why, what’s wrong with Allison?” 

“Her family are a very old lineage of werewolf hunters.” He said seriously, “Chris Argent and I have an unspoken agreement. No deaths, I don’t end up dead. I can’t say the same for the rest of his family.” He was something in his eyes, a pain that couldn’t be described. 

“I know I said I wanted answers but if its too painful-”

“It’s fine.” He interrupted. I raised my eyebrows at him. 

“Derek, I understand what it’s like to lose your family in one day. It’s the most awful feeling imaginable. Because after the pain is the loneliness. I got lucky that I have Uncle Noah and Stiles. You had your sister and now she’s gone and you’re the only one left.” He chewed the inside of his cheek. 

“It’s not just me. I have an uncle in a vegetative state at Beacon Hills long-term facility. And my sister Cora, I haven’t seen her since the fire. I think she’s gone too, but there’s always the chance that she’s still out there. She just doesn’t want anything to do with me.” He looked down at his hands. He looked so vulnerable right now, something I never expected from him. He had so many walls up. There were still things he was hiding about the Argents, but pushing him now didn’t seem right. 

I gave him a small smile and kneeled down in front of him. Slowly, I reached for his hands, giving him plenty of time to pull away, but he let me touch him. I held his hands in mine, rubbing my thumbs over his knuckles. I titled my head to meet his eyes that he was hiding. 

“Hey, grief is hard. Especially since we lost our families in the same way. Let’s help each other. Would that be okay?” I asked softly. He met my eyes finally, his stern expression was more loose than usual. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

“I want to. But I can’t.” 

The sound of the door opened behind us, and queue Stiles meltdown. And with the position I was in, on my knees in front of Derek Hale, maybe it was a little justified. 

“What is going on?” He asked. I quickly got to my feet. 

“Uh, Derek was just leaving. Just a quick little visit.” I took Derek by the arm, brought him out of the chair and ushered him to the window, where he left without another word. 

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?” Stiles shouted. 

“Will you keep it down?” I whispered loudly. 

“Oh you can cut the crap, Dad isn’t here. Why the hell is a wanted criminal in my house?!” 

I crossed my arms and shrugged innocently, “We were just talking.” 

“Why was he covered in blood?” He pointed to the dry blood that was on the arm of my chair. I sighed and rubbed my temples. 

“Okay, I’ll tell you. But you have to promise not to tell your dad.” I pleaded. He crossed his arms and looked away from me. 

“As an upstanding citizen of Beacon Hills-”

“You cut the crap, Stiles. You have more priors than he does.” 

“I wasn’t questioned about the murder of my sister.” He shot.

“He was acquitted of all changes due to his alibi.” I shot back.

He grumbled and shook his hands, “Fine, fine. Tell me.” 

“Okay, so, Michael found me in the woods-” 

“Michael-” He started. 

“Hey, no interrupting!” He held his hands up in surrender, motioning for me to go on, “He found me in the woods and was probably going to commit a bunch of unsavory things on me when Derek showed up because the night before when you and Scott were arguing, I went to his house to get some answers of my own, he told me to go home so I did.” I paused and took a drink out of the glass of water on my nightstand, then continued, “Anyway, when Derek showed up he killed Michael because Derek is a werewolf.” I rushed out. 

“A what?!” He shouted. 

“Oh don’t act so surprised, you know Scott is a werewolf.” 

He stepped back, pretending to be shocked, “Scott? A werewolf.” Clearly trying to cover for his friend, but no dice. Stiles was a terrible liar. 

“Derek told me. And he also told me that Allison’s family are werewolf hunters. But I assumed you already knew that because you don’t look surprised at all.” 

“Well, ahhh, her last name does mean silver in French.”  He added. I shook my head, holding my pinkie out. 

“Pinkie swear me you won’t tell Uncle Noah.” He sighed, tapping his foot, “Promise!” He grumbled, throwing his hands up in the air, but eventually he wrapped his pinkie around mine. 

“Fine.” He paused, still holding my pinkie, his grip on my finger tightened, holding me there, “But you have to swear not to get romantically involved!” He pulled his pinkie away. I gasped loudly, staring between my pinkie and his. 

“You can’t do that.” 

He smirked, “I just did.” 

“I am not romantically involved with Derek.” I blushed. 

“Coulda fooled me.” He scoffed. I huffed. 

“Okay, time for you to go. Goodnight Stiles.” I pushed him out the door and slammed it behind me. I leaned against the door and sighed. I wasn’t romantically involved with Derek, we just had a connection. 

…

Maybe I was romantically involved. But could you blame me, he was my knight in shining armor twice. That was attractive. And he was far from ugly. 

- 

The next morning, I went downstairs and was surprised to see Uncle Noah in the kitchen making breakfast. 

“Morning, I didn’t hear you come in last night.” I said, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. 

“That’s because,” He yawned, “I came in this morning.” He motioned to the table, “Sit, sit. Let me make you breakfast.” I sat at the table, pulling an apple out of the basket on the table. He placed a plate of eggs and toast in front of me. 

I smiled up at him, “Thanks, Uncle Noah.” He nodded, sitting down with his own plate before eating. The few minutes were in silence, just chewing. I decided I should at least talk, make it seem like I was still scared that Michael would come back. 

“I know you don’t want to bring up work at home, but is there any news on Michael?” He sighed through his nose, swallowing his bite of food. 

“It’s okay. And I wish I had better news, but we still haven’t found anything.” He said. I nodded. 

“It’s okay, I know you’ll find him.” Find his body? Maybe. But he was very much dead. The only thing I’m worried about now in the woods was the alpha werewolf and whether he wanted to make me lunch or one of them. 

- 

I was making my way out to get groceries when I saw Stiles Jeep whipping through the neighborhood. Being curious, I decided to follow, where I was led to Dr. Deaton’s office, the local veterinarian that Scott worked for. 

“Is there a reason you’re driving like a bat outta hell?” I called, seeing Stiles get out. 

“Oh great, you can help me carry him.” Stiles said, opening the back of the Jeep where Derek sat. He was pale, his eyes looked sunken in, and there was blood dripping down his hand. 

“Jesus Christ.” I said, carefully helping Derek out of the Jeep. He grunted while Stiles and I helped him inside after Stiles unlocked the door with the spare key. Scott had gone to go find the bullet so that Derek could cure himself, he would have to steal from Kate Argent.

 We brought him back into the operating area. I’m sure Stiles was chomping at the bit not to say something. Derek explained that he had been on the trail of the alpha when a hunter saw and shot him. 

Stiles looked at his phone then Derek, “Does Northern Blue Monkshood mean anything to you?”

Derek was leaning on the operating table, “It’s a rare form of wolfsbane. He has to bring me the bullet.”

“Why?”

Derek looked from me to Stiles, “Cause I’m gonna die without it.” He said breathlessly. He took his jacket, then his shirt off to reveal the bullet wound in his arm which was bleeding, but the strangest thing was his veins around the wound were purple and crawling up his arm. I guess Monkshood must be deadly to werewolves, but then again, it is wolfsbane. Derek looked manic, he was getting warmer and sweat was dripping off of him in buckets. He looked around and grabbed an amputation saw.  I grabbed a bowl filled with water and grabbed a couple paper towels. I wet the paper towels, and moving to touch his wounded arm, he pulled it away.

“Okay, if the Blue monkshood doesn’t kill you, an infection will. Let me help you.” I narrowed my eyes. He glared, his nostrils flared but he held his arm out. I lightly dabbed at it, careful not to apply too much pressure.

Stiles gagged when he saw it, prompting me to elbow his side, “Okay, you know, that really doesn’t look like anything, some echinacea and a good night’s sleep couldn’t take care of…?”

Derek swallowed thickly, “When the infection reaches my heart, it’ll kill me.”

“Positivity” just isn’t in your vocabulary, is it?”

“Stiles!” I scolded. 

“If he doesn’t get here with the bullet in time– last resort.” Derek grabbed an amputation saw from the table. 

“Which is…?” Stiles asked. 

“You’re gonna cut off my arm.” He rushed his words out, they slightly slurred together. 

“Okay okay.” I grabbed the saw from his grasp and set it back down on a metal tray, “Let’s just be a little optimistic. Scott’s going to be here soon.” He glared at me, causing me to raise my hands in surrender. He grabbed a rubber tourniquet and tied it tightly around his arm with his teeth to stop any further movement. 

Stiles held his arms out, “Oh, my God. What if you bleed to death?”

“It’ll heal if it works.”

“If it works?!” I snapped, not believing that any of this was happening still.

Stiles sight, “Ugh. Look - I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because of the cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially the blood!”

“You’re not afraid of blood. You don’t faint.” I said, confused. 

“No, but I might at the sight of a chopped - off arm!” 

“All right, fine. How about this? Either you cut off my arm, or I’m gonna cut off your head.” Derek glared. 

“Derek.” I scolded.

Stiles shook his head, “Okay, you know what, I'm so not buying your threats any-” Derek grabbed him by the shirt collar and lifted him up, “Oh, my God. Okay. All right, bought, sold. Totally. I’ll do it. I’ll do it.” Derek dropped him and Stiles looked back at his arm, “What? What are you doing? Holy God, what the hell is that?” His arm was oozing from the wound. 

“It’s my body..” Derek breathed out, “Trying to heal itself.”

“Well, it’s not doing a very good job of it.” Stiles avoided his arm once again.  

Derek grabbed the saw, holding it out to Stiles, “Now. You gotta do it now.”

“Look, honestly, I don’t think I can.”

“Just do it!” He shouted. 

Stiles took the saw, “Oh, my God. Okay, okay. Oh, my God. All right, here we go!” 

“I can’t watch this.” I covered my eyes with one of my hands, the other was on Derek’s uninjured arm. But like an angel’s voice, we heard Scott yelling for Stiles. 

“Scott?” Stiles asked, looking at the frazzled teen who just ran through the clinic.  I uncovered my eyes, still seeing Stiles with the saw pressed to Derek’s arm.

“What the hell are you doing?” Scott asked, exasperated. 

Stiles dropped the saw, “Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares.” 

Derek stood up more without the help of the table but he was starting to wobble, “Did you get it?”

“What are you gonna do with it?” Stiles asked. 

Derek swallowed thickly, “I’m gonna…I’m gonna…” His eyes fluttered shut, his knees buckled and he fell to the floor. 

“Derek!” I shouted, grabbing his torso before he broke his skull open on the floor. When Derek had dropped, it had knocked the bullet out of Scott’s hand and it had rolled.

“No. No, no, no, no.” Scott pleaded as he watched the bullet roll and fall into the vent in the floor. 

Stiles was down on the floor besides me, “Derek. Derek, come on, wake up.” He was tapping his cheek, “Scott, what the hell are we gonna do?”

“I don’t know! I can’t reach it.” Scott called from across the room.

“He’s not waking up!” Stiles said between his teeth, clearly in panic mode, but I wasn’t any better. I leaned my head down to his chest, trying to hear his heartbeat. 

“His heart beats slowing down!” I called, I grabbed his shoulder, starting to shake him, “Come on, Derek, wake up!”

“Come on.” I heard Scott grunt.

“I think he’s dying. I think he’s dead!” Stiles looking back in Scott’s direction. I started to panic, shaking him harder. I can’t lose him. I can’t. No one else I care about is allowed to die.

“Just hold on! Come on.” Scott let out a restrained yell, then shouted “Oh! I got it! I got it!” 

When Stiles heard that, he pushed me back and bowed his fist, “Please don’t kill me for this.” He swung and connected with Derek’s cheek, “Ugh! Ow! God!” He pulled his hand away, shaking it. Derek gasped and his eyes shot open, I helped Derek to feet and held his waist to steady him.

“Give me…” Scott gave Derek the bullet. He took the bullet between his teeth, and broke it open. He dumped the contents of it on the table. From his back pocket he pulled out a match book, he lit a match and dropped it on the contents. It burned quickly, an eerie blue flame. Once it went out, he pinched some of the ash in his fingers, then stuck his fingers in the wound. I winched and looked away. 

“Ow, God.” Stiles gagged. But we all watched in amazement as the dark veins that had been growing up his arm disappeared. I was finally able to breathe properly, I let out a sigh of relief, back away and leaning against the wall. I placed a hand on my chest, feeling my heart slowly go back into rhythm.

“That - Was - Awesome! Yes!” Stiles cheered, throwing his arms up. 

“Are you okay?” Scott asked.  

Derek grumbled a bit, “Well, except for the agonizing pain.”

“I’m guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health.” Stiles smiled, feeling accomplished. He probably just was relieved that he didn’t have to cut anyone’s arm off. 

“Okay, we saved your life, which means you’re gonna leave us alone, you got that? And if you don’t, I’m gonna go back to Allison’s dad, and I’m gonna tell him everything-” Scott started his threat. Which meant that I was severely out of the loop. 

“You’re gonna trust them?” Derek cut him off,  “You think they can help you?”

“Well, why not? They’re a lot freaking nicer than you are.”

 Derek glared at him, the pain was back in his eyes, “I can show you exactly how nice they are.” 

-

After the excitement was over, I decided to go to the Hale house to talk to Derek privately. I got there before him and waited for him in the driveway. I really shouldn’t have come unannounced. He would probably just tell me to get lost like he usually did. I was pulled out of my thoughts by his black Camaro pulling up beside my car. I got out as he did. Derek still looked pretty rough but his color was coming back to his skin.

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.” He said dismissively, walking towards his house. And we were back to this. Even after everything, it’s like our relationship reset itself every time we saw each other. I followed after him, hot on his heels.

“Why do you keep doing this?” I asked, closing the door behind me.

“Doing what?” He took his leather jacket off and hung it up.

“You and I, we talk, we get more comfortable with each other. I think I am finally getting through that shell of yours only for you to make another one.”

Derek turned to face me, “I don’t owe you any explanation. I am fine by myself.”

“No, you’re not.” I came closer to him, my face mere inches from his, “You’re not fine by yourself. I saw how you looked tonight when Scott brought up the Argents. You were hurt, and scared, and angry. You can’t just sit here in this house and pour yourself into finding this alpha, you’re going to kill yourself. You almost died today.”

“He killed my sister! He is killing people and now Kate Argent is back and she doesn’t follow the Code. She will do anything, no matter how awful it is, to murder my kind. She’s the reason my family is gone!” He barked back. I took a deep breath.

“I know you want justice for Laura. I do too. But you can’t do that if you’re dead. Is that what she would want? Her little brother dead trying to get revenge?” Derek avoided my gaze, looking through me more than at me.

“Derek.” I said softly, slowly bringing my hand up to his cheek. He inhaled sharply, becoming stiff under my touch.

I stood on my tiptoes to press my forehead against his and whispered, “This is selfish to say… but I can’t lose you too. I-I thought you were dead. You have to be more careful. Please.” His body became less rigid and he let out a shaky breath. He slowly brought his hand to my waist, the other sliding over my hand that rested on his cheek. In that moment, it felt like the whole universe stopped. It was only me and him. It was like our minds finally connected and our souls touched. There was silence, only the wind blowing softly through the trees. 

“I can’t do this.” He whispered, closing his eyes. 

“You can.” I laced my fingers with his against his cheek, “We can do it together.” 

“I can’t let myself.” He opened his eyes again to meet mine, “When I’m with you I lose focus, you’re all I can think about. I get distracted from what I need to do. So I ignore you, treat us like it's nothing because I can’t open myself up again. Not after… not after what happened.” He was opening up, if not all the way, just a little. Derek had a good point. Finding the alpha and killing him was the only way to get justice for Laura. And if I was distracting him, maybe I should keep my distance. He clearly has been hurt terribly by someone, and hearing him bare his soul made me think about how to make it better. But what was I to do? My demons were killed, Derek deserved to destroy his own. 

“Do you want me to go away?” My words were barely a whisper. 

He licked his lips, “If I was allowed to be selfish, I would never let you go.” I took a deep breath, dreading the fact that I had to leave him. 

“Okay.” I smiled, trying to ignore my burning tear ducts, “I’ll go home. And… I won’t come back unless you want me to.” I reluctantly slipped my hand out of his. But, I need one selfish thing if I was ever going to live with this. I leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. I pulled away, feeling his hand fall from my waist. I kept my eyes on the floor as I walked out of the Hale house, got into my car and drove away. 

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

Read part 6 here!

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[lunarliza]

Dirty Little Secret | Chapter Two: Palm Trees

fuckbuddy!JJ x Kook!Reader 

series masterlist | chapter one 

You and JJ are fuck buddies- strictly physical. But what happens when you find yourself falling more and more for everyone’s favorite golden boy even though all he can see you as is a spoiled rich girl? 

note: just wanna thank ya’ll for all the support! so glad you guys like this. there is smut and drug use under the cut btw 

Three Months Ago-

“Shit,” you heard someone curse. 

You met eyes with an unfamiliar curly blonde boy who mimicked a deer in headlights as he perched down under the tall wooden fence. 

It was a fine, breezy morning. You had set up a blanket on a small patch of sand, under a shady palm tree, just behind someone’s large fenced backyard on the edge of the Eight. You figured no one could catch you casually smoking your pot in the secluded area. 

That was, until a pair of skinny legs darted into your hideout. You quickly hid your joint behind your back while his sea blue eyes pierced yours, but not in an intimidating way, more like a raccoon getting caught with food. He wore a dirty white tee, sleeves chopped off, and torn board shorts. He had bracelets trailing up his arm with ‘JJ’ written across multiple beads. You could tell right away he was from The Cut. 

“What the fuck! Who are you-” 

“Shh no no no,” he held a finger up to your lips. “You did not see me here.” 

He attempted to scurry away, but you caught onto his ankle before he could. “Wait!” 

He plummeted over onto the sand and groaned in response. “What the fu-”

You craned your neck at the fallen twinkie. “Are you stealing?” 

Having just moved to the Outer Banks six months ago, you didn’t know much about the culture besides what made up Figure Eight. From what you were told, the island was basically split between two crowds. 

Ted detested The Cut and anyone associated with it. He called them low lives, thieves, rats. One time, Macy went on a play date with a friend from school there. Once Ted found out where she was, he stormed over, pulled her away from her friend, and threatened the family before flooring the car back home. Since then, he forbade your family to go anywhere near the area. Ted wasn’t a man of many words, but the anger in his eyes that day made it clear he was not kidding around. 

“What?” the boy scoffed, “I’m not stealing, just-” 

“Disrupting the neighborhood?” 

His face knotted in confusion. “Something like that... look what will it take for you to keep quiet about this?” 

You shrugged, kind of enjoying his desperation. You weren’t planning on ratting him out at all, but this was the most entertainment you had gotten all week, so you decided to play along. You tapped your chin, “Hmm, perhaps-” 

“Before you continue, princess,” he mocked, gesturing towards the arm you had behind your back, “you might wanna rethink snitching when you have all that dank on you. How would your parents feel if they found out their precious Kook daughter was smoking weed?” 

You rolled your eyes and flipped him off. “Carry on, asshole.” 

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

Later that night, you were dragged to a party at the famous Boneyard by your friend Jade- a petite social butterfly with a heart of gold and the most toxic dating history you had ever seen. 

She was one of the few friends you made since moving to the OBX. Jade knew of how much you hated life at the Eight, but still tried to include you in as many events as she could. Despite growing up with insanely rich doctors as parents, she herself didn’t quite fit the spoiled Kook mold either. She had her kinks, and you liked it. 

“Jade, I’m not sure about this. If Ted finds out-” 

“Girl, you are fine! Just say you’re with me and my parents will cover. Trust me, they think I’m at some study session right now,” she assured.

“But finals aren’t til next month.” 

“Exactly! See how much they care?” 

Hand in yours, she led you to a spot on the beach where a crowd of people pranced around a bonfire. You could tell it was a mix of Pogues, Kooks, and some tourists in town for Spring Break. 

“Care for a beer ladies?” a tall, tan boy asked as he held out two red cups to you and Jade. You happily accepted, and the guy dared you both to chug your drinks. You shook your head with an ear-stretched grin, attempting to gulp as much of your beer as you could take. 

The confidence juice soared into your throat. It tasted absolutely atrocious, but you were determined to finish it. 

For the first time since moving to the island, you felt alive. The two of you tossed the empty remains into a trashcan and Jade cupped your cheeks with her French-manicured hands. “Isn’t this awesome!” she exclaimed and began shaking her hips to the electronic music- her excitement as contagious as ever. You immediately joined her, the alcohol coursing through your body. 

After a few songs, the same boy who offered you the beers crept up behind Jade’s 5’2 frame. He ran his hands along her hips as she grinded back onto him. 

‘Is he cute?’ she mouthed. You threw your head back laughing, giving her an encouraging nod. She went back to being smitten with her newfound man while you continued to dance by yourself, the outer skirts of your dress gliding up as you moved. 

“Well, it’s funny how the tables turn don’t it?” you heard a haughty voice trail behind you. 

You turned to see a shirtless boy double fisting bottles of cheap beer. His back was towards the fire so you couldn’t make out his face completely. Though, something did click in your half-drunken mind at the sight of the beaded bracelets on his wrists.

“You’re the Pogue from this morning,” you stated, staring intently at his sharp features. He was kinda cute in the dark, murky beach air. 

“Fancy seeing you here on our turf,” he rudely replied taking a swig of beer, “not sure who invited you, but here, we have a strict no spoiled bitches policy.” 

The audacity was so potent, and you were taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Fuck off JJ! Y/n’s my friend, and I invited her,” Jade interjected from a few feet away, “go mack on one of the tourons and leave her alone.” 

“Whatever, Kooks.” The blonde scoffed and jogged away from the crowd, back towards a group of kids sitting on a log. 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his brash comments. Even with Ted’s aversion towards them, you didn’t quite understand the Pogue-Kook rivalry. You once asked Jade about it to which she just shrugged and said, “It’s just how it is.” 

She personally didn’t have anything against Pogues- as one was currently shoving his tongue down her throat in that moment. Though you didn’t interact much with their group, they seemed fine to you. Minus grumpy Goldey Locks on the log. 

