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elizaviento · 1 year

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Green on the Vine — Strawberry Wine (Part 1 of ?)

(Stardew Valley — Shane x Female Farmer/OC)

Notes: This is my first attempt at Stardew fic. Shane is my beloved and I want so much to do him proper justice. Please enjoy.

P.S. Stardew Valley is a lovely game with rich lore. However, I'm using it as a framework for this tale. Sticking strictly to game canon just isn't possible, but I shall sprinkle in various Easter eggs along the way.

Summary: Stardew Valley beckoned Kristen Wynand. The mountains, the ridges, the cliffs, the beaches. A simple existence — a soothing balm to blur the myriad of mistakes etched upon her soul. A place to slow down, reflect, take pride in something other than a corner office with a view of concrete pillars piercing the horizon. A place to finally belong without the pressure of perfection and the expectation of more, more, more.

Shane Davis despised the Valley. Because the Valley despised him. Work, sleep, drink — such was life for a man thrust into the responsibility of fatherhood completely unprepared. He'd learned long ago that trust was fragile, shattered far too easily. If kindness was considered weakness, he was indestructible.

Amid the monotony of small town life, the two forge an unlikely friendship. But is friendship all they desire?

This chapter is rated NSFW lite — 2942 words. Mentions of animal death, blood, and injury.

*****

It was 5:32 pm on a random Wednesday during the dead of summer when Shane pulled open the door of the Stardrop Saloon, his feet propelling him toward the same spot he'd frequented for the last three years. The path from the Joja Mart to that exact spot at the end of the bar was well-worn, and each step was etched in his muscle memory, not unlike riding a bike.

"Hi, Shane!"

Emily's bubbly demeanor instantly assaulted him, and he weakly threw a hand up in greeting, as usual. The routine was comfortable.

Taking a cursory glance at his surroundings, he noticed one extra body hunched over the bar directly in front of the cash register. At the far left, Pam tipped her half-empty mug toward him, color already rising in her cheeks, before she shrugged, just as shocked to see this early patron as he was.

Annoyingly, worry settled in his gut as he narrowed his eyes at the filthy woman before him and forced his legs to take a slight detour from their intended destination.

"What are you doing here," he asked lightheartedly, taking a seat next to the farmer. The perspective from this area of the bar seemed somewhat warped, and he felt oddly vulnerable with his back facing the door.

"One of my hens died," she replied, voice thick and raspy. It was only then that Shane noticed a ting of pink coated under and around her fingernails, mixed with the dark hue of what he assumed to be soil.

"What?"

He'd heard exactly what she'd said, but his brain struggled to catch up as the aroma of sweat filtered through his nostrils. Thick and cloying but not unpleasant.

"The peppers were ready to harvest, so I was late checking on them. I made it over to the coop after noon, but I could hear them clucking and scratching. It felt… off ."

Shane already knew the ending before she exhaled a shaky breath in pause. The white-knuckled grip she had on the mug in her calloused hands made him anxious for some reason as if it would shatter in her palms.

"All I found was a pile of blood-soaked feathers toward the far end of the enclosure. I don't know what happened, Shane. I thought I'd counted them all before I shut the coop door for the night."

It was a fox, of course. He'd witnessed the same scenario at least twice on the ranch.

"Hole in the fence?" he asked, staring awkwardly at his own hands. Several weeks prior, he'd pointed out a weak spot when he'd been by the farm to drop off some extra fodder at Marnie's request.

"Yes."

Her reply came out as an exaggerated hiss, and he could practically taste its venom. He knew better than to casually toss an 'I told you so' at a moment like this, even if it sat at the tip of his tongue like a well-rehearsed mantra.

Behind the bar, Emily feigned busyness, but Shane knew her ears were well in tune with the conversation. Gus had strolled in from the back just in time to catch Shane's stern eye and furrowed his brow in question. Tactful and discreet, Emily swiftly pulled the chef aside and whispered to him earnestly.

"It was Sassy," the farmer spoke up again, swiping a grimy finger across her already dirt-caked face, leaving a moist streak in its wake.

"Oh."

Shane wasn't exactly at a loss for words. He had plenty threatening to spew from his chest like sour vomit. His first instinct was to berate her for being so careless. The subsequent was to ask if she'd bothered to repair the breach in the fence before she came to the Saloon to sulk. But he held back, knowing these reactionary responses would earn him a swift slap to the face. He didn't even want to be an asshole, but old habits die hard, and the phrase 'defense mechanism' buzzed brightly in his mind's eye like an antique neon sign — a handy revelation from his therapist.

"Sassafras was the first chick I got from Marine that first Spring, remember?"

Of course, he remembered, but he only nodded in response. In his peripheral vision, Gus had fired up the grill and tossed a 12-ounce sirloin on the sizzling surface. Pops and cracks of searing flesh and fat became the backdrop to sparse sniffles from the woeful farmer.

"You waved at me from the counter when I was in the kitchen, and I flipped you off."

"Ah, the good old days," the farmer quipped, her sudden shift from weepy to snickering catching Shane off guard.

Over two years had passed since that day. It wasn't the first time they'd interacted, but it was among several that Shane regretted the most. Initially, his interest in Pelican Town's newest inhabitant was zero. Even with the buzz of gossip surrounding her arrival, he couldn't be bothered, and he was even less impressed when he'd finally laid eyes on her. Cute — yes. He'd begrudgingly admitted that to himself, but otherwise, she was entirely unremarkable, just like everyone else.

She'll fit right in , he'd thought as he scowled over the rim of his rapidly emptying mug of ale the first time she'd entered the Stardrop on a Friday night carrying a basket of fresh vegetables. He'd been right.

"Hey there, Krissy," Gus said, pulling Shane from his brooding memories. The farmer shifted her pitiful gaze toward Gus' smiling face as he held out a styrofoam to-go box toward her. "Made your favorite. Medium rare."

"Gus, I didn't order —"

"Hush now," the chef retorted. "It's on the house. Consider it a little kickback for all the top-quality produce you've supplied." The man's mustached smile grew wider as the farmer took the to-go box from his large hands and thanked him.

"I think you might know me too well," she supplied as she rose from the wobbly stool in preparation to depart. Several of the town's residents had begun to filter in through the front door, and the clamor of chatter slowly filled the atmosphere of the Saloon. Wednesdays were never known to be busy, but the few regulars would puzzle over the farmer's disheveled state in the form of not-so-subtle whispers and sidelong glances.

"Go on," Gus replied, playfully shooing her away. "We'll see you on Friday night, as usual."

Emily was already bustling around the occupied tables, taking orders from Willy and Clint before crossing the room to take care of Leah. As she passed, she placed a reassuring hand on the farmer's shoulder and smiled.

Unconsciously, Shane turned on his own worn stool, his eyes following Kristen as she grinned back at the blue-haired waitress, the weariness already lifting and the worry lines in her forehead smoothing in turn. Catching his gaze briefly, she mumbled, "See ya, Shane." And then she was gone.

❦❧🍓❦❧

Sweat-soaked strands of auburn hair plastered themselves to the farmer's neck and forehead as she struggled with the rusted wire cutters. She'd gotten up at 5 am — an hour earlier than usual — to avoid such sweltering heat. She should have known better.

Glancing at her watch, she cursed under her breath. It was just shy of 7 am, and she knew Shane would be leaving the ranch soon to make it to his shift on time. The urge to call him was overwhelming, but her pride burned hotter, flushing up from her chest when she recalled his expression at the Saloon the previous day. It must have taken every ounce of willpower to keep his mouth shut after confessing to her stupidity. She wasn't sure what she'd expected at the time. An ounce of sympathy? A tiny scrap of comfort from a friend?

He told you to repair the fence weeks ago. This is your own damn fault.

Plump tears of self-pity and mourning for her beloved hen welled behind her eyes and rolled down her sunburnt cheeks at the first blink. There was no use attempting to hold them back. She'd lost the will to fight them long ago.

Instead, she transferred the wire cutters to the opposite hand, flexing her right to work out the kinks. She'd placed an order for hardwood fencing with Robin over the phone the day prior before she began her walk of shame to the Saloon. In the meantime, chicken wire would have to suffice.

Crouching low, she balanced on her haunches as she molded the wire around the hole, snipping along the edges awkwardly with her non-dominant hand. The steadily rising sun kissed the dew-covered grass, sparkling across the droplets like brilliant diamonds. The sight would have been serene to witness while sipping a cup of black coffee on her front porch. But now, it only obscured her vision further as a bead of salty sweat rolled from her scalp and stung her swollen eyes.

The subsequent chain of events remained hazy in the farmer's memory when she was asked about them, even years later. What she could recall, with some semblance of clarity, was squinting against blinding rays just as her sweat-slicked palm slid down the grip of the wire cutters, shoving the business end directly into the center of the palm of her opposite hand. Her bottom made contact with the ground next as she lost balance, sprawling comically across the dirt like a top-heavy toddler.

The pain didn't register for quite a while. Instead, pressure and overwhelming nausea flooded her senses as her breaths came in short, rapid gasps, and her vision wavered. Sweat continued to sting her eyes as she mentally processed the situation in a matter of seconds.

Something's wrong. Look at it. Look.

NO DON'T NO NO —

Her chest heaved, and she involuntarily flexed her right hand. More pressure, and her stomach rolled violently, causing her to retch. What felt like hours passed as unadulterated panic seized the farmer, her mind frantically screaming for her to take action while she stared directly at a wisp of cloud floating lazily by on the lightest of breezes. Cold sweat coated every inch of her body, causing her to shiver as shock began to sit in.

Eventually, the swimmy sensation faded enough for her to turn her head to the side. The motion was sloppy as if she were 4 glasses deep into a bottle of aged strawberry wine, and her cheek made contact with the warm dirt below. Gritty, it smelled like pure earth as her breath fanned the fine particles across her outstretched shoulder where it clung.

The hilt of the wire cutters was tilted at an angle, jutting awkwardly from her palm. She flexed her right hand again, and they jumped, the snipping end scraping jaggedly through the inner meat of her palm. This time, she retched and vomited, the sick pooling near her head as she coughed and gasped, her body once again betraying her.

Your phone's in your pocket. Call someone. Call anyone.

Self-preservation is a powerful thing. The farmer recalled the story of a teenager who had survived a plane crash and practically crawled her way through the jungle with a festering leg. Yet here she was, with technology at her fingertips — a literal lifeline to summon help — and she was too busy barfing over the sight of her injured hand.

You wore overalls today. The pocket is loose. Just reach in with your left hand and grab it.

It took a few deep, measured breaths to wrangle the nausea long enough to will herself to move, and even then, it felt as if she were wading through viscous sludge. The effort was intense and maddening, and the pain that had, so far, remained at bay thanks to a heady dose of adrenaline began to lick at her nerve endings like tiny fork-tongued demons straight from the depths of hell.

A strangled moan escaped her lips as her fingers closed around the smooth rectangle stuffed deep in her pocket. The sun continued to rise, unforgiving rays showering her face and blinding her once again as she turned it back toward the shy.

You're being dramatic. It can't be that bad.

That was probably true, but it wasn't the wound that sent a chill down her spine and panic to constrict her throat as if she'd swallowed a handful of bees. It was the blood. The looming threat of it clouded her senses and coated her tongue in ash. As soon as the tool was removed from her palm, all hell would break loose.

Trembling, the farmer hovered the cell phone in front of her face, blocking the sun enough for her pupils to adjust. Facial recognition unlocked the device, and she shakily tapped the phone icon, followed by the most recent number in her call history.

"Hello?" a gruff voice asked after several static-laden rings. It sounded small and miles away, and the farmer flushed as she fumbled to put the call on speaker.

"Shane —" Her voice came out as a raspy croak, and she coughed once, spittle speckling across the contact photo — an adorably round hen in mid-stride.

"What is it, Kriss?" His tone was clipped and soaked with annoyance. She had the urge to laugh, as she always did when his frustration with her was evident. "I'm running late for work. Jas turned my alarm off because she wanted me to take her to the park instead."

This time she did laugh, dry and breathy. And, for a split second, she considered lying. The last thing she wanted was to place another burden on this man's already sagging shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah. Ha, ha," Shane mocked. He sounded slightly winded, and the farmer wondered if he'd actually been running before he answered her call. "You sound funny. What's wrong?"

Something clutched her heart just then and twisted her stomach into a knot. Coupled with the nausea, it caused her to sigh deeply and cough again, dry and fruitless. Briefly, she recalled the days when she hardly knew this man. His exoskeleton so rough and impenetrable, disdain coloring every expression he gave her when she dared to approach him. Now, though, he could tell just by her voice that something was amiss.

"I need help," she finally relented. "Can you stop by the clinic on your way to Joja and ask Harvey to come to the farm?"

"What — why?" He sounded concerned now, and the knot twisted tighter in her belly. It stole her breath, and she closed her eyes for a moment, composing herself. "Kriss, what the hell?"

"Sorry," she replied, turning her face to take another look at the rusted tool protruding from her right palm. "I don't want to make you late. Maybe you can just call Harvey instead?"

"Why the fuck are you like this?" he asked. "Just tell me what's wrong."

Again, she laughed. The absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on her. She wasn't a teenage girl crawling through a dense jungle in search of rescue after a plane crash. She was a grown woman, too afraid to inconvenience those around her. Even the thought of asking Harvey to travel all the way to the farm made her cringe.

"I stabbed myself in the hand with wire cutters. It's — I think I need stitches or something."

The effort to keep her tone nonchalant was immense. Openly admitting to another moronic act in less than 24 hours was nothing short of humiliating.

"Fuck me," Shane groaned. His breathing had suddenly sped up, and she could faintly hear the soles of his shoes thumping pavement. He'd made it to the town square. "Okay, just… I dunno, wrap it up as best you can."

"Yeah, sure," she said, forcing herself upright. The tool jostled with her movements, and she doubled over to prevent a fresh wave of vomit.

"I'm almost at the clinic now, but I gotta call Morris."

"Shane, no —"

But he cut off her pathetic attempt to protest with, "Shut up. We'll be there soon."

Three beeps blared from the speaker, signifying he'd ended the call. She stared blankly at the phone's screen for several seconds, her mind performing a hard reboot in preparation for what would come next.

❦❧🍓❦❧

The rash decision of yanking the wire cutters from the meat of her palm before she'd reached the farmhouse was the third moronic thing Kristen had done in such a short snippet of time. She wasn't sure why she felt the need to torture herself, but the fleeting glimpse of a pearly white strand embedded within the wound left her breathless. Less than a second later, blood welled and pooled into her palm, obscuring it from her view forever, but not nearly enough for the screeching in her mind to reach a devastating crescendo.

Fat droplets of crimson dripped down her forearm, slicing through the grime like an errant river. More fell to the dirt with nearly audible plops , leaving a macabre trail for Shane and Harvey to come upon later.

Studying the human body's inner workings in an academic setting was child's play compared to laying eyes on one's own tendon, no matter how brief. That sight — stark and bright in contrast with the muddy hue of mangled flesh surrounding it — would haunt her periodically throughout life, making her shiver in disgust. But now, it only served to spike the panic she'd held at bay to an unsustainable degree, smudging her vision around the edges like charcoal on construction paper.

The farmhouse's front porch came into view, along with the silhouette of her mangy cat — a blessed oasis she shuffled toward before it was swallowed whole by the gaping maw of oblivion.

*****

Feedback is always appreciated. Although I'm well versed in writing fic, I always feel apprehensive when diving into a new fandom. ♥️

#stardew valley #stardew valley shane #sdv shane #sdv shane x farmer #fanfiction #green on the vine strawberry wine

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fandomfluffandfuck · 2 years

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Just thinking about Seb working real hard - whether it’s work, doing something for Chris, just generally working himself down - because he just want someone to notice he’s good. Feeling like he has to earn the praise and love and softness he sees other people get. And imagine Chris noticing it!!! And letting him relax for once, taking all the worries off of his plate for a few days so Seb can be doted on and cared for like the soft lil sub he is 💗

Okay okay okay-

This ask reminds me of two things:

This incredible gif set of Sebastian being the sweetest kid that needs to be praised for all his work in the gym

And also, this evanstan fic with wonderful sub!Seb that i highly recommend (and have visited 58 times according to AO3 🤣): "Natural Additiction" by @musette22 + @paper-storm

Seb 👏 is 👏 such 👏 a 👏 good 👏 boy 👏

But-

Going back to your original ask and my other thoughts on it...

(here's your warning for how fucking long this answer got haha (and how nsfw it gets))

This, perhaps inspired by that first gif set and then the past years in general, makes me think of Sebastian being even more starved for praise and submission than normal because of those events. Like. Chris is the one who gives all of that to him readily- the only one who gives it all to him. But Sebastian also gets praise and peices of what he needs from other people too. Obviously. He deserves it. All of that praise. All the recognition he's getting now.

And one of the easiest places for that praise that doesn't come from his boyfriend and dom is through his training-

In the gym, Don (his trainer) is never shy, patting him on the back, cheering him on with "atta boy!"s or "good job!" or "yeah, baby! Get it!" y'know, all that good, outspoken praise that makes him put even more of himself into his workouts. Motivated by it.

But... with the part of the pandemic that he's locked down for, Sebastian stops seeing Don in person, of course, but also stops seeing him as often through Zoom. Don gives him a lot of text instructions as he hunkers down with his own family but also, Sebastian starts prepping for Pam & Tommy eventually, meaning he's doing less intense stuff. Mostly running on an empty stomach, stuff that doesn't need that much instruction time in the way his normal gym equipment use and intense micronutrient focused, highly specific diet needs. Don also tells him to take it easy, relax and recuperate, y’know.

So, yeah, less interaction with Don. And everyone else.

Plus, on top of that lacking interaction, for the first part of lockdown, Sebastian is stuck by himself in his tiny NYC apartment. So he doesn't have Chris to praise him and tell him he's his good boy or that he's doing good, bumping him, hip to hip, squeezing his hand, throwing an arm around his waist, or... any of those other less innocent touches that his tactile boyfriend is so fond of. All he has is his apartment and his world as it's trapped in his phone. It's not quite the same to hear over the phone or read over text.

So-

When he finally can get to Chris' Massachusetts home, out away from the city, and they can be together, alone, Sebastian is fucking STARVED for it. He is practically vibrating in his seat on the way back. Wanting his hands on him so bad, manhandling him the way he wants, but also wanting his words so, so fucking bad. He wants his words. His orders. His praise. All of it.

They get home, say hello to Dodger, and then instantly they get to it. Pressed tight against the door. With lots of frantic touching, desperate kissing, and bruises already in the process of forming. There's also lots and lots of gasps, moans, and primal sounds. There just aren't a lot of words.

Then, after there's a lot of hunger still inside Sebastian but... he can't make his mouth work, still sensitive and still mind-blown, so he just melts to the floor and let's it go for now. Chris picks him up and carries him to their bed afterward.

Yet, Sebastian still needs more.

But it's not that he outright tells Chris that because as much as he knows communication is super, super important in relationships and in their relationship especially - because they have to be so lock and key, both of them so public - he just can't say it. He can't make himself spit out the words. His world is too far access for him to reach out, he needs both hands to hold himself up instead.

Either way, Seb gets to Chris' house and instantly starts unpacking (after their hard, fast, desperate fuck, nap, and shower), taking extra care of his things as he does, much more so than he normally would; he's actually folded his clothes to come down rather than just throwing them into his bag and now he's neatly tucking them into Chris' hanging closet and drawers and he even folds Chris' clothes that aren't- put away haphazardly or already worn once since their last washing or whatever. Sebastian makes sure everything is neat. Orderly. He re-coils Chris' belts too. Subconsciously hoping Chris might notice... but he doesn't go into the closet for a while. He sleeps naked so he doesn't go in to get PJs. And then their morning is late, sleeping in and then caught up in wandering hands and hot steam and each other, pressed together, lips against lips. Hungry. So hungry and impatient that it's quick, fast, not as much as Sebastian needs. Some of what he needs. But not everything. Chris doesn't notice his closet in the morning either, rushing back to Sebastian instead.

