A/N: Oh, hi.
Firstly, Jesus anon alarmingly disappeared following his/her debut appearance on Jenna's blog. I am concerned that her fic may have caused a cardiac arrest or other type of fatal flailing injury. If you find my Jesus anon or are willing to help me put up ‘LOST ANON’ posters in our local interwebs, please contact me here at haveyouseenmyplot and I will promptly give you cookies. Thank.
Nextly, thank and [snoogles] to the lovely Jenna for betaing this chapter
albeit not as promptly as my spoiled butt is used to. Hey, I think you’re really cool, I think you’re great I like you a lot, maybe we could hang out or something? (Also don’t think I won’t get you back for that glacial pace joke you giggly and adorable asshat of a hooman <3)
Hartbig AU, SFW (please don’t strike me, it’s almost deserving of an ish), 2,100 words. Lies and deception, all of it. But a girl can dream. (So can everyone else. We don’t do gender roles here at haveyouseenmyplot. We just happen to be a girl… with racy Hartbig dreams, apparently.) Previous parts can be found on my FIC PAGE
(if you’re lucky.)
Part 17: Never
“We shouldn’t,” Hannah mumbles half-heartedly, even as her body presses forward, and her hands move lower, lower down Grace’s back, and Grace hums back in half-hearted agreement, and nips at Hannah’s soft skin, prompting a gasp and an arch and a tighter grip.
‘Fuck’ is the overriding thought in Grace’s mind, as they frantically stumble to Hannah’s room.
This is it. This is what she wanted. Hannah. Hannah’s lips are kissing her, and Hannah’s hands are touching her, and Grace can taste her and smell her and feel her.
How can this still be getting better? She’d honestly thought that the last time they were on this bed, was the peak, the exception.