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serotocin38 · 4 years

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TL;DWrite: How to Court a Dumb Human Bean

Mobei-Jun/Shang Qinghua

In which Shang Qinghua is kind of in love with Mobei-Jun, and misunderstands everything. You know, the typical situation. But this time, after a run-in with a strange demon girl, he’s also oblivious to the fact that he suddenly becomes incredibly attractive everyone else. And they all want him.

2,420 words, oblivious SQH, slight pining, courting, misunderstandings, harem potential but no harem, only Moshang

High cheekbones – check. Sharp jawline – check. Piercing gaze – check. Broad shoulders – check. Ridiculous height – check. Graceful air – check. Firm and defined muscles – double check. Very powerful – check, check, and check.

Shang Qinghua sighed to himself, shaking his head ever so slightly as he reluctantly drew his gaze away from his king and went back to the pile of paperwork in front of him.

Mobei-Jun stood across the room, glaring at a group of elders who seemed to have finally cornered him and wanted to get their point across while Mobei-Jun was still willing to entertain them.

Shang Qinghua had no doubt it was to pester him about getting married again. Ever since Luo Binghe basically up and abandoned his newfound seat of power like it was the side chick he accidentally got pregnant, Mobei-Jun had taken over full-time, and as a result, Shang Qinghua found himself with a lot more paperwork to get through.

While he worked his way through several stacks a day, Shang Qinghua silently cursed Cucumber Bro for going into seclusion with his demon husband to live the life of domestic bliss while he was stuck with a desk job! And he did not even get paid for this!

The only plus side of the paperwork was that Shang Qinghua was situated across from Mobei-Jun most of the day, and he could sneak as many glances as his heart desires. And if Mobei-Jun caught him in the act, Shang Qinghua only had to tap his brush against his chin like he was thinking hard.

Take that, Cucumber Bro. You aren’t the only brilliant actor in this world!

“What’s wrong, my king?” Shang Qinghua asked when Mobei-Jun finally stormed away from the elders, and they were alone.

Mobei-Jun sat down on the throne of ice with an angry glower on his face. If it were directed at him, Shang Qinghua would be a blubbering mess of tears begging for his life. He felt a shiver run down his spine.

“Do you want to get married.”

Shang Qinghua blinked, wondering if he mishead. Then, his face flushed bright red. “My- My king? I- This- This servant couldn’t possibly be fit to marry you!”

The glower grew deeper, and now it was definitely directed at Shang Qinghua. “I meant, if you ever plan on getting married to anyone,” Mobei-Jun gritted out slowly.

Shang Qinghua was feeling faint now. Of course that was what Mobei-Jun meant! What the hell was he thinking?! He had obviously been daydreaming way too much!

“This servant wouldn’t dare!” Shang Qinghua squeaked. “My entire life is dedicated to serving my king and no one else!” He wondered if now would be a good time to get on his knees and start blubbering.

Mobei-Jun grunted and turned the glare away. “I don’t have a choice,” he said. “The elders think… that the potential candidates they chose do not interest me.”

Shang Qinghua wiped away his tears and sniffled a few times. “Do they not appeal to my king?”

“…Not interested.”

Shang Qinghua thought about the long list of demon girls from various prestigious bloodlines. “Perhaps my king’s taste is... of another gender?”

Mobei-Jun’s glare turned back to him again.

Shang Qinghua was so dead. He just asked the second most powerful demon in the world if he was gay!

He gulped, his hand trembling and dripping ink all over the page. He quickly set it down and put his hands into his lap to hide them. Mobei-Jun just studied him hard, then looked away again, saying nothing.

…so it was not a ‘no’.

Shang Qinghua cleared his throat. “Should- Should this servant let the elders know? I’m certain that there are many eligible demon males that are fit to be my king’s consort? I- I’ve heard that homosexuality is quite common among demons! I mean, Sha Hualing is-”

“Not. Interested.”

“Eh? But- But my king-” Shang Qinghua was at a loss. He almost threw his hands up in the air and tore at his hair while screaming, “THEN WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU INTO?”

He took a deep breath instead. “Perhaps my king is not interested in anything romantic or, ahem, sexual. In that case-”

“No.”

Shang Qinghua just stared blankly at him. After a few moments of silence, Mobei-Jun stared back at him.

“My king, is there anyone you’ve ever liked before? Anyone at all?”

There was a long silence. “…Yes.”

“Okay! Great!” Shang Qinghua said desperately. “What- What did they look like? Maybe we can find them again, or- or at least find someone fitting those descriptions!”

Mobei-Jun tilted his head to the side a bit, studying Shang Qinghua with narrowed eyes. “Small,” he said slowly. “Helpless. Like a baby bird.”

Shang Qinghua’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “Uh, okay. What- What color was their hair? Their eyes? Male, female? When did you last see them?”

Mobei-Jun’s lips thinned as he continued staring at Shang Qinghua. “I see them every day,” he said slowly.

Shang Qinghua felt his excitement dim slightly. Ah, so it was a current crush. Despite being by his king’s side on a daily basis, Shang Qinghua was not aware of this interest of his.

His smile wavered ever so slightly. “Do- Do they know you… feel this way towards them?”

Mobei-Jun’s eyes narrowed further, boring deep into Shang Qinghua’s soul. “…They’re not very perceptive,” he said gravely.

Despite the dull throbbing of his own heart, Shang Qinghua silently comforted Mobei-Jun. Unrequited love was not a good feeling.

“Then my king just needs to be more bold with his advances!” Shang Qinghua encouraged. “Maybe you just need to tell them you like them!”

Mobei-Jun considered it. “I… like you.”

Shang Qinghua nodded. “Just like that, my king!”

Mobei-Jun’s glare grew deeper. Then, he shook his head. “Doesn’t work.”

Shang Qinghua gave a nervous chuckle. “How would you know if you don’t try, my king? Maybe if you spend more time with them, they’ll eventually catch on.”

“More time?” Mobei-Jun asked under his breath.

“Oh, and helping them out would probably show that you care.”

Mobei-Jun nodded slowly. “I see,” he said. “This… will work?”

Shang Qinghua gave him a weak smile that he hoped was encouraging. “Unless your person is a rock, they’ll certainly realize it.”

“Okay,” Mobei-Jun said. “Then, do you… want me to help-”

“Ah!” Shang Qinghua gasped as an amulet around his neck started growing hot. He quickly pulled it out, the red stone glowing dully in his palm. “This servant is late, my king!” he said. “I need to go pick up your new cloak now!”

He gave a hurried bow before scrambling out of the room, the doors slamming shut behind him.