Sebastian also does the dishes after they eat dinner together that first night he comes home. And not that Sebastian never does the dishes but it's odd because he washes them all by hand. And before he flops down next to Chris, cuddling in close, nosing his way under Chris' arm, he also starts the dishwasher. Which is only half full. Without a word. Again, wanting Chris to tell him that he's done a good job, that he's helpful, but unable to really put his finger on what he needs.

He just needs so much.

After their late start, he gathers Chris' clothes from his hamper (and the floor next to it) and does his washing and drying for him. Setting timers on his phone to make sure they don't sit in the machine for too long. Then, Seb folds the clothes too, even though he dreads folding laundry or folding clothes for packing or... yeah, folding is not his favorite.

Later in the week he also does their sheets after they dirty them again (😏). Although, again, that task is wordless too. Seb doesn't mention it to Chris. He wants the praise to be true and spontaneous. Not just because he needs to hear it.

His world is still off balance though because none of the tasks are orders. Chris is stressed and busy with launching and then upkeeping ASP in the first months of it, not to mention the whole fucking pandemic that's effecting everyone too. It's not his fault he doesn't notice Sebastian's desperation for praise right away. People get oblivious and people start weird habits when they're stressed. (That is a wink towards that fic, thank you very much)

And it gets to a point where Sebastian can't fucking help it-

He can't help it!

Chris is on top of him pressing him hard down into their mattress as he kisses him, painting a line of scorching hot kisses down from his lax mouth - Seb is so worked up that he can hardly kiss back, panting, chest heaving - to his collarbone. Then lower. His chest. His sensitive, peaked nipples. Sparking pleasure that is so, so fucking overwhelming that it makes his muscles turn to liquid.

And Chris just keeps lavishing him with kisses and bites and-

It just slips out of him.

A whimper.

Needy and pathetic and it's clear how long it has been ruminating inside his chest, kept down in false understanding that other things were more pertinent than him at the moment. And the second Chris hears it, he's rising up onto his elbows and hovering over his baby, hushing him, asking him what he needs, nosing his cheek.

Sebastian can only whimper more, looking him in his eyes, barely making out a little, lip-trembling, call of, "D-daddy..."

"You need your Daddy, huh, sweet thing?" Chris rumbles, lips on his skin, against his jaw then lifting up to stare right into his eyes, watching the way his blush rises over his cheeks and spills down his neck then up to his ears. Watching the way his eyes turn glassy then nearly spill over, teary.

Sebastian nods jerkily. Daddy. He needs Daddy. He's choked by it. He needs it.

And he needs it so bad that he really does start crying when Chris hushes him more, caressing his face, saying, "it's okay, it's okkkay, you're okay, I know, I know, Daddy should've seen it sooner. His good boy needs some attention, doesn't he?"

Sebastian chokes back a sob.

Then, the gates fucking open and Chris is fucking worshipping him. Telling him about how fucking good he is in detail. Such impossible detail. He is lathering him in it. Laying it on thick except... is it really "laying it on thick" if all of it's true??

Chris keeps it up until Sebastian looses all time (which actually happens really quickly, he's already so sweet and spacey, floating in their sheets like a rocking, warm sea). First though, he strips Seb down, mentally and physically, spreading him out to tie his wrists and ankles gently to their bed posts with silk ties. Then he traces his fingertips over Seb's skin so gently that Sebastian can't keep from shuddering. Goosebumps arise over his flesh.

His touch is electric.

Impossibly erotic.

Chris brushes his hair back from his forehead with his lips. He whispers in his ear. More praise that pours like flaming honey straight into Seb's veins. Pooling in his gut.

Chris presses three fingers into Sebastian's mouth, between plush lips, and let's him suckle on them, filling his needy mouth up, while Chris encircles his cock. Tugging. Stroking. Gripping his dripping and hot cock so thoroughly that all that can spill out of Sebastian is moans, gasps, and tears. He can't. Sebastian is throbbing from the inside out. Ready to spill, overwhelmed with need and praise and subspace.

But only when it's an order from Chris, exhaled softly, whispered, but so, so powerful and demanding.

The order guts Sebastian, leaving him to nearly convulse, trying to curl up, around Chris' hand tight on his cock. But he can't. Those ties. He is exposed. Left to Chris' hands.

Chris' hands that keep wandering. Keeping him on edge. Keeping him overwhelmed and sensitive until he breaks.

Sebastian fractures apart as Chris' fingers slip back from his cock to his tight, heavy balls, then his lil, clenching hole. Tapping. Exploring. Chris spits on his hole. He won't move to grab the lube for the world. He spits again.

Overwhelming.

It's overwhelming.

The wetness. The heat. The arousal.

Sebastian is out of his goddamn mind.

And then Sebastian's sobs turn silent, his mouth gapes around three of Chris' thick fingers, but his tears keep flowing and his chest keeps heaving. Hitting the sweet spot of subspace where he can't do anything but fly. Absorbing the pleasure and the pain from it being too much, too soon, and enjoying it impossibly. He cannot resist. He can't help himself. All he can do is lie at the mercy of Chris' touch and take it.

It is everything he wants.

Hopefully that's what you had in mind haha, I kinda went overboard here I think 👀

Anyway... yeah. Big thoughts about sub!Seb being taken care of.

#asks #chris evans #sebastian stan #evanstan #rpf #real person fanfiction #sub seb #subastian #sub Sebastian #dom chris evans #dom chris #subspace #fandomfluffandfuck

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foreveralwaysanauthor · 8 months

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Erica's Basic Info

Name: Erica Paige Mills

Erica's faceclaims for the 90s and now were a lot easier for me to figure out than ones for the 60s and 80s, for obvious reasons, but I do have them, all the same. For the 60s, we have the lovely Pam Grier (the picture is from her 1975 movie Friday Foster) and, while she didn't act in anything big in the 60s, she would have been in the right age range. For the 80s, we have Lark Voorhies (Saved by the Bell). My immediate pick for the 90s was Trina McGee (Boy Meets World) as her overall style and acting, especially in BMW felt very much like Erica. Finally, for present day, we have Andrea Chaparro (Rebelde) - I saw her picture on Pinterest and it just instantly clicked.

Nicknames: Big Dip-Shit (her friends’ term of endearment connected to the freckles on her arm), Frog (she was the highest jumper on the volleyball team) and Dumbass (mostly by Jade, but, like with Jade, their friends call her that as well)

Age: 18

Date of Birth: August 10

Zodiac: Leo

Birthstone: Peridot

Nationality: American and Puerto-Rican

Sexuality: Lesbian

Birthplace: West Side, Manchester, NH

Current Residence: Winnisquam, Tilton, NH

Occupation: Leader of the robotics club, setter of the high school volleyball team, songwriter and guitarist for Blissful Chaos, babysitter of her younger siblings, and cashier at Spencer’s Gifts

Talents/Skills: Gives pretty awesome haircuts, video editing, can memorize practically anything just by seeing it once, and somehow is able to get people to trust them with their secrets, even if they only just met - something she considers both a gift and a curse.

Birth order: Oldest

Siblings: Cora Jane (15) and Elijah Michael (12)

Parents: Michael Douglas Cooper and Sofia Adriana Garcia

Signature:

Height: 5’6”

Race: African-American

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: Naturally black, but dyed blue

Glasses or contact lenses: She doesn’t need them, but thinks she’d look cool with glasses. She will wear some pretty crazy-looking contacts for fun events, though

Distinguishing features: Dragon tattoo between her shoulder blades, dagger with vines tattoo on her right arm, and a set of seven freckles on her left bicep that Jade connects with Sharpies to look like the Big Dipper

Mannerisms: Clacking her nails together to the tune of songs, humming theme songs to her favorite shows, and drawing doodles while talking on the phone.

Health: She is allergic to pineapple and is lactose intolerant, but still eats pineapples on pizza and mac-and-cheese like her life depends on it. (Yes, her old one was a typo lol)

Hobbies: Chugging energy drinks, drawing, buying too many vinyls from the record shop, thrifting, and volleyball

Greatest flaw (in their opinion): How expressive she is. She doesn’t always notice it right off the bat, but her expressions give away her thoughts on everything. Even if she’s not entirely vocal on her opinions, you can practically tell what she’s thinking as her face displays it all in high definition. Many times, her friends will have to either elbow her or remind her to “watch her face” to get her to fix it.

Best quality (in their opinion): Her quick thinking. As a setter on the volleyball team, she has to be quick on her feet, have a good grasp of the situation they find themselves in, and be ready to make calls on the fly; Erica thrives in that sort of environment. Whether it’s for volleyball, work, songwriting, or a DND campaign, she loves coming up with plans contributing ideas as it makes her feel a lot smarter than she feels she is.

Biggest fear: Failure of any kind. Oftentimes, she feels as though she has the weight of the world on her shoulders despite that being far from the truth. As the oldest of her siblings, she strives to be the best sister and role model she can for them. As the setter on her team, she allows losses to hit her harder than they do anyone else. As the manager at Spencer’s, she deals with the brunt of every Karen encounter and fights through days of faulty machinery while making sure her coworkers don’t feel guilty for anything going wrong. As the band’s songwriter and guitarist, she feels as though the fault would be hers if the band were to fail in any way or if a song wasn’t a hit. Although she goes through everything with a smile and shrugs off failure like it’s no big deal, on the inside, she’s screaming.

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Favorite ice cream: Pistachio

Favorite color: Green

Favorite number: 6, how many months it took for her and Jade to get together

Favorite songs: Memories by Conan Gray, Perfume by Lovejoy, and Boyfriend by Dove Cameron

A place they want to visit: Amsterdam, Netherlands

#character info

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littlequeenies · 2 years

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Colors!A night out with Pamela Courson

Information from the great site: Pam and Jim Morrison: A Place Where The Creatures Meet

“Strictly From Hunger!” a memoir of musician John Morton’s experiences as one of the hottest bands in L.A.

One of our songs, “Colors”, came about because we met Pam Courson at The Whisky. She came back stage and I just figured she was a groupie wanting a piece of the band. She said her name was Valerie Sunshine (this may not have been unusual for Pam in an article about her boutique, Themis, Pam used the pseudonym Pamela Roselilly). She told us she wasn’t interested in sex but she had some LSD she wanted to share and go down to Santa Monica beach. Mike Lane and I said, “What the hell! Why not!” We were done with our set and it wasn’t the first time we spent late hours with chicks getting high.

Me, Valerie, and Mike walked on the beach in Santa Monica. The night was perfect on the beach, full moon and turquoise ocean with beautiful waves rolling in. In the distance you could see the lights on the pier. Valerie was like a goddess in a white lace see through blouse and an airy short white skirt with long red hair. She was running and skipping on the sand like a carefree child. She just breezed through the air, floating like a leaf, a beautiful white leaf. Valerie had that magical quality that just drew you in, it was her night. We were all high on Blue Owsley one of the strongest mind altering acid you could take. Some people experienced peace and calm, others experienced wild and frantic abandonment. If we had been with anybody else it would probably have been the later. Valerie was just this innocent soul who wanted to share herself. At least that’s how I was envisioning her as an angel passing through time that just so happened to catch the attention of two wiley musicians. She was magical. All of sudden the intensity of colors just emerged from nowhere. She smiled and said: "can you see how fantastic the world is?” She looked at Mike and me and said, “Create me a song!” We looked over at the pier and flashed on the beautiful lights and colors and watched the waves roll in simultaneously from the turquoise sea under a bright moonlit sky and Mike Lane sang: “lights flashing, images before my eyes, people turning finally/all the colors in the world have come from me.” How profound in that moment, I finished with: “try and realize what life is worth if you don’t have a disguise.” At that moment there was a full orchestra at my command and the music just flowed in, the violins and strings just resounded as if I was conducting the song. Valerie said “Bravo! You did not let me down!” Valerie Sunshine had made an unforgettable night! Who would have thought we would of experienced something greater than sex? It was as orgasmic as it gets. She then became the mad hatter and said “I’m late! I’m late for a very important date.” We drove back to The Whisky and Valerie said as she got out of the van, “in the real world my name is Pam—Pam Courson.” Then she disappeared into the crowd.

The next day as we were rehearsing we put together our new song “Colors”. It just came together seamlessly, guitars, keyboard and vocals. The song instantly became part of our set list. I didn’t put two and two together till years later that Pam Courson was Jim Morrison’s girlfriend. That night in 1968 I’ll always remember her as Valerie Sunshine.

youtube

#Pam Courson #muse #Pam muse #Hunger!#Colors #John Morton #Valerie Sunshine #Strictly From Hunger!#Mike Lane #musicians #boutique owner #fashion designer #baby sitter #Youtube

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sweetscenes · 2 years

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Once Upon a Gotham’s December

aka i write the du.ke thom.as anastasia au by my damn well self.

“Close your eyes!”

Came the peppy voice of someone he had come to know very well within the past few months. He still struggled with trust, he still struggled with the sense of identity. He could feel something peeking out from the further reaches of is brain, and he desperately wanted to pull them forward. Yet, he felt himself pulling away from it. As much as the young man wanted to remember his past, and feel its warm embrace and security, Dylan was afraid of the memories it invoked. The identity that Harley and Pam wanted him to slip into came so easily, like a well worn glove, and that scared him.

He knew the lies they told, the lies they expected him to tell, but it was starting to become more clear that it may be more than their illusion. He just knew he needed to get to Gotham, where a loving embrace, someone important would be waiting for him. At a bridge named for a man he couldn’t recall. Perhaps it was easy to slip into the role of Duke Thomas, the only surviving member of the Wayne family and its wards, because it was a part of his obscured identity.

He knew the truth lay with the two who wanted to use his spitting image to the missing boy to trick Alfred Pennyworth into giving them their money, and he himself was conflicted with that. It didn’t seem right to trick someone, especially someone in mourning, but Dylan needed to get to Gotham to uncover the truth.

He was startled from his reprieve when Harley repeated the command, and he turned to her.

“Why?” He asked, not knowing whether he would be pranked or some other trick. He would put nothing past Harley, especially since Pam wasn’t there at the moment to rein her in.

“You’ve been working hard lately, Dylan, and you deserve a reward! So close your eyes!” Came the prompt reply, and Dylan knew that it was fruitless to try and resist the woman once she had her mind set on something. It would be easier to accept the gift, whatever it was. And while Dylan was grateful, he couldn’t help but also feel the tiniest bit guilty. He hadn’t really been working hard, more like trying on a pair of old shoes. The thought made his head hurt.

It was easier to just go with it.

“Okay,” Came his final reply, closing his brown eyes. “But if you put something nasty in my hand I’m going to-”

He was cut off by something solid and durable, yet oddly fragile being delicately placed in his hand. He brought it closer to him before opening his eyes, widening softly as he saw a music box.

It was old, but in remarkably good condition. He traced the detailing, which was far to delicate and well made for it to be something made on the line of a factory. This was custom, expensive. He was instantly suspicious, not wanting to have his prints on something that was potentially stolen. He tore his eyes away from the beautiful artifact and looked at the pale skinned blonde.

“Did you steal this? I get stealing bread and blankets, but this too much.” Dylan said, his tone laced with reproach.

Harley blew a raspberry and got a funny look on her face. “No I didn’t steal this! I bought it, fair and square. Someone was auctioning off some scavenged Wayne shit, so I got it.”

She rambled on a bit more, and with his soul clean, he returned to his examination of the music box. It was gold and white, with hints of black. He may be imagining things, but it seemed to glow. Maybe as it reflected the light? But the light seemed to be coming from the music box. Maybe he was losing his marbles due to all the lessons.

All the while, Harley had been rambling.

“It’s broken anyways, I can’t get it open. It sure looks nice though!” Harley said cheerfully, and Dylan had only just tuned back in.

He nodded absentmindedly, fingers ghosting over the music box. He noticed that almost without his thoughts, muscle memory began taking over. As if he had done this a dozen times before. He turned the crank four times, before pressing on the box on two different points.

Surprisingly, it opened. Harley stopped to stare, and he heard her distantly demanding how he opened it, but he instead looked at the scene inside it. There were a few bats flying on a slender wire, twirling to a classical song.

It felt like the wind was knocked out of him when he examined the music box closely. There was a small mirror inside, and he could see all his features through the small reflective glass. However, within the reflection, he saw not his current state, but a much younger boy. It might have been him, there was no eye bags or the hardness of a street life set in, but the same nose and eyes were there. His head ached, and he wanted to shut the box and forget about it.

Tried as he might, he couldn’t, he just stared at the box as ghosts of memories lingered just beyond the surface.

“Flying bats, pitch black black wings. Things I almost remember,” Dylan said softly, and he heard Pam calling him now, asking Harley what was happening, but that name no longer felt right. At least, not right now. In this moment, he was who they wanted him to be. Who he was? Dylan didn’t remember, but he was close to. He could feel it. He might be Duke, he might not be. It made him walk away to stand by the window so he could get some more quiet.

“And a song, someone sings, once upon a december. Someone holds me, safe and warm.” He remembered a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders, giving shielding him until he was ready to face the crowds. There were crowds? When did the crowds get there? Although clear as day, Dylan saw the opulent ballroom. Everyone in their finery, dancing away. It felt so familiar, but he couldn’t touch it. He was somehow in the memory and watching it, and Dylan didn’t know which one he preferred.

“Birds fly through a silver storm, figures dancing gracefully across my memory,” Dylan feels himself slipping deeper into the memory, into the skin of Duke, and he saw an even clearer image.

A grand ballroom, one cold night. The richest and most renowned people in Gotham, dare he say the entire east coast, in their nicest clothes as a band plays dance music. He sees familiar faces, although the fine details escape him. He mostly remember feelings.

He feels himself leaving the grasp of the strong man and entering into a wild waltz with someone older and taller than him, but somehow leaner than the strong man. Dylan remembered how he laughed, teasing his smaller figure as he struggled to keep up.

He then remembers stumbling into someone who was perhaps as strong as the strong man, and certainly bigger. He didn’t dance this time, but he remembers a warm arm around his neck as a fist messes with his hand and a chiding voice next to him, and he vaugely sees a small boy who’s eye bags stand out among everything.

Next, he’s whisked away by two girls, slightly older than him. One was dragging him haphazardly around the ballroom, but the other black haired girl was a direct contrast to the rowdy blonde. Patient, graceful, elegant, she stole him away and taught him certain steps he found himself mirroring now. He feels the ghost of happiness, of true comfort. He holds tight to the illusion, not wanting to let it go. Was this a memory? Was this some implanted falsehood coached into him? He desperately wanted to remain, he felt so real.

However, the tighter he held on, the more it slipped away. Soon, he was once again left alone, but he wasn’t out of his memory yet. Even though the grand ballroom had faded, there was still a feeling of being held.

“Someone holds me safe and warm, birds fly through a silver storm.” Dylan recalled softly, leaning into the memory. Not harshly with desperation like the ballroom, but gently. He was rewarded by the illusion of a squeeze. “Figures dancing gracefully, across my memory.” He then felt as if a great many people were surrounding him, yet he didn’t feel as though he was in danger. No, he felt a belonging. Something he can’t recall ever feeling. It felt so right. Was this Duke Thomas?

He suddenly feels envy for the boy. Either for the memories of him and the rest of the people surrounding them that brought him such warmth, or the fact that he seemed to live such a charmed life until the Wayne’s untimely murder.

Dylan finds the feelings slipping away, and he finds himself once again trying to hold tight. One by one, the figures vanish and the feelings of safeness and belonging fade with them. “ Far away, long ago, glowing dim as an ember, things my heart used to know!”

He then is suddenly aware that he is with two people. Not the memories or the illusions, of a familiar but not nearly as comforting presence. Not yet, at least. He wasn’t ready to open himself up yet.

“Things it yearns to remember-”

Now, he looks at the mirror of the music box. Gone is the young boy, and staring back is the young man. He looks exhausted, tired, and ready for a nap. He feels spent, and he leans into Harley’s comforting embrace and welcomes Pam’s stroking.