Lost in your thoughts, you hardly noticed the tourist boy in front of you offer a shot of his Tito’s handle. The last time you had vodka, the awful taste nearly climbed back out your throat. But you were too fed up with your family and the Pogue boy’s irritating remarks to care. You closed your eyes, dipped back, and let the boy, dressed head-to-toe in Outer Banks merch, pour whatever he had in your mouth. It didn’t take long before everyone around you started looking fuzzy. A thumping noise in the back of your brain told you that you were way past your limit of about a sip and half. The music began sounding like loud thuds and you had no idea where Jade was. With all the strength you could muster up, you trudged up the beach back towards some palm trees to catch a breath, away from the clammy crowd. 

With one hand on the rugged trunk you bent over, knowing your stomach was rejecting all the alcohol you consumed that night. With one glance back towards the party, you felt the bitterness shoot its way back up your body and out hurled everything you drank onto the ground, a few coughs following. 

Out of nowhere, you felt a hand slide up your back as you lifted your head to see a hazy mess of blonde hair. “Here,” the snarky boy offered, holding up a water bottle, “you’ll feel better.” 

Begrudgingly, you took a few sips and handed it back to him. “Thanks.” 

You could see the party was starting to fizzle out, the water sobering you up. He downed the rest and tossed the empty bottle. 

“Fucking hell,” the guy, JJ, uttered, “You Kooks are way in over your heads.” 

“What’s your problem with me anyways?” you snapped, straightening up so you could meet his eyes. “I didn’t rat on you today! But now I’m thinking maybe I should have!” 

“See that’s the problem right there! You didn’t even catch me doing anything wrong. You just assumed I’m doing something bad because I don’t shit money out my ass.” 

“Well were you doing something bad?” 

“That is besides the point.” 

Your eyes were aching to roll out of your head. You hated the way he was talking to you and decided to play into this little hate-game of his since he seemed to get such a kick out of it. 

“Well, maybe if you kept your filthy head out of our side and up your own ass instead, we wouldn’t have an issue now would we?” 

He huffed and inched closer, causing you to back up against another tree, away from the vomit on the floor. “You entitled bitches think you know it all, probably from all that rip-off dank blowing up your head.” 

He was so close you could smell the faint alcohol on his breath. You were completely sober at that point, focusing on the eyes that probed into yours as JJ’s hands reached up to the sides of the tree, fencing you in. The music from the party was hardly a whisper compared to the tension between you two in that moment. The night was humid, but you weren’t sure if you were sweating from the heat or your jolting nerves. 

Then, a rush of boldness swept through you. 

“You talk a lot of shit for someone’s who’s dying to get into a Kook’s pants,” you tempted, glancing briefly at his lips. You then chose to taunt him even more- biting your own and sticking out your slightly exposed chest in the bodice of the dress you had on. 

He dauntingly moved closer, your faces only inches apart. “In your fucking dreams sweetheart,” he muttered before capturing your lips.

It was a hungry, needy kiss. You hardly knew anything about him, yet you didn’t protest when his hands reached up your stomach to roughly cup your boobs. They then glided down under the thinness of your dress to eagerly squeeze your butt. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, feeling the bareness of your ass underneath. His palm slapped your asscheek so hard, you were sure the entire beach could hear. 

Your hands crept down his bare chest, tracing over to his abs. Still on your ass, his hands kneaded at the swollen cheeks. You felt him pull away slightly after a bit. 

“Ever wonder what it’s like to fuck a Pogue?” 

“Just shut up and take me,” you answered hastily. His coarse hand trailed against your lower folds. He stroked over the material of your soaked thong before pushing the string to the side, his middle finger rubbing you gently. 

You reached in the band of his shorts to feel his hardened cock. You ran your hand up and down the shaft before exposing it out completely. He quickly lifted your leg to drape across his waist as he situated his length to your hole with his sweaty forehead resting on yours. 

Slowly, he pressed himself into you as a loud moan emerged from you both. The boy swiftly held his palm to your mouth while you felt him stretch you out slowly. Your eyes rolled back in bliss. 

“Fuck this pussy is tight,” he slopping mumbled in your ear as he continued, feeling your wetness grip him. 

He held a steady pace for a while before he suddenly halted and pulled out. Before you could protest, he grabbed the sides of your arms and whipped you around so you were facing the tree. When he snatched each side of your hips to pull you towards him, you quickly caught on, spreading your legs apart while arching your back so your ass was perked up and ready. He held his pulsing length in his hands, lining himself with you, before shoving it in full for you to take.

He bent over onto you and seized your chin with one hand to spin your head back for another kiss, tongue and all. “You look so pretty taking this dick,” he rasped as your careless whimpers echoed. 

JJ pounded deeper and deeper in you, yanking down the front of your dress so your breasts plopped free. He massaged them in his hands from behind. In response, your arched your back more, wanting to feel him- all of him inside you. As his thrusts slowed, he pulled out and pumped himself a few times before coming on your right asscheek. He slapped the left when he was done. 

You were breathing heavily, collecting yourself as you straightened up. “Not bad,” you panted as a cocky smirk rose on his face. 

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

note: WHEW CHILE! 

chapter 3

tags: @starkeybaby @obxlife @poguesforlife @everydayimfangirling @iamaunicorn4704 @tangledinsparkles 

[vinylhazza]

imagine craving morning sex with gray just because you’re obsessed with his little belly and it turns you on for some reason

TW: i used a reference to drugs sooo if that triggers you skip right over that sentence please. love u.

his wittle tummy is so endearing to me. but yes like he’s cooking just like in the video but you are groggily stumbling into the kitchen, yawning from having just rolled out of bed. he’s just minding his own business making french toast and it smells so good you had to admit. your stomach jumped slightly just smelling the food. you were most hungry in the mornings on regular occasions. grayson always made such a big breakfast for you, and always asked you if you had any request. he was a sweetheart like that.

he’s shirtless of course, because when does that boy ever wear a shirt? and he’s just so goddamn handsome. his hair is a bit messy, and you can see where he tried to fix it without looking in the mirror. there’s a little piece that stands up right at the back, making a smile spread across your face in amusement.

you stare for a while, just admiring the muscles in his back moving while he cooks and hums a tune to himself. he’s happy, he only hums like that when he’s truly happy. that thought alone has you melting into a puddle right on the kitchen floor. you hoped it was because you had a very interesting night. interesting meaning he ate you out so good your thighs are still a little weak in the morning. the thought of his tongue swirling on you had you clenching your thighs and fanning your face with your hand, grabbing the hair tie from your wrist to tie your hair up into a ponytail.

satisfied with your appearance, you close the distance between your body and his - wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek against his tan back. he stops only for a second, his stomach contracting and you just know he’s laughing.

“goodmorning sunshine,” he talks with a calm tone, the one he always uses when he swipes the hair from your face while you lay in bed wrapped up in his arms.

“mornin’,” you grin, sliding your hands down just a bit to trace over the part of his stomach that sticks out just a bit further than the rest. you call it a food baby, he calls it a problem. the thing is, you love his little tummy. not only was he the hottest man you’d ever seen, but the little tummy he had turned you on the the max.

“baby,” grayson snaps you out of your trance, his voice a warning. he’s really...self conscious about the belly and although he knows you’d never judge him on it - he doesn’t understand the obsession you have and why you’re always touching him there, kissing over it, sucking little love bites into the skin. he was just so self conscious about it.

with a huff, you grab him by his waist, reaching forward to grab his spatula and set it down on the saucer next to the stove. when you turn him around to look at you, he has a pout aimed down at the floor. the little shit refused to even look at you.

“hey,” you mutter, grabbing at his face with both of your hands, holding his cheeks in your palms and tucking some of the hairs that stick over his ears to the back - something that always softens him up, “you know you never have to hide yourself with me. you are...” you back up further, smoothing your hands down his nails, spreading them apart over the slight protrusion of his slight tummy, “fucking everything Grayson.”

“oh not that tone,” he smiles, noticing the slight seductive twinge to your voice, watching you close as you kiss a trail down his chest, down his abs, and across his lower stomach, making sure to leave a little love bruise right near the edge of his sweats - give him something to look at later.

“what tone?” your faux innocence is what really gets him, always has. when you act like an angel but turn into a devil when the time is just right. you keep peppering your kisses, but sink down to your knees and palm his growing bulge through the grey fabric of his sweats.

within an instant he’s yanking you back to your feet and holding your chin tight in his hand, staring at you with blown out eyes that ring ‘don’t test me because i won’t hesitate to fuck you on the counter.’

but that’s exactly what you want isn’t it? to give your man that confidence he always shows to the world. you know he gets in his head, but you are always there to make sure he keeps the insatiable energy.

“do you think you can come in here and test me, huh?” he whispers right up against your lips, his breath coming out in short puffs, the hot air only causing you to clench your thighs tighter, “rubbing up on me right as i’m making breakfast?”

“did it work?” you’re sighing back to him, leaning in and scratching you nails across that exact same spot.

without a word grayson is picking you up from the ground and slamming you down onto the counter, chuckling when you let out a shocked gasp at the impact.

“fucking always turning me on at the most inconvenient times,” he growls, tugging down his pants and looking at you with a raised eyebrow, scanning his over your body as if to say “one of us is far too overdressed”.

“i’m sorry daddy,” you’re pouting, pulling his t-shirt over your head and tossing it beside you on the counter, peeling your panties off in a speed that shocks you. you hasn’t even realized how bad you fucking wanted him. he’s like a drug you just can’t get enough of. addicting.

“no you’re fucking not,” he grumbles, ridding his own body of the last article of clothing, stroking himself with his hand. he’s already so fucking hard and it amazes you how fast he can get to that point. the point of needing to fuck someone hard so fast, “you knew exactly what you wanted when you came in here. and i’m going to give it to you,” he tells you earnestly, leaning in to place a slow kiss on your lips, swiping his tongue across yours before pulling away and looking at himself.

“fuck, look what you did baby,” he groans titling his head back for a second with his eyes squeezed shit, jerking himself off right in front of you, “all because you woke up and wanted to be fucked.”

“i just wanted to touch your tummy that’s all,” you try and reason, knowing it drives him crazy that you can get him riled up at the most random times. like cooking his breakfast for instance.

“oh shit,” he whimpers to himself, ignoring you while tugging at himself some more, twisting his wrists and rubbing his thumb over his tip, jumping at the sensitivity, “tell me again. tell me how much you wanna touch me there.”

“really bad i think it’s so cute,” you tell him honestly, watching him with hungry eyes pleasuring himself, “you’re little tummy is so cute.”

cute. fucking cute?

“cute huh?” he’s tilting his head up to look at you with a menacing glare, stalking over to you and spreading your legs wide across the counter, reaching down to rub at your bundle of nerves - a high pitched moan coming from your chest already.

“you think i’m cute?” he threatens, he hates that word.

“n-no i think you’re hot daddy, think you’re sexy, not cute just um-“ you struggle to articulate your thoughts while hes rubbing up and down your folds, dipping a finger in just to pull right back out. he’s teasing you now. a punishment for your interruption.

he’s placing a hand over your mouth while he lines himself up with your hole, slamming himself into you with one sharp thrust - knowing that your scream would wake up the whole neighborhood if he didn’t shut you up right away.

“be quiet understood? you already fucked up my breakfast...so now you’re gonna get what you came for.”

and he did give you just that, to the point you are squirting out all over his dick and the floor beneath you - something you hardly ever do in the morning. squirting was usually a nighttime event, but with him railing into you at such a speed that you had to hold onto the cabinets behind you - let’s say you underestimated him a bit too much.

i think we can all come to the conclusion that he burnt the hell out of his breakfast and it turned into a cute dual cooking moment: bumping hips playfully and reaching up to play with his hair when he is focused on other things. you love that you can switch between sexual to sweet so easily with him. that he can make you feel so safe, and vice versa.

[before-we-get-started]

Dream Come True

Colin Shea x O/C Corinne MacAdam

Multi-Chapter Story - Complete

Summary: Colin Shea and his band Rock the Cradle are finally making it big - until something unexpected happens. When he meets a girl that makes him reconsider his player ways, he thinks his life may be coming together, until she blows it apart.

Warning: Bad language, smut, suicidal ideations - no one under 18, please

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please do not read if you are underage. I do not own the character of Colin Shea; the rest are my original characters. By reading beyond this point, you understand the disclaimers as posted.

Chapter Five

On Monday, she woke up with a new outlook. Today she’d start a new job, something much different than working for the events management company. Serving as personal assistant to a family friend, an heiress and philanthropist, eccentric and a spinster, but a very nice woman. Cori’s mother had reminded her that her new boss, Ms. Robbins, was prone to mood swings (and forgetting things), but that she’d treat her fairly and appreciate her hard work.

On a whim on Sunday, she’d decided to color her hair. She bought a kit and gave herself light blonde highlights, lightening the chestnut brown. She looked as if she’d been out in the sun, as if maybe she had a healthy outdoor lifestyle, not like she’d been holed up feeling sorry for herself for months.

She dressed in a chocolate brown business suit with a cream blouse, a bow tied at the neck. She put on her brown pumps and some with the crème filigreed toe accent and grabbed her purse. For good luck, she put on the pearl drop earrings her parents had gotten her for her 16th birthday. She’d prepped her lunch the night before and grabbed the thermal bag from the frig, along with her travel coffee mug. She had plenty of time to make the T to the Back Bay neighborhood where Ms. Robbins lived.

As she’d finished getting ready, “Walking on Sunshine” by Katrina and the Waves had been playing on the radio. She found herself singing it softly as she left the apartment. “I’m walking on sunshine – yeah!” she sang, a little louder than she planned, as the door to 6A opened. Colin emerged in his boxers. He bent down to pick up a newspaper, then stood up and took a good look at her as she walked by.

“Mornin’ 6C,” he said with that gorgeous smile. His eyes ran over her from head to toe and she could almost feel it.

She smiled back, gazing over her shoulder as she walked by. “Mornin’ 6A. Have a good day.” She kept walking down the stairs, her optimism bubbling up. What a great way to start the day – Colin in his boxers. She smiled to herself, descending the stairs, holding on to the wooden rail. She looked up just long enough to see Colin, arms on the railing, leaning over to watch her.

“You have a good day, too,” he said, lingering as she bounced her way down and out of the building.

Ms. Robbins lived in a huge terracotta brick home on Newton Street. The house had been divided up into condos and she occupied the entire first floor. It was just her and Yaz, her Yorkie (Ms. Robbins was a lifelong Red Sox fan). Cori had been to her home twice before – once as a child for a dinner party, and once a few weeks ago for her job interview. She entered the front door and rang the bell at the door on her left, the entry to Ms. Robbins’ home.

“’S open!”

Cori entered and walked into the main living area, adorned with floral wallpaper in greens and blues. Wood three-quarter round trim stained a honey color trimmed the room and honey colored hardwoods peeked out from a solid blue area rug. There was a Steinway piano, a Victorian couch and chair and a coffee table in the room, along with built-in shelves that held items from around the world, secured during Ms. Robbins’ travels.

“It’s Cori,” she said in a singsong voice. Yaz came streaking into the room, yapping ferociously. She bent down and petted the silky hair around the blue bow tied around a small tuft on his head. He returned the gesture with little licks to her hand.

“Good morning!” Ms. Robbins had cornered the market on brocade dresses. Every time Cori had ever seen her, she was in some type of beautiful brocade. Today’s was a kelly green/ecru paisley that was beautiful against her ivory skin and auburn hair. In her mid-60’s, she was medium height and quite fit, a few lines on her porcelain skin but they weren’t too noticeable with her impeccable makeup. She was holding a number of envelopes as she entered the room.

She hugged Cori and extended her arms, getting a look at her. “Cori, you look absolutely gorgeous. I’m so excited we’ll be working together.”

Cori smiled. “I am too Ms. Robbins. I really appreciate this opportunity.”

“I’m going to keep you busy,” she said. “Now let me show you around so we can get to work.” She led Cori through a formal dining room, complete with a giant ornate wood table and chairs, into a kitchen that had obviously been recently remodeled. Tall white cabinets, a beautiful light gray granite and a white subway tile backsplash, with larger square ceramic tiles and a beautiful mosaic tile providing a pop of color behind the large stainless Bertazzoni range. The kitchen was immaculate – Cori wondered if any food had ever actually been prepared in the room.

“You can put your lunch bag here,” she said, pointing to the giant SubZero frig, “and are you a coffee drinker?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Cori said, shaking her travel mug in front of her.

“Wonderful! I have a coffee station here, there are an assortment of flavors. Lots of creamer in the frig. Help yourself,” she said, waving her arm in front of the high-end coffee maker like it was up for bids on The Price is Right.

She showed Cori the powder room and where she could store her coat and any other items she brought with her. “I want you to feel at home. Help yourself to whatever you find in the kitchen. If you can’t find something, just let me know. Mi casa, su casa,” she said with a smile.

Cori felt a surge of excitement, for the hospitality and for the unknown opportunity that lied ahead.

They made their way to the office, just off the living area with beautiful French doors in the same honey wood. The walls were done in a green wallpaper with wide green velvet stripes. The honey floors carried in and there was a large mahogany desk, built-in bookcases behind it and a high-backed leather office chair.

“This is your workspace now,” Ms. Robbins said. “You’ll find a variety of office supplies in the desk and in the cabinet on the wall. If what you need isn’t here, make a list and – well – I’ll send you out to buy it,” she smiled.

Cori laughed. “Yes ma’am,” she said with a laugh.

“And how about if you call me Amelia. ‘Ma’am’ and ‘Ms. Robbins’ make me feel old.”

“Ok Amelia,” she said. “I love that name.”

“And I love yours. My mother’s name was Corinne. I’m named after my father’s mother. Thank goodness, my mother’s mother was Agatha.” They both laughed.

“I thought we’d operate this way – this new laptop is yours. You can use it here and take it home if you ever need to work after hours. In this book (she opened a leather-bound journal), there are sections. The first will be for your schedule. I’ve written what I’d like you to do this week here,” she said, pointing at a page behind the first tab. “The second section will be for lists. I’ve written this week’s date and a list of items I need you to purchase. The third section will be for your hours. Sign in and out each day, and be sure to include any evening or weekend hours, there will eventually be some. I’ll check it on Fridays, send the hours to my accountant and he’ll transfer money to your account on Monday morning, so pay weekly. Does that work?”

“Yes,” said Cori. “That works perfectly.”

“Great. Whenever you need to go out, Gerald will be available with the car. Let’s take today to get you familiar with the house, the neighborhood and the things I’ll expect you to do. We’ll have lunch on Beacon Hill today because it’s so gorgeous out and tomorrow will be your first actual day with work.”

And so the day progressed, Ms. Robbins doing all the things she promised. After getting familiar with more of the house and where things were stored, they sat in the office and discussed her upcoming calendar and events, and the other tasks she’d expect Cori to accomplish. At 11 a.m. they walked out front where Gerald and the car were waiting. They climbed in the back and Ms. Robbins directed the driver to “run the tour route.” They wove through the streets of the neighborhood and those that bordered. She showed Cori her preferred market, florist, office supply store and other shops. Cori made notes as they went. When they’d finished the tour, the driver stopped in front of a bistro in Beacon Hill with a low brick wall that surrounded a courtyard full of outdoor tables under bright red umbrellas.

“Ms. Robbins, so good to see you. Right this way.” The host showed them to a table tucked away in the back corner of the courtyard. Almost as soon as they were seated, a server set glasses of ice water and iced tea in front of them with a little bowl of lemon wedges. The host handed Cori a menu.

“Will you be having your usual today?” the host asked.

“Yes Phillip. But please give Ms. MacAdam a minute to look.”

“Of course.” The host left the table, passing another server who set a two baskets on the table, one with fresh hot breadsticks in a linen cloth bed and the other little pats of cold butter.

Cori inhaled the smell of the fresh bread, closing her eyes.

“A carb girl, a girl after my own heart,” Ms. Robbins said, pulling out two breadsticks and handing one to Cori.

“Maybe just one,” she said, using her knife to cut off a small wedge of butter and smearing it on the breadstick. She took a bite. “Oh my gosh,” she said softly.

“I know, right?” said Ms. Robbins. “Those breadsticks are my spirit animal.” They both laughed.

Cori chose a salmon salad with a lemon vinaigrette and Ms. Robbins got her usual Salad Niçoise and they chatted away, talking about Beacon Hill, their favorite Boston eateries, Cori’s family, and eventually, Cori’s recent past.

“I saw your mother last year at a benefit and she said you had found your dream job with Spalding Events. Was it not what you had hoped?”

Cori suddenly felt panicked. Ms. Robbins obviously didn’t know what had happened to her, or that she’d been unceremoniously dumped by the love of her life when he banged her best friend the night before their wedding. Just the thought of all of it made her a little dizzy. She took a deep breath. Get it together.

“It was wonderful, but I was in an accident-“

Ms. Robbins gasped quietly and reached for her hand. “Oh dear, are you ok?”

“Yes,” said Cori. “I am now. I actually stepped off the curb and got hit by a cab.”

This time the gasp was much more audible. “My word! Cori! That’s horrifying!”

“It was,” she said softly. “I suffered some serious injuries. The folks at Spalding were kind enough to let me keep working from home once I was able. But I had to do a lot of physical therapy, I moved back in with my parents. Honestly, I just needed a fresh start.” She left out the part about Matthew and Amber.

Ms. Robbins kept her hand on Cori’s, patting it softly. “I’m so glad you’re ok. I can’t imagine what your parents must have gone through as well. Your supervisor spoke very highly of you when I called. She said they’d have you back in a minute.”

“That’s really nice of them,” she said.

“Well, don’t worry. I know events are your specialty. We’ll start out slow but eventually, you’ll be planning my events. I love to entertain and especially to raise money for my foundation. You’ll be able to put that experience to work and for lots of good causes.”

Cori felt a rush of giddiness. Her own events. She loved the sound of that. This was exactly what she needed, what she’d hoped for.

“I can’t wait,” she said with a giggle.