Mobei-Jun sighed in annoyance. “…He’s a rock.”

~~~

Shang Qinghua was running terribly late. He was supposed to go to a specialty shop to pick up a custom cloak of Mobei-Jun’s.

A few weeks ago, Mobei-Jun had dropped a huge monster in front of his desk, blood still spilling from the fresh wound and staining the furs that served as a carpet in his room.

“This is- This is a Frost Flower Tiger Seal?” Shang Qinghua gawked. “What- What does my king want me to do with it this time?” he asked.

Mobei-Jun had recently taken up the habit of hunting rare demonic monsters with pelts that could sell for a fortune or two. And he never told Shang Qinghua what he wanted him to do with them, except he showed extreme offense to Shang Qinghua’s offer of selling them.

So he had no choice but to take the rare pelts and make them into rugs and coats and scarves.

The Fost Flower Tiger Seal’s slick pelt was extremely soft and completely waterproof. It was naturally a deep blue, with black streaks in it, like a tiger’s fur. So Shang Qinghua sent the pelt to a special clothing shop to have them customize a cloak for Mobei-Jun.

However, on the way, Shang Qinghua ran into a couple of demons who were in the process of dragging a poor human girl out of her hut.

“What a pretty little thing,” one of them leered. “Why don’t you come with us and keep us company?”

“Let me go!” she screamed, kicking and thrashing.

“Hey!” Shang Qinghua shouted, glad he brought his sword. It had been a while since he drew it, and he had never been particularly good at fighting in the first place, and he was definitely rusty. He just hoped the threat would scare away the demons.

The other demon sniggered. “Look, another tiny human,” he said. “Let’s take them both.”

Shang Qinghua swung his sword, the weight throwing him off a little bit. He quickly regained his balance, his heart thumping hard in his chest.

If he called out like last time, would Mobei-Jun show up?

Suddenly, both demons’ eyes were glued to Shang Qinghua’s sword. Then, with a mess of senseless apologies, they dropped the girl and ran off faster than Shang Qinghua could figure out what made them run.

It was only afterwards that Shang Qinghua remembered the tassel tied to the end of his sword with Mobei-Jun’s seal on it. Regardless, he gratefully sheathed his sword and rushed to the girl’s side.

“Hey, you really shouldn’t hang around here alone,” Shang Qinghua said, helping her up with a sigh.

The girl huffed. “I had it covered, you know,” she said. She reached into her sleeve and pulled out three needles, obviously coated with a deadly poison.

“Ah,” Shang Qinghua said.

“Thank you anyway,” she said. She looked him up and down. “What’s a human like you doing in the Demon Realm?”

“I could say the same for you.”

“Not human,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “And I’m a travelling merchant. Anyway, I suppose I should repay you somehow. What do you want?” she asked. “I’ve got strength potions, protection charms, cultivation enhancers.”

She seemed to have found all of Shang Qinghua’s weaknesses with just a glance. Each suggestion felt like a small stab at all his lacking points.

“Heh, no need,” Shang Qinghua said, remembering he was on a tight schedule. “I need to get going.”

The girl tilted her head to the side. “Where are you headed? I have a pill that can prolong your stamina. Most use it for sex purposes, but you can use it to travel too,” she said casually, ignoring the way Shang Qinghua coughed lightly.

“Just west,” he said vaguely. “I really should go.”

Finally, the girl sighed. “Fine, fine. I won’t keep you. Here, take some water, at least. You look like you could use it.”

She disappeared into her hut briefly and came back with a small bottle. “It’s a bottle of Replenishing Water,” she said. “As long as you’re thirsty, it will continue to produce water. And it doesn’t take up much space, so it’s perfect for travel.”

Shang Qinghua glanced at the sun. He took the bottle. “Much thanks,” he said quickly. He left before the girl could try pushing any more of her wares onto him.

The Replenishing Water did seem pretty useful though. Shang Qinghua took several sips from the tiny bottle, but every single time, more cool water poured from it. But if Shang Qinghua just tipped the bottle over dry ground, nothing came out.

He briefly wondered who that girl was exactly. But he did not think on it too much because he managed to catch the store just before closing.

“Wait!” he called as the store owner, an elderly demon lady came out to lock up.

“There you are!” she snapped, shoving the door open again.

Shang Qinghua followed her inside, apologizing over and over again for being so late. She grumbled as she went and grabbed the cloak, all wrapped up and boxed nicely. He reached for the money pouch in his robes when suddenly, the elderly demon lady grabbed his wrist.

“Come here,” she commanded.

“Eh?” Shang Qinghua was pulled downwards roughly. She stared at him with her old eyes. “Is- Is everything alright, Madame?”

Suddenly, the usually sour expression on her face softened. “I’ve never noticed before, but… you look like my late husband!”

“Wh-What? You- You have to be mistaken. Madame, I am merely a human servant for my king! How could I-”

“I’m not mistaken!” she exclaimed. “You look exactly like him!” Suddenly, she rushed forward, and Shang Qinghua stepped back, running out of the shop as quickly as he could. “Husband, come back! Your Gui-er has been waiting for you!”

Shang Qinghua did not look back. He ran for a few miles before he collapsed on the side of the road, absolutely exhausted. The sun had nearly set, and he was still a far way from the palace. He had really hoped he could avoid travelling by sword.

But before anything else, Shang Qinghua spent a few minutes chugging from the bottle of Replenishing Water. He felt much better after sitting for a bit and making sure the demon lady was not chasing him.

By then, it was completely dark and walking was no longer an option.

Still, Shang Qinghua was reluctant about riding his sword. He had not been confident about mounting his sword since rescuing Mobei-Jun and nearly killing both of them with his skills.

“Ah, my king,” Shang Qinghua sighed aloud.

“What is it?”

Shang Qinghua wished he could say he did not scream like a little girl and drop the box holding the new cloak.

“My- My king!” Shang Qinghua gasped, his heart doing a rapid staccato dance in his chest. “What- What are you doing here?”

“You called,” Mobei-Jun said sternly, like it explained everything.

“This- This servant was just heading back.”

“It’s late already,” Mobei-Jun said. He picked up the box and opened it. He took out the Frost Flower Tiger Seal cloak and inspected it.

“Does my king approve?” Shang Qinghua asked nervously.

Mobei-Jun rubbed the thick cloak between his fingers. “It’s good,” he rumbled. Then, he draped the heavy cloak over Shang Qinghua’s shoulders and clasped it in front.

“My- My king?”

“Let’s go,” Mobei-Jun said, pulling him in by his waist and opening a portal.

They reappeared in the throne room, and Mobei-Jun led them into the adjoining room that served as his and Shang Qinghua’s office.

Shang Qinghua started to take off the cloak, but a sharp glare from Mobei-Jun stopped him. He left it on instead.

Liked the idea at first. I just felt it would take a longer than a brief one-shot, so I kinda procrastinated and lost interest. Will I come back to this one? Not likely.

#moshang #mobei jun #shang qinghua #tl;dwrite

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sooibian · 4 years

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Stranger Things (2)

Pairing: Baekhyun x fem!Reader ft. Kyungsoo, Mark Lee, Jongdae (if you squint)

Description: You met an obnoxious lawyer at the airport and fell stupidly in “love” but little did you know, his heart belonged to someone else.

Themes: Fluff, crack, stupid OC, Mark Lee’s debut with a law firm, organic cucumbers, cowsheds, corgis, farmer!Soo, lawyer!Baek

A/N: This was not supposed to happen but four people asked for it and that’s really all it takes to get me to do something. I was SO tempted to title this - Of Cowsheds and Corgis!! This fic is ridiculous and very predictable but I gave up on the angst I was writing for this because ridiculous is just what I need right now. I truly hope you’re all safe and healthy!

Word Count: ~ 1.6k

Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four (Final)

Groaning, you put down your second ‘fruit platter’ with a deliberate clang on Kyungsoo’s bedside table. Nothing. “Yah! Did you catch narcolepsy in that ridiculously mind numbing hamlet?” The skinny end of your chopstick slowly made its way to the sole of his left foot. Still nothing. Panic swelled within you and you crawled over to his side to check his breathing. He was breathing, alright.

“Eomma!” You bellowed. Maybe it was time for the third medley of diced apples and bananas.

Still nothing.

***

“Sloth.” You took a jibe at a barely awake Kyungsoo.

“Creep.”

“Creep?”

“You were watching me sleep!”

“I was waiting for you to wake up! There’s a difference, Snorlax.”

“Patience - -”, his mouth fell open in a huge yawn.

“Isn’t my greatest virtue. Yeah, I know. You’ve said it a million times. It’s etched in my heart. I’ll get it tattooed across my forehead. Now spill.”

For a moment Kyungsoo looked confused before diving into his fruit platter with a half-suppressed snicker.

“What?” You attacked his stupid bespectacled face with a pillow. When was the last time he got a change of glasses? He’s worn this thick-rimmed atrocity forever. Although the man was optically challenged, his hearing was more than just fine. He was quick to spot the hint of defensiveness in your tone and his heart shaped smile had a reputation of showing up only when you were in deep trouble. “Ahhhhh….my case? The bank is entitled to a lien on the adjoining cowshed - ”

You cut in with a long impatient sigh. “Kyungsoo, sweetie, can we talk about corgis for now?”

“Chubs”, you undid your messy bun at the sound of that horrendous nickname, “you’ve got a bad case of --- honestly whatever this is. You spent two hours with him. Two.”

“Squishy, I’m not three anymore. I am a woman now.” His face contorted into an expression of disgust. “Stop. Calling me. Chubs.” Interjecting every word by striking his shoulder with your feeble wrist, you noticed how ‘un-Squishy’ he’d gotten over the past one year. “And I know all there is to know...about your 174 cm tall friend who struts around like he’s no less than 185. But that’s not him...that’s Handsome Mr. Park, his partner.”

“Stalker!” Kyungsoo’s eyes grew wide in horror and he flicked your forehead very, very hard.

Swallowing your cry of pain, you pinched his ear with all your might, making him wince. “It’s called content curation. If you ever happen to meet a lovelorn village belle ….let me know, yeah? I’m willing to put up my skills to offer. For a fee, of course.”

“YAH!” He freed himself from your grasp. “Behave! You’re not three anymore, right? Tell me...how much do you know about Baekhyun?” He was curious. Slightly panic-struck, even. But you couldn’t tell why.

“I will tell you but I need to know something before that. Has he - Doh Kyungsoo I swear to God I will bury you alive if you so much as smile - has he mentioned me at all?” You felt your face flame and a part of you really did not want to know the answer to that.

Kyungsoo sucked the insides of his cheeks in and said, “He thinks you’re interesting.”