The ghost of the warm embrace escapes him, leaving him in the real world once again. The cold real world of certainties, not of rosy and golden memories of what once was or never was.

And a song, someone sings, once upon a december.”

#;drabble #;yellow immortal - duke thomas #holy shit this got long #enjoy my frenzied mediorce writing

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afterglow-tommylee · 2 years

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Chapter 16. I’m A Man Of Wealth And Taste

Hello again my dudes!

Alright, so... how are you all enjoying our love story so far? And what a love story it is, am I right?

I just wanted to jump in here again since Andi doesn't mind. You don't mind, do ya babe? Babe? No? Ok good haha.

Fuck it, I'm just gonna get this outta the way first cause I need to get this off my chest.

Fuck Chris Cornell.

Yea I said it. I'm pissed and I don't give a shit. Like what the fuck dude? Why you tryin' to start shit? You have no fuckin' idea of the situation. For one thing, I pleaded no contest to the charges of spousal abuse because the cops had found my guns in my safe - which I don't have anymore by the way, learned my lesson there - but I pleaded no contest cause it would've been way worse because of my guns that they found. Everything was just all bad back then, and how many fuckin' times do I need to apologize for it? I did my time and that's it.

I mean it though, fuck you dude. You're just pissed cause I got your girl now and you can't fuckin' stand it. But you messed that up with her long before I was even in the picture, so fuck you.

Ok, now that that's outta the way... Oh my fuck dudes! Fucking crazy right? She said yes! She fuckin' said yes! I asked her to marry me and she fuckin' said yes. I mean... fuck dude. I know, I know, I move fast, but man she is the fuckin' one. She is it.

Andi is the absolute love of my life and I couldn't fuckin' wait to make her my wife - yes I know that rhymed haha. She didn't even hesitate, she just said yes. Like there was no " uh Tommy this is too fast" or " I think we should wait'' she just jumped right in with me. I got so caught up in her being silly and singing to me - Queen of all things like, fuck this woman suprises me in ways that I never thought she would - I just couldn't hold back anymore and I fuckin' blurted it out and asked her and she fuckin' said yes. She truly brings out the impulsive side in me. Well ok, I've always been that way but I swear it's amped up like a thousand times more when I'm with her. She just makes me want to just go full on and who gives a shit - which is how I ended up tattooing her lips on me. Fuck names, get your womans lips tatooed on you and man that will definitley impress her, trust me haha.

I had planned to ask her like, weeks before and I was gonna take her out somewhere romantic and get down on one knee... y'know the whole bit- I just fuckin' got all in my head about it and just asked her to move in with me instead.

Once she did move in with me though that was like a whole other level. We didn't have to travel back and forth to see each other anymore. She's the first beautiful thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I fall asleep and I want that with her forever.

She was so amazing with my boys, like, they loved her instantly and she loved them right back. Seeing her with them, making them laugh, making sure they are taken care of like, as if they were her own was just incredible. The connection between them was instant. I knew they were gonna love her.

Same with my mom, I knew she was gonna take one look at Andi and be like 'Tommy don't fuck this up' - well ok maybe not in so many words but my mom is a pretty good judge of caracter, I mean she has hated a lot of the women I've been with. She loved Heather... and Pam she was like, fine with but that had more to do with the fact that Pam and I got married without telling anyone. But Andi, she like, just embraced her right away. She was so happy that I was finally happy after so many years of fighting and trying to keep my family together and Pam not interested in working anything out and going back to her old boyfriend while I'm sittin in jail.... fuck me... Fuckin' broke my heart.

But there's nothing I can do. I can't make someone love me if they really don't love me anymore. So I just worked on myself and vowed that the next chick that I fall in love with is going to be like - not in a bad way - but like a nobody. Someone who isn't like crazy famous with the paparazzi following us everywhere and shit cause I just can't fuckin' do that anymore. I just can't. I have enough of it on my own still and it has calmed down a fuckload but there's still the odd paparazzi straggler that will somehow get tipped off at where I'm headed, where I'm playing, eating y'know... I'm just so fucking thankful that that didn't discourage Andi at all, 'cause the last thing I want is for her to feel uncomfortable being out in public with me when we aren't working together. And when we are working together, it's like the fuckin' best thing in the fuckin' world.

I had never worked together with a chick I was dating, or any of my ex wives before her and it is such a game changer. She obviously sticks to most of the managerial stuff, since that's what she does but when I'm working in my studio, she would like, come in and hang out with me, which surprised me at first since I never had that before. Music just wasn't any of my ex's language, and so it was such a fuckin' turn on that Andi wanted to hang out with me in the studio. Even if I had an idea about something, she encouraged me to tell her about it and would actually help. I found it so fuckin' sexy that she would inspire me in ways that I didn't think I could go with a song or a simple melody, a lyric or an unworked idea.

She is so intelligent, beautiful, and strong. She knows this business inside and out, and she's so assertive but like can be so adorably shy and awkward, and fucking hilarious too. We even have our own like, weird language with each other. Like, I'll say something to her in my greasy greek guy accent just being stupid to make her laugh and she comes back with this terrible irish accent that makes me laugh everytime cause it so would sound like her if she had one.

I just wish she could've met my dad. Man, my dad would've loved her. I can just see him telling me not to screw this one up and I know he would see in her what I see and just love her to pieces.

Ok, I'm outta here for a little bit, but don't worry dudes, I'll be back.

P.S: I miss you dad, and trust me I found a really good one this time and I promise I won't screw this up. Not in a million years.

#tommy lee fanfic #tommy lee #motley crue #motley crue fanfiction

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all-the-promises-at-sundown · 2 years

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Honest thoughts and opinions on Killing Eve’s Finale

i am not a professional writer nor reviewer in anyway. This is just somewhat coherent thoughts from a huge fan of the show. Please don’t take me too seriously.

If you read this, I appreciate it.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

I was introduced to Killing Eve in mid 2019 after watching greys anatomy and wanting to support Sandra in her new project. The show had had its second season by then.

From the very first episode I just knew that this was (and I mean literally) going to be my new obsession. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before and I instantly fell in love with the world and it’s characters. One character in particular being Villanelle, who was a huge part of my acceptance within my sexuality.

It was a show that encouraged it’s audience to support and love women that were extremely flawed, you accepted them for what they were. Characters were unashamedly bad with their actions, they were queer and most of all they just felt real. It had (and despite the ending, still has) one of the best love stories (in my opinion) within media to date, it broke boundaries as this was between two women who were so unique and interesting. This was huge to myself and so many others. We found comfort within this show and how it was so unapologetically itself.

Killing Eve never cared about it’s characters being good, that wasn’t the point and this is why the writers have managed to destroy their own show in just around 5 measly minutes within its end…

The finale to this show has to be one of the laziest, disappointing, rushed and damn illogical endings to a series I have ever seen. It gave me everything i ever wanted from this show and managed to ruin itself all within 40 minutes.

I never went into this thinking I’d be happy, I never expected a happy ending not for one moment, i had wishful thinking sure but that was just mostly theorising and having fun with the possibility.

This is not why I’m mad, if I’m honest I expected both of them to die, they gave me the exact ending I feared and for what? Shock value? Because I didn’t even have time to be shocked, or even remotely sad that my favourite character was violently killed off because I couldn’t get over how stupid it was.

By killing villanelle off and destroying eves happiness like this, felt like a slap in the face, belittling us in a way as if to say, how dare you enjoy these characters and their actions? And this is why I don’t recognise the show within its ending because Laura has missed the entire point, her comments made today evidence this even further, I mean the fact she thinks Eves horrific, haunting scream, was one of relief to symbolise her rebirth? What a joke.

We are here now with Killing Eve finished and we don’t have a single thing solved. This is why I’m angry, who actually are the 12? What was the point in Carolyn, what was her goal? What was the point in Pam? Who really did kill Kenny? Why did Carolyn kill Villanelle? Why did villanelle have to die? Am I just being dumb?

You should not be left with this many questions at the END of a show. Now if villanelle had died because there was logic behind it, maybe a sacrifice of some variety to Eve I could’ve reasoned a little but this is my issue, I cannot reason with this because there is NO REASON.

When will writers learn that tragedies don’t instantly equal, a ‘good’ or even remotely ‘interesting’ ending?

I am heartbroken, as are the other thousands of Villaneve fans out there. Luckily I’m quite level headed and I am able to enjoy the show for what it is and it won’t effect me too badly, mentally. Seeing how much this has effected people is what is so sad to me.

I’m sorry for all the other fans, I’m sorry for Jodie and Sandra for what the writers did to their incredible characters and I’m just sorry that the show, an incredible one at that, had this basic, simplistic ending. Killing Eve was anything but this.

What a disappointment.

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mhysa-leesi · 3 years

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му вℓσσ∂у ναℓєηтιηє

{Gif Source} {Gif Source 2}

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers 𝒳 (femme) Reader 🩸.

Summary: "Steve Rogers is madly in love with you and he'll do anything for you to see that--no matter who gets in his way."

Word Count: 4,765 (Sorry, this is a long one!)

TW‼: Non-Con, Smut, Stalking, Yandere Themes, Murder (Description of Side-Character Death), Blood, Description of Gore, and Strong Language. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI‼

AN: This story contains adult and dark themes, please do not proceed if you are under the age of 18 or if ANY of these warnings upset you! I am not responsible for your media consumption–you and only you are. Also, I used one of the prompts from (@the-modern-typewriter) to describe a character's death, ALL CREDIT GOES TO THEM. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

AN Cont.: If you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual violence, please reach out for help. I do not condone ANY of the actions described in this story, this is merely a work of FICTION.

The first love letter was delivered on a gloomy Friday afternoon. The clouds above the city were dark and full of frigid torrents of rainfall. Gold and scarlet autumn leaves whispered against the chilly winds as acorns scattered about; rolling and cracking underfoot as you made your everyday walk to work. You had chosen to stray from your usual route that day, deciding on a new corner coffee shop instead of your normal stop.

You remembered that day clearly, as if it had happened just yesterday. The new coffee shop was a small, hole in the wall with plastic vines of ivy and fairylights rimming the framework of the inside. You ordered rich and dark coffees, with creamy oat milk for you and your coworkers, and an apple pecan oatmeal cookie for yourself.

Your workday was seemingly the same as any other. Pam was gossiping with Susan, and Scott was hiding from Mark, your manager, in the breakroom. You remember you were seated at your cubicle when things turned, staring at the rain against the window, and tapping your pen against your notepad, when you were startled by the mail carrier. He handed you a single, pink envelope with a heart stamp on its flap and left with a mumbled “you’re welcome”. You frowned as there was no return address or other name besides yours. You had opened it anyway.

You remembered how your frown had deepened as your stomach dropped. The paper trembled in your hands as you stared at the small heart sketched at the bottom. You frantically looked around the office for any sign of a joke, hoping to see one of your coworkers giggling at your shocked reaction. But everyone had their noses deep into their screens, typing away at their work. You turned the letter over, looking for a name or a clue as to who had sent it. But it was blank.

And you remembered how you had crumpled up the letter and tossed it as you refocused and finished the rest of that workday.

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

Weeks passed before you got another mysterious love letter delivered to your desk, a small bouquet of roses and baby’s-breath with it. And again, you crumpled it up and threw it away; leaving the flowers in the breakroom. You had made a mental note that day to talk to the mailman about the delivery of these letters.

For a time they stopped and you thought you were out of the woods or thought your secret admirer had lost interest at the very least. But you were wrong. Your third envelope had been waiting for you in your mailbox when you had gotten home from work one Monday evening. You didn’t bother opening it as you sent it straight to the garbage.

You were growing paranoid and antsy as you constantly looked over your shoulder. You’d freeze every time you came across an envelope, even if it was just your monthly rent notice or bank statement. You had refused to live like this, in a constant state of anxiety and fear, so, that’s how you found yourself moving into a new apartment across town.

You were met with months of peace, you were finally readjusting to life before the letters. You had even moved in with someone you had been seeing from your new job, Chris. He was perfect, someone straight from a romance novel; tall, dark, and handsome, with a taste for adventure and romance. You were happy with him--you were in love and had long since decided that if Chris were to ask you to marry him, you’d say yes in a heartbeat.

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Today was your anniversary with Chris, and the two of you had an entire evening planned. Dinner at your favorite restaurant, a surprise showing of your favorite movie at the corner cinema, and then home, where you’d give him his gift. A red lacy lingerie set with fuzzy handcuffs, and a silk blindfold to match.

Your heart skipped and your stomach alighted with butterflies as you touched up your makeup in the bathroom mirror. The evening had been absolutely perfect and it was about to get even better. You stepped out into the bedroom, dressed in nothing but red lace and a bathrobe. A spritz of perfume here and a mint there, and you were ready to go surprise your man.

You walked out into the living room and seductively leaned against the wall, watching as he poured two glasses of red wine. He turned and froze, swallowing hard as he abandoned the drinks on the kitchen counter. You smirked as he pulled you to him by your hips, instantly locking his lips to yours. He looked down at you through his eyelashes, his deep brown eyes darkened with lust, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to your lips once more.

Your eyes closed and moaned as he peppered kisses along the curve of your neck, tilting your head back to give him better access. His hands roamed your body hotly, squeezing and caressing your dips and curves. Chris entangled his hands in your hair as he moved you to the counter, lifting you up as if you weighed nothing. He pushed your robe down your shoulders to reveal the red lace hidden underneath, and with a groan, he bent to trace the rosette lacework that covered your breasts with his tongue. You hummed and wrapped your legs around his waist, your hands running down his back to toy with the bottom hem.

Chris gently pushed you down to an angle as he kissed down your body, stopping just below your navel to wink up at you. You bit back a laugh as you wiggled your hips impatiently as you leaned back on your hands. With your fingers splayed against the wooden countertop, your touch met something smooth and waxy--like the waxy seal of an envelope. You reached behind you and grabbed a pink envelope, with a wax stamp of a heart on its flap. Your heart seemed to stop as you stared at the envelope in your hands.

You vaguely felt Chris’s lips on your inner thighs, kissing and nipping at your skin. When he heard no reaction from you, he looked up, his brows furrowed and eyes full of questions.

“What’s that?” he asked, “You wrote me a love letter, too?” he winked as he reached for it.

You jerked it away from his grasp, your heart hammering in your chest as you ripped open the flap; ripping the waxy heart in half.

P.S. You should really lock your windows, doll. You jumped off the counter and ran to the windows, each one was locked--except for one. You locked it and double-checked its strength, fighting against the lock as you tried to open it.

“Babe? (Y/N),” Chris said sternly, snapping you out of your trance.

You looked at him now. You didn’t know what to say, you couldn’t think of how to form the words. You wanted to say everything was fine and okay, but it wasn’t--it was far from it. Whoever had been writing and sending you these knew where you lived now, and that scared you. After months of trying so hard to move on from this, you felt as if you were right back at square one again.

The rest of the night was unclear to you. You moved like a zombie, your brain on autopilot as you crawled into bed to hide under the covers until the morning sun rose. Chris asked questions, of course. But you had no answers for him. You had no idea who had been writing them and had absolutely no clue how they had found you again.

Chris had suggested going to the police, but what could they do? No one had physically harassed you, and although creepy, the letters weren’t threatening. And not to mention, you had thrown away most of your evidence. You were at a loss. Chris was supportive, always there to comfort you during the night when you were restless, but that never kept you from feeling alone.

Your paranoia increased tenfold by the end of that week. You changed your daily routine every few days, hoping that’d throw your stalker off your trail, but it never did. They always seemed ten steps ahead of you, whereas you struggled to even think to keep up with them. Your breaking point was reached on Sunday evening as you met with one of your old friends from high school for breakfast-dinner--an old tradition you two had decided to revive for the night.

Things were going good, and you even dared to forget about your own issues as you cut into your syrup-soaked pancakes. Madison was telling you about her newest fling and how good he was in the sack, and you genuinely found yourself happy to listen to the vulgar details. After painting you a vivid picture of her sex life, Madison excused herself to the restroom; leaving you alone with your pancakes and empty cup of iced coffee.

You saw a head of electric blue hair and you perked up. Your waitress came with a smile and handed you a paper cup of steaming coffee and a single napkin.

“Oh, I didn’t order this,” you said with a polite smile.

“A gentleman ordered this for you,” she winked before walking away.

You frowned as you looked at the writing on the napkin. Refusing to even acknowledge the cup of coffee in front of you.

Your mouth went dry as you stared at the familiar handwriting. Brown dress, he knew what you were wearing--he was here. You shot to your feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, as you looked around frantically, ignoring all of the judgemental looks and hushed whispers you were getting.

“You okay, (Y/N)?” asked Madison, her brows knitted in concern.

“Yeah,” you lied, “I just… I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’ll call you later, Mads.”

You dug through your wallet and gave a twenty to your waitress on your way out, only stopping to yell over your shoulder for her to keep the change. You practically ran home from the restaurant as your anxiety started to settle in your bones, making you heavy with unease. You called Chris, but were only met with his voicemail. The elevator ride up to your floor was tortuous as you watched the floor numbers slowly light up one by one until finally, they stopped at your floor. You panted as you slammed the door shut behind you, sliding the lock and chain in place as you dropped your head to rest against the wooden frame.

You sniffled as the words from his letter were seared into your eyelids. You just wanted him to leave you alone, you didn’t know what you did to catch his eye, and worst of all, you didn’t know how to make it stop. You choked on your hiccupped breaths as tears streaked down your cheeks. When you finally calmed down you switched on the lights and finally turned around…

You stared at Chris in horror. Blood drenched the entire living room, his corpse sat limp in a chair like a broken, bloody doll. His throat and wrists had been slashed. You tried to hold your hand over the open wounds as you screamed for help, but no matter the pressure you applied, the blood still gushed and seeped through your fingers, oozing down your arm, and dripping from your elbow. The gore of it all brought waves of nausea that went beyond physical retching, the sickness you felt was indescribable. But the smell, the smell was something much worse. Metallic, iron, copper… Your ears started to ring. You couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe. You could only stare at the bloodstain on your hands and scream.

You left that following weekend, abandoning the big city to move back in with your parents and younger sister. You spent most of your days locked in your room, hiding from the world under the comfort of your blanket and drawn curtains. Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. You’d look at yourself in the mirror and cry as you no longer recognized yourself as the woman you once were. You knew it was time to move on, but you couldn’t, not when you’d see Chris’s bloodied body every time you’d close your eyes.

You started small by taking baby steps toward your recovery. It started with family meals, then a cashier job at your local supermarket, shopping trips with your mother and sister. Then you eventually graduated to therapy, where you’d stare at a forest green ceiling as you reclined on the chaise longue. Therapy helped and it was admittedly one of the better moments of your monotonous days, you felt heard, seen, as you walked through your own thoughts and nightmares. Your appointments even inspired you to reach out to Chris’s parents for closure, to go with them to visit their son’s grave. It was bittersweet, leaving behind a bouquet of roses for the man you had loved so deeply instead of a kiss goodbye; but it was something you knew you’d have to come to terms with. It wasn’t your fault, that was the mantra you’d tell yourself when you’d catch glimpses of his blood on your hands.

Before you knew it a year had passed since the incident, and in that year, you had not received one letter. You had made a resolution for the first time that New Year’s Eve as you waited for the midnight ball to drop. You told yourself you’d forget, to start fresh, and become an even better version of yourself. You were a flower that was fighting against all odds to blossom.

You cut your hair, got bangs and highlights. Saved up for a brand new, off-the-lot car. And moved into a cozy apartment with your sister. Things were looking up for you and you truly believed that you had finally found your way out of the woods. But life had a habit of playing cruel tricks on those who were naive enough to believe such a thing.

It was mid-February, just a few days before Valentine’s Day, when things started to go to shit. You had just come back from the gym with your sister when you saw it. A pink envelope with no return address or any other name besides yours, with a wax seal in the shape of a heart on the back flap, sat on your pillow. It felt like it weighed a thousand pounds as you held it in your hands. You debated on throwing it away, on pretending you never received it. But you wanted to know what more this twisted bastard could have to say. You ripped it open and read.