“Good! Now, tell me, if I keep you late or ask you to work on weekends, will I be imposing on a relationship with your significant other? I understand that you have a life.”

The smile ran away from her face. “No, no significant other.”

“Well, then we’ll have more than one goal for our events, won’t we?” she said with a smile.

They finished lunch, which was delicious, and the driver took them back to Newton Street. The rest of the day was spent getting familiar with the office, files she’d need, Ms. Robbins’ rolodex and books from some of her previous events. There were photos and agendas and a list of all the companies used for each event. She recognized lots of them from working at Spalding.

Five o’clock was here before she knew it and she grabbed her bag and headed for the T. She left her lunch bag for tomorrow. The ride home was easy and she ascended the stairs of her apartment building, headed for the sixth floor. On Saturday night during the party, her neighbors said the elevator is almost always out. She was glad it was working when her father helped her move in.

She reached her floor and stared at 6A. She wondered if Colin was home, and if so, what he was doing. Impulsively, she knocked on his door. After a bit, he answered. He was in a Patriots t-shirt and athletic shorts, barefoot, his hair spikey and messy. He looked like maybe he hadn’t been awake for very long.

“Hey! How was your first day?” he said, smiling.

“Really good,” she said. “Very good. Hey, I was thinking, maybe you could come for dinner one night this week. You can tell me about your neighborhood watch program.”

He smiled. “You’ll be a good recruit and I never turn down a free meal. So yes.”

“Great, how about Wednesday at 7?”

“I’ll be there.”

As Cori walked away, she saw a leggy blonde coming off the last step and turning towards Colin’s door. She peered over her shoulder and saw him embrace her, then they shared a long, deep kiss. She noticed his long eyelashes laying on high cheekbones when he closed his eyes for the kiss. Cori felt her knees go weak. She wished for a second she was a leggy blonde.

“You came,” he said. “Nicole, right?”

“Nina,” the blonde corrected him.

“Yeah, Nina. Come on in.” He held the door open for her, placing his hand on the small of her back as she walked in. He looked over at Cori. “Night 6C.”

“Good night,” she replied. The door clicked behind him. Cori unlocked the door and went in, spending the rest of the evening thinking about that kiss. It wouldn’t be as good as the one she got from her mystery man, but she bet it was close.

Tuesday was a normal day, learning and exploring at work, then on Wednesday, she ran to the market after getting off the train to grab a few items. She was in by 5:30, giving her some time to prep dinner. She loved to cook. She wasn’t a chef by any means but she could hold her own. She’d decided to prepare a margherita pasta with shrimp for tonight, with a salad and strawberry shortcakes for dessert. She took a quick shower, put on a little makeup, pulled her hair up in a messy bun after dressing in jeans and an emerald green cold shoulder shirt and jeans and headed for the kitchen. She chopped tomatoes, onions, garlic and basil, seared the shrimp and boiled the pasta. She tossed the romaine salad with some vinaigrette. She set the table, opened a bottle of white wine and put it in an ice bucket, filled two glasses with ice water and as she was setting them on the table, there was a knock at the door.

She glanced in the mirror next to the door – she looked as good as she could, she supposed. She unlocked the door then opened it.

“Hey,” he said. She gasped softly. He was in a cobalt blue button up shirt, black belt, jeans and boots. There was a thin silver chain around his neck, a small silver medallion resting in the valley between his defined pecs. The edge of a tattoo peeked out where the shirt was unbuttoned. His hair was styled. He handed her a small bouquet of fresh flowers. “For you.”

She smiled, a smile that lit up her whole face, and took the flowers. “They’re beautiful. Come in.” She stepped out of the way and he walked the few steps in, making the step down into her living/dining room.

“Wow, it smells amazing in here,” he said, making a show of sniffing the air. “I can’t remember the last time I ate something that wasn’t in cardboard or Styrofoam.”

“I hope you like shrimp – and pasta,” she said.

“That sounds great,” he replied.

She pulled a vase out of the cabinet, added a little water and put the flowers in, setting them in the middle of the table. “Everything is ready,” she said, extending her arm toward the table. He sat down at one of the place settings and picked up the napkin, unfolding it and placing it in his lap.

“So how was day three?” he asked.

She pulled the pan of pasta from the stove and set in on the table. “Really good,” she said.

“Tell me more.”

“I’m a personal assistant for Amelia Robbins. She’s heir to Robbins Manufacturing. She has a house over in Back Bay.”

“Wow, nice neighborhood,” he said, eyeing the pasta she was putting on his plate.

“Very nice. She lives in a huge building full of condos. Her home is the entire first floor. It’s really pretty,” she said.

“So what kind of assistant stuff are you doing?”

“I run errands, do some shopping, manage her calendar. Eventually I’ll be her event planner. She hosts a number of fundraisers for non-profits throughout the year.”

He twisted the pasta around his fork and took a bite, stopping abruptly. He spoke but the words were unintelligible with a mouthful of food.

“What?” she said laughing.

He chewed and swallowed. “I said Holy Shit, this is amazing!” He loaded another fork full and shoveled it in. “Absolutely delicious.”

She was pleased. The evening would suck if the food was bad.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said, taking her own bite. It did taste pretty good.

They talked a little more about her job and then she asked about the band.

“So, what’s the name of your band?”

“Oh, Rock the Cradle – like, Boston is the Cradle of Liberty, and we definitely rock.”

“If I wanted to hear you, where would I go?”

“Finnegan’s, O’Leary’s, Rap’s, local bars,” he said.

“Mm,” she hummed as she finished a bite of pasta. “I’m envious. I always wanted to be in a band. I took piano and played in orchestra in high school. It must be great to take the stage and play your own music.”

He sighed, smiling broadly. “It is,” he said as he put his hand over his chest. “It’s the most incredible feeling. I’m addicted.”

“I’ll bet! And I’m sure you have a pretty incredible stage presence.”

“Well, I don’t mind bragging but yeah, I can wrap an audience up, no problem.”

Cori was impressed. “Just think, when you get that record deal, you’ll already be great at performing live.”

His face dropped then. He looked down at his plate. “We took a break for a while a few months ago. There were some things I had to work through.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Did the break help?” She couldn’t help but wonder – guys in bands were often partiers. Did he have a drinking problem? Drugs? He didn’t seem the type, but you never knew what someone else was going through. She stirred the fork around in her plate. “If you guys are that good, I’m sure you’ll get another chance.”

He looked up at her and smiled sheepishly, like a little boy. “It gave me some time to think, and yeah, exactly. I tell the guys that all the time.” He didn’t sound like he believed it.

She smiled, feeling sad for him. He was obviously incredibly disappointed. That sweet smile was gone and she found herself wanting to give him a hug. “Probably get a better record deal next time anyway.”

He smiled. “Exactly. That’s what I told the guys. Everything happens for a reason.” He pulled the fork across his plate, scraping up the last possible bite.

She smiled, happy he liked it so much. “Dessert?” she said sweetly.

His face suddenly shifted and through hooded blue eyes, he smirked and purred, “I never turn down dessert.”

Cori felt the heat flush her cheeks. “Sorry to disappoint you, just strawberry shortcake.”

He laughed. “Ok, I’ll settle for that.”

He picked up the plates from the table and took them to the sink while she pulled the sponge cake, strawberries and whipped cream from the frig. She pulled two ramekins from the cabinet and with a knife, cut circles of cake to fit in the little cups. Colin stood next to her at the counter, peering over her shoulder.

“That looks so good,” he said, reaching over and sticking his finger in the whipped cream. She pulled the bowl away from him.

“Patience,” she laughed. “Go sit.”

He strode to the couch, dropping himself against the throw pillows.

Cori thought about how comfortable all of this was. Dinner together, easy banter, affectionate looks. Everything she thought she’d have by now, with Matthew.

She stared down at her hands and sighed. Colin was sweet and dangerously sexy, but he was just another Matthew. Having a variety of girls was his trademark. Besides, she wasn’t even in the league with the other girls she’d seen at his place.

She shook her head to clear the thought and grabbed two spoons, carrying their desserts to the couch.

Colin admired the sweet treat as she handed it to him. “You’re one incredible cook,” he said, dipping his spoon in and snagging a little of each layer. He hummed as he enjoyed the first bite. “Man, I could get used to this,” he said, smiling at her.

“Well, stay on my good side and I’ll fatten you up.”

He laughed. “Hey, the body is part of the show. But I’ll take my chances.”

They finished and she took their cups. She was so enjoying his company, she spoke before she could think about it. “So, I was thinking, if you want, maybe we could watch a movie or play a game or something.”

Colin glanced at his watch and made a face, then bounced off the couch up the step to the front door and peered through the peephole. “Shit.”

“Everything ok?”

He stepped down from the door. “Can I take a raincheck? I need to get out of here.”

She hoped the disappointment that washed over her didn’t show. “Of course,” she said.

“Great. You’re the best. Thanks – for the best meal I’ve had in a long time.” He reached for her to pull her into a hug and as he touched her arm, they both felt as if lightning shot through them.

Colin jumped back. “Damn, what the hell?”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t know. The two of us together are dangerous,” she said with a smile.

He grinned and looked a little sad. “I’ve gotta go. Thanks again.” He unlocked the locks on the door and left, pulling it closed behind him.

She was a little dazed, lightheaded even after the moment. She hadn’t noticed any static electricity anywhere else. That was an enormous charge. She stepped up to the door and peered through the peephole. Her heart dropped. Colin’s back was to her and he was wrapped around another leggy blonde. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and her tongue was down his throat. He turned them around, never breaking the kiss, fumbled with the doorknob and opened the door, pulling her inside. The door closed.

She was right. Not even close to being in his league. She stepped down into the kitchen to clean up.

Monday morning’s alarm rang and she trudged through her normal routine. As she unlocked her door to leave, she heard voices in the hallway.

“I can’t. Look, I would if I could but I’ve got something else going on.”

“Colin, you always do this. I want to go on a date. A real date. You know I only want to be with you.” The voice was female.

She slowly opened the door, embarrassed to intrude on their conversation, but she had to go to work. She slowly stepped out, the conversation continuing.

“I appreciate that,” he purred, running his hands down her bare arms. She had raven hair that was pulled into a ponytail, tight yoga pants and a spandex workout top, her curves on display. “But there’s so much going on with the band, I just don’t have the time right now. You know I like you Brittany –“

“Brianna,” she corrected him.

He smiled that megawatt smile. “Yeah, Brianna.” He fidgeted a little as if trying to come up with what to say next.

Cori suddenly felt brave and started around the bannister. “Hey Colin,” she purred, smiling at him. “Tonight’s still date night, right?” She winked at him and kept walking, saying “See you at 7,” as she made her way down the stairs. She could still hear their conversation.

“You’re dating someone else! You said you weren’t!” Brianna was angry.

“No, she was just kidding,” Colin pleaded. “I’m not dating anyone. But my door is always open for you Brianna,” he said in the sexy low voice.

“As if,” she sniffed. “Goodbye Colin.” Cori could hear her stomping down the stairs above her. She stifled a laugh.

The week was going by quickly. Cori had joined her parents for dinner at one of their favorite spots and had just gotten home for the evening.

“I must’ve pissed you off pretty good, eating and running the other night.” Colin had opened his door and stood in the doorframe as she walked past.

“What do you mean?” she said with a smile.

“I mean telling that girl it was date night,” he said. She looked at him and there was a grin where she thought there might be anger.

“Hey, I was just doing you a favor. She left, didn’t she?”

“She sure did,” he laughed. “I’m sorry about the other night. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. That was a shitty thing to do. You took the time to cook for me, I could’ve at least stayed and helped clean up.”

“Not a big deal,” she said, unlocking the door. She smiled at him, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. This was all they’d ever have, this banter back and forth, neighbors. She knew how big her crush was every time she saw him with another girl. Why was she attracted to guys she couldn’t have?

“You know,” he said, coming around the bannister towards her, “we could pick it up tonight, maybe watch a movie?”

She hesitated before answering. She had the luxury of the day off tomorrow, a three-day weekend. Ms. Robbins was going out of town and told her to take a break. She had turned the alarm off on her phone the moment she got the news, a Friday to sleep in. She took a deep breath and turned to look at him. “Sure.”

“Great!” he said and when she opened the door, she could feel him behind her he was so close. His woody, musky scent filled her nose. She felt something wash over, something she hadn’t felt for such a long time, a longing. She thought about the girls she’d seen wrapped around him, kissing him.

She’d never wished so badly she was someone else before. Would she ever be comfortable in her own skin, and not so desperate for her sexy neighbor?

As he walked past her into the living room, he ran his hand above her waist and once again, a shock went through them both that nearly knocked them off of their feet. Colin stumbled forward, catching himself on the sofa, Cori bracing against the kitchen counter.

“What the hell is up with your apartment?” he asked, rubbing his hand. “You need to have the super check your power. Something is definitely up.”

She caught her breath. “Maybe that’s my built-in ‘hands off’ alarm,” she said with a smile. “Wouldn’t want to get caught in a trap like those other girls and get all disappointed.” She’d tried saying it as a joke but her voice sounded sad.

“Look, I’m always honest with anyone I’m with. I don’t want anything long term. I like girls, I’m like any other guy. I just don’t have the desire to be with anyone for very long. I tried that once and it didn’t work. I’m not making that mistake again.”

“Must’ve gotten your heart broken pretty badly,” she said, trying to hide the sadness from her own failure.

“Against my better judgment I got involved with someone I thought might be the one. I was wrong. We wanted different things. Brought me right back to plan A,’ he said, bending down to look at DVDs on her shelf. “Besides, when the band takes off and we hit the road, the last thing I want is to leave someone behind and not be able to enjoy myself.”

“Well, I’ll give you that. At least you’re honest. And you’re not playing the field while you’ve got a fiancée on the string.” Her voice trailed off and she looked down, pissed at the tears that were burning at her eyes.

He stood up, a concerned look on his face. “Did that happen to you?” he said softly.

“Yes,” she said, barely audible.

“I’m sorry,” he said, really meaning it. “That sucks.”

“It does. And with my best friend, no less.”

“Ouch.”

She looked at him, willing the tears away that were rimming her eyes. “Pretty much almost ended my life, at least it felt like it. All of this, the apartment, the job, it’s just me trying to get a fresh start. It’s like I don’t know where I belong.”

He gave her that adorable half smile. “You seem like a great girl Cori. I’m sure there’s someone out there for you. And if you need someone to get you back in the saddle, I’m always available for a ride,” he smiled.

Her face broke into a smile. “That’s THE worst pick up line EVER!” she laughed and he laughed too.

“Yeah, that was bad even for me,” he said, running his hand through his spikey hair to the back of his neck, letting it linger there. Every move he made turned her on. This was torture.

“Ok,” he said, desperate to change the subject and spinning towards the TV. “I suggest a comedy, nothing too heavy tonight.”

“Agree!” She pulled two bottles of beer from the frig and threw a bag of popcorn into the microwave. When it was done, she joined him and they started the movie. There was no conversation, just laughter. He’d made himself at home on the couch with his feet on the coffee table. She tucked her legs up under her in the chair. She’d made a friend. That was the takeaway. It wasn’t sad, it was happy.

When the movie ended, he cleaned up the beer bottles and popcorn and headed for the door. “This was great, I hope we can do it again.”

“Me too,” she said with a smile.

“Hey, what are you doing Saturday night?”

She wished she had a fabulous night planned, but the truth was it would be her, her jammies, some wine and a good book. “Nothing really,” she said.

“Great! Come down to Rap’s. The band is playing at 8. It’s just down the street.”

“I know it, Rapscallion’s, right?”

“Yeah, it’s going to be a big weekend for us. We’re playing a festival Saturday afternoon and at Rap’s on Saturday night.”

“Wow, that’s awesome. I’m glad you’re back on track.”

“Yeah, it feels good,” he said. “So you’ll be there Saturday?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

He clapped his hands together. “Awesome.” He stepped up to the door, gave her a wave and left.

Cori suddenly felt deflated. The biggest player on the planet just spent the evening with her and didn’t even try to make a move on her. Of course she’d been an idiot and acted uninterested. But she should be uninterested, she’d been down this road before.

Saturday would be fun. She’d get a friend to go with her. Who knows, maybe she’d meet someone more in her league.

[overheardatthecontinental]

Kinktober Day 19: Vampire

If Helen was being truthful, which she often tried to be, her new neighbor was… odd. 

For starters, she had never seen him move in. One night, she went to bed and she swore the house was empty but when she woke up and opened her curtains, she could see furniture inside.

He was a night owl in the truest sense of the word. She couldn't remember ever seeing him before the moon rose but he was nowhere to be seen in the morning before work. Even on the weekends, there was no evidence that anyone was in the house save his parked car in the driveway.

After two days, the house was under construction. Every single window was replaced with tinted windows and soon she cannot see into his house. Not that she was spying. Not at all. She was just curious.

Another thing was that damn car. She looked it up and it cost as much as her little house.

That, factored in with the cost of installing tinted windows, he had to have money. Plenty of it. So why was he living in a small cottage in the suburbs?

It takes a week before she actually catches sight of him.

He is tall and dark and handsome and familiar. She knows him, vaguely.

Often, she sees him at the bar she tends in the evening. He’s a bourbon drinker and a fantastic tipper. Quiet though. Most people who drink at the bar come to have someone to talk to. They crave the ear of anyone who will listen, otherwise they’d drink at home.

Not John, though. 

He didn’t even talk to order his drink anymore. She’d see him and pour him the bourbon and he’d murmur a quiet thanks. Often, she didn’t even see him leave. He stayed till just before closing and then he’d disappear into the night.

A few times, she’s seen him standing out near the alley. Always alone.

She waves from her porch and John walks over. 

"Helen." He greets, "how are you?"

"Im well, John. I guess we’re neighbors now."

He lips quirked up in a smile, "Couldn't stand living in the city any longer.”

But knowing who her neighbor was did not make him any less strange.

Yes, John was always polite but it didn’t take away from the strange feeling she always got when she was near. Even at the bar, she got the feeling that she should be wary around the handsome man. The hairs on her neck would stand on end almost in warning.

But it seemed so silly to be nervous. 

She blamed it on the attraction. 

John was a gorgeous guy and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt another’s lips on hers, let alone anywhere else.

Soon, she started seeing him out and around in the neighborhood. It wasn’t all that strange. Of course he would habit the same grocery stores and pharmacies that she did. But she noticed that the grocery cart was nearly always empty. He’d buy a pack of beer or paper plates and the like, but never once did she see him buying food.

He had to eat, she told herself. No man with a physique like that got away without eating.

She saw him at the park, as she walked home from the subway. Again, standing by a tree, not doing anything. He didn’t even have his phone out. He would just stand there, staring into the darkness.

Weird, but not wrong. Certainly not illegal.

He offered her a ride home, one night when it was raining. The subway wasn’t terribly far but the walk from the station to her house was long enough to get her soaked. She accepted, ignoring the hair on her neck and the feeling in her stomach and every other warning her body gave her.

"How long have you worked here?" John asks as they climb into the car.

"Eight years or so? I teach second grade during the day but teaching pays shit and I needed extra money to pay for supplies for my class. And I found I enjoyed tending bar." She buckles and looks over at him, "it's a bit of a hole in the wall. How did you find it?"

His lips twitch, "I used to spend some time there back in the day."

It's Helen's turn to smirk, "you make it sound like you're so old."

"I'm older than I look."

She looks him over, not that she hasn't a hundred times before, whenever he is looking away. He's fucking gorgeous. If she had to guess, she'd place him in his late thirties. Maybe early forties, but only because he had the look in his eyes of someone who had been through a lot. 

In truth, she knows nothing about him but his address and his favored drink.

“You know,” she says as they pull out of the parking lot, “I don't think I have ever asked,  what do you do for a living?”

“Not sure I'd call it a living.” John says and that smirk just grows, “I’m a bit… nomadic. I tend not to stay in one place for too long so I do a lot of independent contracting. A lot of investing.”

It doesn’t feel like a real answer, Helen notes. He’s said a bit but he hasn’t really told her anything and that throws her for a loop. What is he hiding?

But that isn’t the right question to ask aloud so she settles on, “Where else have you lived?”

“I was born in Belarus.”

And again, she is thrown.

He has no distinguishing accent. Nothing that indicates he is from anywhere but the United States. It’s not that uncommon in New York to find people from all over but still…

“I’ve lived in Italy. Mexico. China. Spain. Russia. Canada. France. Most recently, I was in Reykjavik but I always end up coming back to New York.”

Again, her mind is blown. Utterly and completely. And he’s tossing out this information like it’s nothing and it’s completely overwhelming.

She glances out her window, watching the streets go by. She watches a raindrop race down the window as she tries to process all that. She sees herself in the reflection and is utterly underwhelmed.

She’s boring. A school teacher by day, a bartender by night.

She isn’t unattractive but she’s a dime a dozen.

She’s never left the country, not even to go up to Canada.

And she’s sitting next to this quiet man who has seen the fucking world.

She looks past herself in the reflection and her heart skips a beat. She looks for John but cannot see him. She can see herself. In the back, she can see the reflection of the steering wheel, seemingly turning of its own accord. She can see the street behind them but she cannot see John.

She looks over, sharply, and sure enough, he is there. Driving.

Helen settles back into her seat, wondering anew if he can hear her heart racing.

Or if she’s being crazy.

Because she can see the other window. She can see the reflection of herself and of the lights passing by but she sees herself almost as if John isn’t there.

She looks at him and he glances over, almost to unassuming.

Helen swallows and sits back in her seat. “It must be hard.” She says, “Moving to countries where you don’t speak the language.”

“I speak them,” John says.

“Which?”

“All of them. I make it a point to learn the language of everywhere I’ve ever lived.”

“So you speak Russian and Chinese and French and Spanish?”

“Among others.” His words sound like a taunt. They feel like a taunt, although they’re not belittling. Like he’s challenging her. 

Helen can barely breathe.

No. 

She was being crazy. She’d had far too little sleep.

John had a reflection, she just couldn’t see it because she was exhausted.

And there was a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why his house and car had tinted windows and why she had never once seen him during the day.