You knew 'interesting', almost always, was nothing but a euphemism for weird. Ignoring the tender ache in your chest you said, "Well, I think he looks a lot like his corgi Mongryong. Mum has invited you to dinner tomorrow. Later, Squish." You pulled him in a bear hug, picked up the two, now polished, plates and walked out of Kyungsoo's room, slowly closing the door behind you.

"Eomma, Kyungsoo will be joining us for dinner -"

"Chubs, wait!" He hurried out of his room and handed you a rather heavy C4 size envelope. "My dentist appointment has been moved to today and I had to drop these documents off at Byun Park's", after a small pause he hesitantly continued, "he won't be there."

"Who won't be there?" Kyungsoo’s mother eyed the both of you suspiciously.

You couldn’t say no to the illustrious prince of a family who fed you a whole carton of organic fruits a while ago. At least not in front of the matriarch.

"It's nothing Eomma… it's Kyungsoo's friend Byun Baekhyun. Yah! Doh Kyungsoo! Stop acting like he's my ex boyfriend."

***

Your heart raced as you stepped into the elevator of the swanky commercial building. Pushing the button for the 27th floor, you turned around to examine yourself in the mirror feeling frumpy and underdressed in your faded yellow sweater and mom-jeans. The ding of the elevator jolted your heart and your mouth went dry as you lay your eyes on the blond haired man standing in front of you. You wanted nothing more than to snake your arm around Doh Kyungsoo’s neck and put him in a tight chokehold until he begged for mercy -- at this point you weren’t very keen on letting go of the imaginary, gasping for breath, blue in the face, Doh Kyungsoo. He won’t be there??

“Hi”, you said stepping out of the elevator but what you really wanted to say was ‘I want to delete myself’.

“Airport Girl!” He jested. You didn’t feel very apologetic anymore or even underdressed for that matter since the partner of a snooty law firm thought that a long sleeved jersey with bib shorts were an acceptable choice of clothing. Nevertheless, you properly introduced yourself and did what was long overdue.

“I am sorry about the other day and -- ” You briefly waited for him to cut you off with a ‘Don’t worry about it’ or even dismiss it with loud ‘hahaha’ but instead his little eyebrow raise insisted you complete your apology. “And I shouldn’t have - -”

“Airport Girl, I notice you have a problem completing your sentences.” Resting his hands on his hips he cocked his head to the side. That vaguely familiar annoying smirk made your skin crawl.

“Byun Baekhyun-ssi, I am here to see Lee Min Hyung. I am supposed to hand over Kyungsoo’s documents to him. I hope you’re working hard on my friend’s case. He really needs that cowshed back, he’s paid the broker’s fee in full for it. I hope this was coherent enough for you.” His smirk stretched into a genuine smile as he inched closer to you. Uncomfortable as you were standing in an enclosed space and conversing with a man in bib shorts, the diminished distance from his two small strides made you squirm. You could practically smell his cologne.

“I’ll forgive you if you agree to come cycling with me. Right now.”

“Absolutely not. Can I go see Lee Min Hyung now?”

“MARK LEE!” Baekhyun bellowed. The unsparing luminous smile on his face wasn’t doing any favours to the health of your heart. Within seconds, a bespectacled young lad who looked like he hadn’t slept a wink for days came rushing to his side. So Byun Baekhyun worked his employees to the bone while he himself took hiking trips in absurd outfits.

He put an arm around the frail boy and introduced the fresh law graduate to you, “This is my main man Mark Lee from Canada.” Violently thumping Mark’s back he continued, “Madam’s here with Doh Kyungsoo’s documents. Take her inside and go over the file. Check if anything’s missing and most importantly, offer her something cold to drink.” Letting go of Mark, he said to you with a wink, “I’ll be waiting in the lobby, Airport Girl. Or you’re never losing the nickname.”

***

Mark Lee’s involuntary metamorphosis from scaredy cat to ferocious lion cub in the conference room took you by surprise. While going over Kyungsoo’s documents like a hawk focused on its prey, he dutifully put a glass of ice water in front of you just as instructed by Byun Baekhyun. It was nothing more than a courtesy call. “Doh Kyungso-ssi’s personal documents all look okay -- ID card, bank statements, transaction information, realtors invoice, property possession documents.” You lost him at ‘realtor’s invoice’. “Seems to me, the realtor tricked him - - why did he not get due diligence done before investing in property? How could he not notice that the title deed does not extend to the cowshed?” Mark Lee was furious….at you.

“He’s just a simple man with simple dreams who wanted to trade his city existence for a quiet rural homestead and grow organic cucumbers, I guess? Why don’t you give him a call and --”

Mark Lee’s paw met the desk in a loud smack, startling you. “A simple due diligence would’ve saved him the hassle - -”

You weren’t exactly sure of the reason Byun Baekhyun thought you’d need a cold drink but he was so right, everything else seemed wrong. You took a rather large gulp of water, snatched Mark Lee’s notepad from his firm grasp and scribbled Kyungsoo’s number in it. “Here’s Doh Kyungsoo’s number. Call him if you need anything further.” You rose from your chair and eyed him sympathetically. “Take care, Mark Lee and please don’t skip meals.”

***

He waited for you, just as he’d promised. He somehow managed to look just as stunning in that funny costume as he did when you saw him at the airport. “Let’s go. Half an hour with that enthu cutlet Mark Lee and I need to feel the wind in my hair. How do you manage?”

“Yah! Airport Girl. He’s my best and brightest.” Sounding like a proud parent he guided you to the parking lot. The guilt weighing your heart down compelled you to ask, “What about Yoona?”

“She’ll be joining us.” Baekhyun quipped nonchalantly, opening the door to his Audi for you.

It was at that exact moment you said a silent prayer to a certain 3rd generation male idol to strike you with lightning and put you out of your misery.

Tagging: @hirumixoxo @majesticsnow @dreamingofdreamydream @juncottonluvbot

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camillemontespan · 4 years

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midnight confessional [M!Raleigh x MC one shot]

Prompt by @omgjasminesimone ‘Wow. You’ve made quite the glow up.’

The prompt will appear in bold.

Warnings: NSFWish.

@emichelle @simplymissjulia @loveellamae @moonlightgem7 @pug-bitch @ibldw-main @katedrakeohd @msjpuddleduck @mskaneko

No idea who else likes Raleigh!

The lyric from Raleigh’s song is actually Addicted by Enrique Iglesias.

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

The girls were studying the guy who was standing at the bar drinking a glass of scotch. He had that look about him that screamed ‘look but don’t touch’ ; a battered leather jacket, ripped jeans, worn boots. His dark hair curled around his neck and his wrists were decorated with woven braided bracelets and leather cuffs. His arms were inked with tattoos.

‘It’s definitely him,’ the girl whispered to her friend. ‘Go say hi to him.’

‘No, you say hi to him!’ the other shot back. ‘He’ll laugh in my face!’

The first girl sighed and tossed back her prosecco. Throwing her shoulders back, she strutted across the floor towards him. Her stilettos echoed across the wooden floor and she swayed on her feet slightly, trying her best not to trip. She managed to make it over to the guy, grabbing hold of the bar edge before she could fall.

‘Hi!’ she said breathlessly, swiping her hair over her shoulder.

The guy slowly turned to look down at her. She swallowed. He was, without a doubt, the singer Raleigh Carrera.

‘Hey,’ he muttered.

‘I can’t believe it’s you,’ the girl said. ‘I’m a huge fan! Oh my God, I have all your albums, your mixtapes.. Midnight Confessional is my favourite record of yours, so soulful..’

She continued to ramble on while Raleigh studied her through bored eyes. Because he was bored. Anytime a girl came up to him, it was to gush about how amazing he was, how much his music had defined her life, how hot he looked.. He was bored of it.

Give me something real. Give me the honest truth.

‘I watched your performance on the AMAs, you were incredible!’ she was saying. ‘Really sexy.’

Someone behind her caught Raleigh’s eye. As the girl went on and on, Raleigh looked over her head and found himself staring at someone who was familiar yet wasn’t.

Marina Cortez.

Somehow, she had sneaked into this bar undetected, which to Raleigh was ridiculous because everything about her was showstopping. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her but she certainly looked different.

Six months had gone by and the innocent girl who wore glasses and pretty floral sundresses was gone. In her place stood a woman who looked as if she had been forged by fire.

Her dark hair was loose and curled down her back. She was wearing a chainmail crop top, leather pants and black Doc Martin boots. Her eyes were lined with kohl and dark eyeshadow; silver rings decorated her slender fingers.

Raleigh wanted her all to himself.

He watched as she ordered a whiskey sour. Raleigh swallowed. He needed to talk to her. He needed to be beside her, drinking whiskey sours with her. He didn’t even like whiskey sours but damn it, he was gonna order one and drink it with her.

‘Um, sorry, are you listening?’ the girl asked.

Raleigh blinked and cleared his throat. ‘Good to meetcha..’ he murmured, gently moving past her so he could join Marina at the bar. His eyes remained fixed on Marina as she sipped her drink.

‘Wow. You’ve made quite the glow up,’ Raleigh said, keeping his voice confident and steady, completely at odds with the nervous beat of his heart. He leaned casually against the bar, but a bit too casually as he slid on his foot and nearly slipped. He grabbed the bar edge and tried his best to act like nothing had happened.

Marina smirked. ‘Hey Raleigh.’

Raleigh gestured to the bartender and asked for a whiskey sour. He then turned back to Marina, trying to appear cool as cucumber.

‘You don’t normally come to places like this,’ he said, taking his whiskey sour from the bartender.

‘Places like this?’ Marina asked. ‘What does that mean?’

Raleigh shrugged. ‘Well… it’s a bar for one thing. Last I saw you, you preferred staying at home watching The Great British Bake Off.’

Marina shrugged and sipped her drink. ‘People change,’ she said. She looked up at him with her brown eyes. ‘Besides, what’s wrong with The Great British Bake Off?’

Raleigh laughed, surprised, and shook his head. ‘N-Nothing-’

‘Good, glad we agree,’ Marina interrupted. She smiled and nudged his arm with hers to show she was only joking. They sipped their drinks in silence until Raleigh broke it. He hated silences. He always had to have the conversation flowing. He needed energy and vibrancy; he needed to fill the void.

‘You look good, M,’ he said. ‘Really good.’

Marina blushed. ‘Thanks, Raleigh,’ she whispered. ‘You do too.’

Their eyes locked. In that moment, Raleigh remembered their times together. Singing together, brainstorming lyrics, laughing at inane jokes. Drinking wine at 3am. Sending each other goofy videos. Kissing, lots of kissing. Midnight drives. Midnight confessionals.

‘Wanna get outta here?’ Raleigh croaked.

Marina tossed back her drink and slammed it down on the bar. ‘Let’s go.’

Raleigh placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her through the bar. They passed the two girls who had been gawping at him without giving them a glance.