You didn’t hesitate as you ripped the letter to shreds, throwing the pieces into the garbage with an angry grunt. Delusional piece of deranged shit, you thought. You raked through your brain for the millionth time since your first letter, trying to figure out who the fuck could possibly be the sender, but you came to the same conclusion you had been coming to for years--nothing. It was agonizing, not knowing who your torturer was. It was your shadow, how could you not know who was living in it? But, no matter how hard you thought, you kept drawing blank after blank.

Your sister comforted you with a glass of wine and dumplings from the takeout place up the street. She was going out tonight, but offered to stay home with you instead.

“No,” you shooed, “I’ll be fine, I’m a big girl.”

“You sure?” she frowned, “It’s no big deal, Girls Night is every Friday night, I can always go next week.”

“I’m fine. Go and have fun for the both of us,” you said as you waved her away.

She left a few minutes later, dressed in heels and a short skirt. You ate the rest of the dumplings and finished the bottle of wine before calling it a night. You undressed down to your underwear and threw on an oversized t-shirt and plopped down onto the bed with an unceremonious bounce. The wine coursing through your system made it easier than usual to fall asleep, and the next thing you knew, you were in a deep sleep, dreaming of a life with Chris--of a life without the letters. It was one of those good dreams you wished you’d never wake from.

Which was why you were so annoyed when a loud noise startled you awake. You looked at your phone and the time read “1:00 AM”, you frowned, it was too early for your sister to be back already. You padded along the hallway, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you called out for her, worried she might’ve passed out drunk on the floor or something. You stopped as you reached the front room--the very empty front room. Your heart started to pound as you stood frozen, staring at the empty room before you. A shuffling from behind caught your attention, then. And against your better instincts, you turned around slowly to see a shadowed silhouette of a man standing at the end of the hallway.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, just staring dumbstruck at the man. With every step he took toward you, you took one back. Inching closer and closer to the front door with every backward step.

“Doll, don’t,” he warned, his voice striking you with fear like a bolt of lightning.

Without a second thought, you ran toward the door, fumbling stupidly with the locks in your panicked state of mind. The man was on you in a flash, easily dragging you away from your pathetic attempt at escape. His arms slithered around you like snakes, their hold constricting as he locked an arm firmly around your neck, silencing your screams as you struggled to breathe. You slapped and clawed at his forearm as he pulled you back to your bedroom.

“Please be a good girl for me, (Y/N). I don’t want to hurt you, baby,” he said against your hair.

With his arm still wrapped around your neck, he threw you down onto the bed, quickly straddling you before you could scramble to your feet. He pinned your arms above your head with one hand and forced you to look at him with the other. His face was illuminated by the moonlight. The silver shine highlighting his familiar eyes through the holes of his helmet. You froze as he pulled off his blue cowl.

You were beyond confused, to say the least. You stared up at Captain America, your brain working overtime to try and put the puzzle pieces together. What was Captain America doing in your apartment? And why had he called you “baby”? What the fuck was going on? Were you lucid dreaming? You must’ve looked as confused as you felt because he smiled down at you, gently promising you answers to the questions that you hadn’t yet asked.

“You’re even more beautiful up-close, doll,” he said as he brushed away hairs that fell in your face from your struggle.

Your eyes widened. Doll. The nickname sent chills down your spine as the word flashed against the pink color of the envelopes, against the red of spilled blood.

“You…”

He ran a finger down your cheek and nodded, “Me.”

You paled under him, your bottom lip trembling as you shook your head in disbelief. He frowned and hushed you, caressing your cheek and wiping away the tears that fell.

“Shh… Don’t cry, baby,” he cooed, “I’ll take good care of you, you don’t need to cry.”

“W–Why?” you hiccupped through your sobs, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you, (Y/N),” your stomach dropped as he answered you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You shook your head, “No. No! You’re Captain America. You’re supposed to be a hero!”

You fought against his grip, flailing and kicking wildly as you tried in vain to get away from him. You trashed against him, kicking against his thighs with all of your strength, but it was nothing to him--nothing but an annoying inconvenience.

“Stop,” he said, his jaw ticking with simmering anger.

But you refused to stop. You whined and fought against him.

“Stop,” he repeated, his anger coming to a rolling boil.

You shot up and headbutted him. He reeled back and glowered down at you, his jaw clenched and nostrils flared.

“I said stop,” he shouted as he finally stilled you with a sharp slap.

The sound was as sharp as the feel of it. You sobbed as the pain stung your skin, the right side of your face becoming numb from the harsh impact of it.

“Why are you doing this, Steve?” you asked again.

“Because I love you,” he answered again, “I know you love me, too, (Y/N).”

“No,” you exclaimed, “I don’t love you! I don’t love you! I don’t love you!” you sobbed.

“You will,” Something seemed to change within his eyes. No longer were there hints of green in his blue eyes, but something much darker… Something more sinister. You swallowed as you shrunk under his intense glare.

You exclaimed as he forced his lips against yours. Squeezing your jaw until he could slip his tongue into your mouth. You pushed against him, beating on his shoulders as he shoved his tongue further down your throat. He pulled away, breathless and flushed, a ghost of a content smile on his face. You gasped and tried to wiggle away once more, rolling onto your stomach as you did so. A yelp escapes you as you feel him grab your hips, pulling you back under him.

Steve puts his weight on you, trapping you underneath him as he begins to undress you. You try to roll onto your back, but his knee keeps you in place. You fight to keep your shirt on, knowing you wore nothing but your panties underneath it. But you were fighting blind. You kicked up, the heels of your feet hitting the backs of Steve’s strong thighs. He manhandles you easily as he rolls you onto your back, finally ridding you of your cotton shield.

Your hands went to your chest before he could. He pried your arms away, baring your breasts to him with a jerked jiggle. He licked his lips as he cupped and squeezed your breast. You flinched as if his touch had burned you, and in some sense, it had. Your eyes widened in shame as Steve blew on your nipples, the skin hardening into pointed peaks. He brings his lips to them, circling them with his tongue. Sucking, licking, pinching. You press your lips together to keep you from whimpering, and you close your eyes in hopes you can will him away. But your feeble defense attempts don’t last long.

Your eyes snap open as you feel his lips leave your breasts to trail kisses down to your navel, stopping at the band of your underwear.

“Please…” you beg. You bite your lip to keep it from trembling as fresh tears begin to form at the corners of your eyes.

Steve smiles against your skin, “I’m going to make you mine, (Y/N). ‘M gonna make you feel so good, doll.”

You stifle a sob as you feel him slide your panties off past your ankles, his fingers scorching your skin as they explore back up between your thighs. Instinctively, you try to close your legs around his hands. But he doesn’t stop. Steve digs his fingers into the soft skin of your inner thighs as he forcefully spreads you wide. Your pussy on full display to him. You stiffen under his gaze, your face burning with shame as he stares in awe at your spread folds. He runs a finger from your clit to your entrance, dipping knuckle-deep into your channel. Your thighs flex as your body tenses at the intrusion. He adds another and languidly pumps them in and out, curling and scissoring them. You fight against the blossoming heat within your belly. Your shame grows as you hear the squelch of your wetness around his pumping fingers.

Steve presses a firm thumb to your clit and you cry out before you can stop yourself. He pumps his fingers into you harder, faster, as he pulls more moans and cries from your lips. You sob as you feel that coil deep within your belly begin to unravel with every stroke and pump. You fight against your own body as you keep yourself from teetering over the edge of pleasure, refusing to let yourself submit to him. But Steve had other plans for you. Suddenly, before you could register his movements, you felt his tongue against your most intimate area. You mewled and curled your toes as he fucked you with his tongue, his thumb never stopping their firm and fast circles against your clit. You sobbed as your body convulsed with white-hot pleasure, and before you could stop yourself, you came on his tongue with a loud, dragged out moan.

You sniffled as you cried, but whether it was from the intensity of your orgasm or your shame and fear, you didn’t know. The lines were starting to blur for you.

Steve gently kissed around your folds before crawling up over you. He held your face and forced your lips to his once more before he began to undress, leaving the taste of yourself on your tongue as he pulled away with a wet smack. He unclothed himself, then. Stripping himself of his spangled-stars and red and white stripes. He looked down at you with dark, lust-filled eyes, and a breathless quirk of his lips.

You were limp as he folded you to his needs. Bringing your bent and spread knees to your chest as he took himself in his hands. His length stood tall and proud, the tip swollen and leaking down this thick shaft with anticipation. Your legs flinched as they tried to close on their own. You choked on a sob as he wrenched them apart. Your heart hammered in your chest as you watched him tap your pussy with his cock, running the tip up and down your folds as he wet himself with your soaking arousal until finally, he pressed himself into your entrance. You let out a strained whine as he slammed into you.

Steve’s eyes were shut and mouth slightly agape as he hisses at your tightness. His hips thrust in excitement as you clench around him. You whimper again as he slides out, just to slam himself back in. Your body jolts with every lust-driven thrust. He slides his hands under you and brings them to hold onto your shoulders, bringing you down to meet his every forceful thrust. The sound of skin slapping and lewd moans fill your bedroom, your sweat sheen bodies glowing under the moonlight. Steve speeds up, mercilessly hammering that hidden sweet spot that makes you scream and clench around his cock. You spasm and shake as Steve forces another orgasm from you.

“Tell me you love me,” he pants.

You shake your head, pushing on his shoulders as the realization of your situation comes crashing back into you.

His hand wraps around your throat as he pounds into you harder than before, “Say it, (Y/N).”

You scratch at his hand as your vision begins to dot and blacken, “I–I love you…”

“Louder,” he demands, “‘I love you, Steve’, say it, doll, I wanna hear you say it.” he moans.

“I love you, Steve,” you choke out.

He releases his grip on you then, and you cough and gasp for air. His rhythm becomes erratic as his hips drive into you with renewed vigor, “Again.”

“I love you, Steve,” you moan.

His body jerks as his hips stutter to a stop. Steve comes with your name on his lips, and you whined as you felt his warmth flood inside of you. He panted above you, his hips languidly thrusting as his abdomen clenched with his drawn out release. He pulled out of you and collected the spunk that leaked from your weeping cunt on his fingers. He brought them to your lips and forced you to suck them clean.

“I love you, too, doll. Forever and ever,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*тαgℓιѕт*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧: @hoosier-daddi

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hauntingofthirteen · 2 years

Text

i just need to vent here because i have nowhere else to do it

what the fuck???

that was such a good episode and for what? that seriously did not have to be the ending like if they were going for a death ending then it should have been both villanelle and eve who got shot, with them holding each other as they drowned together!!! (or just neither of them dying and being happy that they completed their mission)

also what the fuck was carolyn’s motive for having villanelle killed? i seriously thought that they were getting close and forging a genuine relationship but apparently not

and who tf did carolyn hire??? we know that pam turned down the offer but also no one says no to carolyn so was she made to do it? is pam now dead too?

it was so rushed too like we didn’t even get a glimpse at who the twelve are and i was so sure that geraldine might have been a member because of carolyn randomly mentioning her again and i guess it was because of the whole “it doesn’t matter if you kill them because new members will be appointed” but still

and what actually happened to eve? did she die? she was shot too so did she bleed out? did she go hunting for villanelle’s body? did she find the person responsible and kill them? why did eve’s story get to be so open ended but villanelle’s was instantly over?

we had some of the best villanelle and eve character development, they actually finally built upon their relationship and got to be themselves with each other (!!!), and it was all for nothing

i’m so sad and annoyed and pissed that they thought that it would all be fine because they could just throw a bunch of queers into the season to make everything okay

well it’s not okay and i’m imagining the ending differently in my mind

#in my opinion they both got shot multiple times and held onto each other as they drown #i can’t get over that ending like wtf #time to start rewatching it and cry all over again #killing eve #killing eve spoilers #hello losers

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kenmarlenn · 2 years

Note

For prompts: hmm maybe wilford meeting Celci

Dark wasn’t good at greeting new additions to the mindscape.

And new additions who weren’t even Mark’s egos, who were just a part of the Actor’s stories, well… Darkiplier was barely tolerating the Invincible II parked in the middle of the mindscape, and he wasn’t about to go play nice with those inside.

So, naturally, he had sent Wilford instead.

He was, technically, the ego who knew the most about the ship - sure, he was only on board briefly, and really hadn’t intended to be there, but Dark reluctantly agreed that if anyone was going to greet newly minted egos, it should be someone, technically, from the same ‘story’ as them.

It was an impressive ship, to be sure. When the Actor had started his whole ‘space adventure,’ every ego sensitive to the mindscape felt it stretch to accommodate the city-sized vessel. But no one had exited, not yet, despite the indication that there should be thousands on board. And Wilford was interested in why - surely, the ship’s ever curious Captain would have ventured out?

It took a while to find a proper entrance. Even then, it was a couple hundred feet off the ground and without the scaffolding usually present when a spaceship was docked. Of course, that wasn’t a problem for Wilford, who simply floated up to the docking bay door (he couldn’t do it all the time, only when it was funny, or convenient) and knocked.

Nobody answered for a long time, which Wilford thought was rude. He tapped his foot in the air impatiently, then he knocked again, slightly louder. Almost instantly, as if someone had been waiting to hear the noise again, he heard the clanks and whirrs of machines starting up, and the grinding of metal as the docking bay doors slid open.

He allowed them to open enough to allow entry before stepping aboard, already putting on a bright smile despite seeing no one to greet him. “Hello there~” he drawled to the empty room, “my name is Wilford Warfstache, and I–” The whirr of an electric weapon powering up suddenly cut him off, and he felt a spot of heat by his right cheek.

“Don’t move,” his welcoming party warned. Not wanting to turn and stare into what was likely a laser weapon of some sort, Warfstache simply glanced to the side. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted bright blue hair and some kind of fur lining.

“Well,” Wilford said, recovering quickly, “not the first time a beautiful stranger greeted me with a gun.”

“Who are you?” they hissed, ignoring his flattery entirely. They began to move to face him, their futuristic gun still pointed at his head. “Where are we, and why doesn’t any of this make sense?”

“I’m afraid those are loaded questions,” Wilford grinned. His new friend was almost completely facing him, and he craned his neck to see around their fluffy hood. “But I already answered the first one. So I’ll turn it around. You are…?”

The radio was playing swing, and she was dancing. It was one of those nights where they were all enjoying each others’ company, the four of them. The realization hit him when he saw her face. It wasn’t a romantic slow dance or any such thing; she wasn’t even dancing with him, her hand was linked with Mark’s at the moment, but he looked up at her face, flushed from the dancing and the drinking and the company and he knew right then and there. She was –

“Beautiful,” Wilford finished aloud, and pink the same color as his mustache and hair flooded his face for a moment. He had not meant to say that. This time. He had seen her face and just… reacted. Now, she simply looked at him from the depths of her hood, looking both confused and guarded. God, she looked like Celine. And that was not a thought he wanted to dwell on for too long, so he switched gears and snapped his fingers. “Ah! You’re a Pam ego.”

“I’m a what?” The gun lowered a tad bit.

“Pam ego,” Wilford repeated slowly. He clapped his hands together, now completely disregarding the woman’s instruction not to move. “Oh, Pamick Attack will finally have a friend! Perhaps there will be a mindscape for you now that there are two of you, but you never know.”

“What are you talking about?” The woman said, her voice raising a pitch. Wilford is reminded of Abe for a moment. “Why do you look like our engineer? Where is the Captain? Where are the rest of the crew and the colonists? What the f*ck?!”

“Welcome to the mindscape,” Warfstache sighs and points deeper into the ship. “Have anywhere we could… sit down and talk?”

#ken writes

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worldserasingandcreatinginmymind · 3 years

Text

Unfaithful | Part Five

Series Summary: After dreaming of your perfect wedding since you were a little girl the big day is almost here. But after meeting the priest you start to question your relationship.

Pairing: Hot Priest x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2005

Warnings: angst, lots of angst, drunk priest, bad friend

A/N: Please be warned there will be some themes of toxic/abusive relationship in this series. Also, spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :)

Part Four | Masterlist

- - - - -

I can’t sleep.

Half excited for my hen party, and half nervous for the talk I know I need to have with the priest.

I spend hours lying awake imagining how the conversation will go, all the possible outcomes. I must of drifted off some time in the early hours because I'm awakened at 9am by a text from Daniel:

‘You looked so peaceful when I left for work I didn’t want to disturb you. But I just realised that since I’m going straight out with the boys for my stag do later, the next time we see each other I’ll be in my suit and you’ll be in your dress walking down the aisle to me. I can’t wait. Enjoy the fundraiser and have and wonderful hen party tonight. I love you Mrs Davison xxx’

The text makes me smile, until I read the last sentence. ‘Mrs Davison’ send a panic rushing through me. This suddenly all feels very real. I’m getting married tomorrow. I take a deep breath. It’s fine. I'm fine. This is just pre-wedding nerves. Completely normal.

I take another deep breath and get out of bed.

— — — —

“Ah Y/N! You’re here” Pam greets me at the church doors and swiftly ushers me around the side of the building towards the church garden where the fundraiser has already started “We’ve got an emergency”

“What do you mean?” I reply as she leads me through crowds of people till we reach a table lined with various numbered prizes.

“Ruth was supposed to be running the raffle but she’s just called to say she can’t make it, ate something bad she thinks and now she can’t stop throwing up.”

I grimace slightly at the story but mostly I’m just wondering what any of this has to do with me…

“So if you wouldn’t mind taking over and running it for us that would be wonderful. Tickets are a pound each. Thank you!”

Before I can say anything she’s gone, rushing off to check the youth band are ready for their performance. I stand bewildered for a moment, looking around at the crowds until I spot the priest who is currently admiring cupcakes at the bakery stand and laughing about something. Suddenly he turns and locks eyes with me. His face drops, he stares at me like a deer in headlights. I give him a small smile, which he doesn’t return. My heart hurts.

“Excuse me, how much is a ticket?” Someone asks, forcing me to turn my attention away

“One pound”

“Can I get five please”

By the time I complete the transaction and look back to the bakery stand the priest is gone. I scan the crowd again, but there’s no sign of him.

An hour later I still don't know where he is. What I do know is I really need the loo. I ask the person on the stall next to me to watch the table while I head inside in search of the toilets, but when I enter the building I bump into someone.

It’s him.

“What are you doing here?” He asks

“Just trying to find the ladies room”

“I mean here, at this stupid event”

“Pam didn’t really give me a choice” I explain and he just looks irritated “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I wasn’t welcome”

“I just wasn’t expecting to see you here today”

“Well here I am” I say dryly and there’s an awkward silence. I take a deep breath before I speak again “I actually wanted to talk to you… about what happened-”

“Nothing happened. We agreed”

“But it did happen, Father, we need to talk about it”

“Oh, fuck you calling me Father like it doesn’t turn you on just to say it”

My mouth drops open, dumbfounded by his comment. I shake my head slightly as I try and think of something to say.

“I know what you’ve been doing” he continues

“Please, enlighten me because I have no idea what you're talking about!”

“Playing the sweet, innocent girl. Making me like you, fall for you. Making me think that you needed saving from the douchebag boyfriend… Was any of it real? Was anything you said actually true?”

“I never lied to you” I almost whisper as he gets really close to my face, moving my hair off my cheek to study what’s left of the burn scars.

“Did he ever really hurt you? Or did you just make that up so I’d feel sorry for you”

“Fuck you!” I say through gritted teeth as I start to walk away, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. I stop and look back at him “You’re the one who told me you loved me, remember? That was you! If you regret it, that’s fine. There’s no need to be such a dick about it”

I turn and leave again, his final words repeating through my head as I walk away.

As I walk home I can’t stop the tears from coming as I replay the conversation in my head over and over again. Why is he being like this? How can he be so loving to me one day and so nasty a few days later? What changed?

I get home and go straight to bed. I wrap myself up in the duvet and try to push everything out of my mind so I can get in a quick nap before I have to get ready for my hen party. The last thing I feel like doing right now is going out celebrating, but I know there’s no way I could cancel.