She had to be exhausted to even be considering…

They pull into John’s driveway and Helen quickly thanks him for the ride before she rushes, nearly running, to her house. She closes the door behind her. And locks it. And the windows. Even the ones she normally leaves open on the second floor, she locks.

And maybe she’s being paranoid but she can’t help it when she sits at her computer and types “vampire” into Google.

She’s being paranoid.

At least, that’s what she keeps telling herself.

.

She stays up half the night researching a mythological creature.

And when she passes out at her computer, she dreams of John in old-fashioned garb. In old cities with cobblestones lining each street.

She dreams of John kissing her, intimately, in an empty hall. His head is buried under layers of fabric, between her thighs driving her utterly wild before she quakes around him. Only then does he move, and only inches, to where his teeth sink into her thigh.

She wakes up in her bed, alone, and gasping for air. 

It felt so real, she checks her thigh for marks and finds none.

In the fresh light of day, she shakes it off. She acknowledges that she was being ridiculous to even consider the possibility that John was a vampire.

Its utterly ridiculous.

But he's not coming out of his house.

She tells herself she's making the cookies as a thank you and not to try to get John out of his house during the daylight. In reality, its both.

They're chocolate chip, because who doesn't like chocolate chip?

She waits for them to cool before stacking them neatly on a plate and covering it with wrap.

He’s home. His car is in the driveway. It’s parked where he let her out last night so she’s fairly certain he hasn’t left since they arrived.

This is ridiculous she thinks again. She’s analyzing his every fucking move and John, for all his weirdness, has never been anything but kind to her. And here she is, acting like he has something to hide just because he’s eccentric.

Another part of her argues that this is just a thank you for said kindness. For saving her getting soaked on her commute. For that unending kindness.

She knocks on the door and waits.

Nothing.

She knocks again and listens intently. It doesn’t sound like anyone is coming.

Because the sun is out.

Or because he’s sleeping.

She tries one last time before she gives up and leaves the cookies on the porch, walking away feeling a bit defeated.

If he had come to the door, she could have assured herself she was being crazy.

But he hadn’t, so now she was feeling paranoid.

She took out a legal pad in her kitchen and sat down.

Side by side she wrote the most ridiculous list she’s ever even considered in her life.

Proof John’s a Vampire:

He’s from fucking Belarus

He spoke way too many languages for any person who lived a human lifespan to pick up. (Or he’s just wicked smart… Or lying?)

Hot as fuck

He doesn’t live in one place for too long (cuz people will notice he doesn’t age!!!!)

He says he’s older than he looks

Says he used to hang out at the bar but I’ve never seen the owner or any of the other bartenders talk to him

I’ve never seen him during the day

TINTED FUCKING WINDOWS. No normal person needs fucking tinted windows

Wealthy but won’t say what he does for a job?

Never seen him eat

Helen banged her head into the table.

Fucking ridiculous.

She was definitely losing her mind. And figuring out whether or not her neighbor was a vampire was not how she wanted to spend her day off, so she left the pad in the kitchen and went to read on the couch. 

Helen relaxed, reveling in the freedom of actually having a day to herself. She did her best to enjoy the time and not think about her attractive, weirdo neighbor.

She made dinner for herself and ate watching the news. When she was finished, she poured a glass of wine and relaxed back to some rerun of a cooking show she hadn’t seen before.

And then there was a knock on the door.

She checks her watch. It’s nearly eight and she certainly doesn’t have friends who would come over this late without sending a text.

Helen climbs to her feet, heart already racing because, of course, it’s after sunset.

Maybe he’s just doing this to fuck with her.

Maybe he’s just been lying and teasing and trying to get into her head like some sort of psycho. That had to be more realistic than the truth, she thinks as she goes over to the door.

She peers out of the look-see and sure enough, John is on her porch.

Does he just wake up and throw on a three-piece? She wonders, opening the door. Granted, he’s technically missing his suit jacket but who wears a dress shirt and a suit vest on a Sunday night? 

“John.”

“I wanted to say thank you for the cookies.”

“You’re very welcome. I hope you enjoyed them.”

The corner of his mouth twists, “Absolutely delicious.” John pauses, “May I come in?”

She feels her eyes widen and hopes that he doesn’t notice but he just fucking asked permission to come inside? That was a thing, right? That vampires need permission to enter houses?

He blinks innocently but it doesn’t feel at all innocent.

“Is everything alright?” John asks, “You look a little… flushed.”

She’s being ridiculous.

Helen shakes her head because John is not a vampire but she might be losing her mind. Maybe she needs to check herself in somewhere... “Of course. Come in.”

John steps through the door and the paranoid part of her wonders if she’s just made a terrible mistake.

John looks around and Helen wonders how she never realized how big John is. He’s tall and, without the jacket, she can see proof muscles on his arms that she had never noticed before.

“You have a lovely home.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I truly appreciate the cookies and you thinking of me. You’re very kind.”

“No, thank you. I’ve made that walk in the rain before and it sucks.”

“I was happy to do it. In fact, I’m at the bar most nights. I’m more than happy to stay and give you a ride home on a regular basis.”

“I couldn’t impose.” And you kind of scare the hell out of me, “Can I offer you a drink? I have water, juice, and wine?”

“Wine, if you don’t mind. And it’s no imposition. Like I said, I’m there anyway. And we are neighbors, after all.”

Helen offers a small smile as she turns towards the kitchen.

His words seem nearly laced with honey and it both excites her and kind of disturbs her.

Everything about John, vampire aside, screams dangerous.

And she’s invited him into her home and he’s almost a bit too kind. She doesn’t know what to do with that and it feels like her brain is fighting itself about John.

The logical part of her is telling her to calm the fuck down because John has been nothing but kind. The paranoid part of her is screaming VAMPIRE VAMPIRE VAMPIRE. The primal part of her seems torn between telling her to run as far and as fast as she can because John is dangerous and tearing that stupid suit off of him and jumping him then and there.

Instead, she manages to ask, “What kind of wine do you like?”

“I prefer red.” And it’s such a simple statement but his words tumble out like a taunt that just sets her on edge even more.

Helen goes to the cabinet and pulls down a glass of wine, hands shaking ever so slightly.

She has an open bottle of pinot noir in the fridge and she pours the wine as carefully as she can. It sloshes a bit over the edge and she wipes it with a dishtowel, feeling her cheeks burn even more at the small spillage.

She turns to hand John the glass and nearly drops it at the full-on smirk that graces his stupidly attractive face. She left out the list and John is reading it.

“Hot as fuck, huh?”

And it seems impossible, but her face feels worse than when she has a fever. She’s certain she must be red all over and she has absolutely nothing to stay to it because what can she say? 

I know it’s ridiculous but I thought you were a vampire?

John steps closer, leaving the legal pad behind and he takes the glass from her hand and sets it on the counter behind her. With his other hand, he reaches for her chin and tilts her head up just a bit, forcing her to look into his eyes. 

He whispers, “You really are fucking clever.”

Her eyes widen at the implication because no. No. She was definitely wrong and John was definitely messing with her but he smiles. He really smiles, not just a smirk. He bares his teeth and Helen swallows at the sight of long incisors. 

Fuck.

“You should have trusted your instincts.”

He steps closer and Helen, as a result, steps back and finds herself completely enclosed. She is pressed against the counter, completely enclosed in one of his arms while the other trails down her neck.

She can’t run. She sure as hell doesn’t stand a chance if she tries to fight him. 

“Are you going to kill me?”

John tilts her head upward, “And why,” He bends his own head down, brushing his lips against hers but not kissing her, “would I even think to destroy such a jewel?”

His arm around her tightens and she is hoisted off the ground and into the air. Instinctively, she throws her arms around her neck to keep balanced and John smirks at her, almost victoriously.

Before she can say anything, he is moving impossibly fast. She closes her eyes at the rush of dizziness that fills her at the speed and opens them only as she feels herself falling. Her back hits the bed and she bounces, sucking in a gasp as she does.

And John is on top of her before she can even acknowledge what is happening, the quick turn in events that had her from scared to terrified to, fuck, John is sucking on her neck and she is horny.

A vampire is sucking on her neck.

She hears a wanton moan and, Christ, that must have come from her.

She presses her thighs together as an ache spreads down her body, warming her tummy and sending the blood rushing south.

John’s hands tear the fabric of her cotton shirt into pieces as he rips it clean of her body before doing the same to her bra. She doesn’t even complain as John lowers his head and sucks a nipple into his mouth. He rolls it with his tongue and teases it with his teeth. The fang toys with it, dragging down her breast and the sharpness makes her whine with a sick mix of pain and pleasure. 

And then it sinks into one of her veins and his teasing is suddenly a thing of the past as he sucks and swallows around her tender flesh.

Her hand jumps to his hair and Helen realizes, idly, that she’s encouraging this. Forcing his face against her, not letting him move even as her head feels dizzy.

A large hand slides down her body and into her sunday sweatpants. A finger swipes up her slit, teasing her clit and checking her arousal.

John releases her and quickly slides down her body, ripping her sweats and underwear off with the same vigor that he had done to her shirt. She’s certain they’re destroyed but she doesn’t give a flying fuck.

Not when John is plunging two fingers inside her and curling them just right so that she thrashes and writhes on the bed. John holds down her leg with his spare hand and continues his minstruations as he sinks his teeth into her thigh.

Helen shrieks, but not with pain, as John sucks on her thigh while his fingers dance inside of her. Helen isn’t sure which is more pleasurable, his mouth at her thigh or his fingers inside of her but she knows she has never felt like this. Lightheaded and pleasured and desperate and needy all at once. 

He sucks and swallows while his thumb rubs at her clit and Helen wonders if she’s actually crying because there are tears spilling down her cheeks at the wanton desperation of it all. 

Nothing has ever felt so good. So raw.

He could drain her of all her blood right now and she would probably say thank you so long as he didn’t stop toying with her clit or moving his fingers around inside her. She could definitely die like this and be happy. 

All of the sudden, he pushes up slightly off her thigh. Just as quickly, he descends upon her other, sinking his teeth into the femoral artery. John sucks at her flesh and Helen feels her head spinning all the more. 

Why does dizzy feel so good?

His thumb speeds up along her clit and his fingers roll against the spot inside her that makes her mind melt like cotton candy. Helen comes, crying out in surprise at how quickly John had been able to completely undo her.

She feels him swallowing against her thigh as she writhes beneath him.

He’s brought her pleasure to new heights and he hasn’t even begun undressing.

Helen reaches down and grabs his hair, tugging up.

It’s laughable, really, her attempt at strength in the midst of an orgasm but John acquiesces and releases her thigh from his mouth. Blood dribbles down his chin and she has the sick urge to lick it.

John climbs back up her body. He unfastens his belt, his pants as quickly as he can before pulling himself out.

Helen finds herself licking her lips at the sight of him but it’s quickly taken from her vision as John lays down on top of her body, angling the head of his cock towards her core. With a single roll of hips, he impales her onto his length and Helen finds herself arching her back, keening at the contact.

John bends his head down to her neck and she feels his tongue tease her pulse point before she feels the quick sharp of fangs digging into her throat.

His hips move against her, driving him in and out of her slick heat while he frantically swallows against her neck again and again.

She sees stars and she still isn’t certain what it’s from.

She’s lightheaded and it shows when she tries to lift her leg to wrap around John and she finds she can’t lift it. It barely registers, however, because his hand is between them again. He keeps thrusting, keeps sucking, but now his fingers are teasing and rubbing her clit and a scream escapes her. He feels so fucking good, everywhere, and his expert fingers are bringing her back to that height of pleasure.

John drives into her as deep as he can and Helen, again, feels herself falling further and further, through the stars and into the dark.

She can’t open her eyes but she really can’t bring herself to care.

She can still feel John, pistoning in and out of her and a small rip that sounds like something tearing open. Her head is tilted up and something forces her mouth open and places something against it.

“Good girl,” she can idly hear John whisper to her, “Swallow it down.”

And as he says it, she feels something pouring into her mouth. Salty and rich and warm. It fills her mouth and again, John urges her to swallow.

She does and she hears John’s quiet praises. “Good girl. Keep going. You’re going to be mine forever.”

Helen feels consciousness slip away.

And everything is black.

[hypnofur1]

Out For Delivery in Dallas

By Hypnofur

Mid February 2021

The irony was, none of the three beings in this tale had lived in Dallas for more than a month. Brittany and Timothy Cosgrove had just purchased their expensive condo on the North side of Dallas in January. Carlos Torres had been living in El Paso Texas for a very long time, and had just recently come to the Dallas area.

None of them, actually no one in all of Texas, expected the winter blast they got in mid February. The entire state was a disaster. Texans just didn’t know how to handle winter weather. Brittany and Timothy had just moved here from Indianapolis, so to them, this wasn’t even that bad a winter storm. However, agreeing to the purchase of matching his and her’s Corvettes was part of the Brittany’s compromise to get her husband to agree to move to Dallas. Brittany had just gotten a job with one of the DFW area’s top hospitals as their chief nutritionist. More importantly, she had struck a deal with the ABC affiliate to be their on air Nutrition expert. Brittany’s ultimate goal was to parlay her beauty, and nutrition expertise, into a gig on the national scene. Good Morning America or something.

Timothy knew this, and he loved Brittany very much. He would have moved to Dallas without the Corvette deal, as he knew it was a much bigger media market than Indy. However, he was an attorney, and it was in his DNA to negotiate. Thus, the two corvettes. He of course didn’t know it was going to snow here in Texas, thus, he didn’t really care much that his luxury condo was on one of the few hills in Dallas. Corvettes did not go up hill in the snow very well.

It was about 6:00 when Brittany forced Timothy to watch the #freebrittany documentary with her on FX. She was always fascinated with Brittany Spears, due to them having the same name and being about the same age. Timothy agreed to watch it, as he had been hogging the TV with sports for a few days now. By the time the show was over, it was like 7:30, and both were starving.

Each of the young urban professionals scanned their phones for some place that would deliver. But between the weather and power outages all around, there were no good restaurants that were options. The only place open was a McDonalds two blocks away.

“No way!” Brittany laughed. “Tim, I haven’t been to a McDonalds in like 11 years. I’m not starting tonight. I’ll starve first thanks.”

“OK, but I don’t want to. Come with me, you can at least get a salad. They have those.” Tim negotiated.

“Do you know what is in those???” Brittany said, then stopped herself. She had learned a while ago that people didn’t like when she annoyingly listed all of the bad ingredients in food. “Argh, ok. I’ll take a walk with you there.” She relented with a smile.

Once there, she remembered how much she loved Orange Soda. Tim smiled, but didn’t tease her about it. She appreciated that. She actually hated being teased. She snuggled up to him as they walked out of the McDonalds and headed back to their condo through the snowy mess.

Carlos was also very hungry on this winter night. He was miserable, he absolutely hated the cold. Born in Mexico, and then spending a tremendous amount of time in El Paso, he had never had to deal with cold and snow like this. He wished he was back in Mexico this evening. Carlos’ move to Dallas wasn’t based on career advancement though, it was based on Covid-19 vaccinations. More specifically, the blood of humans who had been vaccinated.

This past year had been the worst of Carlos’ 209 on this earth. The last 150 in El Paso had been wonderful. Feeding on the blood of Mexican immigrants who crossed the border with little identification. Knowing that the secretive nature of the illegal immigrant community would stop any real deep inquisitions into mysterious deaths. It was also nice and warm. It was the perfect place for the vampire.

However, Covid-19 changed all that. Feasting on the blood of a human with Covid made him incredibly sick, for weeks at a time. Over and over everytime he bit someone with the disease. He eventually learned how to smell Covid, but only in humans that had it bad. He, like everyone else, couldn’t detect it in the asymptomatic. Therefore, also like everyone else, he was very pleased when the vaccines started coming out. Much to his pleasure, he could smell the chemicals in vaccinated humans’ blood. He could detect who was vaccinated, and who was not.

That’s why he migrated up to Dallas. People in El Paso were getting the vaccine, but it was largely the elderly. Elderly blood didn’t taste nearly as good as the blood of those in their prime. The large medical community in Dallas meant lots of people in their 20’s and 30’s who had gotten the vaccine as part of the “first responder” roll out.

Brittany and Timothy had both received their shots (both doses) in Indianapolis. Brittany got it because she worked for a hospital, and she was able to get Timothy in because of her connections. As he approached the young urban couple, Carlos could smell the Moderna in them. He had quickly come to love that scent. His mood, which had been quite dour due to the snow and ice and cold, was quickly improving. He thought he’d have a very hard time finding food tonight, but here it was being delivered right to him.

Brittany and Timothy saw the short, somewhat rotund Mexican man approaching them as they were still laughing about McDonalds. Brittany had actually gotten a refill of Orange Soda before they left. They laughed as they joked about cameras seeing them and her soda getting reported to ABC. Carlos was really caught off guard by this weather, and was wearing what would be considered “summer clothes”.

“Look at this poor guy” Timothy said to his wife. While he was a very aggressive, very greedy corporate attorney, he was also very kind and generous. That is one of the reasons Brittany loved him with her whole heart and soul.

“Are you ok my friend?” Timothy asked the man as he and his wife slowly came to a stop on the icy hill to greet the stranger who was coming up it.

“Actually, I’m very hungry and I hate the cold.” the man answered back. Neither Brittany or Timothy immediately noticed that unlike them, when he spoke, there was no steam coming from his mouth on this frigid evening.

“Here, why don’t you take my scarf and some money. There is a McDonalds two blocks North. They are open, we just came from there.” Timothy said, handing the man both his expensive scarf, and $50. Brittany had never loved him more. As she watched with love and admiration as her tall, athletic, handsome husband committed a random act of kindness for a hungry, short, poor, sexy Mexican man.

Wait, why do I find that little guy sexy? Brittany suddenly asked herself. What was it about him? She studied him a little more, and as she did, she felt her pussy actually tingle a bit. God, he was hot. She had never been attracted to Hispanic guys before, especially little short fat ones. What the hell was going on? Why was he so fucking sexy? Brittany was suddenly very glad she had put a cute outfit on and decided to look good going to McDonalds.

“Do you live around here?” Carlos asked Timothy.

“Y-yes” Timothy answered, also oddly affected by the stranger as well.

“Do you own your home?” Carlos asked.

“yes” Timothy confirmed again.

Now Carlos’ mood really improved. Humans knew a lot about Vampire lore, but there were some things that they didn’t truly understand. This was very true surrounding some of the rules of being invited into a home. It could only be done by the true owner of the home. Therefore, renters could not invite a vampire in. Also, another little known fact was that a vampire could hypnotically compel his victim to invite him into their home, but only if the victim was not currently in the home. So, that meant while he couldn’t just knock on a door and get someone to invite him in, these two humans that were “out for delivery” fit the bill just perfect.

“Soy tu Maestra” Carlos said to Timothy, who understood perfectly as he stared back deep into the vampire’s eyes. “Invitame a tu casa”

“Please, won’t you come inside?” Timothy asked.

This was enough to wake Brittany from the light sexual trance she was in. She suddenly felt the coolness of her now damp panties. Wait, Tim shouldn’t invite a stranger into their home… “Tim, hold on…” she said.

“Mirame a los ojos” Carlos said to the Irish Scotish Italian American beauty who took French in high school and did not speak a lick of Spanish. Yet, her eyes immediately darted to his. She could almost feel her thoughts being unavoidably pushed aside. Even her concern over this odd situation was fading away, replaced by a growing sexual attraction, and a need to submit… to obey as he said to her, “Soy tu Maestra”

“Lead the way” Carlos directed Timothy. The husband took his wife’s hand and lead the stranger the rest of the way down the snow covered street back to their condo. Brittany continued to look back at Carlos, she couldn’t help it. He was so fascinating, so sexual. She tried to stop herself. She knew she was married, and she had truly never wanted anyone other than Timothy since they met a decade ago. But Carlos, the short, pudgy little Mexican man, was absolutely irresistible.

Carlos asked Timothy to formally invite him in once more as they reached the condo. He of course obliged. Carlos looked around as he stepped inside. First of all, it felt nice to be warm again. He was also glad he had found these two out and about in a neighborhood that actually had power. So much of Texas was in the dark. The condo was very tastefully decorated, and Carlos could quickly tell that the couple had money.

He politely asked Brittany to lock all the doors and close all the blinds, which she did immediately. She was so turned on by him that she didn’t even wonder why he was doing that. When the last of the drapes were pulled closed, he thanked her. They locked eyes. She felt her heart jump and her nipples harden. Her pussy was already soaked. She seductively walked over to him as he embraced her in a long sensual kiss. Carlos was all that mattered to her. Timothy had been forgotten.

However, Timothy had not forgotten her. The sight of his beautiful, beloved wife passionately making out with another man was enough to snap him out of his trance.

“Brittany, stop! Something is fucked up here!” Timothy shouted.

Carlos stopped kissing and glared over at Timothy. Brittany however was still kissing his face as he looked away, lovingly stroking his hair, completely in his thrall. Timothy felt a cold chill as Carlos cast his eyes upon him.

The vampire gently took Brittany’s arms and placed them down by her side as she continued to stare down Timothy, to stare down his prey. Timothy knew his life was in danger. Fight or flight kicked in, but with his wife also in trouble, he couldn’t escape. He had no choice but to fight. He lunged at the much smaller Carlos.

With supernatural quickness and strength, Carlos caught the pouncing Timothy by the neck with his hand. He then lifted him up with one arm, rising his shoes about two feet off the ground. Timothy’s eyes widened at shock as he realized the might of this beast. Carlos angrily threw Timothy over the granite kitchen island, causing him to smash the stools on the other side. With equal quickness, Carlos leapt over the island and feasted on Timothy’s neck. Quickly and efficiently, he drained the attorney of blood and life force. The vampire felt his own strength grow with each ounce.

Brittany’s kiss with Carlos had exchanged some bodily fluids between them. Even some of Carlos’ saliva in her mouth was enough to keep her much deeper under his spell than Timothy had been. However, this was her beloved husband on the ground, being attacked by this stranger. She slowly moved over to the counter and peered over to see what was happening.