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

They had ended up in Raleigh’s bed. In the dark, Raleigh kissed her and touched her. He swallowed down her cries and inhaled the scent of her perfume. His fingers left imprints on her hips where he had held her tight. The bedsheets tangled around their sweaty bodies; Marina held onto them for dear life.

Afterwards, they needed air. Raleigh opened the door out to the balcony and Marina padded outside, wearing only his checked shirt as a layer. Her hair was dishevelled and her eyeliner streaked but as the moonlight shone down on her, Raleigh couldn’t help but feel that she was the most gorgeous thing he had ever laid eyes on.

Raleigh moved to stand behind her and placed his arms on either side of her body so he was holding onto the railing. He rested his chin in the crook of her neck, his eyes on the skyline of Los Angeles. It had just gone midnight; the streets were still pulsing with people and the lights of the City of Angels glimmered before them.

‘How was your tour?’ Marina asked. ‘It has been six months since we saw each other, tell me about what you’ve been doing.’

Raleigh chuckled. ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘I don’t wanna talk shop. I just wanna soak this up, right here, right now.’

He nuzzled into her hair. Marina smiled and reached out to take his hand.

‘I missed you,’ she whispered.

‘I missed you too,’ he whispered back. ‘You know you’re my girl, right?’

Marina laughed dryly. ‘Am I? You seemed pretty preoccupied talking to that airhead at the bar earlier.’

‘I wasn’t listening to a word she was saying,’ he told her, his breath tickling her throat. ‘My eyes were on you the whole time.’

Marina felt her cheeks burn.

‘Is it because I dress different now?’ she asked. ‘I dress more sexy?’

Raleigh kissed her neck, making her groan softly. His hands roamed up her legs and along her stomach.

‘I like you wearing my shirt,’ he murmured. ‘That’s the look I like. Or naked in my bed.’

‘You’re such a guy-’

‘Because you’re bare to me, stripped back,’ Raleigh interrupted. ‘Sure, I love your new look. It’s fucking hot. But right now? Here? You look beautiful.’

Marina turned to face him. Raleigh smiled and cupped her face in his hands. ‘My Marina,’ he whispered.

She reached out to stroke his chest. ‘Is it true your record was about me?’ she murmured. ‘That’s what all those fan sites are saying. The press are lapping it up, trying to make stories. Gossip sites are having a field day. I guess I just wondered if it was all true..’

Raleigh’s hands ran through her curls, knotting her hair in his hands. His lips brushed against her cheekbones before burning a trail like wildfire to her lips. When they parted, Marina’s eyes had darkened.

‘I meant every single word,’ Raleigh whispered.

Marina smiled and leaned up to kiss him again. The kiss turned more urgent, making her breathless. In her head, she could hear Raleigh’s soft voice as he sang about her. Marina had listened to the record on repeat; his songs had been stripped back, vulnerable, almost uncomfortably honest. But Marina had adored it.

I'm not afraid of dying

But I am afraid of losing you

Only Marina knew the real Raleigh, just like only Raleigh knew the real Marina. The world could believe all they wanted about them but in reality, only the two of them really understood the other. Theirs was a complicated relationship based on a publicity stunt that soon grew to be something more. Marina remembered everything, every single thing that nobody else knew.

Singing together, brainstorming lyrics, laughing at inane jokes. Drinking wine at 3am. Sending each other goofy videos. Kissing, lots of kissing. Midnight drives. Midnight confessionals.

30 notes · View notes

theasstour · 5 years

Photo

0109. Largo.

Saturday, 7 March 2015

FIC PAGE | CHAPTER SYMPHONY | WORD COUNT: 6k

NB: explicit language

“Have you guys heard the rumour going around about Harry?” Becky asked as she sat eating her cereal in the kitchen one Saturday morning.

“No.” Ian frowned, looking at Tiana who stood by the fridge and looked equally as confused as him. “What rumour?”

“Finger fucked someone in the women’s loos at The Grand.” Becky explained, eating her cereal and looking annoyed. “When we went out for his birthday.”

“Shut up.” Tiana said. “You’re taking the piss.”

Y/N suddenly stopped moving a bit where she stood cutting up a cucumber for her sandwich.

“Where did you hear this?” Ian asked. “Because I would assume he’d brag about it if he did. He’s a lad after all.”

“He’s not laddish.” Tiana rolled her eyes.

“Sure is.”

“You’re a terrible judge of person, Ian.” Tiana said. “Harry’s no Jack the lad.” She glanced at Becky, ignoring Ian as he started to protest. “Where’d you hear this rumour? It sounds absolutely ridiculous.”

“Some girls in one of me lectures.” Becky put her spoon down in the bowl, reaching her arms over her head and stretching. “Reckon she’s a slag. A fucking minger for sure.”

“How do they know Harry?” Tiana looked over at Y/N as she started washing her cutting board and knife. “He’s not that popular, is he?”

Becky raised her eyebrows, smiling a little. “He’s not exactly bad looking, is he? Everyone knows who the fit European Legal Studies bloke is.”

“How? I would never have noticed Harry had he not been in flat 8.” Tiana opened the fridge and got her carton of milk out, screwing the lid off. “He cannot be that popular.”

“He’s fit, Tiana, and that’s it. People remember a pretty face.” Becky sighed, letting her arms fall to rest on the kitchen table. “How I wish it was me had had finger fucked in the bathroom stall at The Grand.”

“Do you know who it was?” Ian enquired.

In that moment, Tiana looked over at Y/N who took a bite of her sandwich, eyes quickly adverted as she knew the second they looked at each other Tiana would know. Everything seemed to click into place, because her eyes grew wide and she almost spat out her mouthful of milk. She put the milk back in the fridge and walked over to Y/N who made sure to give Becky and Ian a look, both in deep conversation, before Tiana reached her.

“You’re fucking joking.” Tiana whispered. “You’ve got to be bloody joking.”

“What did I say?” Y/N asked after swallowing the bite of her sandwich.

Tiana looked over at Ian and Becky before she nodded toward the door leading out of the kitchen. Y/N got the memo, and walked toward it, holding the plate with her sandwich to her chest the entire time. Right behind her the whole way, Tiana locked the door into Y/N’s room once they reached it and squealed. She jumped up and down over to Y/N, who was watching her friend with big eyes and a confused mind. Tiana took the sandwich and placed it on Y/N’s desk before taking a grip of her shoulders.

“Did Harry finger you in that bathroom stall? Was that why you both left the toilets just as different times?”

Y/N’s mouth hung open, no coherent words coming to mind as Tiana put words to what had happened in the bathroom stall at The Grand early February. With huge brown eyes, Tiana took in every movement Y/N made and hung onto the slight puffs of air leaving her lips as if they could help her decipher anything. Letting a heavy breath leave her lips, Y/N looked at her sandwich, but Tiana shook her.

“Silence speaks louder than words!”

“Ti, don’t… don’t tell anyone.”

“Who would I tell?” Tiana asked clapping her hands together after letting go of Y/N’s shoulders. “I don’t tell anyone anything except for you. I’m just so ecstatic!”

“Why?”

“Because Harry bloody Styles fingered you in a bathroom stall at The Grand!” Tiana shout whispered, looking absolutely outraged that she had to spell it out for Y/N at all. “And you fancy him so much, just like he fancies you, and I think this is huge.”

Y/N sat own in the chair by her desk. “I’m just scared.”

Tiana frowned, sitting down in Y/N’s bed. “Why are you?”

“Because it’s too good to be true.” She answered. “Harry is too good to be true, him fancying me back is too good to be true, everything-“ She stopped herself, sighing. “This whole situation with Harry is too good to be true. I don’t know what… I don’t know what to think.”

“Y/N, it’s not.” Tiana shook her head. “You deserve good things, and Harry is one of them.”

Their eyes met and Tiana was smiling, something that eased the turmoil in Y/N’s head a little. It was good looking at her best friend, because seeing her happy made everything seem a little less intimidating and the world a little more balanced. Reaching over, Tiana took Y/N’s hands and held them tight, demanding Y/N to look at her as she spoke her next words.

“You’re only doubting what you have because… I don’t know why…” Tiana frowned a little, face turning sad. “Why are you?”

Y/N looked away, shaking her head and dragging her hands out of Tiana’s grip. “I… It’s…” She closed her eyes as she spoke. “I’ve been hurt before, I guess.”

“You guess?”

Y/N kept quiet.

“Y/N, you can talk to me.”

“I know.” She opened her eyes, nodding as she locked eyes with her best friend again. “I know, Ti.”

Tiana looked at her hands that had moments earlier been holding Y/N’s. “If I had to choose someone on this earth I’d never want to see hurting, it’s you. And whenever you want to talk I’m here, in a heartbeat. You’re one of the most important people in my life, yea?”

Y/N smiled a little. “Likewise.”

“Don’t shut things in.” Tiana warned. “Don’t do it. Because all things you keep pent up inside has a way of getting out eventually. You’ll burst if you don’t get things off your chest, Y/N.”

Y/N nodded, knowing this full well.

“And I don’t want to see that happening. Not to you.”

Y/N leaned forward and hugged Tiana, holding her tight until she hugged her right back. It was a comfort to have her close, to be held by her like having her arms around her made the world seem a little easier to conquer. Y/N tried not to think much about what had caused this conversation, the event in her own life that made her question everyone’s intentions. So, balling Tiana’s shirt into her hands, Y/N held onto her best friend for dear life as she tried to understand how she herself was feeling about this whole situation. She could never put words to it.

Tiana walked back to the kitchen after a little while, and Y/N was left with her sandwich. Whipping out her phone, she called Edward on FaceTime, feeling incredibly deprived of time spent with her brother and favourite person in the entire world. He answered fast, grinning at his phone screen as he appeared, waving his hand frantically at her.

“Hiya Maverick!” Y/N smiled. “Alright?”

“I’m good, Goose.” Edward smiled back. “What’re you up to?”

She showed him the plate with her sandwich.

“Looks rank.”

“For your information, it’s not.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “Anyway, how’s your day?”

“Boring.” Edward leaned back in his chair, the necklace resting on his chest glinting in the sun shining in through his bedroom window. “Dad’s out with the trees and mum’s in town I think. While I’m left in my room looking out my window.”

“Sorry I’m not home keeping you company, mate.” Y/N said, sticking her bottom lip out. “I’ll be home in a couple of days, though. For my birthday.”

“Yea.” Edward smiled. “Only four days now. And yes, I’m counting down the days. It’s boring here without you, you know that.”