Thank God there’s going to be alcohol there.

— — — —

“Bride’s turn! Truth or Dare?”

“Truth” I say happily, finishing off my third glass of wine.

“Okay… if you could have a free pass and choose any celebrity, who would you sleep with?”

The girls start whooping and laughing, but before I can even answer Tiffany cuts in.

“She won’t answer that, she’s far too vanilla”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, slightly offended by her tone.

“Don't start Tiff” Eva rolls her eyes

“I’m not starting anything, I’m just telling the truth. She’s only ever had one boyfriend and she’s marrying him tomorrow. She lost her virginity to him and I bet you anything that they schedule the days in the week when they’ll go to bed and have boring missionary sex. Vanilla! She’s never even kissed another guy…”

Maybe it’s the alcohol in my system or the way she’s talking about me like I’m not here, but I can feel myself getting more and more irritated.

“Actually I have!” I speak up and she laughs.

“A kiss from your dad doesn’t count”

The room falls silent as everyone stops to watch my reaction. I can see from Tiffany’s face she instantly regrets her words. She knows how much I miss my dad, but it’s too late to take it back now.

“Well done Tiff” I hear Eva say as I walk away from the group. I head outside and take a deep breath of the fresh air. Looking up at the stars I find myself thinking of my parents and wishing they were here.

“I’m sorry” Tiffany’s voice makes me jump, I hadn’t realised she’d followed me outside and was now leaning against the wall next to me “that was a low blow, I shouldn’t have said that”

“It doesn’t matter” I mutter quietly

“It does! I should have thought about what I was saying… I just forgot”

“I forget too. So often I pick up my phone to call him and realise he won’t be on the other end. I would give anything for them to be here right now”

“I know, come here” she pulls me in for a hug, squeezing me tightly before leaning away to look me in the face “I’m sorry I called you vanilla”

“Maybe I am. You were right, I’ve only ever been with Daniel. Until this week he was the only man I’d ever kissed!”

“This week?” She pulls away completely and my heart drops as I realise what I’ve just said “You kissed someone? Who?”

“No I- I didn’t mean to say that”

“Its okay, you can tell me. We have been friends forever haven’t we?”

“I guess… but you can’t tell the others!”

“I won’t”

“Promise me Tiff!”

“I promise!”

I take a breath.

“I kissed the priest”

“What priest?” She replies blankly.

“THE Priest! The one who’s doing the wedding tomorrow!”

She stares at me blankly for a moment as she processes what I’ve just told her. I can almost see the cogs turning in her brain and suddenly the penny drops.

“OH MY GOD!”

“I know”

“Y/N!”

“I know!”

“Does Daniel know?”

“Of course not”

“You have to tell him!”

“Are you insane?! He’d go mad!”

“He deserves to know that his so called fiancé has been cheating on him”

“I haven’t been cheating on him, it was just one stupid drunken kiss”

“If it was ‘just a kiss’ why haven’t you told him?”

��Because-” I think about telling her the truth. That if I told him he’d get angry and most likely hurt me. But I don’t. “I just can’t”

“If you don’t, I will”

“No, Tiff please you can’t”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go there now and tell him” she says and stares at me as I silently stare back at her. When she begins to walk away I panic.

“Because he hurts me!” I finally admit, and she looks back at me confused “That’s why I’ve been too scared to tell him”

“No” she shakes her head “No he wouldn’t, he swore he’d never be like his dad”

“And he’s not. He’s not as bad as his father was, he just gets angry and sometimes he takes it out on me.” I explain but she’s still shaking her head in disbelief “a few days ago I had to go to the hospital because he burnt me” I pull the collar of my dress down to expose the burn scars on my neck “this is what’s left of him throwing boiling hot coffee in my face”

She looks from my neck to my face, sadness in her eyes as she processes everything. After a few moments she finally speaks.

“I won’t tell him”

“Thank you!” I breathe a sigh of relief

“But I also won’t be at the wedding tomorrow”

“Tiff, you're my maid of honour! My best friend! I need you”

“I can’t pretend to be happy for you, pretend that I agree with this marriage. I’m sorry”

“Tiff! Tiffany!” I call after her but she continues to walk away, hailing a passing taxi and disappearing into the night.

“Y/N? What happened? Where’s Tiff?” Eva asks, poking her head out the door and looking around.

“She’s gone” I say simply, turning to look at her “Guess I need a new maid of honour”

— — — —

The following morning goes by in a blur. The girls, minus Tiffany, stayed at my house over night while Daniel stayed at his mate’s house. I was awakened by the sounds of the girls running upstairs, screaming excitedly that “today is the day” as they jumped into my bed.

Once they’d calmed down we had all gone downstairs for a light breakfast before the girls began getting ready. Maybe it’s the constant sound of laughing and chatting, or maybe its the slight hangover from the night before but I suddenly feel the need to get out. I excuse myself and head outside to get some air, taking a seat on the front step of my house. I take a few deep breaths and allow my head to drop into my hands, my elbows propped up on my knees. A few seconds later I hear footsteps up the driveway and look up to see the priest.

“Hi” I say, unable to hide the confusion in my voice.

“can we talk?”

Final Chapter

#fleabag #fleabag fanfic #fleabag imagine #fleabag fic #Andrew scott #Andrew Scott priest #Andrew Scott x reader #hot priest #fleabag hot priest #hot priest x reader #fleabag x reader #Moriarty #hot priest fic #hot priest fanfic #hot priest imagine

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jae-daddy · 3 years

Text

Duff (6)

jaebum au series

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight masterlist

pairing: im jaebum x reader genre: angst, smut, cheating, CEO! i guess too now “ plot: you are the duff and guys use you to get close to your best friend, Heather, and turns out Jaebum is no exception. but as time goes on the tension between you and your best friend’s unofficial boyfriend grows a/n: im sorry for posting after so long. i got busy with new year celebrations and then started struggling with a creative blog. not edited. hope y’all enjoy it! <3

“So, how is it working for the hot new Director?” Naina asked, watching you take a bite of the fries on your plate. You narrowed your eyes at her anticipating face, waiting for any drop of new information.

You frowned at her instead, “Naina, you ask me this every time we meet.”

Naina only pouted in reply, before picking up a fry from your plate and popping it into her mouth. Before you could complain, she lifted up a quarter of her wrap and dropped it on your plate, “I only ask because you never know when situations can change. One day your secretary and boss, and the next day, you both are hooking up on his sexy desk.”

“Did you just call his desk sexy?”

“Come on,” Naina blew gaping at you as if you were the one insane. “Have you seen that majestic dark wood slick piece of beauty?”

“Oh my god, the Director’s desk right?” Pam settled next to Naina. Naina gave you a told you so look, and you just rolled your eyes at their antics. You didn’t say anything as the other two ladies drifted into a conversation about how sexy furniture could be.

You would have normally joined them, and told them about the three thousand dollar coffee table at Heather’s apartment. But you couldn’t participate in their conversation. Not when your mind was elsewhere; somewhere so much more interesting and sexier than furniture.

What Naina had said had planted another seed in your garden of fantasies about Jaebum and you.

This time you imagined yourself spread on his dark wood desk. Your bodies holding on to each other, desperately trying to get closer as he fucked into you.

You swallowed, as you popped a fry into your mouth, making you choke. You coughed a few times to avail before your hands reached out to your friends who turned towards you with wide eyes.

God, this was so embarrassing. You were going to die from choking on a piece of fry at the company cafeteria.

“Y/n!” Naina and Pam panicked, jumping in their seats. They held your hand staring at you horrified and lost. You had such idiot friends, you were truly about to meet the devil any second now.

Suddenly, you were pulled up from your seat and arms wrapped around your waist. You felt the person behind you press into your stomach from behind, making you heave. The smell of rose and vanilla enveloped you as you felt softness behind you.

“One more time,” a smooth voice grunted into your ear. You nodded, frantically, before the person pressed once more. The piece stuck in your throat flew out. You fell forward, your arms catching the table in front of you. Arms covered in a grey jacket held you steady as you caught your breath.

You heard claps, and you were so embarrassed.

“Are you okay?” You turned around and your breath got caught in your throat from the beauty in front of you. Her almond-shaped eyes crinkled as she gazed at you with concern.

Her pouty pink lips drew into a straight line before her fingers gently brushed the hair from your face. Your heart skipped a beat at the touch, before you nodded, holding in your breath, “I’m okay. Thank you.”

The goddess in front of you smiled, her short hair brushing her shoulders slightly, “Chew your food properly, doll.”

She shot you a wink and walked away with ease and confidence. You remained standing there, your hand over your pounding heart.

“Wow,” Naina gasped from behind you. You slipped into your seat, seeing their face mirror your awe, “I think I'm in love.”

“Me too,” Pam and you replied.

You walked into the office after two quick knocks for the sake of formality, and to piss of Jaebum.

Jaebum hated it whenever you did something that an employee was supposed to do, especially when no one else was around.

Jaebum’s office was supposed to be empty with just him sitting on the couch, he worked from.

So imagine your surprise when you walked into his office to find Jaebum and the gorgeous woman from the cafeteria tangled into one another.

You noticed how she was slightly perched on the dark wood of the sexy desk your friends had gushed about. You noticed how Jaebum’s hands spread on her back, and how her head dipped into his neck.

“Oh,” was all that left you. You didn’t know if you should walk back out or stand there until they noticed your presence.

Jaebum noticed you immediately and untangled himself from the woman instantly. You bit your cheek to hold in the urge to roll your eyes. He was going to pretend that you didn’t just walk into a moment in case you went back and reported to Heather.

Typical.

All men are trash.

And you knew Jaebum was just like everyone else already. You knew that the moment he decided to jump the boat from you and Heather literally five minutes after meeting you. He was no different to every other sleazy shit head to walk this earth.

The caught look on Jaebum’s face told you couldn’t hide the distaste from your face as your eyes settled on him.

“Hey, it’s you!” Her smooth voice chuckled, “You work for JB?”

“Everyone here does,” you gave her a curt smile back.

She could have saved you from hell but that didn’t excuse whatever her and Jaebum were up to before you walked in.

Your eyes drew back to Jaebum. The top button of his shirt open, his hair a mess and cheeks flushed. Biting your tongue, you tore your gaze away from him and the mess he echoed.

“She’s my assistant, y/n,” Jaebum finally croaked out. His eyes watching you.

You looked at the iPad in your hand instead of the pair in front of you, “You have a meeting with Mr Mark Tuan in twenty minutes, and dinner with Jackson Wang at eight.”

“No mister for Jackson?” the lady rose an eyebrow at you.

You gave her a polite smile, “No.”

She held your gaze for a moment longer, before turning to Jaebum. She let out a sigh as she hugged him once more. Jaebum hugged her back hesitantly this time, aware of your dark eyes watching them.

He patted her back twice and she moved away.

“It was nice seeing you after so long, JB,” she smiled at him. Jaebum smiled back at her this time, nodding in agreement. She patted his shoulder before picking up her bag from the chair next to the desk. “Oh, before I forget, guess who is back in town and wants to get into business with you?”

Jaebum frowned, and you watched the pair, almost sulking from your corner.

Her smile brightened with secrecy that made you listen intently, “Park Jinyoung.”

Your heart stopped.

“Hey y/n!” You blinked back to reality to find Jaebum in front of you. His eyes staring into yours as he rose his brows in question, “You alright?”

The grimace formed on your lips before you could hold it back. You didn’t even know what you were feeling but it wasn’t pleasant.

You felt it towards Jaebum and how he was hugging that girl. Not because of your feelings, but because he was with Heather.

Not that you had feelings for him or anything.

God, this was so confusing. On top of that, he was back in town.

You felt your frown deepen into a scowl as you glared at Jaebum.

You hissed at him, making him jump back slightly, “Get ready for the meeting. I’ve sent you the report for the meeting already.”

He opened his mouth to something, but you cut him off, “With notes, sir.”

You turned and began walking out of his office.

“Y/n,” Jaebum called out, but you ignored him.

Your foot kept tapping against the carpeted floor as you watched the numbers increase on the screen. You hadn't been able to keep still since the moment you heard the news.

Im Jaebum was no help either. All you wanted was to be left alone but he kept on trying to talk to you or kept on sending you to get coffee.

He didn’t take a single sip of those five iced americanos he ordered. All the cups piled on the floor next to the couch he sat on watching you with those dark eyes.

As soon as the clock hit seven-thirty, you called for Jaebum’s driver and rushed out of the office. You didn’t head home, you didn’t even consider going home for a second. Your feet without hesitation led you to Heather’s apartment.

You entered the code, your birthday, and entered the chilly room blasting with the AC high.

“Heather, I need wine and a good movie for crying. You won’t believe what I just- oh MY GOD- AHHHHHHH!” A bloodcurdling scream escaped you, as you fell onto the wall behind you.

When your scream settled as you took in the figure standing in the pink robe belonging to your best friend, you straightened, confused.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You sneered.

“Wow, such a kind greeting for me,” Bambam rolled his eyes, before continuing to sip the glass of orange juice in his hand. You stared at him, your mind puzzled and trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.

“So what’s the tea?” Bambam smacked his lips before licking the droplets of juice remaining on them. He slammed the glass on the white marble, grinning at you. “Why do you need wine and a sad movie? Time of the month?”

“Why- What- How- Pink robe?” You stammered over your words pointing at him. Bambam stood there as if there was nothing weird about this situation. As if standing in nothing but another girl’s pink robe in a stranger’s kitchen was a normal occurrence for him. Your eyes narrowed at him, “Where’s Heather?”

“Y/n!” Heather appeared through her bedroom door. You took in her wet hair and silk robe, your eyes going to Bambam’s also wet hair. You frowned in confusion, and a fire blazed inside of you as an evil thought sprouted somewhere in the back of your mind.

Did they... Are they cheating on Jaebum?

Jaebum’s face from that night at the club invaded your mind. The smile on his face, the look in his eyes as he watched Heather with such softness, “It’s good she gets to live her life how she wants to.”

God. God.

What do you do?

You glared at Heather. Your eyes burned with betrayal from your friend and the anger that spread through your veins as you thought of Jaebum. You couldn’t bear to even imagine the sight of him heartbroken, defeated and cheated. You would rather the world end than see him like that.

“No, y/n!” Heather huffed taking a step towards you. The droplets from her long ember hair darkening the pink silk wrapped around her body. She took a step towards you and you almost took one back. But your feet remained still, as you saw the panic in her eyes, the desperation, “Let me explain.”

“So, what you’re telling me is that he is homeless?” You grunted at a dressed Heather sitting in front of you.

Bambam sat somewhere behind you, snorting, “I’m not homeless. Just low on cash and have no place to go.”

“That is literally homeless,” you turned towards him, giving him a smile.

“Basically,” Heather nodded, ignoring Bambam’s protest in the background. “I’m letting him stay here for a few weeks until his apartment problem is sorted out. I’m living at home anyways, but I came here today because I spilt coffee all over myself.”

“Oh,” you nodded. You weren’t completely convinced. She could’ve gone home, it was just ten minutes away. And why was both of their hair wet from the shower, when there is only one shower in the apartment. Maybe she might have kicked him out of the shower pulling ownership rank.

You had to believe her. There was no other explanation. The alternative was too cruel, and you would rather believe this than consider the dangerous alternative.

And how could you possibly not believe her? You knew Heather would do this in a heartbeat for anyone, she would do so much more then let others stay in her house. She had done the same for you once upon a time, she had done so much more.

She was even willing to buy you a house and you had to talk her out of it.

Yeah, there was no way anything was going on between Heather and Bambam. Whatever she said was the complete and absolute truth, there was no other alternative explanation needed or present.

Heather would never hurt someone else purposefully, she was pure and kind. She was not you.

“How come you’re here?” Heather asked, changing the subject.

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head.

“She's lying,” Bambam butted in. “She came in asking for wine and a movie that will make her cry. Something happened, or she’s on her period.”

Heather turned to you with a grave look, “What’s wrong, babe?”

You glared at Bambam, before turning to Heather. You let out a sigh as you picked your fingernails nervously. Heather instantly took your hands in hers making you meet her concerned green eyes, “What’s wrong?”

You frowned. Your lower lip trembling, “It’s -”

Ding Dong.

You and Heather turned towards the door, and then at Bambam. He let out an exhausted sigh, before he getting up, groaning.

“What am I meant to do? Send them away or- Oh, it's JB,” and without hesitation, he let the dark-haired male in.

Your frown deepened as you glared at the doorway he appeared through. His eyes landed on you right away and stayed on you. You held his gaze, your face darkening into a glare.

His rosy lips parted, his dark eyes filled with desperateness and despair as he held your gaze. It was as if all he saw in the room was you; as if the rest of the people, all disappeared.

It terrified you. It terrified you how this single moment made your heart flip and race. He terrified you.

“Oh good, you’re here Jaebum,” Heather spoke from behind you, and finally, Jaebum looked away from you. But it didn’t stay there, his dark eyes fell back on you, watching you intently.

Was he scared you would tell Heather what you saw in the office?

You scoffed at him, shaking your head as you looked away from him.

“Take Bambam out for a bit,” you heard your best friend’s sweet voice tell her boyfriend.

“I’m not a dog!” Bambam protested. Heather laughed behind you, but Jaebum and you didn’t as much as attempt to smile. Your eyes glittering with fire remained on him before you smirked at him.

You noticed his jaw tightened.

He was so pathetic.

You couldn’t believe you were worried about Heather cheating on him when he was almost dry humping another girl in his office. Well, you didn't see the humping, all you saw was the embrace, but you never know.

You can never know with guys like Im Jaebum, with their bad-news piercing and bad fuck-boy ways.

“Come on, let’s go,” Bambam began dragging Jaebum away, making him look away from you. “Clearly the ladies want us out.”

The door clicked behind them, and you felt your throat dry up.

Heather felt the tension too. She gently placed her fingers under your chin making you meet her gaze, “Now tell me, why do you need a sob night?”

“Heather,” you breathed. Your heart felt as if it would escape out of your chest. Your palms clasped sweatily, as you fisted them in your lap.

Two thoughts bounced around in your head, debating which one do you tell her.

Do you tell her about Im Jaebum who might have cheated on her if she hadn't walked in? Without any proof, without any certainty?

Or do you tell her what you wanted to, what had been bothering you since the afternoon?

“Heather,” her name left you shaky and weak, you gulped, your throat dry, “he’s back, and I might be seeing him around.”

Heather looked at you confused, and you continued, “He wants to get into business with Jaebum, and I'll have to be there.”

“Who, y/n?”

“Park Jinyoung,” you held in your breath.

Rage blazed through her emerald eyes matching the fire of her ember curls. She shot up from her seat, her fists clenched on her sides, “Fuck off if that asshole thinks he can come anywhere near you.”

You snorted, “He isn’t trying to come near me, Heather. He’s trying to do business with Jaebum.”

“I’ll talk to Jaebum to-”

“No.”

“No?”

You shook your head, “No, I can do this.”

Heather looked at you for a long moment.

You leaned into her, letting her engulf you into her arms, “Just let me be sad tonight and get ready for tomorrow.”

“My baby is all grown up,” She kissed your forehead, pulling you closer to her, “I’m so proud of you, but I’m always here for you.”

You nodded, you knew that.

The door of the apartment opened and you slightly turned to find Bambam walk in with four bottles of wine, “Are you guys ready to cry?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help but giggle as he popped one open and offered it to you.

“Fuck yeah!” Heather cheered. You all turned to her, surprised. Heather didn’t talk crude, but tonight she didn't care to act proper. She just rolled her eyes, “Tonight, we are improper human beings.”

Bambam turned to Jaebum who stood a few feet away, “You in?”

His dark eyes travelled to you once again. After a long moment, he nodded, finally, tearing his gaze away from you and to Bambam.

“Good, go get the glasses,” Bambam ordered him laughing. He turned to the front and pulled out the remote, “Notebook, Titanic --”

“One Day,” you say.

They all gasp and stare at you. You just shrug and take a sip of the wine.