“Timothy?” she said quietly, causing Carlos to stop feeding and turn his attention to her.

His mouth showing only trickles of blood (he had spent years learning how to eat cleanly), he rose from his victim. Brittany’s eyes were stuck on her lifeless husband on the kitchen floor. Carlos looked at her as he moved slowly to her. He heard her breathing get quicker as he got closer. She had a look on her, like she was asking him to fuck her right now but did not have the courage to say anything. He had seen that look many times. Slowly, Carlos circled her, getting behind her, grinding his hard cock in his pants along her ass. "He was your husband, but he wasn’t your Master, was he?"

"No." Brittany said softly and immediately Carlos dropped his pants. Brittany was in heat and followed, pulling her skirt down along her knees. Instantly, she was bent over the counter and getting rammed by his vampiric cock in her tight pussy.

"Harder! Fuck me Harder!" Brittany begged him, speaking in a way she never had. "Oh! My! God!" she repeated with every thrust he pushed. Her hands knocking over things on the counter as he thrusted.

"Yesss my slave!" Carlos said, fucking her with all his might, grunting like a wild animal,. Brittany wrapped her arms around his waist encouraging him go even harder.

Carlos turned the married nutritionist around and she quickly stepped out her skirt. He picked her up like she was a feather, Brittany let out a loud yelp, and sat her on his rigid cock as he really started fucking her. Brittany was bouncing on his cock up and down, her shirt pulled up to reveal her tits. Their chests sliding along each other as she rose and fell on his cock.

Brittany looked him dead in the eyes and move in for a passionate sloppy kiss, not noticing or caring about the bits of Timothy’s blood. Carlos kept his fast fucking motion as he returned her kiss. They tongues were dancing and exploring each other's mouths.

Brittany pulled away and kept screaming, "Yassss!! Give it to me! FUCK ME MASTER!"

Carlos pulled her into his cock as he thrusted in, as he lets out some powerful grunts, BAM! Brittany let out whimper and moan as she bounced off his hips, before she could escape the full length of his cock, Carlos pulled her back in again and with even more force. BAM! BAM! BAM

Brittany was beyond her limits, she was dead weight barely able to keep herself on him as she flopped around, obsessively thanking and begging creature who had just killed her husband.

Finally Carlos lifted her off his cock and set her down on her knees. Then aggressively grabbed her head and plunged his cock into her mouth. Brittany had never sucked a cock before, but she quickly got up to speed as she was getting used to her new Master’s cock. It began to slide inside her mouth easily as she began gulping it in with each thrust. Saliva was running down chin and onto her chest.

"Yes my pet!" Carlos screamed, as pulled his glistening cock out her mouth. He held his cock by the base slapping Brittany side to side until...

"Uhhhhnnnggg!" Carlos's wailed, as he shot several thick stream of creamy white cum onto Brittany's face.

Carlos brought Brittany's face back in and immediately, she knew what to do. Her succulent lips instantly wrapped around his cock’s head and began sucking the remaining juices out and around his cock. Carlos knew full well that his essence was going to give him full and utter control of this beautiful woman.

When she was finally finished, he looked down at her. “What do you do for work?” he asked. He noticed his English was much better after consuming Timothy’s blood. Little things like that always intrigued him, even after 150 or more years of being a vampire.

“I’m a nutritionist” she answered him as she lovingly caressed his leg, still on her knees.

Carlos laughed, as he briefly wondered what the nutritional value of a vampire’s cum was. “Where do you work?”

“Baylor Specialty Hospital, here in North Dallas” she answered. Her heart jumped as her Master nodded approvingly.

“Can you get me to the coroner?” he asked, as he began the plan to dispose of Timothy without alerting the authorities. The coroner would become his human slave, just as Brittany would. There was some work ahead of him, but for what began as a cold hungry night, this unexpected delivery had drastically improved Carlos’ outlook here in North Dallas.

[bowensbyrams]

the canada dream {02}

n/a: hey, guys! Here’s part 2 of TCD, as promised. I’m sorry it took me so long to update, my classes are back and last week was kinda hard, but here we go! Please let me know what you think <3 

Pairing: Pierre-Luc Dubois x reader

Warnings: a little bit of angst at the beginning, mentions of abusive/toxic relationship

Word counting: 2,1k

Ps: part 1 can be found here: https://royaltyofhockeylosers.tumblr.com/post/627737248109133824/the-canada-dream-01 

I realize there's something wrong the moment I find myself opening the door to my old apartment in Boston. As far as I remember, I moved to Montreal and am living with my best friend Anna... Or was it just a dream? I wouldn't be surprised, I've been dreaming on moving to Canada for a while now. I enter the living room and drop my bag on the couch, heading to my room but a noise stops me. No, not a noise. A moan. A woman's moan. I live with my boyfriend, Thomas, and as far as I know, we don't share the apartment with another girl. My heart fasten with every step I take until I'm facing the white door that leads to my room. Our room. "Faster, Tommy" I hear the girl say and my boyfriend groans, making my skin shiver "Yes just like that" "God you're so hot, baby" Thomas' voice is like a fist to my stomach and the tears start rolling down my face. Not again, please. I open the door and the scene in front of me breaks my heart into a million pieces. My boyfriend is buried into a blonde's pussy and keeps thrusting in and out of her as he sees me. "Hello, princess. Do you want to join us?" his smile is almost wicked and I can't move, I can't breath as I watch him fucking her the way he used to make love to me. The tears never stop coming down and my sobbing seems to make him want to go deeper and faster until the girl screams his name.

~~ I sit on my bed, tears running on my cheeks and my heart racing like a horse. My entire body hurts as I'm forced to remember every single scene from that damn day, unable to erase the overwhelming feeling for good. My phone pings and I reach out to check it. When my eyes catch the clock and I realize it's almost 1 p.m, my heart skips a beat. I've never woken up this late, but I guess the adventures from last night and the anxiety of moving to another country to restart my life got the best of me. Unlocking the screen, I check the message app before anything else. There are 2 texts from Tyler and 6 from Logan, so I decide to open the latter thread. L: Hey Y/N, it's Logan L: I'm sorry for last night, I hope Anna is okay L: Tyler said he invited you two to the barbecue, cool! L: Here's the address and don't worry about anything, just bring whatever you guys wanna drink L: We reeeeeally want you to come, Luc is excited to meet you two I smile at the last text which is formed by at least 10 different types of emojis. I reply saying I need to ask Anna if she wants to come and lock the screen again, leaving my bed and going to Anna's room. My best friend is sleeping like a baby, so I decide to go make something for us to eat. When I'm almost done with the spaghetti, Anna appears in the kitchen with a pout on the lips and her brows furrowed. "Good morning, sunshine" I sing and my friend groans, sitting on one of the benches by the marble island in the middle of the kitchen. “I’m not feeling sunshiny today. I feel like I’ve been ran over by a truck. Multiple times” “That’s called tequila hungover and I’m not saying I told you so...” “Nah shut up” she shushes me waiving her hand “Can you get me a pill that’ll make this go away?” Anna points at her own head and I hold back a laugh, opening one of the cabinets where she showed me the medicines were. Handing her an Aspirin and a cup of water, I go back to the stove and turn it down, taking the pan to the island. Anna takes the pill and sighs, looking at the food. "Is this a dream?" my best friend asks when I put a plate in front of her and lets out a small moan when she takes the first bite "Honestly, if I had known you could cook like this, I would've invited you to move in with me way earlier" "Oh, don't get to used to it. My cooking knowledge is resumed to spaghetti, lasagna and burgers" "Who said we need more than that to survive?" Anna looks at me with an offended look making me laugh. We're half way through our meal until I decided to tell her about the barbecue. "So Logan and the other boys are hosting a barbecue today and they want us to come. It'll be just us, them, Tyler's girlfriend and that other guy they were telling us about yesterday. You in?" "As long as Logan keeps his alcohol to himself, I see no problem" she replies and I can't hold back my laugh. "Hey you're the one who suggested you guys should see who could get more shots in less time" "I never thought he'd say yes! That guy is crazy!" she snaps back and I laugh even harder. "Okay so we're going?" "Yeah, I guess so..." "Cool, I'll let him know then" * "What's up?" Anna asks as we're getting ready to leave. She's in my room, laying down on my bed as I finish putting some make up on. I'm wearing a long sleeved shirt with a jeans skirt and snickers since the weather gods decided to send a chill night to break the living hell temperatures of the day. Me and An spent the entire day laying on the floor and drinking an absurd amount of water while watching the latest episodes from The 100. "What?" I ask and look at her through the mirror. "You have a worried look on your face. What's wrong?" "Nothing... I just have a weird feeling that I should know something but I don't" I reply and focus on applying my mascara. "You're weird, Y/N. Are all americans like this?" "Hey!" I throw a pillow at her, making her laugh. As I finish everything and grab the beer packs we're taking, we're all settle to go. On our way to go, I open my Instagram and start scrolling through my feed - which is the most diverse thing in the world. It’s the perfect balance of hockey, singers, food, friends and family. I look at some of the posts before heading to the Story part. I slide through a couple until one catches my attention. It’s the same bar I was yesterday and I can see Anna in her white and red dress in the corner. I check the user and my heart skips a beat when I realize who it is. Pierre-Luc Dubois, one of the few hockey players I follow on Instagram. He plays centre for the Columbus Blue Jackets, my ex's home team, and my heart aches a little when a memory gets me. "Hey, I just saw you follow PLD on Instagram" Thomas' voice reaches me before he appears on our room. "Yeah, I've been following him for a while now, Tom" I say and go back folding the clean clothes. "Why?" he asks, making me look at him a little confused. "Why what?" "Why are you following him?" "Why not? He's a hockey player and I like him. What's wrong?" "Oh you like him? What, do you think he's gonna fuck you if you ever meet?" his aggressive tone makes me blush and my heart fasten. "Why are you saying this? I'll never meet him, Thomas, he's like super famous and lives in Ohio" "Exactly, so stop following him. I don't approve it and I don't like the fact that you're following these hockey guys. They're all assholes" my boyfriend says before storming out of our apartment, leaving me to try and understand what the hell just happened. I never stopped following Pierre's profile, but that was never needed since I caught Thomas in bed with another girl just two weeks after his little scene. That was three months ago and now I was living in Montreal with my best friend, trying to rebuild my life after what he did to me. I look at Pierre's story again and can't help the weird feeling that takes over my body. I knew he was French-Canadian, but I definitely did not know he lived in Montreal during the off season. I guess I never took the time to check on any player's personal lives. I mean, expect for Mitch Marner's but that's just because I really wish we were best friends but anyways. "Hey, you're on Pierre-Luc Dubois' Insta Story" I says and Anna almost throws the car out of the road. "I'M WHAT?!" Definitely should've waited until we got to the house. "Yeah, he was at the same bar as we yesterday and posted a photo of the dance floor. You appeared in the corner" "Wait... You're telling me that that fucking greek god was at the same bar as we and none of us saw it? Are you kidding me?" she says and the annoyance in her voice makes me laugh. "Yep, that's what I'm saying. What are the odds?" "I mean, they're high since his parents live here, but still.. We weren't even at the best bar of the city" "Maybe he is low key and was trying to avoid the crowds" "Yeah, probably" she agrees and changes focus. I observe the streets, filled with big houses with even bigger yards. "I guess Pierre is not the only rich who prefers underground bars..." I comment and Anna snorts, looking at the mansions. “Should’ve guessed he had money when you told me the neighborhood we were heading to, but damn” Anna says and all I can do is nod in agreement.

*

I was worried we would be late, but when we get to the house, Tyler and his girlfriend, Kate, are the only ones waiting for us. "Hey, guys" Ty greets us and takes the beer packs from me "Logan went to buy more beer, Jesse backed down and Luc is late as always" he leads the path to the backyard and I have to keep myself from dropping my jaw. The house is huge but the backyard is unbelievable. There's a deck where the grill is, a pool with a pool house and a soccer court. "This is my girlfriend Kate. Kate, these are the girls we told you about, Anna and Y/N" "Hi!" the curly haired and green eyed girl says and we down by her side. A couple of minutes go by and we're all getting along pretty well until Anna looks at her phone and sees that it's dying. "I think i have a charger in the car, I'll be right back" She leaves and only two minutes later my phone pings. A: don't freak out and act normal but i just bumped into logan outside Y/N: so what? A: pierre is with him My eyes go wild and before I can process what I just read, Logan's voice reaches me. “Look who I just found outside!” I look up asking God for Anna to be messing with me, but she's not. Pierre-Luc fucking Dubois is standing between Logan and my best friend, how's acting like there's nothing wrong. I try my best to do the same and I guess it worked since no one is looking at me with funny looks. "Luc, this is Y/N and Y/N, this is Luc" Tyler introduces us and Pierre shakes my hand with a small smile. "Cool, now you two know each other. Can we eat? I'm starving!" Logan says heading to the grill. “We’ve known each other for less than a day and I’ve already noticed that’s a constant mood of yours” Anna snaps back following him with Pierre right after her, leaving me, Kate and Tyler behind. "You look like you just saw a ghost" Tyler says getting my attention. "I'm just thinking why none of you bothered to tell me that your friend looked like that" I snap back, making Kate laugh. I decide not to mention the fact that I'm a hockey fan and know the NHL player that has just walked past us. "Nah, the minute he opens his mouth you'll see he's a dork" Kate says and heads to the area where the rest is. I follow her with Tyler right by my side and asking God to help me out here.

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, part 3 [read on ao3] [co-written with @darkmagyk]

Several more weeks and hookups later, Annabeth thinks she should probably come clean. Some people might bury it deep, and for sure, Annabeth’s considered it, but, well. It is kind of embarrassing that she didn’t know Percy’s name at first. Stuff like that doesn’t usually bother her--she’s had nameless one night stands in the past, and despite Thalia’s ribbing, she knows that Thalia doesn’t really care either. It’s just that, you know, he’s Thalia’s family, and they’ve seen each other a few more times, and they are planning to continue to see each other a few more times in the future. Or more than a few times. 

Anyway, she kind of feels like she owes it to him. Like he deserves this small nugget of truth, payment for all the times he’s fucked her blind. It’s nagging at her, and she hates feeling like she owes anyone anything. 

Piper certainly seemed to think so, when Annabeth had told her over their monthly brunch date.

“It’s just common courtesy at this point,” she said. “Like, what if you guys end up married and then sell your story to Hollywood, they cast my dad as the male lead, and it comes out in interviews that you didn’t know his name for like a month? He’s gonna get the wrong idea.”

Annabeth wasn’t sure which part was more ridiculous: the movie, Piper’s dad being involved, or them being married.

Anyway, sharing some of her avocado fries, Piper had reminded her that being mean wasn't very punk rock, shutting her up effectively.

She’s out on site in the Lower East Side, taking measurements for plots of land, writing down sun angles and measuring the wind velocity between the brick buildings, when she gets a text from him. 

I’m on a break and I’m starving 😩 Want to grab something to eat?

It’s 2pm on a Thursday and he wants to grab something to eat. If Annabeth didn’t know any better, she’d say that that sounds like a real, honest-to-goodness, bona fide date. (Meeting up at and subsequently leaving bars together does not count as a date, she’s pretty sure. Neither do the booty calls.) He’s been getting a little free with his texts, that boy, sending her selfies and memes and questions about her day, and now this? An invitation to their first, actual date? She should block him on principle, just for the sheer audacity.

sure, wya

520 8th, text me when you get here 😁

That’s another thing: Percy loves his emojis. If this is going to continue, they’re going to need to have a serious talk about that. 

She doesn’t need to text him when she gets there; he’s already outside, leaning on the stone edifice of the building like a particularly jacked rent boy in his tight t-shirt and broody look, cigarette between his fingers. The sweatpants sort of ruin the image, though. He looks particularly comfortable in a way that warms Annabeth right from the inside out. “You know, when Nico said you smoked, I honestly didn’t believe it.” she says, not even bothering to say hi. 

He looks up from his phone and smiles, the sun behind his teeth. “Hey!” 

“Hey, yourself.” She doesn’t even hesitate--she plucks the cigarette out of his hand, taking a drag off it herself. “You been smoking for a long time?”

“Who do you think taught Thalia how?” He raises an eyebrow, bemused. “Is that a problem?”

It is, but it’s not like she can tell him that without losing some of her credibility. “Wouldn’t smoking fuck with your cardio?”

Percy shrugs, conceding. “A little. I used to be a lot worse, but I just can’t quite kick the habit. It’s mostly a stress thing, anyway.” 

“Rough practice?” she asks, putting just enough effort into her lip wobble to make it abundantly clear that she’s making fun of him. “Were the other boys being mean to you because of your tights?”

He grins at her, saucy. “Annabeth Chase, do you really think that NYCB rehearses here? In the Garment District?” But he laughs before she can stammer out an answer (and thank God, she’s lived here three years and can barely keep the boroughs straight, let alone the neighborhoods). “I just wrapped up teaching a class. I don’t have to be at rehearsal until 5, I was thinking we could hang out? Bryant Park?”

A first date at the New York Public Library. She almost hates to admit it, but Percy Jackson might be kind of her dream man. “I believe I was promised food,” she sniffs, but she does hold out her hand, and when he takes it, lacing his fingers through hers, she’s sure that he can feel her heart beating, palm to palm. 

Twenty minutes later they’re settled on a bench in the corner of the green, Annabeth halfway into a ham sandwich and Percy juggling a salad and an iced coffee. He’s been regaling her with tales from the more exciting side of ballet, a side she hadn’t even imagined could actually exist. “So by the time I land in Paris,” he says, taking a sip of coffee, “the guy’s foot has swollen up to, like, twice its original size, and when I finally managed to find some wifi to check my phone, there’s, like, eight missed calls from my mom and my agent, and an email from her that just says ‘READ THIS,’ in all caps, and of course the article is in French, which I didn’t really speak at the time, and I was so stressed that my ADHD made it so I couldn’t even read the Google translation, and I had to ask someone to translate it for me.”

“Oh my god,” she says, struggling to keep it in.

“And that’s how I found out that I’d been moved up to first cast in Le Corsaire, from the poor barista at a coffee shop in Charles de Gaule!” He laughs. 

“That’s insane,” Annabeth says. “And the show was the next day?”

“It was that night! I had to haul ass to the opera house and get warmed up, because I was going on in about four hours. You should have seen the looks on everyone’s faces when I stumbled in, I’m sure that they all wanted to kill me.” Percy chuckles, taking a bite of leafy greens. “Now I wasn’t just the twenty-year-old upstart American, I was the twenty-year-old upstart American who skipped town when I wasn’t supposed to.”

“How did it go?”

“Killed it, of course,” he says, deservedly smug. 

Despite her best efforts, she’s absolutely entranced; he’s a great storyteller. “I bet you break that story out at parties all the time, don’t you.”

He laughs. “Whatever gets the donors to open their checkbooks, right?”

“I can’t believe you lived in Paris. I’ve always wanted to see it.” She’d had a few chances to when she was in college, the semester she’d studied abroad in Rome, but she just never got around to it. Just another item on her long, long list of regrets, placed somewhere between the sketchy burrito from last week and not telling her mom to fuck off earlier when she’d had the chance. “If I were you, I’d never leave.”

Percy shrugs. “It was amazing, I won’t lie. But towards the end I just really, really missed it here. All my family is in NYC, you know? My mom, step-dad, and my sister live here, and Thalia and Nico and Hazel, too. I tried to come back and visit whenever I could, but being away from them was really hard.” There’s something soft and inviting in his expression when he says, “I’m really happy to be back home.”

“What are they like?” Annabeth asks. “Your family. Your non-mob family, I mean.”

He rolls his eyes, but he grins another one of those blinding grins, too. “My mom is the most amazing person you will ever meet. Not only did she support my dance habit, she did it as a single working mother who had to raise an angry, ADHD asshole of a son who didn’t always appreciate her. I don’t even want to know how many hours she had to work or how many scholarships and grants she had to track down in order to pay for me to go to SAB, but somehow she made it work, and managed to write her novel at the same time. She married my step-dad the summer I turned sixteen, and my baby sister was born the next year.” 

Even Annabeth, cynical and black-hearted as she is, has to smile back. The love he has for his mom is so palpable, so tangible, she can practically see him glowing. “And the…” What had Thalia called them? “The ‘Cousin Consortium’?” 

At that, Percy laughs, full-bellied, unrestrained. “The name was Nico’s idea. I didn’t really have many close friends when I was a kid, apart from my buddy Grover--he had to wear this really gnarly leg brace and I liked to dance, so you can imagine how much we got picked on--but we were all really close growing up, since our dads were all assholes. They may have left us emotionally scarred, but at least we had each other’s backs the whole time.”

This is a very Percy thing, she’s starting to realize: he can not and will not hold back on his feelings. He simply refuses to. Where most guys might try to hide or downplay their affection for their friends, Percy’s is written all over his face. Maybe it’s a byproduct of doing ballet, but he’s so unashamed of his love for his friends and his family and his art, that maybe Annabeth kind of wishes she could be included in that love too, if it always feels this warm and joyful. 

“I think it’s amazing that you guys are so close. I only had the one cousin when I was growing up, and we didn’t really talk all that much,” Annabeth says, almost without her permission. Something about him, it’s just so easy to talk to him. He makes it safe to open up.

“The med school guy, right?” 

Annabeth nods. “Magnus. Fifth generation Harvard student. We’re all very proud.” 

Ugh. Even she has to wince at the false cheer in her voice. Percy gives her a half-smile, sympathetic and soft. “Harvard not really for you, then?” he asks, picking up the threads of a long and complicated story, and one that she absolutely does not want to get into right now. Or ever, if she can help it. 

“More like I wasn’t really for Harvard.” Which wasn’t entirely untrue. She had been good enough for the university in Cambridge, Mass--good enough for two degrees and graduation with honors--but she had never been good enough for her mother’s capital-H Harvard. Never good enough for her mother at all, really. 

Percy takes her hand. His fingers are cold from his iced coffee. “Hey. It’s their loss,” he says, with a sincerity and an intensity that makes her blush.