Y/N felt suddenly guilty for leaving her brother behind when she went to university. He had said he would be fine with her living in London, had even encouraged it, but she knew he didn’t have many friends in college, and would often only hang out with Y/N because that’s when he had the most fun. Edward had made it obvious that he wanted Y/N to experience the world without feeling like she had to bring him along, and moving to London to study felt like a big, yet small, step. It wasn’t too far away from Hawkley, but far enough that she couldn’t go home every weekend.

For her birthday however, Y/N was going home to her brother and family. They had been ecstatic when she had shared with them the news of her coming home for a bit, and now that it was only a few days away she felt herself looking forward to her birthday, something she rarely did. Y/N hated the attention her birthday gave her, and knew spending it at uni would overwhelm her, so going home seemed like the best option. She knew Tiana would make a big deal out of it, so would Finn and Ian, and if she ever told Harry, then he might, too. It wasn’t a special day in her eyes. She was born on that day and was thankful her mother had given birth to her, but it didn’t go beyond that. Her family knew Y/N wasn’t too keen on her birthday and had always made her a cake, given her some gifts, and not made a big deal out of it. So, she was looking forward to coming back home, sitting down in her little boat in the lake by her house, reading a book and being by herself. And of course watching Top Gun with her Edward, something they always did together, but it was tradition t watch it on each of their birthdays. Edward’s was May 20th, and the two would always watch it as the sun went down, the door into the back garden open, the almost-summer sun shining in on the telly, and the smell of newly cut grass in the air. The thought made Y/N’s heart sing.

“Look at this.” Edward said, putting his phone in his lap as he rolled himself over to his wall. Picking his phone back up, he turned his camera around so Y/N could see his new painting. It was one of the many landscapes ones, this one of the row of Christmas trees behind the farm. Different shades of green and thin lines of black to indicate where one tree ended and another one started. Her brother had always had a talented for drawing, painting, and making things with his hand. He was incredibly artistic, and his ability to create something visual like he did had always impressed Y/N.

“Beautiful, Eddie.”

“Not my best, but something I painted to pass my time yesterday. You can bring it back to uni if you want.” He turned the camera back to his face. “So you remember how dull Hawkley really is.”

Y/N huffed. “Hawkley isn’t dull. Miss it quite a lot, actually.”

“Really?” Edward scrunched his nose, clearly not believing his sister the slightest. “You miss living in the middle of nowhere? Miss helping dad out at all times?”

“You know I love helping dad!” Y/N smiled. “You trying to make me remember things we used to hate about Hawkley won’t make me not look forward to coming home. Absolutely buzzing for it.”

“I just assumed you were smart.” Edward shrugged. “Guess you’ve lost some brain cells going to uni. Must be all the weed you’re smoking.”

“Stop!” Y/N laughed. “You know I’m not smoking anything, you knob.”

“Can’t be completely certain.” Edward said. “You’ve changed.”

“What?” Y/N frowned. “Have not.”

“Not in a bad way.” Edward clarified, a smile breaking out across his lips. “You’ve just changed. In the best way. You’re still Goose, but a more independent and freer one.”

Y/N smiled a little, surprised by her brother’s uttering.

“You’re still the shyest person I know, but you’re coming out of your shell.”

“I should be saying this to you, not the other way around.” Y/N said, making Edward chuckle. “You’re my little brother and you’re giving me a motivational speech?”

“Well, who else is going to tell you that you’re changing? No one knows you as well as I do, admit it.”

“Alright.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “Keep praising me.”

Edward laughed. “Shut up or I’ll never give you a compliment ever again.”

“How sad.”

Just then there came a loud knocking from Y/N’s door, and then Tiana shouting her name. Looking back on the screen at Edward who seemed a little taken aback by the sudden commotion, Y/N cocked her head to the side.

“I’ll call you in a bit? Just need to know what Tiana’s on about.”

“Sound.” Edward nodded. “Bye, Goose.”

“Bye, Maverick.”

Hanging up, Y/N put her phone away on her desk before she rose and opened the door for Tiana who took a hold of her wrist. She dragged her to her room and over to her laptop, Annie sitting on Tiana’s bed and Teresa on FaceTime on her MacBook. On the screen was an e-mail, and judging by the tight grip Tiana had of Y/N’s wrist, it was quite an important one.

“’Dear Tiana’,” said person read out loud. “’I am happy to inform you the landlord of the four-bedroom property 9 Alfriston Road, Clapham has accepted your application. You are now ready to make your admin fees and part deposit payments’.”

Y/N looked over at Tiana with wide eyes and a mouth agape. Her friend was only nodding back, bouncing back and forth on her feet with a squeal bubbling up from somewhere far down her throat. Y/N looked back, reading through the entire e-mail as all her other future flatmates were watching her. She smiled, looking at Teresa on the screen who was smiling, then Annie on the bed doing the same, and at Tiana who was clapping.

“We have a house for next year!”

“Oh, my God.” Y/N said, looking at the e-mail. “We have a house.”

“We just need to sign a contract, pay, and then show them some identification, then we’re ready to move in next year!”

“I can’t believe we got a house.” Y/N said. “And right by Clapham Common as well!”

“I know!” Tiana beamed. “It was the last one we looked at last week, remember? The one with three bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs?”

“The one with the small back garden and a bath?”

“Yes, bitch!” Tiana took the MacBook up from her desk, motioning for Y/N and Annie to get up. “Group hug!”

And with laughter in the air and arms slung around the others, all the girls felt an immense relief. Finally, they had someplace to live next year. Finally, they didn’t have to wonder what would happen if they didn’t find somewhere. Finally, they could stop worrying and start looking forward to a new year living together. The first thing Y/N told Edward when they FaceTimed again later was that her and the rest of her new flat had found somewhere to live next year, and once her father heard that, he broke down crying.

“Cannot believe my little poppet is moving into an actual house and has got to pay actual bills.” He sniffled. “Beyond happy for you.”

Tuesday, 17 March 2015

Harry What’re you up to today?

Y/N smiled.

Y/N Rehearsing some violin on campus. Why?

Harry Oh. Was just wondering if you wanted to chill or do summat, but don’t want to interrupt you rehearsing. Rain check?

For some reason, the fact that Harry so easily gave up made Y/N’s heart sink a little. She didn’t want him to just give in, she wanted to spend time with him, and if that meant less rehearsing and more Harry then so be it. So, Y/N did something she hadn’t really done before: took the initiative.

Y/N You could come chill in the room with me if you want.

Harry Really? Wouldn’t be a bad distraction?

Y/N I’m inviting you, am I not?

Harry Wicked.

Y/N smiled, looking at her violin in its case.

Harry Wait, where are you on campus?

Some days earlier, Y/N had reserved a study room for herself. Music students had specialised study room, soundproof ones that Y/N had never tried before. Though she had been a bit nervous about not finding it or using the wrong one, she had finally reached her study room, and planned on staying there for two hours. She had only been there for 30 minutes when Harry sent that text message, and though she knew she wouldn’t get much done with Harry there, she told him which number study room she was in and where to walk in the Antonin Artaud Building to get there.

While waiting for him, Y/N played Beauty and the Beast, one of the songs her and Teresa would be performing together. Closing her eyes, Y/N drifted off somewhere as she played, imagining Teresa’s voice flowing along with her notes and the magic they would create together. It didn’t take long for a knock to sound at the door, and when Y/N opened the door, Harry stood there with wide eyes.

“Hi.” He said, an instant smile on his face. “Alright?”

Y/N stepped aside and Harry walked inside, taking his coat off and putting it on the sofa. He was wearing his dark red turtleneck again, tucked into a pair of grey trousers. Right away, Y/N noticed how he wasn’t wearing his glasses. She loved it when he wore his glasses. He sat down in the sofa, letting go of a huge sigh as he settled himself in.

“Pretend like I’m not here.” He said, taking his phone out of his coat pocket. “Not about to ruin your rehearsing.”

Y/N giggled, walking over to the table where she had put her notes and her violin.

“But one question.” Harry said, sitting forth and resting his elbows on his knees as he looked up at her. Y/N glanced over her shoulder. Harry smiled. “How’s your day been?”

Y/N smiled, blushing slightly. “Decent, yours?”

“Decent.” Harry watched as Y/N got the violin out of the case. “Bloody majestic.”

Y/N knew that if she even dared look at Harry then, she would melt, because the mere way those two words left his lips – like warm breath meeting her freezing cheeks on a cold winter’s day – made her entire body tingle.

“You said you wouldn’t distract me.” She knew that if she answered him, he would say something back, and then they would be having a conversation. And she needed to rehearse. And not get distracted.

“Right.” He sat back, smiling a little as he turned his phone on. “Won’t say another word. Promise.”

“Doubt that.”

Harry glanced up at her again. “Oi, what you mean about that?”

“Just that you’re talkative.”

Harry huffed. “And that’s a bad trait? Quite like that part of my personality, thank you.”

“No talking!”

“Fine!”

The two laughed, and Y/N looked down at her music stand, reading the notes before placing her violin on her shoulder and raising the bow. Taking one glance at Harry to make sure he was actually keeping to himself and not watching her, Y/N started playing. The Elvis song she had found the notes to online floated into the air around her, and her entire body felt light. Creating music felt empowering, like being part of something bigger than oneself. It wasn’t words; it wasn’t a pronouncement; it wasn’t human. It was feelings; putting a sound to a feeling, to an emotion and way of being. It was magic in a sense. Because it was impossible to put words to everything, but with music you didn’t have to. Hearing a melody made you feel more than thousands of words ever could; a melody could hold more emotion than a single human could feel in an entire lifetime. As Y/N made a world of her own, a world where only herself and the music she was making was of existence, time and space evaporated from all around. A sky drifted across the blue morning sky and around the globe until it was no more, and that was how Y/N felt when playing her violin. She was floating, flying over the globe and the humans that inhabited it.

“Is that Suspicious Minds?”

Y/N stopped playing, opening her eyes to look at him.

“Shit, didn’t mean to interrupt you. Sorry.” Harry motioned zipping his lips shut and throwing the key away, going back to looking down at his phone.

“Yea.” Y/N nodded. “Elvis fan?”

He glanced at her again, eyebrows raised as he was a little shocked she wanted to talk and not rehearse. “Yea.” Harry said. “Favourite artist of all time.”