“You really chose heartbreak today, huh?” Bambam snickered, pulling up Netflix. “One Day it is. Jaebum get the tissues ready.”

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sooibian · 3 years

Text

IRS and Prejudice

Pairing: CEO!Minseok x fem!employee Reader

Genre / Themes: Fluff!!! Frenemies to (maybe) Lovers? Office AU with some references to ‘The Office’, flirtatious, cat-whisperer, Aries Minseok vs Aries reader!

Description: In which Kim Minseok is nothing like other bosses. Nothing.

A/N: happy birthday to mochi ari! @his-mochi-cheeks 💗

Word count: 2.7k (written in a state of delirium eeeek)

You quickly hit Alt+Tab on the resume that you sat updating for the umpteenth time as the sound of heels click-clacking against the floor grew closer.

“My office,” said your immediate supervisor the moment you looked up at her, a well practised unfazed expression crossing your face. If switching between applications at lighting speed were an Olympic sport, you were certain you’d score nothing less than a gold medal. Yet, somewhere in the back of your mind, you had a niggling doubt about having been caught in the act.

You gave her a slight nod in response, lips stretched into a thin line. Smoothing out the wrinkles in your red and black plaid shirt (the one you wore on most casual Fridays since you could hardly be bothered with your appearance at work; despite the feminist within you, the dull back office team discouraged you from making the effort), you followed her into her office with your best businesslike gait while your mind made up a million excuses for what her keen eyes might have found on your 24-inch screen.

“Sit,” the middle aged woman commanded, resting her hands on her hips. Leaning against her teakwood desk, she crossed her legs at the ankles, pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, and cleared her throat. It’s how she’d fidget when she was on the edge about something.

You imagined your expression if a camera was to pan to you, cinéma vérité. Indulging your curiosity, you shrugged your shoulders with a confused look on .your face

“Everything okay?” You mustered in your best Pam Beesly impression.

Your supervisor let out a deep sigh and answered your question with a more awkward one, "When was the last time you submitted cash reports to the IRS?”

You froze into a still frame.

One of the major reasons you wanted to change jobs was because innumerable responsibilities that were entirely unrelated to your department had been carelessly plonked upon your shoulders. Submitting monthly cash reports to the IRS should have ideally been a task of the receivables department and not shifted onto someone incharge of warranties.

“I - I - ,” you started by trying to justify your negligence before even attempting to answer her question but honestly, you didn’t even want to think about when you last submitted those reports and there was absolutely nothing you could say in your defense.

You’d messed up. Big time.

“Ten months. Ten months is not a small amount in penalties,” she said in her quietest tone as you struggled to fight back angry tears. You’d been with the company for over six years now but it was the first time you’d been accused of laxity. It felt like a punch in the gut.

She turned on her heel to take her seat - movements deliberately slow, allowing you some time to regain your composure. With her eyes on her phone, she leaned back in her chair and said with a sense of finality in her voice, “You know what you have to do.”

Head hung low and eyes lined with tears, you walked out of her office muttering all the things you didn’t say in your defense. The long and short of it was that this duty should’ve never fallen into your lap in the first place. As you paced in the direction of your cubicle (with twenty sets of curious eyes on your back), a pair of hands suddenly gripped your shoulders and a dulcet voice sang, “Careful, Warranties.”

At this point, you were ready to rip your hair out. Looking up you met CEO Minseok Kim’s bright, catlike eyes as he stood at a hair’s breadth distance from you, smelling of expensive cologne - the kind that was equivalent to several months of your salary, and coffee. He always smelled like coffee and in your opinion that was his only redeeming quality.

His handsome face that every woman and man in the office fawned over was a source of your annoyance - you didn’t care for cocksure people at all and he was the uncrowned king of arrogance. He took over the reins of a used car dealership from his father upon his retirement - it was nothing too fancy - yet he enjoyed strutting around the office as if he managed a multinational conglomerate.

It was his younger sister that did the real work. She managed the more important businesses while Minseok had been handed the responsibility of just one company and from your (and the Sales Team Lead Baekhyun's) standpoint, he wasn’t doing a marvellous job at it.

Your Aries energy didn’t permit you to apologize for nearly butting heads with him so you feigned a polite smile and side-stepped to your right and he simultaneously side-stepped to his left, his every little wrong move bolstering your frustration level. It happened again and again and again until he bowed ever so slightly, stretched his arm out and said, “Please,” gesturing for you to leave first, the corners of his mouth curled up in a wide, gummy grin.

What was he so happy about all the time?

“Thanks,” you mumbled and he winked at you in response. You immediately made a mental note to find out if you could report the CEO for improper behaviour. You had a full-blown list that started with his attire - should a CEO be allowed to dress in hoodies, skinny jeans, and comfortable sneakers while the rest of you suffocated in the restraints of formal clothing for four days of the week?

Huffing, you slumped in your chair and texted your aunt informing that you wouldn’t make it to barbecue night and immediately flipped your phone to silent to avoid seeing her colourful messages berating you for the last minute cancellation.

Next, you aggressively typed ‘IRS CASH STATEMENTS’ in big block letters into the sticky notes app as a reminder of the humiliation you experienced today.

***

When you last checked time, it was noon.

The sun had long gone down since then as you tried to wrangle customers’ social security numbers out of the ever-so-reticent-to-share-information receivables department who were all packing up for the day. You were this close to socking them in the jaw but you still maintained a courteous smile and pleaded with them throwing in tonnes of cringey corporate jargon, “Please, I just have three more reports to go and I’d really appreciate your prompt help with the information.”

Suddenly, a familiar cheery voice fell upon your ears, “What’s going on?”

You were surprised to find Minseok still in the office but also extremely grateful for his presence because his single sideway glance at Angela achieved what your five emails and three verbal requests failed to.

Furiously typing away on her keyboard, she said through gritted teeth, “I’ve sent them over.”

Minseok gave you a casual two-finger salute and nearly went skipping back to his ...no, not his but to your immediate supervisor’s now empty, glass-paned office - where you could see him directly and he you - the three walls of your cubicle doing nothing to keep you out of the periphery of his blatant staring and his trademark cheeky grin that lit up his ridiculously handsome face.

Shifting uncomfortably in your seat you returned his smile but not with your eyes. You hated the effect he had on you - making you, a grown woman, blush like a schoolgirl under his self-assured gaze. Minseok was nothing like a CEO - he dressed casually, talked to anyone and everyone like he’s known them forever. He’d come into work regularly after prolonged dry spells only to disappear again. His laidback attitude did no favours to your opinion about him.

To pointedly avoid Minseok you put your head down on your desk on the pretext of catching a little break.

… big mistake.

***

You woke up with a start to the soothing and inviting aroma of... home. Opening your eyes to cinnamon bread drizzled with cream cheese on your desk felt like a fever dream until Minseok rolled his chair forward in your direction and you instinctively backpedaled. Clutching his stomach he broke into a vast roar of laughter while offering you a paper napkin with his other hand.

Brows furrowed, you stared at him quizzically as sleep continued to irritate your eyes and the mark of the ballpoint pen you fell asleep on, niggled at your cheek. Hesitantly, you took the napkin from his hand and dabbed it around your eyes and he shook his head in response, pointing to the annoying curled up corner of his own mouth.

“You were drooling,” he guffawed, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Upon noticing that you immediately grew conscious about your appearance, he waved his hands frantically and added, “It’s no problem… I drool too, haha..in fact it’s ...umm..”

You glowered at him and he instantly looked away allowing you to fix your face as his fingers impatiently drummed away on your desk.

The clock struck 7:53 p.m.

Your last meal had been sometime before noon. Under normal circumstances, you would’ve been grateful for the little snack Minseok had brought you - it was an uncharacteristically thoughtful gesture from someone like him but you’d been expecting your period in a week’s time which made you unusually ravenous.

Lips pursed and head tilted to the side, he handed you a bottle of water which you gulped down within a matter of seconds while steadily growing wary of your ultimate boss’ intentions. But you pivoted your attention to prioritizing. First, you’d wolf down the delicious cinnamon bread and then think about whether you were going to walk out of this office on your own two feet or as a human-skin suit on Minseok’s well defined back.

“Thank you for the snack,” you said to him with a forced smile, “I’ll get back to my reports now.” As you swivelled your chair to face the monitor, his hand hooked at the armrest and he spun you back around towards himself.

“What’s the rush, Warranties?” Resting his chin in his hand, he wondered with a quirked brow and a smile teasing the edges of his plump mouth.

It was not your place to ask what your boss was doing in his own office at 8 p.m. on a Friday night, especially one that hardly ever came in to begin with. He could clock in and out at his own whim and sit wherever he liked even if it meant being an utter inconvenience to someone on a stringent deadline but you took your shot anyway. Doing nothing to mask the sarcasm in your tone, you said to him, “Minseok, if you came into work everyday, you wouldn’t have to stay back so late, you know.”

Unfazed, he responded, “But my schedule doesn’t allow me to come into work everyday.”

Schedule?

You decided not to stretch this conversation longer than necessary, especially not after his ridiculous response. Drawing in a deep breath, you said, “I just have five reports left to finish, Minseok. Maybe we can talk later.”

“I run an organization involved in wildlife rights and care,” he explained anyway, rummaging the pockets of his jeans.

No shit, you scoffed. If only Minseok Kim could get any more predictable. A not-for-profit organization was every rich kids guide...no facade...no scam.. to make it seem like they actually did something.

Handing you a card, he continued, “It requires me to travel extensively - last month I was in a park in South America, working with this one puma, Elsa. She was a cage cat who got so used to the confines that she wouldn’t come out of the cage for walks in the jungle because she didn’t like anyone touching her collar, so we couldn’t attach a rope to walk with her. But, I think I’m somewhat of a genius and a cat-whisperer. Within three to four weeks, we managed to get her out of the cage.”

He pulled his phone out next, brought his chair closer to yours and started swiping through the picture gallery to show you a magnificent puma walking around the park as if she were its reigning queen. He resumed the story proudly, “Now she walks every single day, without a rope around her neck. And she’s very, very loving and affectionate.” His face lit up with awe and admiration for Elsa.

Probably you'd misunderstood Minseok…just a little. His passion about his organization did something to favourably change your opinion about him but that didn't mean you didn't have your immediate supervisor and the IRS to answer to anymore.

"Why are you telling me all this?" You asked, covertly moving closer to your workstation.

"We have a vacant position in Treasury." He answered and you immediately stopped dead in your tracks.

Mouth agape, you exclaimed, "You did not just try to poach me from your own company! Minseok you don't cease to surprise me -"

With a smirk on his face, he gave you finger guns. "That’s always been the goal, Warranties!"

"I still have five-

"Three..you have only three reports left. How stupid do you think I am?”

Caught in a lie, you could do nothing to save face so you simply pivoted your chair only to be forcefully twirled back by his strong arms again.

“Now what?" You asked, letting out a groan.

With his foot on one leg of the chair base, he pushed you back towards your desktop and said with a voice laced heavily with his trademark sass, "Check your inbox first."

Grumbling under your breath, you said something along the lines of ‘what does a CEO do anyway’. You then refreshed your inbox, impatiently waiting for an email of several MBs to load as Minseok watched you with an expression of victory painted across his features.

Your mouth fell open to find perfect to the t cash reports for the last three months which made you instantly regret your snide remarks.

Minseok snapped you out of your reverie with his smooth voice, “I may not know much of what a corporate CEO is supposed to do but I do how to get work done. Angela was more than happy to do this for a ‘team leader’ nameplate on her desk.”

Struggling to hold his compelling gaze, you muttered, “I don’t know how to thank you...”

“But I do!” He quipped.

“Of course, you do,” you sighed.

“Let me join you for barbeque night at your aunt’s..i’m sure they won’t mind you bringing a friend along?”

Before you could begin looking for a bug in your cubicle, he explained, “I caught a preview of her message on your phone while you were happily tucked away in dreamland.”

“You - you - that’s an invasion of privacy!” You lambasted him.

Stifling a yawn, he leaned back in his chair and said casually, “I was bored. Besides, privacy is a myth in today’s day and age...just like democracy, the importance of drinking eight glasses of water a day, the goldfish memory, or the thing about houseflies -”

“Okay, okay! I get it! Privacy is a myth. You - you can join us, I guess,” you interrupted him.

With widened eyes he emphasized, “Unless you don’t want me to -”

No matter how much and how often Minseok irked you, he was a charmer. You knew your aunt and your cousins would love having someone like him join in the get together and it really wouldn’t hurt your reputation to bring your boss, especially one like Minseok, along at a family event. You also couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling in your belly at the prospects of working in an NPO’s treasury department.

“You know that’s not what I meant -” You replied, eyes on the monitor as you double checked the email you’d drafted for your immediate supervisor.

“So you want me to come along?” He asked in his flamboyantly flirtatious tone.

Ignoring him, you hit send only after adding a little smiling emoji. Shutting down your system, you picked up your coat and answered with a genuine smile this time, “I’m driving.”

************

A/N: the story about puma Elsa is real! i’ll link it in one of the rb’s for those interested :)

#exosnet #exowritersnet #exo fanfic #minseok fanfic #xiumin fanfic #xiumin fluff #exo fluff #minseok fluff #exo oneshot #minseok oneshots #xiumin oneshots #xiumin scenario #exo scenarios #exo x reader #minseok x you #exo x read #xiumin x reader #minseok x reader #xiumin x you

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rainy-day-gracie · 4 years

Text

Refuge

Spencer Reid x Reader

Hello! This kinda took a while to write but I’m proud of the final draft :)

Reader is in an abusive relationship and starts an affair with Spencer. (Loosely based on Jim and Pam from The Office)

Warnings: domestic abuse, implied smut, mild language

Just a lot of fluff and angst:))

One look at my face in the office, and Spencer could tell something was wrong. He didn’t ask me right away, but during lunch he pulled me aside gently.

“What’s going on with you?”

I desperately tried to keep tears back. “It’s Landon… he’s drinking again. He hasn’t hit me, but I’m just afraid if he keeps drinking he will. Last night I tried to talk to him about it… he just screamed at me and passed out on the couch.”

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and pulled me into an unexpected hug. “I’m sorry you have to go through that, YFN. I’m always going to be here for you if you want to talk.”

I sniffled into his shoulder. “We’ve been engaged for two years, and he keeps dodging the conversation of setting a wedding date… I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled away to check.

Hey babe I’m sorry about last night. Could we talk about it at dinner later?

Spencer saw my phone and gave me a smile. “See, he wants to work through things. It’ll be okay.”

I smiled back at him and tried not to dwell on the tinge of sadness I saw in his eyes.

A few weeks had passed since my conversation with Spencer, and things with Landon hadn’t gotten any better.

“You bitch! My drinking is my choice! Why do you control everything I do?” The beer bottle smashed against the cabinet near my head, and I flinched away from him.

“Please, stop. You’re scaring me.” Tears bit the corners of my eyes, and Landon calmed down.

“Oh babe, I’m so sorry. Please stay.”

It came to the point where I had no idea what to do, and I was constantly afraid of saying the wrong thing around him.

Spencer could tell, hell, everyone probably could tell. But he didn’t say anything for a while, and I appreciated that.

Every so often we all go to Rossi’s for a nice dinner, and Landon refused to come with me.

“Why do you always choose them over me?” Landon asked as I was getting ready. The classy dark green dress I was wearing hugged my figure, and he grabbed my hips and spun me around to face him. “I just wanna stay in with you. Have a few drinks, spend some time together?”

I pulled away from him and smiled nervously. “I rarely have a night out with the team, I’ll be back before midnight.”

His easy smile faded and he left the bathroom fuming. “You better be.”

The team sat in Rossi’s backyard, laughing and drinking and having a great time. I sat next to Spencer, who spoke on and on about anything and everything.

Emily put her hand on my shoulder, smiling. “You look absolutely gorgeous tonight. Where’s your fiance?”

I tried to not let my smile falter. “Um… he’s not feeling too well.”

Spencer cast me a glance, but didn’t say anything. “We would love to meet him sometime, YFN.” For some reason, his voice sounded almost sad. Maybe it was just in my head.

The night stretched on, and we all went onto the makeshift dance floor Rossi keeps in his backyard. I stayed on the side, watching and laughing as Derek and Penelope broke out some scandalous dance moves. I felt a presence next to me, and Spencer cleared his throat.

“How’s Landon?”

Only constantly drinking, angry and full of hatred. “It’s… rough. At home. Landon’s been having a tough time at work, and feels the need to take the edge off when he gets home. It’s been happening more and more over the past few weeks. But once things settle down at his work it’ll be okay.”

Spencer didn’t look too convinced. “I just want you to be okay. Just… remember you can always talk to me, alright?”

I looked him in the eyes. He was genuinely concerned about my well being, and for some reason that touched me in a way that made my heart flutter. A kind of feeling I haven’t felt in a long time. “Thank you. That really means a lot, Spencer.”

He smiled. That damn beautiful smile. “Um, do you wanna dance?”

I lifted my head, slightly confused. “What?”

Spencer looked out into the crowd of our team, dancing away happily. “Well, everyone is dancing, so maybe we should too?”

I smiled shyly. “Yeah, sure. Let’s dance.”

The tune turned into a slower song, and Spencer rested a hand on my waist and held my hand against his chest. I placed my other hand on his shoulder, and rested my head against his heartbeat. We swayed softly, and I timed my steps to the beat of his heart. I could feel him smiling as he looked down by my shoulder.

“What’re you smiling about, Spencer?” I asked softly.

“You look beautiful. You always look beautiful.”

I smiled to myself, and couldn’t help the thought that came to me.

I can’t remember the last time Landon said I looked beautiful.

Landon was going to be pissed. I pulled into our driveway just before 2 AM, and I had called him at 11 to let him know I was going to be late.

My heart dropped to my stomach when I saw him, hammered and fuming, sitting at our kitchen table. He didn’t say a word as he slammed his beer bottle on the ground and shoved me into the closed front door.

“Do I mean nothing to you! I deserve better than a lying bitch that blows me off for her coworkers!”

His nose was touching mine and the scent of alcohol on his breath was nearly suffocating. “Landon, get off me so we can talk about this!”

“Oh, now you wanna talk? You didn’t wanna talk when you called me to say that you would be late!” His rough hands gripped my shoulders, and after a moment he slammed his knuckles against my cheek. I shrieked as he punched me in the stomach and kicked me to the ground while I was off balance.

I couldn’t remember the number of times he kicked me, but the first chance I got, I was running into my car and started driving.

After a while, I ended up at Spencer’s apartment. I knocked on the door weakly, and he answered in his PJs, looking very confused. “YFN…” he trailed off when he saw my swollen eye.

He let me change out of my dress and gave me one of his CalTech sweatshirts and old sweatpants. When I came out of the bathroom I saw that he had a bag of ice sitting on his kitchen counter next to a bowl of ice cream. Spencer was looking through his many shelves of books, seeming to search for one.

“What are you doing?” My voice was soft, like I was afraid Landon would hear if I spoke too loud.

“One time you mentioned that you liked Harry Potter, and I know I have it on my shelf somewhere… Aha!” He walked over to me with a very worn copy of the first Harry Potter book in his hand. A tear fell down my cheek and I smiled up at him, and he blushed. “Reading always helps me escape.”

“Thank you.” My lip quivered, and more tears fell down my cheeks. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Spencer.”

At that moment, he looked so sweet and loving. The complete opposite of Landon. Messy brown hair, a cut glass jawline, and the kindest eyes I’ve ever seen.

I kissed him. It was quick, and impulsive, and stupid.

But it felt good.

When I pulled away, Spencer seemed to be in a daze. I immediately tried to backtrack. “I’m so sorry, I don’t-’’

When he kissed me again, it didn’t feel stupid anymore. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and his hands moved to my ribs, which had already started to bruise. When I whimpered, he pulled away instantly.

He took a step back, looking at me questioningly. “I thought he just hit you. What else did he do?”

I gulped. “He shoved me into the wall and knocked me down. Um, he kicked me… a lot.”