Every part of her wants to pull away. His thumb is rubbing against the joint of her finger, soothing and sweet, and she thinks she may break out in hives from it. “Damn right it is,” she mumbles. 

He is so nice. So nice and hot and sweet. Objectively, what she’s about to do is a terrible idea, and might torpedo a really good thing that they have, but if she doesn’t come clean now her own guilt is going to drive her insane.

“Okay, I have a confession to make.” Percy raises his eyebrows, slurping the last dregs of his drink. “When we met… and then when we hooked up the first time… I may have… thoughtyouwereJason.”

He blinks. “Pardon?” he asks, mumbled around the straw.

Annabeth buries her head in her hands. “Please don’t make me say it again.”

“You… thought I was Jason?”

“Well,” she sputters, glaring at him through her fingers, “you were being all bro-y with Thalia!”

He is valiantly trying to hold in a smile. “You know, I distinctly remember telling you my name that morning.”

“I was really hungover,” she whines, “and you were shirtless and making breakfast so I wasn’t really… paying attention.”

“For a whole week?”

This is so embarrassing, why couldn’t she just keep her stupid mouth shut? “Yeah.” She slumps her shoulders, stuffing her hands into her jacket pocket. “Sorry.”

She’s not entirely sure what she expected: at best a couple of weird looks and a tentative promise to meet up later that would end up not working out, at worst she thinks he’ll just get up and leave her here at Bryant Park. Either way, they’d be doomed to months of awkward interactions, until eventually they wouldn’t be able to be around each other, and Thalia would have to pick a side--and Annabeth’s seen what Thalia does to people who cross her family. She’s seen Thalia beat a dude to pulp for calling Nico the f-slur. Picking Percy over Annabeth? That’s nothing.

So when he starts laughing, Annabeth is completely at a loss. Slowly, at first, then all at once, he’s laughing so hard his shoulders are shaking, and he has to put down his salad so it doesn’t topple over onto the grass. His head is tilted back in joy, the grey, late afternoon light adamant that Annabeth can see all of his features clearly, from his screwed up eyes to his bright, white teeth to the single dimple in his cheek.

Of course, even his laughter is hot. Asshole. 

“You thought I was Jason!” He shrieks.

Annabeth crosses her arms, scowling. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I really don’t mean to laugh,” he giggles. Annabeth can feel her own giggle rising in response, and she ruthlessly quashes it. “I can definitely say I’ve never heard that one before. You do know Jason is blond, right?”

“As a matter of fact, I did not. Besides, you and Thalia look exactly alike.”

He scoffs. “No we don’t.”

“Uh, yeah you do. You, Thalia, and Nico are all basically clones of each other.” 

“Okay, Captain Glasses, whatever you say.” He rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat behind it.

“I’m sorry,” Annabeth feels like she has to say again.

He cocks his head. “For what? For thinking I was Jason? He’s a pretty cool guy.”

“No, for,” she blushes again. All this blood rushing to her head can’t be good for her. “For sleeping with you when I still thought you were Jason.”

Percy scoots closer to her, throwing her a grin and slinging his arm over her shoulders. Without even realizing that she’s doing it, she settles in beside him like she’s been doing it her whole life, slotted up against his torso, tucking her booted feet beneath her legs. “I am choosing to take that as a compliment,” he says, smirking. “You couldn’t resist my charms, even when you thought I was a brogrammer.” 

Annabeth can’t help herself. She kisses him, wiping that smug grin right off his face, and when she finally retreats, after what feels like hours, he looks so dazed she could probably keep calling him by any name she wanted and he wouldn’t even realize it.

After their lunch, they meander for hours, headed in a vaguely southerly direction, holding hands the whole time, a steady, uninterrupted flow that took them all the way from Midtown to Greenwich Village. He tells her about his first day at ballet school; she tells him about her favorite monuments. “There are two architectural environments in America,” she says, ranting, speaking with enough force that she might forget the feeling of his hand in hers, “endless dead suburbia, or cities where every single building is either a concrete or a glass block--and not even Brutalist concrete, just shitty, poorly designed, paint-by-numbers concrete. It is an absolute travesty of modern government that they don’t fund any public works projects anymore.”

“That’s why all the gardens and stuff?” he asks.

“Nowadays everything is built by the lowest bidder. At least I get to add some beauty back into the city.”

“I know what you mean,” Percy says. “Paris is practically overflowing with public works, you almost forget about it sometimes.”

She sighs. “You’re so fucking lucky. Paris is so beautiful and everything in New York is just hideous.”

“Aw, come on,” he says. “Not everything. What about the Empire State Building, or Central Park?”

“Well, obviously, those,” she says, just a teensy bit flustered, but she’s not about to give up the argument without a fight. “I just mean like, normal, every day buildings: offices and apartments and stuff. It’s all so samey and boring.”

He looks to her right, pointing at the building they are passing. “What about this one?”

She turns.

If she had known they were headed this way, she never would have taken them past here.

“It’s… okay, I guess,” she mumbles, staring up at the arched windows, pedimented doors, and Rococo details of Miss Minerva’s Private Pre-College Prep School. A shudder goes down her spine, like someone walking over her grave. “There are better Beaux-Arts buildings.”

Sensing her discomfort, he picks up the pace, and changes the subject.

Finally, he stops outside a nondescript building, turning to face her. “This is me,” he says, a little bit mournfully, squeezing her hand. “Are you okay to get home safely?”

This man is ridiculous; it’s not even dark out. “I think I can manage a few blocks,” she says, lightly swatting him. “Isn’t it kind of early for you, though? It’s only four o’clock.”

He flushes faintly, one hand coming up to rub at his neck. “Uh, well, I always give myself a little extra time--you know, time blindness and everything.”

“You baked in extra time in case I wanted you to walk me home, didn’t you?” She mock-gasps, secretly delighted. “Scandal!”

“Guilty,” he grins. “You’ve been to mine so many times, I was curious.”

She just barely stops herself from laughing out loud at the very idea of Percy coming to her apartment--as if. Thalia hasn’t even been to her apartment. Nobody knows where she lives, none of her neighbors know who she is, and this is entirely by design. “Cut me some slack; a girl’s gotta have some mystery. Can’t make it too easy for you, can I?”

“I have a feeling you’ll never make things easy for me,” he says, white teeth gleaming.

“You better believe it,” she smiles back. “Now that I’ve foiled your plans, are you going to be too bored?”

“Oh, I’ll think of something,” he shrugs. “I’m very resourceful when it comes to boredom.”

Inspiration strikes, and she grasps his hand, pulling him down the alleyway. She almost hates to admit it, but she has something of a Pavlovian response when it comes to hanging out with Percy. Annabeth has come to expect some really excellent sex whenever the two of them meet up, and maybe spending all afternoon with him has made her a little bit horny. 

She presses him up against the brick wall, hidden from the street by the long afternoon shadows, and kisses him. His hands flounder for a second, before coming up to rest on her shoulders, this thumbs tapping against the base of her neck, fingers fluttering on her jacket. It’s an intimate touch, kind of chaste and very respectful, and he holds her with precision and grace. He wouldn’t do anything she wouldn’t want to. This is a date with no expectation of sex on his part. But Annabeth does not want grace right now, spooked by the ghost of her old school. She does not want precision. She just wants him. She just wants to keep him on his toes, keep him interested, blow his mind a little. 

She just wants to blow him, to be honest. 

He squeaks into her mouth as her hands fly to his belt, deft fingers practically ripping it off of him in an increasingly familiar motion. “H-hey,” he says, squeezing her shoulders, “this is--”

“Do you not want me to?” she asks, one hand playing at the top line of his underwear. 

“No--I mean, are you sure? I’m-I’m okay with this, I just want to--”

“I know.” She kisses his cheek, then drops to her knees. “But we’ve got some time to kill, don’t we.” 

Afterwards, when she’s finished with him, Annabeth wipes her mouth, and he whimpers. 

“Ho… holy shit,” he pants, flushed and trembling. 

She tucks him back into his boxers, doing up his fly. “There we go. That was better than being bored, right?”

He nods wordlessly, swallowing, shaking. His eyes are glassy and glazed, stupid like he’s just shot out his brain through his dick.

In the short time they’ve been together (though, honestly, this might be the longest relationship she’s ever been in before… and they haven’t even broached the “dating” conversation yet) Annabeth has been on the receiving end of several different Percy looks. His face will light up with joy when he first lays his eyes on her, so happy to see her (though she can’t really fathom why), glinting like the sun on the water. His eyes will narrow, glaring, even as he furiously tamps down on his growing smile when they start arguing over something stupid, like Annabeth’s affinity for olives. He’ll grin at her, knife sharp and slanted, licking his lips and looming over her after she comes down from yet another orgasm via his mouth or his hands.

Percy looks at her now like someone took a bat to his head, and instead of seeing stars, he sees little miniature Annabeths flying around. 

He pulls her to him and kisses her, entirely too sweet for what she’s just done to him, but that is also a very Percy thing. And when she leaves him with a final kiss on his cheek and squeeze of his ass, she can feel that look burning a hole through her jacket, following her down the alley and around the corner, and she finds that she doesn’t mind the weight of it at all.

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Ghosts and Guns (4/23/2021)

Alastor a.k.a. Leal @usedhearts and Alastor a.k.a. Astor talk about their experiences seeing ghosts when they were alive, which is a great conversation.

And then they talk about how Astor keeps getting stuck third-wheeling with Leal and Alastor a.k.a. Alexa, which is not a great conversation.

usedhearts

He'd popped around a couple places in the hotel, looking for Astor, and finally found him. Leal stepped out of the shadows into the mini makeshift greenhouse.

"You remember when we talked about ghosts? Back when you taught me about the internet? I've been thinking about that lately!" Yes, no preamble, no hello, just straight into it without announcing himself. But he DOES have two thermoses in his hands, wonder what's in there. Probably something for Astor.

"I brought soup!" Definitely something for Astor.

dontasktheradiodemon

"Oh, delicious!" He held out a hand for a thermos. Who needs a preamble? Clearly this show has been broadcasting all day and he only just tuned into the middle.

Astor himself had been in the turned-sideways ship annexed onto the hotel, where he's been keeping his garden: a grand total of two okra plants and one bell pepper plants. They really don't need a whole lot of fussing at, but he feels neglectful if he doesn't do a bit of fussing anyway.

But it certainly left him time to entertain a guest. "Yes, I vaguely recall! Why?" He opened his thermos to inspect the soup.

usedhearts

Upon inspection he'd find Creole style Yakamein soup, with extra meat. Leal summoned himself a chair, settling into it. He gave his own soup a sip before he started.

"You told me abou your experiences with spirits when you were young and it got me reexamining some of my childhood and I think I may have been seeing ghosts before I was haunted personally!"

dontasktheradiodemon

Ooh, delicious. He sipped at it like it was just a cup of coffee.

"Really!" His brows went up. He wasn't surprised to learn his alternate was more sensitive to spirits than previously thought, but he *was* surprised his alternate was figuring it out so long after the fact. "Well, do tell me about them!"

usedhearts

"I think the reason I never noticed was because I would _see_ them but with my attention span, I wouldn't think anything strange about it. I remember a few incidents clearly though-- like this one time when I was out in the bayou when I was a child, I came across a gentleman who I now know was wearing a confederate uniform. He was just staring off into space. I asked him if he was alright and he didn't respond-- so I just turned and left."

Leal shrugged, taking another sip of his soup. "The things children will overlook, huh?"

dontasktheradiodemon

“The man lost his cause and has been dredging the bayou for it ever since.” He scoffed derisively. “Now, that’s interesting, though! I only rarely ever saw them! I almost always heard them—that was usually how I could tell the living from the dead, I didn’t see them.”

usedhearts

"Yes, that's why I think I mistook them for living people! All the times I remember, before I was being haunted personally, they never spoke. I only saw them." He  shrugged.

"Perhaps that's one of the key differences between us, the way we experienced hauntings."

dontasktheradiodemon

"Perhaps so!" He paused thoughtfully. "Or maybe you were also surrounded by invisible ghosts you couldn't hear and I was surrounded by silent ghosts I couldn't see? Maybe we both had twice as many ghosts as we thought we did! Hah!"

It wasn't easy to drink noodles out of a thermos, but by god he was finding a way. "Did they ever approach you? Interact with you?"

usedhearts

"Hmm..." His head tilted and he took another sip of his soup-- sluuurp there goes a noodle of his own.

"There was one time a woman approached me, and seemed to be trying to ask me something, but she had no voice. I tried to help her and I ran to get a pen and paper, but when I returned she was gone."

dontasktheradiodemon

"Only once? Huh. The rest must have realized you wouldn't be much help to them." Huff. "I wonder if she's one I ever met. Did she look like she might be a relative?"

usedhearts

"Only once that I recall so far, who knows what else my memory will dredge up!" Leal laughed, then tilted his head. "She did look vaguely like Maman, but there were a lot of women in the neighborhood that looked vaguely like Maman, so..." He shrugged.

"Now I'm wondering if I saw any during the war-- one would think that would be a hotspot for hauntings, hm?"

dontasktheradiodemon

"Oh, was it ever! I tried to talk a couple of fellows into spying on Jerry and reporting back! They said they were officially off-duty and they weren't going to fight any German ghosts for me." He laughed. It was the laugh of somebody who had taught himself through deliberate effort to find this funny.

"I had a friend named Joseph who died on the first day of shelling. He stuck it out the week with me before moving on. Now that was a dependable pal."

usedhearts

That caught him off guard, and Leal blinked. "Wait, Joey? Didn't he die on the last day of shelling?"

He was a little shocked that they'd known, possibly, the same man. But they _were_ the same person, he really shouldn't be surprised. "You know, I probably saw tons but never registered it, because anyone covered in blood and staring into a middle distance would've just looked shell shocked to me!"

dontasktheradiodemon

Astor gave him a surprised look. "Joey Landry? Never stopped talking about his fiancée what's-her-name, started with a D? No. First day. At least, in my spin on things." But if Leal knew who he was talking about, Astor doubted it had been different.

"That really was what it was like. I heard so many screams I couldn't locate, I never knew if I was hearing the dying or the dead. Sometimes I had to ask if anyone else heard that scream too, and they'd ask, 'which one?' It's the only time I ever wished I couldn't hear spirits."

usedhearts

Leal snapped his fingers, his brows shooting up as he pointed at Astor. "Yes! That's him, the very one! Joey Landry with the fiancée! Oh, always felt for that poor girl after he died....you SURE it was the first day?"

He stroked his chin as he thought. "I saw him around but he got real quiet after the first day....didn't jabber anymore. I just thought he was shell shocked at the time, not shell _dead_. But then he disappeared."

Leal took a breath and then another sip of his soup. "You know....I think you're right."

dontasktheradiodemon

Astor nodded. Yes, he was sure it was the first day. “He spent the next week grieving for himself. He made me write down a whole list of things he wanted me to do on his behalf. I think I only did three or four of them. He dictated a letter to his girl, I made sure she got that.”

usedhearts

Leal's smile tightened and he looked down, arms crossing over his chest. His thermos floated next to him, as if he never let it go.

"Well, that puts a whole new spin on things. I didn't do anything for him, I didn't even know he was dead until he disappeared at the end of the week. But now I definitely know that I saw ghosts on the front. A lot of them. Maybe I'd repressed some of it before this, but I sure do remember it now."

dontasktheradiodemon

“Well, you didn’t do anything, but on the other hand you didn’t promise him a dozen things and then break three-fourths of your promise, did you?” He laughed ruefully. “Did you repress it or did you just not understand it? Everyone saw hellish things out there, after all—if you don’t have experience with ghosts, how do you sort them out from the rest? I imagine most times they looked better than their corpses.”

usedhearts

"Exactly-- I saw so much horrible shit, how was I to sort through it to find that some of the shit was actually from cows instead of pigs?" That was a messy metaphor, but it had been a messy time.

"I think I'm only able to sort through it now, some hundred years after the fact, because so much time has passed." He took his thermos back from the air and took another drink of soup. That helped, good food always did.

"I think I fired on some German ghosts, too. I remember a couple shots that I _knew_ were dead on, but there wasn't confirmed hits...."

dontasktheradiodemon

He let out a genuine laugh. “Oh! Those fellows were having the worst time out of anyone! Imagine being one of those boys: not only are you on the frontlines, not only are you *dead,* but some stubborn doughboy is *still* shooting at you! Some days you just can’t catch a break!”

usedhearts

Astor's laugh made him laugh too, a surprised noise at first, and then a few more natural noises. "Oh, yes, that would be terrible wouldn't it? They think they're out of it and then ZOOM! There's a bullet whizzing through their ghost-head!"

dontasktheradiodemon

“Just when they start thinking, ‘Well, at least it can’t get any worse’...!”

His laughter slowly petered out. “It’s a pity you didn’t get the nice side of seeing spirits. I’m surprised Ma didn’t raise you with that.”

usedhearts

"Well, it was hardly her fault-- Catholic school does that to a boy." He snorted and shook his head.

"After a year of that, I didn't want to hear anything about _anything_ spiritual. She did teach me things, but I made it clear that I didn't want to hear about that. She, being the loving mother she was, agreed to not talk about it with me." He sighed.

"Nowadays, I wish I had let her."

dontasktheradiodemon

He nodded deeply. “That’s right, I remember you mentioned that. Funny, the big differences little changes can make. Spirits were just a fact of my life long before I started school. Even if I *had* been turned off of religion like you—well, what does religion have to do with the fact that great-grandma sang to me when I couldn’t sleep, or that my father’s kin thought my French sounded funny and old-fashioned because in between visits I practiced with a spirit? To me, the difference between a ghost and the Holy Ghost was as big as the difference between a bite of flesh and a communion wafer. But would that have been the case if I’d only seen them instead of hearing them?” He shrugged.

usedhearts

Leal nodded in turn. "See, I never had that. No one but Maman sang to me, no phantom voices talking French. I had things a child's mind wrote off as 'weird but whatever'. It just goes to show that maybe if I _had_ heard them, I might've trod a path closer to yours."

He sighed, finishing off the last of his soup. The thermos disappeared into a portal as his head cocked.

"I don't think I've shown you the rifle, have I? Not after our...tense chat. Here." He flared a bit of magic, and pushed it into the ring hidden beneath his glove, and-- poof! There it was, a lovely, alien, magic sniper rifle. He held it out to Astor. "Here, hold it, it's got a good weight."

dontasktheradiodemon

Tense chat. His smile wilted slightly. Right. He’d nearly forgotten all about that.

All the same, he accepted the rifle. “Well, now, that’s an interesting contraption, isn’t it?” He hefted it up. “This is one of those ones built to shoot people a mile away, isn’t it?”

usedhearts

Leal noticed that wilt. He made a note of it. "I haven't tried firing it THAT far but it does get good distance! The way you fire is that you charge it up with your magic and then just shoot it out! Makes reloading a hell of a lot easier."

He took a breath. "And, apparently, you _can_ make it non-lethal. I didn't know that at the time, and my magic tends to make the 'bullets' rather explosive. Hence, why I didn't want to fire it at you."

Another breath. "I'm sorry, again, for not being clearer about that. I didn't mean to muck things up, it all just happened so fast. Have you spoken to Alexa about it?"

dontasktheradiodemon

“We’ve talked.” He offered the rifle back. “Magically charged. What do you know, a gun that makes the gunman do all the hard work! Still, interesting concept for a magical focus. And I’m sure you can do some interesting tricks with the ‘bullets’ that way.”

usedhearts

That didn't offer Leal much in the way of _what_ they talked about. "Talked like our talk that happened right after, or a talk like we're talking _now_?" Might as well ask for clarification.

"Yes! I've got the 'explode on contact' thing down, I've been trying to see what else I can do with them." He took the gun back and dismissed it back to the ring.

"I also wanted to apologize if Alexa and I have made you feel...awkward, when around us."

dontasktheradiodemon

“We talked about it the day of.” And Astor didn’t intend to offer Leal much in the way of what they talked about. It wasn’t his business to share if their alternate hadn’t shared it.

His smile thinned further. “Yes, well. Unless being a pest is my goal, I don’t particularly enjoy feeling like my presence is the only thing preventing my current companions from doing whatever it is they’d rather be doing.”

usedhearts

He glanced down, his own smile thinning, his hands folding in his lap. "I know it was never _my_ intent to make you feel like that. And I doubt it was Alexa's either."

Leal took another deep breath. "I like having you around, I like being around you, you're my friend, and Alexa and I should have thought about that before....thermoregulating around you like we do. We're an odd bunch, us Alastors, but I think _that's_ probably a little odd to see, even from us." He laughed humorlessly.

dontasktheradiodemon

A long, slow blink. “‘Thermoregulating’?” Let’s just get that out of the way first.

usedhearts

Oh. Yes, there was that. He hadn't explained it yet, had he?

"I run hot, Alexa is always cold. When we....." God, he didn't want to say the word. "_Cuddle_, it evens us both out. It's nice."

dontasktheradiodemon

Another, slower blink. “And... short sleeves and long johns weren’t solutions you thought to explore first?”

usedhearts

At that, Leal rolled his eyes. "Why do you think I toss off my coat at the drop of a hat? It's not just that, it's...." He huffed a bit.

"You know that feeling, when someone touches you and your skin wants to jump ship? With Alexa, there is no _that_ feeling, at all. It's just....it's nice." And he crossed his arms again. Don't mind that blush dusting his cheeks, he's not embarrassed at all.

dontasktheradiodemon

“So, the ‘thermoregulating’ bit is a convenient excuse to cuddle without openly admitting that you want to cuddle.” He spread his hands and shrugged. “It’s actually very obvious that what you’re doing is cuddling. There’s... I’m afraid there’s really no ambiguity.”

usedhearts

"It's more an excuse for cuddling and the reason we started cuddling in the first place. But that's what we're calling it, our Thing, thermoregulating."