“What’s your favourite song?”

“By Elvis?”

Y/N smiled. “Of all time.”

“All the Way by Frank Sinatra.”

Y/N sat down in the office chair, tuning her violin as she nodded. “You like-“

“-No, wait.” Harry turned his phone off. “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes by The Platters. Fucking tune.”

“I’ve never heard that one.”

“No?”

“Nope.”

“You’ll have to listen to it one time then.” Harry said, smiling as he watched her. “It’s magical.”

Y/N smiled, looking at her notes.

“How do you…” Harry glanced at the violin. “How do you play the violin?”

She looked over at him, feeling like someone squeezed her heart in the best way possible when she caught him actually looking intrigued by the instrument of her dreams. Biting her lip, she got her bow, and rolled her chair over to the sofa where Harry sat. He watched her, trying not to smile as widely as he seemed to want to. Y/N placed it on her shoulder and watched as Harry studied her every move, his gaze hot against her skin.

“Is it hard?”

“What?”

“Playing the violin.” Harry was almost whispering, as if talking to loudly in close proximity to the instrument would tarnish it in some way.

“Want to hold her?”

Their eyes met. “Her?”

“Yea. I call my violin a her. She’s my baby.”

Harry let out a single chuckle as Y/N removed her instrument from her shoulder.

“Want to?”

“Hold her?”

“Only if you trust me enough to.” Harry said, face turning serious. “I don’t want to hold her if you don’t like anyone else doing so, or something of the sort.”

“I trust you not to throw her across the room and ruin her.” Y/N said and Harry laughed. She motioned for him to hold his hands out so she could place the violin in his hands. Once he did, and their hands met for a single second, she felt just how cold his were. He had just walked here after all, but no matter how cold his hands were, his skin meeting hers still felt like hot electricity started flowing from the exact spot they had made contact.

Y/N cleared her throat, touching Harry making her a little dizzy. “Ehm, there’s… there’s no set way to hold the violin.” She looked up into his eyes, his already intent and on her. “This is just my way of doing it. Holding a violin is much like driving a car; there’s no exact way of doing it, just the general rules, but everyone has their own way of driving a car, just like everyone has their own way of holding their violin.”

Harry nodded, his green eyes wide with interest.

“You want to place it on our shoulder like this.” Y/N guided it down to his shoulder. “And rest your chin on the chin rest, as that’s what it’s there for.”

Harry leaned his jaw on the chin rest.

Y/N shook her head. Gently, she took a grip of the other side of his jaw, tilting his head till his chin was on the chin rest. “Want to be looking at the violin a you’re playing. The music stand and sheet will be there in that direction.”

“Hmm.” Harry mumbled, eyes closing for a long second, vibrating through Y/N’s finger still resting on his jaw. His skin was very soft there, Y/N realised, and he didn’t have that slight stubble he would sometimes have. He must’ve recently shaved. She drew her hand back, not allowing herself to let her mind wander.

“And that’s how you hold the violin. Of course, you’ll have different positions and all that, but you hold the neck very lightly as you need to change notes and stuff.”

Harry was eerily quiet as he sat holding the violin.

Y/N cleared her throat, deciding not to think too much into it. “Then the bow.” She held it out for him, and he took it with his right hand. “The wood of the bow is this,” Y/N pointed to the part Harry was holding carefully, sitting forward in her chair as he was holding it up to his face. She let her finger trace the wood, avoiding Harry’s fingers. “And underneath you’ve got the hair. Try not to touch the hair at all, because all the dirt, grease, and oils you have on your hands can easily be transferred to the hair and it can stop the hair absorbing the rosin we put on the bow, which helps the bow grip onto the strings-“

Right over the bow, Harry’s eyes were staring at Y/N with so much concentration and intrigue that it made her gasp a little. They sat there like that for a little while, just staring at the other. The bow hanging in the air between them and the quietness of the room deafening. Slowly Harry removed the bow from where it was, carefully putting it down on his coat before he looked back at Y/N. It took Y/N a bit off guard when his free hand reached for her face, thumb stroking down her cheek delicately as if she would break if he didn’t treat her with care. They were so close, the air hot with electricity around them. As Harry’s hand travelled down her neck and to the back of it, taking a light grip and guiding her forward to him, Y/N put wasn’t able to take her eyes off him. Neither of them closed their eyes until their lips met. Neither of them took a breath until their lips met. Neither of them could believe it had taken them this long to finally kiss. Because oh my God, Y/N thought, did it feel good kissing Harry. Every cell in her body was dancing, her heart was flying wildly inside her chest, and all blood rushed through her veins.

She was leaning forward to the point of almost falling out of her chair, so she let her hands rest on his thigh, to which Harry drew in a sharp breath. Their lips detached, only for Harry to tip his head a little to the side, gaining better access. This time, he was gentle as he slipped his tongue in ever so slightly, not wanting to overwhelm her in the slightest. Y/N only breathed heavily in response, and Harry squeezed the back of her neck. In return, she squeezed his thighs and Harry trembled a little, kissing her harder.

“Wait.” He mumbled into her mouth.

He got up, making Y/N draw back. Taking the bow, Harry walked over to the violin case and put the violin and bow neatly into their places before he came back.

“Come sit in my lap, darling.”

Y/N got up, and as she put both of her knees on either side of his hips, hands landing on his shoulders, she was reminded of the bathroom stall at The Grand. Harry seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he smiled as he kissed her again, hands resting at her knees. As their tongues tangled and lips locked and detached, Harry’s hands travelled up her thighs. Slowly he made his way up to her bum, where he let them rest for only a few seconds before placing both his hands on her hips to hold her. It was intoxicating to have Harry touch her like this, as if she had been drinking a whole bottle of wine, but she had only tasted his tongue and the moment they were sharing right now. She let her hands trail down his front, loving it when Harry slid his tongue over her bottom lip quickly before he kissed her again. Her hands stopped as she reached his navel, fingertips resting there as Harry whimpered under her. A low moan entered her mouth, and she was sure nothing she had ever tasted before could compare to it.

“Jesus.” Harry said, breathing heavily. “Know how to get a bloke at your complete surrender, don’t you?”

“Not really.”

“Well,” Harry chuckled. “I’m at yours, Y/N Picot. I’ve quite literally surrendered myself to you. Completely.”

Y/N couldn’t help her smile.

“Love to taste that,” Harry whispered, rubbing his nose once against hers. “Your happiness.”

Y/N smiled even wider, feeling herself giggle against his lips.

“Kiss me.” Harry breathed. “Always kiss me. And never stop.”

Wednesday, 25 March 2015

The sky overhead was a light orange, outlined with a pretty purple that made the darkening evening sky look like the creation of a marble. Y/N walked in the decent temperature with a dungaree Y/Net, hands in its pockets and her head raised high. Even London seemed to be relaxed, the bustling of people and cars that used to be along the Albert Bridge Road, Battersea Park, and Battersea University, weren’t as overwhelming as they usually were. Y/N made her way across the street, looking down on her phone at the text from Archie Poole.

Archie Meet you outside Gaskell Building. Xxxx

Y/N had been to the LGBTQ+ Society meetings before – maybe two – and each time she was looking more and more forward to going. The whole gang was so nice, welcoming her with open arms whenever she decided to show up. She found herself rather at home with the lot, there was a peace about them that felt like closing her eyes and drifting off into a deep and harmonious slumber. They held a security she had never before experienced with anyone. Before each meeting she had met with Archie beforehand so they could walk inside together. He was the only one she knew by name yet, though she was slowly but surely getting to know all of them. It was good distraction from uni, because as Y/N entered that room Y/N knew she was amongst people who wouldn’t judge her about anything. She was amongst people who knew her biggest secret; the part of herself she had yet to fully accept and tell the world about. And because of this, it felt incredibly good walking to campus that afternoon, knowing she’d meet with these people again.

As she crossed the street, walking up to the gravel walkway leading down to the university, Y/N heard voices further down the street. Thinking nothing of it as there were always loads of people out and about at all hours in London, she continued on her way, humming along to the piece she was learning for her and Teresa’s first set. Rounding the corner, on her way down the path to uni, she was suddenly stopped.

“Y/N!”

She looked over her shoulder, heart racing a bit. There was Becky, waving at her and giving her one of those smiles Y/N could never decide was fake or genuine. With her was El, Blessing and a group of other people Y/N didn’t know the name of. She assumed they were from Becky’s course, or someone El and Blessing knew. Regardless, they were walking in her direction. Her eyes flicked to the Gaskell Building where she saw Archie already waiting, looking down on his phone.

“Hi!” Becky said, still smiling.

“Hi.” Y/N did a once over of all her friends, giving them a small smile before meeting Becky’s eyes again.

“What’re you doing at uni this late?” Becky asked. Y/N noticed how her flatmate’s smile grew wider.

“Heading to the library.” She said. For some reason Y/N felt her heart racing, a small panic rising in her chest as if something was about to go very wrong.

Becky looked at Y/N’s shoulder real quick. “You don’t have your rucksack with you.”

That feeling of something about to head south intensified, because as Becky’s eyes went from Y/N’s shoulders and to her eyes again, she saw something in her eyes that made her stomach turn. “No, I-I’m getting a book.” Y/N said, shoving her hands into her Y/Net pockets. The whole group behind Becky was studying her, taking in her outfit and the careful way she held herself. They must’ve noticed along with Becky that something was off; that Y/N was lying.

Becky cocked her head a little to the side, the frown on her face a fake type of concerned. “And you’re just going to carry it back to the flat? Why not bring something to put it in?”

Y/N felt like throwing up. Becky knew what Y/N was doing there. There was no way Y/N was going to the library wearing normal wear, as it would just be stupid to get dressed up to go loan a book. The only event going on at uni right then was the one Y/N was actually going to. And no one but Y/N and the LGBTQ+ Society knew.

“Y/N!”