Spencer looked sad, but there was something else. He was angry, angry that someone hurt me. “Are you really going to marry him?”

My answer came to my lips and didn’t even have to think. “No.”

Spencer just looked at me, extremely relieved. “Good.”

He kissed me again, with a hunger I had never seen from him before. I realized I was kissing him with the same hunger, like I had been deprived of a needed sustenance.

In that moment, I realized that I wasn’t kissing him because Landon hit me. I was kissing him because I love Spencer more than I ever loved Landon. Spencer knew me better than anyone, he knew my fears, he knew my strengths, he knew the big things and the little things. And I knew the same things about him.

“Do you want to-”

“Yes.” I answered without hesitation.

Spencer Reid was my refuge.

I didn’t go back home after that.

The next few days at work were quiet and relatively uneventful. I had decided to let Landon cool off before going to break off the engagement.

What I didn’t think would happen was him walking into the BAU with a gun and a temper.

The second he pulled the gun out, the team immediately aimed every weapon we had at him.

“YFN! You’re coming with me, let’s go!” He didn’t raise the gun in his hand, so we had no reason to shoot… yet.

Spencer answered before I did. “No she’s not. She’s never going home with you again, Landon.”

Landon glared at Spencer. “What do you know, you son of a bitch?”

Spencer’s lips curled ever so slightly, a devilish look coming to him. “Where do you think she would go all those lonely nights you were drunk?”

I saw what he was doing, and I hated him for it. Spencer was taking Landon’s attention off of me, trying to get Landon to point the gun at him. I shot Spencer a warning look, but he didn’t pay attention.

A look of angry confusion crossed Landon’s face. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Spencer huffed a laugh, never once lowering his weapon. “She told me all about your inability to perform. I thought I would show her… in my kitchen, in my car, in my bed.”

None of this was true, at least not the kitchen or car part, but I couldn’t help but admire Spencer for putting himself on the line. At the same time I was terrified of what would happen if Landon raised that gun.

Landon was fuming, his face turning red. “You shut up!”

Spencer continued, a hint of a smile on his face. “She told me she’s never screamed so loud for anyone else.”

“I said shut up!” Landon raised the gun ever so slightly, and I didn’t hesitate to put a bullet in his shoulder. Morgan cuffed the pathetic excuse of a man cussing and shouting on the floor of the BAU.

Spencer’s arms came and wrapped around my shoulders, and I hugged him back in a daze.

“Holy shit.”

Spencer laughed into my shoulder. “I know. You’re okay.”

I pulled away and cupped his cheeks with my hands. “Thank you.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “For what? I was just trying to protect you.”

I smiled, tears in my eyes. “Thank you for always being my refuge, Spencer.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #criminal minds imagine

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noladyme · 3 years

Text

My Only Sunshine - Chapter 4

Liv is as human as they come – faults and all. After a dark experience in her past, she is determined to live life on her own terms, and never let anyone claim her as theirs again. This becomes an issue, when she meets a 1000-yearold vampire, who is dead-set on claiming her as his own.

CHAPTER 3

I had the driver take me to Reunion Tower; not wanting to go back to the hotel just yet. Clutching the package in my arms, I stood for a long time, looking at the panoramic view of Dallas. It was beautiful, but I couldn’t appreciate it; being too rattled from my encounter with Thomas. He didn’t remember me, and yet he’d sent me the picture of myself dancing; and the one of me and Sam talking. Or had he? I was confused, and afraid.

After I watched the sun set over the city, my phone rang; and I picked up the call. “Hi. You’re late”, I heard Pam’s bored voice. “Oh… right. I’m sorry”, I said. “Fråga henne var I helvete hon är!”, Eric thundered in the background. “I’m supposed to ask where in the hell you are…”, Pam said. “I’m on my way back”, I said. “I’ll be there in a few. I have the package”. “Är hon I säkerhet?”, Eric said. “You could ask her yourself…”, Pam said. Someone threw something made of glass. “You should probably hurry up… Before we have to pay for this place to be renovated”, Pam said. “I’m on my way”, I said, and hung up.

I told the driver to hurry back to the hotel, and almost ran into the suite. A maid was sweeping up some broken glass from the floor, and a recliner was almost torn in half. Pam was reading yet another magazine on the couch. I had been right about Erics comfort about his own nakedness, as he stormed into the living room – lips drawn back in a snarl – without even closing his robe before Pam or anyone else might see him. It was only when the maids jaw dropped, that he finally decided to cover himself up. He was holding the torn-up dress I’d been wearing the night before, and threw it on the coffee table. “Goddammit, Eric. That was couture!”, Pam said. “Please tell me the boots are ok”. “Get out”, Eric said to the maid. “Sir, I just need to…”. “I said, get the fuck out!”, he growled. The woman almost ran out of the room. “Great, now I have to go out for breakfast”, Pam said.

Eric walked up close to me; staring me down. “Where the fuck have you been?”, he said. I moved around him, and put the package on the table. “I went to see that photographer, like you asked me to”, I said quietly. A V-amped psychopath, who would have probably hurt me, if he hadn’t been glamoured to forget me. “You should have been back hours ago!”. I clenched my jaw, trying to keep from screaming at him. “What the fuck do you care? You only just rose”. Pam raised a brow at me; and I almost offered her some popcorn with her show.

Cherishing my life more than that, I instead headed towards my room. Eric stormed after me; and took a firm hold of my arm. I instantly froze in place. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry”, I breathed, not daring to meet Eric’s eyes. He let go, and seconds later, I found myself seated on the edge of the bed, with the vampire kneeling in front of me. “What happened?”, he asked. “Nothing… Nothing happened”, I said. I wasn’t lying – nothing had happened. Thomas hadn’t touched me; not in the way I’d feared he would if he ever saw me again. “Pam, go get ready. Take the gift, and make it more presentable”, Eric said almost inaudibly. I heard the door to the suite close behind Pam as she left.

I was shaking in front of Eric, and he brushed his knuckles down my cheek. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me”, he said. “I would never hurt you”. “I know…”, I whispered. “Do you?”, he asked. I didn’t reply. “Liv; look at me”. I raised my eyes, and met his. They were gentle, even warm. “I do… It’s just this place… those vampires last night”. This time, I was lying; a little. Eric raised his brows at me. “That’s why I don’t want you alone after sunset”, he said. “I can’t protect you when I don’t know where you are”. “I know”, I nodded, and looked down again. “And I should have been back before sunset. It’s what you’re paying me for”.

He put a finger under my chin, and made me look up at him. “Did you think I was angry because of the job?”, he asked. “I don’t know, what I think… Why didn’t you just get someone else to come to Dallas with you?”. My voice was sharp; surprising even myself. “Don’t give me some story about meetings and stuff; I don’t even know what kind of information I’m supposed to pass on to you”. “You know why”, Eric said. “So… we could have sex; and you could get over your thing for me…”, I almost whispered. He frowned at me. “When I realized you were gone, after I rose…”. He clenched his jaw. “Yeah, I saw that chair in there”, I muttered. “I don’t do that… I don’t lose control”, Eric said. “But I did, because of you".

I put a tentative hand on his shoulder. Eric leaned closer to me, and kissed me. I put my arms around his neck, and he pulled me of the bed; onto his lap, so I was straddling him. I whimpered softly, when he suckled at my lover lip, and slid his hand down to my butt; squeezing it. “If we had enough time, I would fuck you on the floor right now”, Eric said against my lips. His robe had opened; and looking down, his erection was telling me that he was being truthful. “Later?”, I asked hopefully. “Greedy…”, Eric chuckled. I blushed, and turned my face away. “No, I like it”, he assured me; and kissed my neck near the fang-marks form the night before.

I pulled back slightly. “Eric… Could you make them go away?”, I asked. He set me back on the bed, and got up to stand; removing his robe, and throwing it into a corner, before walking back towards his own room. “Yes, but I won’t”, he said. “It’s better that you have the marks tonight. There will be even more vampires we must convince of you being mine…”. He turned around facing me in all his glory. “Unless, you changed your mind…”, he said, raising a brow at me. “I didn’t”, I assured him. He grunted, and rolled his eyes; before continuing into his room. “The red dress”, he said, as he walked away. “Oh, and we’re going to talk about whatever it is Sugar and Spice means. You didn’t think I’d forget, did you?”.

“Fuck…”, I muttered to myself.

---

“You were a stripper?”, Pam said. “I knew you had at least one redeeming quality”.

We were seated in a sedan again; on our way to Godrics house, where the opening ceremony of the conference would be held. Eric had more or less been glued to my side, after I stepped out of the bathroom wearing the dress, he’d chosen for me. My chest was pushed up by the tight fabric, and he’d looked hungry in more than one way, when he saw me. Now, his face was pointed forwards as I sat next to him in the limo. I didn’t know if he was pissed or didn’t care, now that I had told him and Pam about my former job. His face gave nothing away.

“I didn’t strip…”, I said. “Wasn’t really a reason to; I was already wearing so little”. “So, you just danced in your underwear?”, Pam asked. “Yeah… Was good at it, too”. I wasn’t going to make some stupid Viking make me feel bad about a job I had enjoyed. At least up until the part where I had to drop everything, and run away. “How are you with a pole?”, Pan said. “Enough”, Eric said. “We’re here”.

The limo stopped in front of a beautiful modern house, and Eric stepped out first; giving both Pam and I a hand to exit the car. I was once again in a pair of ridiculously high heels, and finding it difficult to walk behind my vampire companions; but knew that we were in business mode, and I needed to know my place as a lowly human. I wasn’t supposed to complain; I should be honored to even be there. I was carrying a cloth wrapped package – the item I’d picked up from Thomas’ studio. Taking the lead of our little parade, Eric nodded at the vampire guarding the door; and we entered the large room – without me falling over in the process.

Stan seemed to hold court in a corner, surrounded by vampires and a few humans. His meal from the night before had been lent out to another vamp, who was snacking from her wrist on a large white sofa. Isabel was nearby, looking in Stan's direction, while conversing with Carl – a worried expression on her face.

Eric stopped at the end of a line, going up to a large double door. I went to stand behind him and Pam, but he reached back to grab my arm, and tug me forward; so that I stood next to him. “Do you remember the rules?”, he asked. “Don’t speak unless spoken to. Keep my head down. Don’t attract attention”, I muttered. “You’re going to have trouble with that last part”, he said. “You look delicious in that dress”. He looked down at me. “I’ll take the blame for that”, he said, smiling slightly. So, he wasn’t pissed.

After waiting for what seemed like forever – especially in uncomfortable shoes – it was our turn to face our host. The double doors opened, and we stepped into an office. Godric was seated in a recliner, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Eric kneeled in front of his maker; but as Pam didn’t follow, I thought I didn’t need to either. I was only furniture, after all.

“It is good to see you again”, Godric said; and put his hand on Erics head. “As is custom, I have brought you a gift”, Eric said, and got up to stand. I looked at the large desk, and saw a spread of items – ranging from jewelry, to an ancient looking sword, to what looked like a solid gold cowboy boot. Eric turned to look at me, letting me know to hand over the package.

I stepped forward, and handed Godric the bundle, making sure to keep my eyes down. Godric placed his cool hand on top of mine, and I raised my eyes to see that his were trailing my neck. He looked at me, and smiled almost sadly. “Thank you”, he said. “Eric. You’ve tasted”. “I have”, Eric said. “She is… like nothing I have tasted before”. “I’m not a fucking juice-box. Stop talking about me like that!”, I hissed.

Pam’s jaw dropped, and Eric looked impossibly paler than before. “Liv…!”, Eric said below his breath. “Stay quiet”. Godric smiled broadly. “You’re the first human who’s dared to speak out loud in my presence tonight”, he said. “That is the best gift so far”. Eric looked down at the floor; and Godric got an expression, like a parent in front of a disappointed child. “But, I am sure I will be glad for this as well”, he said, and began unwrapping the velvet cloth from around the gift.

Inside was a black wooden frame, surrounding a photograph, of three figures. I looked over it quickly, recognizing two of the people photographed. Eric and Godric. The third was a woman.

“1839, Cormeilles-en-Parisis”, Eric said. “The last time…”. “The last time we were all together”, Godric said. “Louis Daguerre captured the moment, before Nora glamoured him to forget”. Eric smiled softly. “She had to. We almost drained his assistant”. “He lived”, Godric said. He looked up at Eric. “It is a good memory, Eric. Thank you”. Eric nodded with what verged on a warm smile.

The door opened, and Isabel stepped inside. “Godric, 13 is waiting”, she said. “And we all know what happens when Rose is kept waiting too long”, Godric almost sighed. “Eric, I will have need for your human at the ceremony". Eric frowned for a moment. “Yes, Godric”.

We left the room quickly, and once again I kept behind Eric and Pam. We went outside into the yard, where a platform had been raised on the middle of the lawn. Strange music – like classical techno – came from some speakers, and vampires were mingling, having quiet conversations. “What was that about?", I asked. Eric gave me a look out the corner of his eyes. “I’m not sure", he muttered; seemingly very unhappy about that fact. I wasn’t just unhappy. I was afraid. I didn’t know what Godric wanted from me, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. “He has need for me? What am I supposed to do?”. “I don’t know!”, he thundered. “But you will be fine… I’m sure of it”. I wasn’t.

All the attending sheriffs and their companions gathered on the lawn; and as my heels were sinking into the ground below me, Eric put an arm around my waist to keep me standing. “Maybe you should have gone barefoot”, he said quietly. “Dick”, I muttered. “Later”, Eric promised, making tingles run down my spine.

“Welcome vampire-sheriffs of the Americas”, Isabel said, having gotten on the platform accompanied by Stan and Godric. I guessed Isabel was some sort of deputy-sheriff; I didn’t know too much about vampire politics. “Before we start the ceremony, let me go over a few of the agreed upon statutes for our convention”. The strict-looking female vampire raised her hand, but Isabel halted her. “Rose, your objections have already been noted; and the suggested changes from Area 13 will be voted on at the appropriate time”. “She wasn’t at the party last night”, I whispered. “Because she’s a boring cunt”, Pam said. “Now shut up”.

Isabel continued. “Feeding on willing humans will be allowed, outside meetings. Sheriff Godric encourages you all to keep it in private – or at least away from humans not attending the conference. Only TruBlood will be served during meetings, for those who cannot wait until after… Claimed humans are off limits, unless their masters allow it, and the human consents…”. Eric gazed towards me, and shook his head slightly. I was off limits to anyone but him. “There will be no deaths at this convention, be they human or true deaths for vampires… Any agreements made between districts will be shared at the end of the convention”. “Fat chance”, Pam scoffed, while Eric simply raised a disbelieving brow. “These are the main points of our agreed upon statutes. The rest are in your welcome packages”, Isabel finished. “Godric will now lead the opening ceremony”.

Godric stepped forwards with a solemn expression. “Brothers and sisters – and humans”, he said. Some of the vampires sneered at his addition. “We are convened to share and learn from each other. Under our kings and queens – and under the Authority – we are to lead and guide the vampires in our areas, keeping peace and assuring prosperity; especially in our relation to the human world”. Another murmur went through the crowd. “As this is election year, this is a good a time as any for new beginnings”. “What the fuck is he doing, Eric?”, Pam whispered. “Is he trying to get killed?”. “Not now”, Eric said. “Custom is that we open the conference, by the host toasting in blood from a chosen human; who kneels at the sheriff’s feet… Eric?”.

Eric tensed up next to me. “Godric, no…”, he said almost inaudibly. “För fram din människa”, Godric said, and looked at me. I swallowed hard. “What’s happening?”, I croaked. Eric looked at me defeatedly. “Godric has chosen you to feed from”, he said. My eyes widened in fear. “He can’t do that, I’m supposed to be yours!”, I said. “I must do as he asks…”, Eric said; and with a firm grip around my arm, he led me forwards. “You’ll be fine”. “I don’t want to!”, I said. “What the hell happened to consent?”. “Do us both a favor, and shut the fuck up”, Eric said. “Just trust him”.

Eric lifted me onto the platform, as if I weighed no more than a small child; and I was now stood in front of the ancient sheriff of Area 9. Eric stepped over to stand next to Isabel and Stan. Godrics eyes were warm, and he gave me a slight smile, before turning to the crowd again. “I’ve decided to forego custom”, he said. “Peace between vampires and mankind should not be discussed, after a ceremony based on degradation of humans. We were once all humans; though some of us may have forgotten that”. I heard Stan curse below his breath, and gazing across the crowd I saw a wide range of expressions on the present vampires faces. Some where smiling, respectful even; while others – too many for my liking – looked angry, and even afraid. Godric looked at me again. “Human, I stand before you in appreciation of your life, your mortality and your bravery for being here; among us who have preyed on you for millennia. As a representative for humankind, I ask for your forgiveness for the blood I and my kind have taken from you without having been given leave to do so. I cannot ask forgiveness for the lives that have been lost; for that there can be no clemency…”. An audible gasp went through the crowd, as Godric kneeled in front of me. “I am sorry”.

“What the fuck is this, Godric?”, Stan growled. “This is not what we agreed on”. Godric ignored him. “Will you stand with me, as I proclaim this conference open – not as a lower being; but as an ally?”, he asked me. I gazed towards Eric, who had an unreadable expression on his face. He wasn’t going to tell me what to answer, as I was about to represent all humankind to these vampires “I… will”, I said, my voice shaking. Godric smiled warmly, and got on his feet; taking my hand, and raising it in the air. “I now declare this conference in session”.

The music was turned up, covering the sounds of the disgruntled murmuring among the attendees. Godric let my hand down, and looked at me. “Thank you, Liv”, he said, and nodded for Eric to come take me away. With an arm around my waist, Eric led me off the platform, and into the house again.

---

I was taken back into Godrics office, where the gifts – save the picture Eric had restored – had been removed from. The photograph of Godric, Eric, and the beautiful dark-haired woman, lay on the desk.

My knees were shaking, and Eric led me to sit in the recliner, where Godric had been greeting guests from earlier. Pam closed the doors behind us. “Seriously, Eric. What the fuck?”, she said. “What the hell is he playing at?”. “Stan was right”, Eric said quietly. “Godric is stepping down… he will have to now”. He punched his fist into the desk, making the glass surface shatter. “Fuck!”. “Did I just almost get eaten?”, I asked. “No”, Eric snarled. “Godric had no intention of feeding from you tonight”. Well, he had already had a taste once, I reminded myself. And I’d tasted him.

The double doors slammed open, and Stan stormed in; Godric and Isabel close behind. “I demand that you pull out of the running for another term as sheriff!”, Stan growled. “That display out there was bullshit!”. “It needed to be done”, Godric said. “We have to start showing respect for our human beginnings”. “It was dangerous, Godric”, Isabel said. “You may have lost many supporters”. Godric smiled softly. “Then it is good there are other candidates”, he said, raising a brow at her. Isabel shook her head. “We’ve discussed this. I am not a viable candidate, after what happened with Hugo”, she said. “Damn right, you’re not”, Stan said. “But what you just did out there, leaves me with a fuckload of cleanup once I’m sheriff, if I’m ever going to convince the other areas that Dallas don’t bend to lesser beings. What’s next? We gonna be hooking up with weres now?”. Godric went to sit by his desk. “You both have meetings to attend. Go on”, he said to his underlings. “I’m not going to let this stand”, Stan said, and left the room with vamp-speed. “Master…”, Isabel began. “Please, Isabel… go see to your meeting”. The brunette nodded, and left the room; closing the doors behind her.

The silence in the room was almost deafening, as Eric stared at his maker. I was about to open my mouth, when I saw Pam shaking her head slightly at me. “Hvarför, Godric?”, Eric muttered. “Eric, I am tired”, Godric said. “I want to step down. I don’t want another term”. “You’re the only one able to keep Stan in check”, Eric said. “Without you, it’ll be chaos!”. “I made my stance on our relations to the humans”, his maker responded. “Isabel will continue on in the track I have laid out”. “If she’s voted in!”, Eric said. “Stan is just as likely to win”.