He took a breath. "We've both agreed to stop doing it around others, though. It was--" He gave a brief nod toward Astor. "Making things awkward and neither of us want that. So next time all of us are in a room together, me and he will be on our best behavior, I swear." He held up his hand, the other over his heart.

dontasktheradiodemon

Their *Thing.* Astor nodded. “Well, I’d hate to impose on your Thing! Particularly if this means that you’ll be spending dinner parties wishing you were somewhere else where you felt free to cuddle?”

usedhearts

"No, it's not--" Leal took a breath again. "You're not imposing on us, Alastor. Both of us _like_ spending time with you. We just....got preoccupied. It's our fault, not yours."

dontasktheradiodemon

A nod. “All right.” Like he doesn’t quite buy it. “Whatever you two feel is appropriate.”

usedhearts

Leal stated at him, eyes narrowed just a tad.

"Are we...okay? Do you want to, I don't know, share your feelings, or anything?"

dontasktheradiodemon

His brows knit. “*Share* my *feelings*—? Who in the world have you been talking to?” That was some therapist shit right there. “You’re still invited to the holiday potlucks, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

usedhearts

Oh look at that, the blush is getting worse, his smile twitching.

"Good, good. I'm going to still send you fresh seafood and bug you, too, you know. We're still _friends_."

dontasktheradiodemon

Astor studied his alternate’s face critically. What *was* all this?

He’d always taken it as an unspoken given amongst alternates that getting cagey meant *back off.* They were entertainers, not journalists. If an interviewee balks at a question, a good talk show host redirects the conversation to something more free-flowing that the audience can enjoy; he doesn’t prod deeper and drag out more tight-lipped answers while the audience loses interest. A half-assed answer *is* an answer: it says *change course.*

And any alternate of Alastor’s ought to know that. So why was Leal pushing about Astor’s *feelings*?

Neutrally, he asked, “Would you like to share *yours*?”

usedhearts

Leal's brow furrowed-- he hadn't been expecting that. Share _his_ feelings? There was nothing in the world he wanted to do _less_. He just wanted to be sure that things were alright between him and Astor-- maybe Val was rubbing off on him.

"Not particularly, no," He said, giving a wry chuckle.

"I just...want you to be reassured that you don't have to--" He shrugged. "-- sit out or anything when I invite others into shenanigans. I'll be sure to be clearer about things in the future."

dontasktheradiodemon

He gave Leal a meaningful look—yeah, well, there you go, nobody wants to talk about their feelings.

"Duly noted." Noted and discarded. He couldn't imagine attempting that again.

usedhearts

"Good." He took a breath and stood, his chair disappearing.

"Then I think I'll be on my way. If I remember more ghost encounters I'll be sure to let you know."

dontasktheradiodemon

"Do! I'd be interested to hear more about your experiences." Finally back to a safe topic—but he feared the damage was done.

"Oh! Do you want your—?" Alastor held out the thermos he'd been drinking. About a quarter of the soup was left.

usedhearts

Leal held up his hand, shaking his head. "Oh no! You keep that, it's fine."

Leal gave a little nod. "So long, Alastor! Until next time!" And he melded back into the shadows whence he came.

dontasktheradiodemon

"And to you, Alastor." He tipped his thermos to Leal.

And then he was alone. He sighed and sipped at his soup. He had the sinking feeling that could have gone better.

[lgbtyrus]

This Love Will Never Be Convenient - “Flashlight”

A/N: So I consumed a lot of amazing LukeBobby content. Got brain rot. And now I have this little worm in my brain whispering, “Write LukeBobby. Write LukeBobby,” and I produced this. So guess what everyone! Bullying works :)

This story will be multiple chapters/snippets of Bobby and Luke’s relationship. Some short, some long. All with The Front Bottoms references because I imagine their relationship with added romantic tension is a TFB album. I guess I don’t really have to say this because we all know, but this is my personal take on Bobby. 

Ao3 Link

“Flashlight”

Words: 1.9k

The white of the flashlight went through the window of the house next door and hit Luke’s bedroom window. It flashed in and out, going over a small area of posters and pictures Luke had hung up. There wasn’t a single piece of wall that wasn’t decorated with pictures of bands, instrument catalogue papers, and polaroids of the boys.

Luke chuckled, letting the light go around for a bit before he got out from under his bedsheets. He walked over to his window that was glued shut by his parents and could see Bobby’s face light up when he saw him. Bobby pointed down, outside to the ground and Luke nodded before walking to his closet.

He put on a hoodie and some pink fuzzy socks Bobby would tease him for before quietly sneaking past his parents’ bedroom. They were heavy sleepers and didn’t catch Luke most of the time that he walked right out the front door late at night. It just the one time that they caught him leaving through the window that turned into a huge deal that grounded him for a month. During the day, he wasn’t allowed to go out but at night, he’d walk through the front door and go straight to Bobby’s garage so they could drive to practice. That was the month their sleeping schedules got wrecked.

Luke silently shut the door and turned around to Bobby standing there, fully dressed with his hands in his jacket. Luke rose an eyebrow, scanning him and his denim on denim outfit up and down and back up. Luke had sweats and slippers on.

“Where we going?”

“Burger King,” Bobby said, starting to walk away.

“Let me get my wallet,” Luke said, about to turn around.

Without stopping, Bobby said back to him, “You got me last time, so I got you this time.” Luke stood still and smiled for a moment before jumping back into the reality of a cold summer night. Like a little kid again, he sped to Bobby’s lawn where his van was already running. Luke knew he left it warming up for him because for someone who hated sleeves, he hated the cold. But Bobby would never admit to it and would stop doing it if he pointed it out.

They started driving away, Luke looking in the backseats of the van. Bobby’s graduation robe and cap were thrown there next to what he recognized as one of Alex’s orange fanny packs and a single checkered van that belonged to Reggie.

“Any special occasion?” Luke asked Bobby as he reached over to crank up the heat. He took note that the corner of Bobby’s lips contorted into a small smile. He always tried to hide them.

“I’m hungry, and you’re free,” Bobby said flatly.

“How do you know I wasn’t busy?” Luke asked him. Bobby side eyed him and didn’t say anything, sighing deeply. He knew that most of the time that Luke said stuff to him, he just wanted to bother him. Luke knew he wasn’t going to answer either as Bobby reached over to change the song the Everclear CD was playing. Not a big fan of “Father of Mine” apparently.

“Have you written any new songs?” Bobby asked after a minute of silence between the two.

“I got like two that are halfway done,” Luke said. He looked out the window, saying goodbye to their familiar neighborhood and entering the heart of the city through the freeway. “But I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Bobby asked. He sounded confused and beneath his straight lips that could have been a frown if he wasn’t so… Bobby, there was some concern. “You usually say they’re the best songs in the world. What’s been up with you lately.” Luke looked at Bobby who was focusing hard on the road. So this is why he had taken him out.

Alex and Reggie could easily ask Hey man, are you good? I noticed you’ve been down? Do you need help? to Luke and get an answer out of him within minutes. And then they’d either give him advice or just make him feel better because he had friends that listened.

Bobby was a different story. Bobby was not one to ask if someone else was okay. Directly at least. He was an acts of service type of guy (Alex’s ex-boyfriend had them all look up their love languages and it made more sense than astrology to Luke). Although those favors were never asked for in the first place. It sometimes annoyed Luke because it meant Bobby got himself in messes that he couldn’t get out of. Like trying to fix Reggie’s bass for him and making it worse. Or teaching Luke how to do laundry that one week he stayed at Bobby’s place because his parents went on vacation, and he ended up ruining all of Luke’s shirts.

Treating him to Burger King was another act of service Luke did not ask for, but it did make him smile because Bobby had noticed something was up.

Bobby was a bit like him. Stubborn. My way or the highway. Like having eyes on him. Anytime someone cried, they both freaked out. Things they both never grew out of.

But while Luke grew out of hiding his love for his friends once Reggie and Alex joined their friend group in middle school, Bobby didn’t. He stayed reserved yet friendly as much as Luke would overly cling to his shoulder, hug him, and occasionally plant kisses on his face that would make Bobby pretend to throw up. That was just Bobby’s personality- to look like he didn’t care to seem cooler. Even when was a huge dork.

“I dropped out of the community college classes I registered for,” Luke admitted to him.  

“Oh,” Bobby muttered. He glanced at Luke from the corner of his eyes before looking back at the road. “Let me guess. You haven’t told them?” Them. Always referring to his parents like if they were further than his own parents all the time. Sometimes it bothered Luke, but he knew why his friends had disdain towards his parents. Same reasons he did, and he couldn’t blame them. He didn’t exactly talk about them just to say positive things.

“Nope,” Luke shook his head.

“You have like three weeks,” Bobby said, pointing at his mini calendar on his dashboard. It was still on March despite it being late July.  

“Can’t I just pretend to carpool with you when you have classes?” Luke laughed. Bobby rolled his eyes as he turned into the exit of the street Burger King was on. “Come on. You’d already be on the way.”

“You’re just going to lurk on campus like a creep?” Bobby asked him.

“Yes,” Luke said. His face broke into a crooked smile, “Meet someone cute in the library, maybe.”

Bobby started muttering bitterly under his breath, “Insufferable. That’s what you are, insufferable.” Luke knew that would get him annoyed, and his laughter roared over the music. Bobby gave him another glare. “Look,” Bobby said out loud, “just rip off the band-aid. That’s what we’re all going to tell you to do.”

“I think Reggie would like my plan,” Luke said, reaching over to put his hand on the back of Bobby’s neck. Bobby side eyed Luke, but he didn’t shove his hand off. He knew it was either that or Luke would have his pointer and middle fingers pretend to run a marathon on the dashboard- narration included. If Luke didn’t have to resort to finger sprinting, it meant Bobby was in a good enough mood to let him keep his hand on him for a while.

Luke’s love language had come up to be physical touch and all three of the boys agreed that it was true. Luke protested for a bit but in that moment, he had put his arms around both Reggie and Alex’s necks and they looked at him like really? He didn’t argue against it after that.

Bobby was not one who liked to be touched. But he put with it when it came to cute girls flirting backstage or Luke- if he wasn’t in a bad mood. Luke always felt like Bobby was just tolerated him, but it was moments like him taking him to get food so late at night that reminded him that they were friends. Who made out like twice a long time ago but that’s not important right now.

Bobby pulled them into the parking lot of Burger King and got in the drive-thru line. It was a bit long for it being 11PM, but that’s how it usually was at any time of the day. He ignored Luke’s Reggie comment and was back to humming.

“Bobby,” Luke said.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” Luke said, smiling and sticking out his tongue at him. He didn’t expect Bobby to smile back, but he did and like always, the way his eyes were barely open when he smiled so big opened up a black hole in Luke’s chest that erupted musical notes and butterflies. It was a stupid feeling.

Luke took his hand off Bobby’s neck and reached under the passenger seat. After flicking aside a water bottle cap and an old French dry, he found what he was looking for- his Polaroid camera. He started keeping it in Bobby’s van after always forgetting it for shows.

Luke pointed the camera at Bobby, finding him through the tiny lens and said, “Smile.”

“Why?” Bobby asked, already fixing his hair. Luke watched him glance at himself in the rearview mirror.

“So I can take pictures of you and hang them in my room.” Bobby didn’t say anything else and smiled before the flash went off. He seemed a little more content. Luke got the picture that came out and set it carefully on the dashboard before getting ready to take a picture of both him and Bobby.

“Your selfies never come out, dude. You’re just wasting film,” Bobby said. And before he could adjust himself and smile, Luke hit the photograph button and the flash blinded them. “Yeah, that one less.”

“Relax,” Luke said to him, placing the second photo on the dashboard. “You don’t have to look hot in every photo.” Luke knew what he was insinuating, but it didn’t make him stutter. He always complimented Bobby, and when he looked at him, like he predicted, Bobby was looking out the driver’s seat window at the very interesting beige Burger King brick wall. Luke smirked as he stared at the back of Bobby’s head. He could not take a compliment from Luke as much as he liked to receive them from other people.

Luke reached over to play with the back of Bobby’s hair, and Bobby didn’t move a bit. He was probably waiting for him to do it. Luke’s hands always found him in moments of silence.

Luke noticed the car in front of them moving forward and patted Bobby on the back.

“Go,” Luke said. Bobby faced forward again, avoiding looking at him even from the corner of his eyes as he drove forward. Luke placed his hands on his face as he stared at him, making sure he was in Bobby’s peripheral vision.

“What, dude?” Bobby smacked his lips together, looking at Luke. The question came out a lot more bashfully and quiet than his usual pissed off remarks. He bagged him for the night, and he wasn’t even trying.

“Nothing,” Luke said. “Just like looking at ya’.” Bobby rolled his eyes but from the distant Drive Thru menu sign lighting, Luke could see the scarlet on Bobby’s cheeks. Luke couldn’t stop his face from heating up either. 

[kunderdogs]

Take A Chance VII

Simon Dominic (AOMG) x Y/N (Reader) Genre: Romance / Angst Count: I didn’t count lol sorry Warnings: None Rating: Mature (suggestive, swearing) Summary: Who would’ve thought a one night stand with Simon D would turn into FWB? It only gets more complicated when you developed feelings, against your better judgement.

This gif of Simon D is one of my favs. Pls don’t hate me for the ending. :) Two more chapters left! 

Had to post this early because I got called into work today.

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

Driving around aimlessly at 9AM was not how you pictured the start of your weekend to go. Then again, you could’ve never imagined Simon would stroll up to your place, drunk as hell and picking fights with you in the middle of the night either. For now, you felt your nerves settle as you drove around the town. You figured you could drive around and get some fresh air. Anything to get your mind off of your intruding thoughts. 

Being in that house with Kiseok just felt so suffocating.

You were cruising through some of the residential neighborhoods when you noticed you were close by Nicky’s house. You smiled and pulled on the side of the street, immediately grabbing your phone and dialing her number. She picked up at the last minute, groaning and complaining of a hangover, before launching into retelling you all of the drama from last night.

“So what do you want to eat? I’ll pick something up for you.” You connected the call to your car before pulling off the street. 

Nicky yawned a bit, “Eh, don’t worry about it. Wouldn’t want you to come all the way over here just to get me breakfast.”

“I’m in your neighborhood anyway so just tell me what you’re in the mood for. Cinnamon rolls? French fries?”

“Why are you in my neck of the woods at,” she paused on the other end, most likely to pull the phone back to check the time. “9:27AM? Couldn’t sleep?”

You sighed a little louder than you intended to, “You could say that. Since you won’t tell me what you want, I’ll surprise you.”

She hummed in agreement, “Don’t forget the OJ! Thank you, love. See in you in bit.”

Saying your goodbyes, it didn’t take long to get to a small cafe about ten minutes from Nicky’s apartment. It was early enough that there wasn’t much customers so you were happy to be in and out of there within a few minutes.

Upon arrival at Nicky’s place, you found her sprawled out on the couch, clothes from last night wrinkled but still in place. Her makeup was wiped off and smeared onto makeup wipes that were on the coffee table. You laughed to yourself, nudging her with your foot when you got closer. She was such a beautiful disaster.

“You look like you’re barely hanging on over here,” you teased, putting the food down on the coffee table before cleaning up the makeup wipes.

Nicky mumbled something in the pillow and reached blindly for the food. “So what’s bothering you, hm?” Her voice followed you into the kitchen.

Washing your hands in the sink, your mind worked to find the right words but they got stuck in your throat. Everything was still so confusing to you.

Yes, you had deep feelings for Kiseok but the reality was that you couldn’t be together.

It was just cruel of your mind to even picture him involved with you in the way you wanted him to be.

Part of you was relieved that you ended it but the other, much larger part, almost immediately regretted it. That part of you wanted to run back into his arms and confess your feelings to him right at this second.

You didn’t realize how loud you sighed until a cold hand wrapped around your wrist. Nicky pulled you to the living room, and began searching for a movie while you got comfortable on the couch

“Does it have anything to do with Lover Boy?” She guessed, eyeing your downcast mood. When you pouted without answering her, she plopped next to you. “Wanna talk about it?”

Nicky always wanted to talk about her problems, which you were completely willing to listen to but when it came to you sharing...It was a little more difficult for you to open up. She was never offended or put off when you didn’t want to talk about your feelings but she was definitely surprised when you nodded.

As Iron Man played in the background, you spilled everything that happened last night. Her sky-colored eyes grew in size as you vented about everything that was said yet she didn’t interrupt you once. By the time you were done, you took a moment to catch your breath and her mouth was hanging open in shock.

“Dear lord, I leave you alone for two seconds and all this happens huh,” she teased, causing a smile to crack on your lips.

Taking a bite of her food, Nicky thought about what she wanted to say before looking at you fully, “So, are you going to tell him or leave it at that?”

Looking to the hanging TV, you sunk back into the couch. What good would come out of you telling Kiseok your feelings for him? Other than getting it off your chest, it would change nothing. If anything, it may even ruin your chances of being friends with him in the future.

If you couldn’t be with Kiseok romantically, you still wanted to be friends. He was always there to listen to you and give you advice, even make you smile when you were stressed or having a bad day. Above all else, you enjoyed his company, even when you two just sat and did absolutely nothing.

You huffed when you noticed Nicky was still waiting for an answer, “There’s nothing more for me to say. I feel like I’ve said all I had to...”

She snorted, “You didn’t say anything of importance. You should go back to your place and talk it out with him.”

“What good would come from that?” You dismissed.

She shrugged, “Maybe he feels the same way. Close mouths don’t get fed.”

The orange juice you were drinking almost came back up through your nose as you snorted. “Yeah, right. If Simon even had an ounce of feelings for me, he wouldn’t be out with that other chick.”

Nicky couldn’t really argue with that point and shook her head, “You know how men are. They don’t realize their feelings until it slaps them in the face. From what you tell me, Simon D is the type of guy to not recognize it right away.”

Sighing again, you felt the tension in your shoulders. “I’ll figure it out later. I just want to rest for a bit. All this is so emotionally draining.”

With an understanding smile, a foot suddenly kicked into your side, forcing you to lay down on the couch. You glared playfully at your best friend while she tossed a throw blanket over your lower half.

“Take a nap. I’m going to shower. Gotta wash away all the bad decisions I made last night.”

Without further ado, Nicky skipped off to her bathroom, your laughter following her down the hallway.

Usually, you had a hard time falling asleep now that Cookie wasn’t with you, but something about Nicky’s apartment was so cozy that you were out like a light in under five minutes of laying down. It was probably because her couch was just so warm and comfortable.

Either way, you woke up hours later to another Avengers movie playing and Nicky eating brownies at the other end of the couch. You checked your phone to see if Cookie had called or texted, but they were at a water park today so you weren’t expecting a call until they got home, which would be late at night for them. It made you a little sad to not talk to your mini all day but you were glad she was having a good time with your ex’s family.

Sleepy eyes glanced at the time on your phone. “Shit. It’s already 1:30? How long was I out?”

“Since like 10, dude. You must’ve been dead tired.”

Yawning, you sat up and snuggled the blanket into you again. “Still am. I think I’m gonna head home and go to sleep in my own bed though.”

“Are you saying my couch isn’t an acceptable bed?” She teased, knowing damn well you loved her couch more than your own.

“I will steal this one day and replace it with mine.”

“Sure. Text me when you get home. Drive safe! Woah- HEY! Leave the cinnamon rolls!”

The drive back to your house was uneventful. Oddly enough, there was hardly any traffic out which was a bit odd for a weekend, but you thought nothing of it.The once blue sky was now gray with even darker clouds hanging low. It felt like the calm before the storm. 

You were in no rush to get home, and the feeling only amplified when you pulled up to your apartment and noticed Kiseok’s car still parked in the guest parking.

Sighing, you dragged your feet up to your place and as soon as you were getting off the elevator on your floor, your phone rang. A wide smile broke out on your lips.

“Hi, sweetie! I was waiting for you to call me!” You answered, leaning over the rail that over looked the courtyard garden. “Oh yeah? How was the water park?”

A few minutes into your conversation, you were so engrossed with listening to her ramble about her favorite rides, that you didn’t notice the opening or closing of a door down the hall. Heavy footsteps came closer to you, but you paid it no mind. Other than yourself, there was two other families that lived on this floor so it wasn’t out of the ordinary.

“Mommy missed you too. Your daddy being nice to you?” You laughed when you heard a huff on the other side of the phone. “No, I didn’t have dinner yet. I’ll have some later- oh, okay. Tell your grandmother I said hi, okay?”

The sound of someone clearing their throat alerted you to the body leaning on the rail a few feet from you.

Jung Kiseok, still in his clothes from last night, peered down at the garden beneath you two. When he noticed your attention on him, he glanced to you. “Can we talk?”

Jesus, he literally came out of nowhere! Noticing your jaw hanging slightly, you swallowed before agreeing with your daughter. “Yes, baby, it’s okay. Go shower and go to sleep. Thank you for calling me. I love you. Goodnight...”

The ending dial tone sounded much too loud for your ears as the silence in the hallway was almost suffocating. It was quiet for sometime, since the two of you didn’t say anything. Kiseok was trying to find the words to say, and you had too much you didn’t want to uncover.

This conversation was inevitable but you still wanted to avoid it. The lump in your throat only grew when he sighed deeply. It seemed like he was about to say something, until the elevators opened and two small blurs sprinted out. “I-”

The Choi twins were your neighbor’s kids and it was only another two seconds before you saw their mother chase after them. You giggled after them, those two were always giving their mother a hard time.

“Sorry about that,” A deep voice apologized. You nodded to the twin’s father, who was holding a tiny baby wrapped in blankets to keep him warm.

“Don’t worry about it,” you waved him off with a smile but didn’t miss the double take he did to your company.

“Maybe we should go inside?” Kiseok pushed off from the rail and waved slightly to a wide-eyed Mr. Choi.

You took the advice without a word, leading the way to your front door though he would’ve had no problem finding it himself. Once inside, you kicked your sandals off and dropped your purse on the entry table.

The door shut tightly behind him, entrapping the both of you in a thick silence that didn’t go unnoticed. You sunk into the couch, giving him enough room to sit near you without touching you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You weren’t sure what you expected him to say, but it surely wasn’t that. Could you really be surprised though? Suspecting what he was asking, you had to make sure you two were on the same page.