She looked over at the Gaskell Building where Archie stood, walking over now. Becky glanced at him, taking him in and quickly recognising him. Archie had stood by the booth at the Freshers Fayre, talking about the LGBTQ+ Society, and Becky had no doubt walked by and caught his face and cause. As he approached, Becky gave him that smile again before looking at Y/N.

“I’ll see you at the flat once you’ve loaned that book, yea?” Becky walked off with that, talking with her friends as she went.

Immediately, Y/N walked in Archie’s direction. Her heart was in her throat, panic prickling along every inch of her skin, tickling her. She felt like scratching all layers off herself till she was no more, till the only thing that was left was her bones. Her bones where she couldn’t hurt in any other way than physical; where she didn’t feel panic; where she didn’t feel the overwhelming need to run far away from Battersea and Becky and everything that made her feet yearn to escape.

“You alright?” Archie asked as they met, voice as feathery light as it always was. “What’re you running for, darl?”

Y/N looked at Becky and her friends who had disappeared from view, when she stared back at Archie, she didn’t know how to properly form words anymore. She was scared, shaken up, and unable to tell him that she wanted to go back home to Hawkley where nothing and no one could find her if she hid away in her boat by the lake.

“What’s up?”

Y/N inhaled sharply. “I…”

Archie nodded, urging her on.

“I’m…” Y/N swallowed, wrapping her Y/Net around herself. “I don’t want them to know.”

Archie knew what Y/N was saying, and his expression softened.

“I’m not ready for them… for her… to know.”

“They don’t.” Archie reassured her. “It’s okay, Y/N. They don’t know unless you want them to.”

But Y/N knew that wasn’t true. She bit her lip, feeling like her world was about to fall into a million tiny pieces she would have a very hard time finding and properly put back together.

TAGLIST

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darksideofparis · 5 years

Text

Some writing I’ve been working on..

This is from an as yet untitled Criminal Minds Hotch/OC. And yes, it was inspired by the TV show, Castle.

Takes place in season 2 between ‘The Boogeyman’ and ‘North Mammon’.

Also, this is a rough draft so forgive me if some stuff seems off! And, yes, I AM working on ‘Pros and Cons’. This is just to get Delaney’s voice out of my head for a little while. :)

The sound of a door opening jarred Delaney out of her flashback. Her eyes darted to Agent Hotchner, now holding a small stack of files. She eyed him as he took the seat across from her.

For his part, Hotch was also eyeing her. He suspected, going off her physical appearance alone, that most people did. Delaney Tyler was unquestionably an attractive woman. She had dirty blonde hair that hung several inches past her shoulders. Her face was heart-shaped and nearly dominated by her big brown eyes. ‘Doe eyes’, Hotch thought they were called.

As evidenced by where he’d found her, Delaney was dressed for a party. She wore a long-sleeved royal blue dress with a laced-up front. The revealing front dipped down to just above Delaney’s belly-button, perfectly showing off her cleavage and a nice glimpse of her breasts. Her shoes were five-inch snakeskin patterned stilettos. Her only jewelry consisted of a pair of dangly black crown earrings. Her other accessory, a pair of oversized black Gucci sunglasses, rested on the table beside her.

Her face had been made up but not extravagantly so. Her eyeshadow was neutral, serving only to accent her large eyes and her lips were painted a vivid, but not overly bright, shade of red. It had been presumably chosen so as not to look too harsh against her pale, porcelain skin. Overall, her appearance, while extremely daring, was also remarkably classy. An interesting contradiction, in Hotch’s opinion.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Ms. Tyler,” he said as he opened a file. “You know most bestselling authors don’t have a rap sheet.” Keeping one eye on Delaney, he perused the contents Garcia had dug up. “Public intoxication in October 1996.” He looked up. “You’d have been what? Fifteen? Sixteen?”

Delaney’s lips were pinched. “Fifteen,” she said coolly. “I was at a friend’s Halloween party. Neighbors complained about the noise, cops showed up.”

“Yes, it says here the neighbors were complaining specifically about you standing on the sidewalk singing ‘Neon Moon’ at the top of your lungs.” Hotch raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Never heard that song before, Agent Hotchner? That’s a shame. It’s one of Brooks & Dunn’s best. I’d be happy to sing it for you, if you like.” Delaney gave him her mega-watt grin. She highly doubted this man, whose countenance was as cool as a cucumber, would take her up on her admittedly ridiculous offer, but she couldn’t help herself. The guy was hot.

Not to mention, but she didn’t really want to dwell on that particular memory. It wasn’t one of her favorites. The circumstances behind her arrest that night were occasionally too much to bear thinking about.

“I’ll pass,” was Hotch’s dry response. He went to the next arrest. “December 1996. Taken into custody at a movie theater for suspected public intoxication, no alcohol involved.”

Delaney put her hands in her lap. She didn’t want Agent Hotchner seeing them start to shake. “They let me go. Didn’t even do a drug test. I reacted badly to the movie I went to see. I shouldn’t have gone to see Scream. The events of which it was based on were still pretty fresh in my mind.”

This surprised Hotch. He remembered when that movie came out. Most people who weren’t law enforcement hadn’t dwelled on the real life murder spree that had inspired Scream’s screenwriter. “The Gainesville Ripper? That freaked you out so much?”

Delaney shrugged, though she was inwardly sighing with relief that Agent Hotchner had bought the lie – at least the no drugs in her system part. “My parents are university professors. Nowhere near Florida, but the murders did disturb me at the time. I was scared a copycat would start up where my parents worked.”

“I see.” And he did, probably much more than Delaney Tyler wanted him to. Her story about being freaked out by Scream because it had been based on real events she worried somehow impacting her parents had a ring of truth about it. But she was holding something back. He suspected it had to do with the ‘suspected public intoxication’ the police hadn’t bothered testing.

He also hadn’t failed to notice her putting her hands in her lap. That action seemed to indicate she was trying to hide something.

“Her hands are shaking, Hotch,” Morgan informed him via earpiece.

��Classic sign of anger,” Gideon remarked.

Hotch noted their observations, but continued with the arrest record. “Then quite a few truancies, and then in April 1997, arrested for heroin possession.”

Delaney clenched her hands into fists, though she knew it wouldn’t do any good. She could feel her shoulders starting to tremble as well. So much for hiding it, she thought dryly. “I was not in a good place at the time.” The words were spoken slowly but even Delaney could hear the unsteadiness in them. She had no doubt Agent Hotchner could as well.

Hotch didn’t give anything away, but Delaney’s response was telling. She was clearly annoyed about her past teenage arrests being brought up, but this arrest in particular was causing her to literally shake with rage.

“Why are you even talking about this?” Delaney demanded. She didn’t even care that she was nearly shouting. “You didn’t bring me here to read me the riot act on things I did a decade ago! You brought me here to discuss murders.” She let out a scoff. “Where did you even get those records anyway? If you’ll care to look, you’ll note I was put in rehab after that last arrest. The judge dropped the charges and expunged my record after I got clean.”

“We have a very good technical analyst.”

Delaney looked like she was about to say something scathing in response, but she surprised Hotch by closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She sat like this for a few seconds before slowly exhaling. After another moment, she opened her eyes. The big brown orbs stared right into his.

“You have not answered my question, Agent Hotchner.” Her words were slightly clipped, but spoken in a much calmer tone. “Why are we talking about an expunged arrest record from ten years ago? You said you wanted to speak to me about some murders.”

After staring at her for one long moment, Hotch grabbed the second file. He slid a photo across the table. “Jenny Kavanagh,” he said as Delaney studied the photo. It was a standard DMV photo, showing a pretty young woman in her late twenties with long, platinum blonde hair, brown eyes, and dimples on each cheek. She wore a simple green t-shirt and a necklace with the astrological symbol for Leo as the charm.

Delaney suddenly felt a sickening feeling in her stomach. “What happened to her?” she asked as she slid the photo away.

Hotch produced another photo. “She was found two weeks ago like this.” Jenny Kavanagh was now lying on her couch, eyes closed and arms crossed over her chest in the classic coffin position. Perched atop her pristine white blouse was a single white card with the words My Sincerest Condolences written on it in black cursive.

“Your Condolence Card,” Delaney gasped. Her doe eyes were huge as she stared first at the photo, then at Hotch, then back at the photo. She swallowed thickly before saying, “I’m guessing no outward cause of death except for a puncture wound on the back of her neck?

“Correct,” Hotch nodded. His eyes didn’t move from her. It was very hard to fake genuine concern for victims, especially people you’d never met. However, Delaney Tyler’s eyes were wide and unblinking. She stared at Jenny’s face, as though willing her eyes to open and show that everything was alright.

There was no way Delaney Tyler committed the murder of Jenny Kavanagh. Nor the others, if Hotch’s profiling was right.

Wordlessly, he slid another DMV photograph across the table. “Brian Tanaka.” The young man was barely out of his teens. His hair was cut in a bowl style and he wore a sweatshirt from the University of Florida. Before Delaney could really study him, she was being handed another photo. “Metro police found him like this straight out of Love to Hatred Turn’d about three hours ago.”

In terms of ways to die, Brian Tanaka had drawn the short straw. Delaney winced at the image of him lying on his back on a dark wooden floor, presumably in his apartment, limbs spread akimbo and an absolutely terrified look on his face. The reason for his terror was the gaping hole in his chest. Delaney knew without having to ask that his heart had been removed while he was alive. She glanced at his wrists. Ligature marks, presumably from the rope used to restrain him.

Just like in the book.

“Looks as though I have a fan,” she observed.

“A deranged one, yes,” Hotch confirmed.

Delaney suddenly looked up and smiled broadly. “Oh, I don’t think you’re deranged, Agent Hotchner. Far from it, actually.”

Hotch blinked, then blinked again. “Excuse me?”

Delaney’s smile grew. She knew exactly what he’d meant, but really, how could she resist? The man was hot with a capital H.

Aloud, she said, “Oh, come on, Agent Hotchner. Love to Hatred Turn’d? A Siren takes the hearts of the men she sleeps with to sustain her so she can continue living on dry land?” Delaney snorted. “I only wrote that ‘cause I needed rent money. The story sucks and I know it. Only die-hard Delaney Tyler fans read that.”