“Don’t the local vampires vote for their own sheriff? Stan doesn’t seem very likeable; who’d want to vote for him?”, I asked. Pam rolled her eyes at my inability to stay quiet. Godric smiled overbearingly at me. “Sheriffs are officially chosen by the vampire Authority, in a popular vote among its chancellors”, he explained. “The sheriffs all speak their mind on each other, in private meetings with the chancellors”, Eric said. “Per custom, the Authority chose the sheriffs based on these conversations – and based on the chancellors’ preferences”. “So… the sheriffs choose each other, and then some higher authority confirms it? Isn’t that nepotism?”, I frowned. Godric’s smile broadened. “It is… and it is how I have remained in power so long”. “The chancellors always have the last word”, Eric muttered.

I saw Godric run his fingertips over the face of the woman on the picture in front of him. “Who is she?”, I asked. He raised his eyes, and looked at me. “That is not necessary for you to know”, Eric said, his voice almost warning me. “She is Eric’s sister”, Godric said, making Eric clench his jaw in anger. “My daughter; chancellor Nora Gainesborough. She has fought for my reelection for the last 70 years”. My eyes widened in realization. “You did what you did, so you wouldn’t have to be sheriff again!”, I said. “You didn’t mean any of what you said”. Godric shook his head. “No, I meant every word”. “You are forcing her hand”, Eric said. “Nora won’t be happy when she hears about this”. “I know it will pain her, but I cannot continue on as sheriff”, Godric said. “This was the only way… And I could make my stance clear”. “You’ve also made your future as a chancellor a complete impossibility”, Eric said.

“Enough, Eric”, Godric said, his voice instantly making Eric cower. “It is done… Now go. I want to speak to the human alone”. Eric looked back at me, and narrowed his eyes. I drew in a short breath, and shook my head – half in fear, half in confusion. “Why?”, Eric asked. “We have things to discuss, which are private”, Godric said. The Viking clenched his jaw, and tried to steady his voice. “You should know that Liv cannot be glamoured”, he said. “If she wants to share what we speak about with you, that is her choice”, Godric replied. “But I trust I don’t have to command you, to not force her to tell you”. “Of course…”, Eric said. “I have a few meetings to attend to”. “I will make sure Liv is safely returned to the hotel”, Godric said. “You can use my secretary, until she returns”. A middle-aged man stepped through the door, and bowed to Godric. Apparently, Godric didn’t see the need for scantily clad young women, when it came to choosing his staff. Eric gave me a last solemn look, before he and Pam disappeared; leaving me alone with the ancient vampire.

Godric got up to stand. “Will you take a walk with me?”, he asked. “Mind if I take off my shoes?”, I replied.

---

The dew on the grass cooled down the beginning blistering on my feet, as I walked through the yard with Godric. Some vampires were in the process of taking down the platform; but they worked so fast, that soon we were alone under the stars.

“I did not think I would ever see you again”, Godric said. “Likewise”, I said. “I need you to know, I never told anyone”. “I knew you wouldn’t”, Godric said. “And yet, as I see you now, you have the same expression of fear on your face, as you had that night. Was my part of our deal not kept up?”. “I… don’t know”, I said. “Thomas has… He’s been sending me messages. Photographs”. “And you’ve seen him again”, Godric said. “Eric’s gift came from him?”. “Eric doesn’t know about what you did… the deal we made”. Godric nodded somberly. “When you saw him… Did he remember you?”, he asked. “He didn’t seem to”, I said. “And he has a woman with him… I think he hurts her. They’re both on V”. If Godric was the kind of vampire that sighed, it was clear he would have. “There was a chance this might have happen”, he said. “The amount of vampire blood in your aggressor’s body that night, may have made him unable to be fully glamoured. Even by me”. “Is that why you couldn’t glamour me as well?”, I asked. “No, I think there is a different reason for that”, he said.

He gave me a look which reminded me of one I’d seen from Eric. “You don’t think I’m human”, I said quietly. “I think you are nothing but…”, Godric smiled. I sighed deeply. “I know you’re not used to talking to humans, but I need you to be little less… unclear”, I said. Godric didn’t reply, seemingly wanting me to explain. “I don’t understand what you mean by me being nothing but. If you know what I am – what it is that makes vampires unable to glamour me – then tell me”. Godric laughed softly. “I’m being perfectly clear. I believe you are as human as you possibly can be”, he said. “I sensed it the moment I smelled your blood. You are pure”. “So, there’s nothing else in me as well?”. “No. Nothing”, he said. “Then, why can’t I be glamoured?”, I asked. “Because of that very reason”, Godric replied. I still didn’t understand his words, but couldn’t think of a way to rephrase my question in a way that would get me a clearer answer.

We walked on for a few minutes. Godric didn’t seem like the type to speak more than necessary, but he seemed willing – even enthused – to speak to me. “You seemed unhappy that Eric gave me his blood”, I said. Godric frowned slightly. “When he did, it was to create a blood-bond with you, wasn’t it?”, he asked. I nodded. “When I gave you mine, it was to heal you. I admit my reason for helping you wasn’t exactly noble; but I wasn’t trying to seduce you”. I instantly blushed. “Eric isn’t really the healing kind, I suppose”, I muttered, and absentmindedly put my fingers to the fang-marks on my neck. “He’s marked you as his, even if you are not”, Godric said, a slight distaste in his voice. “He’s always been…”. “Possessive?”, I said. “Not the word I would use”, Godric smiled. “He doesn’t usually have problem sharing humans as meals or sexual partners. But when he’s set his mind on having something for himself, he is not one to give up”.

We’d come back to the house, and I pulled at some grass with my toes. “I guess he’s had many”, I said; once again without earning a response. “Humans, I mean”. “He’s had a millennium to feed on all the humans he wished; it took me 200 years to teach him how to avoid killing his prey”, Godric said. “But he has not had many he called his own. His sister was one, before she contracted the plague, and Eric brought her to me to be turned”. “Nora…”, I said. “Who was she to him?”. “Sister… lover… Vampire relationships can be many things”, Godric said. I had to keep my jaw from dropping. “You find this… wrong?”. “I… don’t know”, I said. “Your ways are just… very different”. Godric couldn’t help but laugh a little at my statement. “After more than 2000 years being what I am, your ways are also very foreign to me”, he said. “I hope to learn”.

Once we were back in the house, I chewed my lip for a moment, before getting the courage to ask my next question. “You don’t think your glamour on Thomas took?”. I didn’t want to offend the ancient deadly vampire, by calling him impotent as I had Eric. “If it didn’t, we might both have a problem”, Godric said. “What happened that night could turn out to…”. “Bite us both in the ass”, I said. “Pardon the pun”. Godric laughed again. “I understand why Eric has taken a liking to you”, he said. “Speaking of which… I did not only ask for your secrecy for my own sake, but also for his. Both Nora, Eric, and his progeny, Pam, could be in danger from the authority; if it is revealed what I did”. “I understand”, I said. Godric raised his brows at me. “You do?”, he asked disbelievingly. “No”, I admitted. “I don’t really understand your rules or… laws, or whatever”.

I tugged at the hem of my dress, to cover up some. One of the vampires that had stayed behind to clean up after the ceremony, was looking hungrily at my thighs. “I’d think helping me was a good thing, seeing as you’re trying to improve your relationship with humans”. Godric shook his head. “California is what is called a dry state. Biting a human is illegal by your laws there; and heavily frowned upon in our statutes. Though there are those of us who do not believe in following human laws, the official stance on it, is that we are to mainstream, and follow them. To add to that, I gave my ancient blood to a human that has no known value to our community”. I scoffed. “That’s me. No Value Sally”, I muttered. “Can’t even rhyme for shit”.

Godric took me by surprise, by putting a hand on my cheek. Where Eric’s touch was cool, Godric’s was in fact cold; reminding me I hadn’t seen him feed all evening. “You have more value than you can comprehend”, he said. “I admit, that if you didn’t, I might not have helped you that night. I was selfish. Your blood spoke to me – to my memory of different times – and I wanted to taste it. What that man was doing to you, would have killed you; and I would not have had the pleasure”. “You could have just waited until I was dead”, I said. “I do not require much blood to survive”, Godric said, and removed his hand from my cheek. “But what I take, I prefer to be from live, willing donors. I did not wish to make our encounter different. I don’t wish to kill any human”. “What would happen to you, if it came out what happened?”, I asked. “Usually, the vampire that committed the crime would be defanged. In my case – with my age and knowledge of our laws – the punishment would be much more severe; to set an example”. “True death”, I whispered. Godric nodded solemnly.

The vampire who had been admiring my thighs, stepped forwards, and bowed his head to Godric. “Sheriff, your meeting with 16 is in an hour”. Godric nodded. “Liv… Thank you for speaking with me”. I shrugged embarrassedly. “You didn’t really get anything from me. I mostly just asked you questions”. “Your conversation and bluntness has been a gift in itself”, Godric smiled. “Let me walk you out to the car”.

Eric had left behind the sedan for me; probably having flown back to the hotel himself. “Can I ask you one final question?”, I said to Godric, as we stood in front of it in the driveway. He didn’t respond, which I took as a yes. “Why would Eric and Pam be in danger from knowing about what happened? And Nora, if she’s a part of the Authority…?”. Godric frowned slightly. “Eric would be obligated to turn me in to the Authority”, he said. “And he’d feel honor-bound to me to not do so. At one point or another, the truth will come out; and if he is revealed to know of my crime, he’d be sentenced alongside me. He would fight, and he would die. Pamela would go down along-side him… And Nora… Having a criminal maker, could take away her position as chancellor”.

I got into the limo, and gave Godric a final smile. “I’ll stay quiet”, I said. “To protect Eric”, Godric said. I frowned. “Yes… But also, for you”, I said. “You saved my life. I owe you”. “You already paid me back”, Godric smiled. “You let me have your blood”. “Still… Thank you”. Godric nodded in response, and closed the door of the limo.

I sunk down into my seat, and sighed heavily. Eric would want answers when I returned to the hotel.

---

Pam had sent me a message, letting me know to go to a conference room in the hotel. I quickly changed into more conservative clothes – the tight pants and top I’d planned on wearing for the party the night before – and grabbed a quick dinner of a granola-bar from the mini-fridge; before rushing to meet up with her and Eric. They were already seated by a long table; and Eric gave me an approving once over, before nodding for me to stand by the other humans by the wall – one of them being Javier, who’s cheeks were pinker than they’d been the night before. Though disgruntled about being placed in the corner like a piece of furniture – again – at least I’d worn flats this time, and wouldn’t have to worry about falling over where I stood.

Around the table, two other sheriffs and their deputies were sat. One of them was Carl, and the other was a striking woman – striking, mostly due to her overbite. I wondered if her fangs stuck out like her front teeth did, when they were exposed. I must have been very obvious in my speculating – maybe due to my biting my lip – because Pam gazed up at me, and nodded. I stifled a grin.

“If you gentlemen don’t mind, I haven’t eaten all night”, Overbite said, and gestured at a nearby table set up with bottles. “I ordered TruBlood for us all”. The two other human secretaries went over to grab bottles for their bosses, and I followed in their tracks. I let my hand travel over the bottles, looking covertly back at Eric, who nodded slightly, when I got to a bottle of AB negative. Expensive taste, I thought to myself, and grabbed two bottles for him and Pam; before heading back to them, to set them down. I didn’t get a thank you from either vampire, but felt Eric’s hand ghost the back of my thigh, sending shivers down my spine. I went back to stand by the wall.

“Let’s keep this short and sweet, shall we?”, Carl said. “I have some Argentinian twins waiting in my room”. “Well, you were the one to call for this meeting between our areas; why don’t you start it off?”, Overbite said. “Relax, Rose”, Carl said. “It’s nothing as serious as that”. “Then what is it?”, Eric said. Carl sat back in his chair. “My salons”, he said. “I’m thinking of branching out into other states. Specifically, Louisiana and Florida. Humans in your states seem very keen on getting the right… shade”. For a moment, I stood in confusion. “There are enough spas in Florida as it is”, Overbite – or Rose – said. My jaw almost dropped to the floor, when I realized Carl handled in tanning-salons. It struck me as quite counter-productive for a vampire. “We do spray tans as well”, Carl said. “Quite popular among local vampires in California”. Pam seemed intrigued for a moment.

“What’s in it for us?”, Eric said. “Half off on treatments”, Carl smiled. “You could do well to freshen up that pasty Scandinavian hue”. Pam laughed in the sarcastic was only she could. “You want to impose on Eric’s territory without paying for the privilege?”, she said. “Fat chance”. Eric gave Pam a short look, and she sat back in her chair; taking a sip from her bottle of TruBlood. “I take 50 percent, or co-ownership of all vampire businesses in Area 5”, he said. Now I knew where his money came from. “Same for me”, Rose said. Carl shook his head. “That’s out of the question”. “Then this meeting is over”, Eric said, and made to stand.

“20 percent”, Carl said. Eric halted. “40”, he retorted. Carl grimaced. “25…”. Eric smiled overbearingly. “30. And 10 percent ownership”, he said. “Carl, there’s never been a vampire business in Area 5 that has survived its first month; without my support”. “Because you’ve had the buildings burned down”, Rose said, raising a brow at him. Eric shrugged.

Carl clenched his jaw, before slamming his fist into the table. “Fine… But you handle finding locations”, he said. “Already have a few in mind”, Eric smiled. “Send your plans to my email. We’ll be in touch”. So, vampires had email addresses; I realized. “Will do”, Carl said, his expression turning back to smiling. “Rose?”. The third sheriff thought for a moment. “I’m sure we could come to a similar understanding with Florida”, she said. Eric got up to stand, and Pam followed. “Well, then I guess this meeting is adjourned”.

Eric and Pam nodded at the other vampires, but Rose didn’t move. “I’d like to have another word with you Carl. If you don’t mind…”. Carl shrugged. “Of course”, he said. “But we must follow the statutes. Eric, we will need your human as witness; unless you can spare your deputy…?”. “I need Pam with me. We have Area 2 coming up”. The other vampires nodded.

Eric went over to stand in front of me. “I’ll see you in our suite later”, he said; before looking at me meaningfully. “Do your job”. I nodded. Eric was telling me one of the vampires he was leaving me with, would probably try to glamour me to forget what was about to be discussed. I was also about to be alone in a room with completely strange vampires – one of which had made it clear he wouldn’t mind a taste of my blood. Eric seemed to realize this himself, because he seemed reluctant to leave. “I’ll be fine”, I whispered, trying to convince the both of us. He nodded shortly, and grazed my jaw with his knuckles, before following Pam out of the room.

After a few moments, Javier checked the door to see that no one was listening in; and nodded back towards Carl and Rose, before returning to his post by the wall. “This conversation will be off the record”, Rose said. “Of course”, Carl said. “Nothing will leave this room. What can I do for you?”. Rose sat up straight in her chair. “Stan is moving for the sheriffs post in 9”, she said. “That’s no secret…”, Carl said. “And he’ll have it, after that shit Godric pulled tonight”. “Not if Isabel decides to run”, Rose said. “After her human betrayed us like he did? Not likely”, Carl scoffed. “More likely than you think. Her maker is chancellor… And she’ll continue in the track Godric has laid out”.

Both vampires looked intently at each other for a long moment. “You want me to push for Stan to win”, Carl said. “We need as many as possible to do so”, Rose nodded. “If we have enough sheriffs behind Stan, we can force the Authority to make the right choice”. “And Stan is the right choice?”. “Area 9 has sway over the surrounding areas. They follow where 9 leads”, Rose said. “Even Northman listens when Dallas speaks”. Carl chuckled, and shook his head. “Only because Godric is his maker”, he said. “And you still haven’t told me why Stan is the best candidate”.

“This is why!”, Rose growled; grabbed her bottle of TruBlood, and threw it at the wall next to me. The liquid sprayed across the wall, and on me. I made sure not to move; though my knees were shaking. “Ever since we came out into the open among the humans, we have been living like culled animals. We shouldn’t have to take our nourishment from a bottle, when there are cattle walking about; fresh for the reaping!”. Humans were the cattle, I gathered. “That is a dangerous opinion to have in the open”, Carl said. “And feeding from willing humans isn’t illegal”. “Human law should not apply to us!”, Rose snarled. “It’s demeaning to let them consider themselves our equals… When I want to feed, I feed. You don’t ask the cow whether it wants to be butchered!”. There she went with the cattle references again. I was beginning to feel a knot growing in my stomach, and kept my eyes hard on a speck of the spilt TruBlood, on the toe of my shoe.

“You think making Stan a sheriff will make a difference in that matter?”, Carl asked. “He will set the tone for a different relationship with the humans”, Rose said. “And as I said, where Dallas leads…”. “The surrounding areas follow”, Carl said. “That won’t change the stance taken by the Authority on vampire/human relations”. “Fuck the Authority!”.

Carl’s jaw dropped. “Rose… that is treason”. Rose clenched her jaw; a strangely amusing sight, due to her overbite. “What are they good for, anyway? All they do is sit and drum out guidelines and rules they don’t even follow themselves”. She leaned forwards. “Once we’ve gotten Stan elected, I say we create our own set of rules for all of the southern states”. “You’re talking civil war…”, Carl said. The other vampire shrugged. “If it comes to that”.

Carl seemed to shrink in his seat a bit; his flamboyant demeanor no where to be found. “I don’t know if we’re on the same page”, he said. Rose gazed over at Javier. “You can’t be serious… Don’t tell me warm dick is clouding your judgement”, she said. I was finding it harder and harder to keep my composure; I wanted to run screaming from the room. I noticed Javier swallowing hard next to me. “Leave Javi’ out of this”, Carl said. “I wouldn’t dream of touching your pet”.

The two vampires were quiet for another moment, before Rose spoke again. “We have an opportunity to create a new future for our kind. I’m just asking you to stand on the right side of history. You know I’m right; you have always been one to take what you wanted. It’s in our nature”. “We’re not animals”, Carl said. “No, but we could be gods; if we just take what is ours”, Rose said. “I’ll give you some time to think it over, but you should know, the wheels are in motion; whatever happens from the Authorities side. We want to keep this civil, but if they make the wrong choice, we do have a contingency plan. We’re not going to sit idly by, as Isabel drags the south into the mud along with the blood-bags Godric calls allies”. “And if Godric doesn’t step down? If he runs for another term, he will be chosen”, Carl said. “He won’t… even if he does, we have ways to take him down”. “Like what?”.

A smile ghosted Rose’s face. “You know as well as me, that sheriff Godric isn’t as squeaky clean as he pretends to be… He has been breaking a few laws himself”. She knew. She might not know the human Godric had broken the laws for was me, but she knew what he’d done. “We’re past that, Rose…”, Carl said. “Are we?”, she smiled. “Talk to Stan… Let him at least try to convince you”. Carl got up to stand. “I’ll talk to Stan”, he said. “For now, I have another meeting”. Rose nodded, and got up herself. “We will need to glamour Northman’s human. You go on, I’ll take care of it”.

After Carl, his deputy, and Javier left the room, Rose walked over to me. I kept my eyes on the floor, until she was right up in my face. “Look at me”, she said. I let my eyes meet hers. “Liv… isn’t it?”. “Yes”, I said. “Liv… You smell… different”. Her fangs popped out, and as I’d figured, they stuck out along with her front teeth. I bit my tongue too keep from giving away the amusement that was mixing with my fear – a confusing mixture of emotions, honestly. I worked hard to let my eyes go blank. “You just heard two vampires discuss business, didn’t you…?”. “Yes…”. “You heard us talking about how sheriff Rockford is going to set up four new spas across my Area. We only talked about that, weren’t we…?”. “Sheriff Rockford is branching out in Florida”, I said. “And then we toasted in TruBlood, that you served us. But you were clumsy, and dropped a bottle; making it spray all over the room, and on yourself”. “I was clumsy…”, I breathed. “That was all we spoke about”. “Yes…”. Rose patted my cheek. “Good girl. Now run along”.

I left the room as quickly as I could.

#eric northman #eric northman fic #eric northman x oc #eric northman smut #true blood

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