“Tell you about what?”

Tired dark eyes stared you down, “Let’s not go back and forth. I know you have a daughter and I’m not sure what kind of problems you and your husband have, but cheating is never the way to go about it.”

You tried to stop the loud laughter that spilled out of you, but that was so far from what you thought he would say. You honestly couldn’t help it, and soon, you had tears in your eyes as you were literally rolling around the couching laughing.

Kiseok did not look amused in the slightest - his lips thinned into a hard line, brows frowned to display his seriousness of the topic. “This really isn’t something to laugh about. I refuse to be some kind of homewrecker.”

You had finally got your giggles under control when he said that, launching you into another fit of laughter. “What! You think-?! Oh my god, I haven’t laughed like that in a while,” you giggled, wiping the spilling tears from your eyes.

Feeling his glare, you sat up and took a breath. The tension was a bit less in the room. “I’m not married.”

He didn’t believe you. “You have family pictures-”

“In my daughter’s room, yes.”

He dismissed your interruption, “I saw that man at the airport when you ran into Jay Park. He hugged you and you were crying.”

You paused, blinking slowly. How did he see that? “How do you know that?”

The way he sighed with finality made you feel a bit defensive. “Jay was FaceTiming me and Loco. The main point of this is I don’t want to be in the middle of whatever you have with your husband.”

Eyes rolling, you crossed your arms under your chest. “Stop saying that. I’m not married.”

“Why are you lying? You have a child with him.” The tone of his voice raised slightly but you frowned at him.

“You can make a kid without being married to someone. Me and my daughter’s father aren’t together. I’m no cheater. Unlike you, I don’t have a list of hoes I can run to.” The words left your mouth but you regretted it immediately. Your personality didn’t allow you to apologize or take it back, especially with how heated you were becoming.

Sitting less than a foot away from you, Kiseok couldn’t really argue with that. You were right. He called Nayoung because she didn’t care for a relationship and he had wanted to...hurt you the same way he had been hurt after seeing you in the arms of another man.

It was childish of him, he’ll admit it, but it happened. He was only human and he had acted on his emotions. It wasn’t one of his proudest moments. Once you brushed past him at the restaurant with tears in your eyes, he had felt sick to his stomach about the whole thing. It wasn’t like he knew you would be there that night, it was honestly a terrible coincidence. After that night, he couldn’t even look Nayoung in the eyes without seeing your heartbroken expression.

Prideful at heart, Kiseok still felt the need to defend himself even if it was a weak defense, “I don’t have a list of hoes. That was me being an idiot.”

“Whatever, Kiseok. I don’t care anymore.” Calling him without an honorific gave you a sinking feeling in your stomach but you looked away from him. “What more do you want from me?”

With that, he faced you fully, “Everything. I want to know everything, about your daughter, your past, the truth about all of it.”

Startled, you faced him with doubt clouding your face. “Why? Why does any of that matter to you? Why do you even care?”

For the first time today, you saw Kiseok smile. Not a smirk, or half grin that he liked to flash you when he teased you, but a real smile with his teeth showing. Looking closer, he also was a little rosy in the cheeks a bit. “I-Well...I thought it was obvious now, but you’re really dense.”

You thought you knew where this was going so you sighed, “Look, I’m not a charity case, okay? I can-”

“I really like you, ___. Not just in a sexual way either. I like you on an emotional level...I really, really like you,” he confessed in a rush, sounding just like you felt at the moment - breathless.

And then your heart started to ache.

“Kiseok...we can’t...we can’t be together.”

[issabangtanfic]

[Jungkook] The Windmill House (Chapter 4)

Masterlist

Synopsis: When for once rich doesn’t rhyme with Christian Grey.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

A/N: Feel free to submit a cover! Tell me what you think in my inbox! Enjoy!

-

Friday comes in a blink of an eye, and before I can really prepare myself mentally I am back at the mansion, where so far nothing good ever happens to me. It’s the end of the week, I’ve had a long day, so I don’t feel like dealing with any of Mr. Jeon's bullshit. Before leaving my car I give myself a mental pep talk. I am not going to let him get in my head, or in my pants, for that matter. Once under the porch, I knock and my client opens the door.

"Miss Fair.” He greets, all navy suit and yummy face. I give him a tight smile. This is going to be difficult.

“Good evening Mr. Jeon.” I reply. He steps aside to let me in and closes the door behind me.

“How was your day?” He asks once we’re in what could be considered the foyer of the mansion.

“Busy. How have you been?”
 I reply. He gives me a playful look.

“Impatient.” He says. Goddammit.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” He proposes, shoving his hands in the pockets of his fin, fine trousers.

“Our barman just arrived.” He informs me, leading me down a short corridor.


“Barman?” I repeat.
 “This is going to be a hotel?”
 I ask him as we walk into a hall with a bar. There’s a counter and four wooden stools.

“I don’t know yet.” He shrugs a shoulder.

“But you have a barman.” I retort.

“I’m the barman.”
 He explains.

“Wine?” He proposes, slipping behind the counter. I’m not against a little something to make this whole thing a tad easier.

“Just a sip. I have to drive.” I agree, sitting my bum on a stool and putting my purse on the counter. I watch as Mr. Jeon pulls out two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine. As he’s open to open in, his phone starts to ring in his pocket. He halts to look at the caller’s ID, and I see his face harden, He stares at his phone for a couple of seconds before looking back at my waiting form.

“Sorry, I have to take this.” He says. I nod, and watch him walk out the room. I sit there, waiting twiddling my thumbs, resisting the urge to open each and every door I see and climb all the stairs I can find.

“Miss Fair?”

I turn my head and see a man walking down the stairs. Tall, dirty blond hair and a light stubble, the man is in a suit with no tie, and the top two buttons of his shirt undone. He radiates with charisma, his eyes green and piercing.

“That’s me. And you are?” I reply, watching him walk to me. He gives me a smile I’m he reserves for ladies. It is as devastating as it is familiar. Where have I seen this fine man?

“Good evening. I’m Eliott, Kook’s brother.” He greets. Eliott… Eliott… Eliott Hargreeves? They don’t have the same last name?

“Oh. I do remember you. Me and my colleague Ava worked on your home in south London, right.” I tell him once he’s in front of me.

“A masterpiece.” He nods, giving me his hand to shake.

“Good evening, Eliott. Mr. Jeon told me you recommended me to him.” I say to him, shaking his hand.

“I did. You did a fantastic job in the penthouse, so I figured you could do wonders in this place as well.” He explains. I wonder if he knows his brother almost gave the project to someone else.

“Well thank you very much, it’s a very exciting project.” I reply, and he hits me with another charming smile.

“You��re most welcome.” He murmurs, almost making me giggle. I watch him as he goes behind the counter, where his brother has left a bottle of wine and two glasses. He takes the bottle and looks at the tag, before making a grimace and putting it away.

“Do you know what mister Jeon has in mind for this building? Surely he doesn’t live here.” I ask him.

“I think he wants to turn it into a luxury hotel.” Eliott explains, pulling out another botte from under the counter.

“I see.” I say, watching him open that second bottle.

“I think he should go for an Italian design, but he wants everything to look like your neighborhood Dubai villa.” He says, shaking his head disapprovingly. Exactly!

“That’s exactly what I told him.” I concur as he pours us some dark red- almost black wine.

“And he accepted?” Eliott challenged, putting the bottle down.

“Well, I’m here.” I shrug, and he chuckles, sliding one glass in my direction.

“Nice one.” He says, raising his glass at me. I raise mine and take sip. This is strong.

“So,” I pipe up while Eliott takes a stool next to mine. “How’s your company doing?”

Mr. Hargreeves tells me more about his fintech company and his new projects. He plans on opening a hotel and is looking into buying cruse ships. He also explains how he tries to make all of his businesses as eco-friendly as possible, which is something I admire. He asks me about my most recent projects, lets me show him some pictures on my phone, and proposes to hire me to work on his hypothetical hotel. The discussion never ends as we bounce off of each other’s subjects to bring up new ones, wine being poured continuously, so much so that we don’t feel the time pass.

“Eliott?”

We both turn our heads to see Mr. Jeon returning after his phone call, eyebrows knotted together.

“Hey, big bro.”
 Eliott greets him.

“I thought you were leaving.” He says, sounding annoyed.


“I was, and then I ran into your lovely guest.”
 Eliott replies with a grin, waving towards me. Oh, flattery.

"Just sharing a drink. Well two, by now.”
 He informs him, bringing his glass to his lips. Two?! I look at my empty glass. I hadn’t realized I was drinking. How did I not pay attention? I won’t be able to drive like that.

“You’ve been drinking Marsala?”


When I look up Mr. Jeon has walked behind the counter, and is holding the now empty bottle of wine. I gape at him, clueless.

“Maya. this is 20 percent alcohol. You’ll be drunk in a few minutes.”
 He admonishes. Oh bloody hell.

“Oh, crap.”
 Is all I manage.

“S’fine. I can get you home after we’re all done.”
 Eliott counters nonchalantly. After we’re done?

“After what-“


“I’ll get my assistant to drive you.” He says sternly, and I feel like it’s more of a declaration than a proposition.

“Elliot, do you mind?”
 Mr. Jeon says to his brother, inviting him- or ordering him I don’t know really, out of the room. Eliott makes a childish sulky face, sliding off his stool. When his eyes land on me, he gives me a dazzling smile, holding his hand out.

“Mrs. Fair.” He says as I take his hand to shake it. He flips my hand and drops a light kiss on the back of it, enough for tickles of his lips to make me smile.

“Pleasure seeing you again.”
 He murmurs as I slip my hand out of his. I giggle softly, finding his over-the-top flirting quite charming and somewhat funny. He has always been like this as far as I remember, both with me and Ava. He is flirty but in a way that says he’s never going go too far, which made our meetings with him super pleasant.

“For me too.” I reply before watching him amble out of the room, all while avoiding the missiles his brother is throwing at him with his eyes.

“Get Jimin to drive you home.” Mr. Jeon says to his back, and he replies with a wave over his shoulder. When Eliott is out of sight, Mr. Jeon sighs deeply, clearing our wine glasses off the counter. Not knowing what to say, I watch him, twiddling my thumbs anxiously.

“While you’re still sober, how about actually getting to work?” He finally proposes, his tone icy. Being tipsy on the job, talk about professionalism. This has never happened to me before.

“I had no idea what was in that bottle.”
 I say defensively. It’s not my fault his brother is an interesting person.

"You’re right. I’m sorry.”
 He sighs again. “It’s his fault.”


He’s in the worst of moods now. I don’t feel comfortable.

“Maybe I should leave. I’ll get a taxi.” I propose, grabbing my purse.


“No.”
 He retorts, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No, just…” He trails off, thinking.

“Have dinner with me.”
 He proposes. What?

“You’re not going to be that drunk if we get some food into your system.” He explains.

“I’m not sure that’s appropriate.” I mutter.

“It’s not.” He admits. 
“But you know how little I care about that.”

Mmmh. I’m not going to have dinner with him. Ever. It’s just an excuse to spend time with me in hopes to get me to open my legs. It’s high time we started actual work.


“I was thinking maybe you could give me a quick brief about what you want for the rooms.” I counter, and watch his eyebrows become a knot of confusion.

“We have to get to work someday.” I shrug a shoulder. Mr. Jeon sighs, defeated, and fumbles behind the counter once more. I hear the tap open and close.

“Here.” He drops a tall glass of water in front of me.
 “Drink this.”


“Thank you.” I reply, only too glad to drink it. As I start gulping down on my water, I hear his phone go off again. I watch him sigh out of annoyance while he looks at his phone.

“I’ll be back in a minute. Sorry.” He mutters before leaving me once more. As he disappears behind French doors, Eliott peeks from the door next to the stairs.

“Is he gone?” He asks me, eyes dancing with cheeky amusement.

“You’re still here?” I utter, my eyebrows meeting my hairline. He strolls to me, smiling from ear to ear.

“I made our mom call him.” He explains. That’s so childish. I giggle.

“He’ll be back in a second.” I remind him, but he waves a dismissive hand at me.

“What side of the house are you working on? The red room?”
 He asks once he’s next to me again, elbow on the counter.

“The red room?”

“He hasn’t showed you the red room?” He frowns. I copy him. What in the hell is the red room?


“Is that where the previous owner had his large parties?” I take a wild guess. Eliott chuckles at me.


“More like large orgies.”
 He clarifies. I look at him in a mix of shock and wonder.

“There’s an orgy room?”
 I utter, and I don’t know why I am so excited about it. I’m just really curious now. The owner threw orgies not parties in there. That’s why this place used to be so hard to get in.

“It’s a piece of work. Very sexual. Let me show you.”
 Eliott proposes, and it take me everything I have to refuse.

“I should wait for your brother. He’ll be back in a minute.”
 I tell him, not wanting to deal with angry Jeon again.

“It’s right across the room, we’ll hear him come back.”
 He argues, pointing towards the door behind me. It is right there!

“Okay.” I give in, hopping off my stool.

“It’s really something. Jungkook wants it gone but I like it.”
 He says right before pushing the double doors open. I walk into a gigantic, red leather-padded chamber. The first and unmissable thing that catches my eye is the sumptuous chandelier hanging over the center of the room. The walls are covered with all kinds of tools: floggers, whips, cuffs, gags, collars, leashes, canes, paddles and other sex toys. I have never smelled so much leather in my life, not even in my uncle's leather couch shop.

“Oh wow.” I breathe, my feet carrying me further in. There are round beds here and there, desks and chairs in other spots, 4 sex swings, one in each corner of the rooms, two huge wooden crosses with ties on them, and so many other things I can’t describe. This some hard core bdsm dungeon. At the center, right under the chandelier, lies a tailored circular bed propped up on a platform, almost like a stage, with red satin sheets and pillows. On that bed alone could fit 15 to 20 people. I can’t even imagine how many kinky middle-agers used to come here at once.

“You could fit a hundred people in there.” I observe, not knowing what else to say. It is very red, and very sexual. I’m just shocked this is here, but the design itself is beautiful and it would be a shame to remove it. I feel Eliott before I see him, his breath tickling the hair on my nape and making it stand alert.


“Two's just as fine.” He retorts, his voice low and quiet, just as the doors close behind us.

[straight-into-the-animus]

All Night Long (French Fryes AU)

A continuation of the first part of the 1980s Soundtrack AU! Find the first part here!

Read it on Ao3 here!

Part Three

The diner was a little one, the out of the way kind that serviced the late-night workers on their way to the plants. It was a place for those driving the long commute to get a quick bite to eat and smoke without much trouble. Jacob was almost surprised at the general decor and feel of the place when compared to his companion’s. But his stomach gave the slightest growl at the smell of something greasy frying, and he was happy not to question further as he sat across from Arno in a worn leather booth. 

The man began peeling away his scarf and coat, and Jacob took in his appearance. He wore a sharp red tie and a crisp gray dress shirt as if he had just gotten back from the office. Jacob suddenly felt a wave of self-consciousness at his own appearance as he shed his leather jacket, looking for all intents and purposes he had just gotten out of some neighborhood slum fest in comparison… Which, to be fair, that’s what the bar had sort of been, but that was beside the point. If Arno felt the same, he said nothing or gave any indication of anything aside from a small smile.

Why would he care? A small part of Jacob’s mind asked, and if it were a person, it likely would have rolled its eyes.

“I still think it’s gonna rain.” Jacob gave a thumb jerk to the window and the dark night sky beyond, and Arno gave a small snort of laughter.

“I think it’s done for the night.”

“Swore I could smell it.”

“Don’t people normally say they can feel it?”

“Don’t try and contradict me, Mister Dorian.” Jacob faux-scoffed, surprising himself for a second before receiving a huff of laughter and a smile from the other man.

“Oui, oui. As you say, Mister Frye. I apologize.”

Jacob took another second of near shock to receive the “apology”; hesitation flickered across his face before he quickly snuffed it out. “You better. I accept it.”

“I thank you.” Arno smiled again and almost spoke before they were interrupted by the waitress, an older woman with a hairdo that would have put Bonnie Tyler to shame. She poured the coffee at no prompting and rattled off the typical specials of diner folds. Both men ended up going for pancakes and bacon.

“I suppose it is breakfast time.” Jacob mused before taking a sip of his coffee. He had only put two packets of sugar in it but watched as Arno nearly drowned his in cream and sweet flavoring, nodding in agreement.

“Best breakfast you’ll get in this area.”

“So… you come here often, then?”

“When I work late, sometimes I’ll stop by here before I head home.”

“What do you do?”

“I work as a prosecuting attorney.” He seemed oblivious to the way Jacob’s eyebrows rose and continued on. “You?”

Jacob took a long gulp of scalding coffee to give himself time to answer. Not to tell the truth but phrase it in a way that wasn’t that Roth had always taken care of everything while Jacob puttered around London doing odd work for who needed it.

“I’m between jobs at the moment.” He somewhat mumbled in his cup as he set it down. Arno slowly nodded.

“Well, if Thatcher doesn’t fuck us over, you might be able to get something at the steel plants. They’re always hiring.”

“Perhaps.” Jacob gave a slight nod in consideration before attempting to switch the conversation around. “So… Lawyer? Explains your sharp mind and sparkling wit.”

“My wit has always sparkled, I’ll have you know.”

“I’m sure.”

“Thought you have your own sharp tongue to go along with your… Everything.” Arno gestured vaguely, and Jacob felt his cheeks heat up just a bit. “You might make a good lawyer.”

“I just happened to have the luck to grow up with a twin sister.”

“Is she in London as well?”

“Ah, lives just a bit outside of it with her husband. They’re adorable, really.” Jacob tried to hide the slightest bit of unconscious bitterness at the mention of his sister, and Arno accepted it.

They made a bit more small talk, moving into the more boring aspects of what people could talk about until their food came. Jacob asked a bit more about Arno, and Arno seemed to have a somewhat normal life; when his father had died, he had been adopted by a friend of his father and had a sister that traveled around a lot for business. He had come to London to “strike out”, though he sheepishly admitted he was a trust fund baby. Jacob found he didn’t mind it all that much, surprisingly.

There was something… endearing about him, about the careful and measured way he spoke, as if he was afraid to mess up a word. How even while they ate, he fiddled with his fork to make little comments about the diner or asking Jacob for his opinions on different things. Jacob couldn’t help but try to continue to get small smiles, anything of amusement. But he was earnest, and listened, and… And Jacob couldn’t remember the last time he had felt like this with someone, just at peace without anything demanded of him.

If there was one problem he had, though, it was the lawyer’s taste of music.

“Okay, I could forgive not liking Crüe. But Bowie? You don’t like Bowie?”

“I like Bowie! ‘Young Americans’ is a fantastic album, and so is ‘Station to Station’. It’s just his recent work that I’m not a fan of. He was better in the 70s.”

“So you don’t like Labyrinth.”

“Haven’t seen it. What’s that look for?”

“If there was a theater still open I’d be dragging you to it right now so we can change that.” Jacob warned, and Arno quirked an eyebrow up as he leaned back in his seat, arms crossed but tone playful.

“Is that a threat, Monsieur Frye?”

“Could be.” Jacob grinned, leaning forward. The food was long gone, plates sticky with syrup in front of them and the bill on its way. The only reason Jacob could be arsed to care was because this could very well be it. It could very well be the last time he was going to feel this way. Maybe he was vulnerable, but there was a soft part of him that wanted to keep feeling this way as long as he could. Roth would try and fight his way back, even if Jacob kept his distance; he knew his apartment, after all. He paid for it. But… That wasn’t what he wanted right now.

He wanted to be safe, wanted to be wanted. 

“Jacob? Jacob, are you okay?” He came back to himself and realized Arno was leaning on the table, mindful of the plates but looking at him with concern; he realized as well that he had slumped back against the booth, arm crossed a bit defensively. Quickly he cleared his throat.

“I’m fine, really. Just…” He hesitated before spilling the truth, “I don’t want to go home just yet. This is probably the best night I’ve had in a bloody long time, you know? But you’re… I can’t even offer you anything other than half the check.”

“Jacob, hey. Don’t look away.” He tacked on as the man’s eyes drifted down, and spoke again when Jacob was looking at him. “You’re wonderful- Wonderful company. I just don’t want- It’s-” Arno sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, an embarrassed flush ovetaking his cheeks; Jacob felt the same. “If it isn’t too much to say… I want to continue. I do. But… I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Take advantage?” Jacob said a little too loud for comfort, and both of them quickly looked around the diner for anyone that heard.

“This ex of yours… He left you in a bad state. I don’t want you to make some sort of decision you’ll regret because of your emotions.”

“You don’t want me.”

“Shit, Jacob, fine, I do.” 

“And I want you, Arno.” They were hushed at this point, and Jacob could see a conflict clear in the other’s hazel eyes. “Even if it’s just for the night. Frankly, I didn’t think you were… You know.”

“Not as though you’re the picture of a gay man.”

“Fine. Fair enough. But I mean it.” If Jacob could have taken his hand, could have given any other reassurance than his words… He would’ve. “You want me, I want you. S’all that matters at this point.” Finally, a bit of pleading overtook his words. “And I don’t want to go home yet.”

Thinks were quiet as Arno worried his bottom lip between his teeth. Jacob half-held his breath, and let it out in semi-disappointment once Arno signaled for the bill without so much as an answer.

Then, once the server had hobbled away with everything, the Frenchman spoke quietly.

“We’ll have to find a taxi. Can’t walk to my place from here quick enough.”

“Deal.” Jacob smiled in relief and excitement. And he could’ve sworn Arno had his own, small secretive look of relief as well.

Next part is gonna have some smut attached to it, and will probably be a bit longer, so time to get excited! If you’d like to be put on a taglist for the fic series, let me know! Have any ideas or songs you wanna see encorporated? Tell me!

I hope you enjoy! If you do I have a Masterpost here and more ideas for writings and prompts here, so feel free to request!  If you’d like to support me, I have a ko-fi here! Safety and peace!