Hotch struggled to maintain his composure. Admittedly, this wasn’t a difficult thing for him to do, but damn if Delaney Tyler wasn’t making a dent in his stoic armor. Instead of rising to her bait, he asked, “Have you ever met Ms. Kavanagh or Mr. Tanaka before? Book signing? Charity event?”

Delaney studied the DMV photos again. Try as she might, there wasn’t a single flicker of recognition for either victim. “No, I’m sorry. It’s possible at a book signing, but I sign so many books during those, it’s impossible to remember everyone’s faces or names.” She gave him another grin. “But I assure you, I’d definitely remember yours.”

Ignoring the snickering in his earpiece, Hotch reached into the file again. He saw Delaney’s eyes widen and her face become paler than it already was. He could practically hear her thoughts. Dear God, another one?! “Dominic Cavalleri. High school softball coach. Do you recognize him?”

Dominic Cavalleri’s DMV photo could have come straight out of a fashion magazine. He had tousled sandy brown hair, shining blue-green eyes, and the kind of tan that came not from a salon but from spending time outdoors. There was a light sprinkling of freckles across his nose and cheeks, giving him a kind of boyish charm. Overall, Dominic Cavalleri was one good looking man.

Delaney smiled appreciatively at the photo but it dimmed as she remembered he was now dead. Dead because some lunatic was running around killing people like she did in her books. “How did he die?” she asked quietly.

Hotch’s expression revealed none of his inner revulsion and slight nausea as he gave her the crime scene photo. “A Scythe for Schuyler. Three weeks ago.”

Delaney took one look at the photo and immediately whirled away with a gasp. Shutting her eyes, she did her best to block out the image she’d just seen. Dominic Cavalleri’s body had been lying on the floor of what was presumably his apartment. His head was several feet away, having rolled partway under a leather couch. The scythe that had sliced his head off lay right next to his body.

“Are you okay?” Hotch asked as Delaney put a hand over her mouth. “Do you need a trash-can-,”

Delaney hastily swallowed back the bourbon threatening to make a reappearance. “I’m fine,” she said, voice slightly strangled. “Just . . . just give me a minute.”

Delaney tucked her head between her knees. She wasn’t sure if there was any scientific basis on this position curbing nausea, but right now, she figured there was no harm in trying.

As she breathed in and out slowly and evenly, just like the rehab therapist had taught her, Delaney’s mind whirled over this latest information. Not only was someone killing people the way she did in her books, they’d chosen A Scythe for Schuyler as one of them. Her breathing grew a touch harsher. Her eyes narrowed. How dare they! She thought.

When she rose back up, Hotch noticed an immediate change in her demeanor. Delaney’s jaw was tightly clenched, enough to where he could see a muscle in her cheek twitching. Her eyes flashed with barely concealed anger. She clasped her hands together. Her French-tipped nails rather resembled claws.

“Interesting,” Gideon mused. “She was upset about the other murders, but this one has her really incensed.”

“Almost like it’s affected her personally,” Morgan added. “More personally than it has already.”

“Is everything alright?” Hotch asked. His tone held a touch of wariness.

“I’m fine,” Delaney said, her words curt.

Hotch inwardly snorted. Yeah, right. “You really don’t seem to be,” he said, not unkindly. “There’s a muscle in your jaw ticking. In the past minute, your heartbeat has accelerated and your hands have started shaking. I suspect that’s why you put them in your lap earlier and have them clasped together now, to keep me from noticing.”

Delaney’s mouth falling open proved he was right. She gaped at him as he went on. “It’s a clear sign of anger. Interestingly, you haven’t reacted like this to any of the other murders I’ve showed you. Upset, certainly, but not this . . . infuriated.”

Delaney tightened the grip on her hands. Not that it would do much good, but maybe it would keep Agent Hotchner from commenting on them again. How did he even notice that? She wondered. She would have noticed it in someone, but she had trained herself to notice body language and behavior. Do FBI agents study it? None of the ones she’d seen on TV had, but then again, that was television. This was real life.

“I wrote A Scythe for Schuyler at a pretty low point in my life.” She kept eye contact with Agent Hotchner, making sure that, if he did study body language, he would know she was telling the truth. “It was . . . cathartic, I guess you could say.”

“About someone important to you?” Hotch asked. There was a little itch in his brain, but for the life of him he didn’t know what it was about.

Delaney’s eyes became slightly moist. “Very important,” she said softly. She averted her eyes for a moment. When she looked back up, they were clear.

“So what exactly is it you do?” she asked.

Hotch stared at her. His brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m an FBI agent . . .?”

“Yes, I know that,” Delaney said with a roll of her eyes. “But you’re clearly not some run of the mill FBI agent since you noticed all the minute aspects of my body language and what they meant in reference to my emotions.”

“You’re right,” Hotch nodded. “I’m a profiler with the Bureau’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“Never heard of it.”

“We profile criminals. Basically, by studying the particulars of a crime scene as well as the victims – also called victimology – we can tell law enforcement officials who, exactly, they should be looking for.”

Delaney was amazed. This man could actually study a crime scene and come up with an idea of who had committed it? “So . . . you’re like Sherlock Holmes,” she summarized. “You can tell if someone committed a crime in an organized fashion or a crazed one, why their particular victim was targeted the same way Holmes could tell that Dr. Watson had a clumsy, careless maid.”

Hotch couldn’t quite keep a small smile from appearing. “I’ve never heard anyone liken it in that way, but yes, if you like.”

Any other time, Delaney would have made a remark about his smile, maybe a little come-on about offering her assistance in getting him to smile by use of other, more intimate activities, but she didn’t for two very good reasons. One, there was this case to concentrate on. Finding out who the hell was copying her crime scenes and why was far more important than her getting laid.

And two, she had just noticed the gleaming gold ring on Agent Hotchner’s third index finger.

Typical, she mentally groused. All the good-looking ones are either married or gay.

“So if you can give a profile of a criminal based on the crime scene and victimology, why bring me in?”

Hotch silently thanked God for his poker face as he said, “We wanted you to see if there was anything in these photos that might tip you off on anyone who would do this.”

“I can’t think of anyone I know doing this.” Delaney studied Brian Tanaka’s crime scene photo. Unlike Dominic’s, this crime scene she had no problem scrutinizing.

There was, she thought, something off about this photo. Something to do with the crime itself? Delaney wasn’t sure. Her brain was more preoccupied in replaying Agent Hotchner’s words. For some reason, she suspected that he hadn’t been telling her the whole truth. It wasn’t anything in his body language or his expression; the man would have no difficulty in cleaning up Vegas if he ever set his mind to it.

No, it was something else. Something Delaney couldn’t name. Maybe it was the writer part of her brain, the part that said that in every scene she wrote where things were going great, there had to be some kind of catch involved.

She decided to test it.

“Of course, I highly doubt you brought me in just to act as a consultant.” She glanced up from the pictures just in time to see the startled look on Hotch’s face. She smirked. Two for two on surprising, she thought victoriously.

Again, Hotch struggled to maintain his composure. How does she keep doing that? He wondered. He pushed that thought to the backburner and forced himself to focus on the matter at hand. “That’s right,” he said simply.

He expected Delaney to react with indignation, expressing contempt and fury for them having the audacity to consider her a suspect, but was once again shocked when she merely shrugged and went back to studying Brian Tanaka’s crime scene photo. Hotch stared at her for a few moments. “You’re not upset?” he finally asked.

“No. In fact,” Delaney looked up, “I’m impressed. In cases like this, your first suspect should be the creator of what the crime is based on. Gotta check and make sure the author isn’t some Catherine Tramell wannabe.”

Hotch frowned. “Who?”

Delaney stared at him. “Catherine Tramell?” she repeated. Seeing Hotch’s blank look, she added, “Played by Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct? Crazy author who kills people, then writes the murders into her books? Has a lot of hot as hell sex with Michael Douglas? During interrogation, she infamously crosses her legs and shows off her bare vul-,”

“We’re getting off track,” Hotch cut in. Delaney noted with a bit of amusement that the tips of his ears were a little pink from the word she had been about to utter.

“Right,” Delaney nodded, but she couldn’t resist adding, “Too bad my skirt’s too long to do what Sharon Stone did.” She turned back to the photos and smirked at the sound of Hotch choking on air.

As Hotch struggled to get the provocative images Delaney had painted out of his head, he heard a bunch of snickering in his ear-piece. “I like this girl,” Gideon was chuckling.

“Me too,” Morgan agreed. “Can we keep her?”

“H-have you ever received any disturbing letters?”

“Most of my fan-mail is disturbing. I haven’t read it since a few months after Your Condolence Card came out.” Delaney grimaced. “At nineteen years old, I was understandably freaked out by how many marriage proposals I was receiving from ex-cons. And I’m guessing the reason you’re asking is because you think whoever did this might be trying to contact me?”

Rather than being surprised again, Hotch was impressed. Delaney was incredibly intuitive to the team’s thought processes. Must be the writer part of her. “It happens a lot in cases like these.”

“I’ll tell my editor to deliver all my fan mail from the last six months here in the morning,” Delaney promised. “Or do you want it from further back than that?”

“Six months should be fine. We’ll let your editor know otherwise. And speaking of your editor . . . Would he happen to be a tall man in his early fifties with a slight French accent wearing . . . um . . .”

“Wearing a bright red suit and a red and white plaid fedora? Kinda looks like a pimp?”

“I . . . I wouldn’t have said it exactly like that . . .”

Delaney chuckled. He’s so adorable when flustered. She wished she could keep being the one to do that to him, but alas, he was married. Lucky girl. “Don’t worry, Agent Hotchner, you wouldn’t be the first to think that, nor will you be the last. I’m guessing he’s outside?”

“Insisted on waiting for you.”

With a nod, Delaney stood. Hotch did the same. “Well, if that’s everything . . .” Delaney trailed off as she watched him place the crime scene and DMV photos back in the file.

“Yes, I believe so.” His voice was a bit curt, in full-on ‘official’ mode. “Thank you for your help, Ms. Tyler.”

“I only wish I could’ve done more.”

#delaney #delaney tyler series #hotch/oc #criminal minds #sneak peek

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