Mr. Min - Chapter 01

Description:  Your CEO caught your attention the first day you started your new job and it seems the attraction is mutual.  Too bad he’s only interested in a relationship that benefits him.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 8641

Warning: Dom!Yoongi, light breath play, cum play, punishment, demeaning names

A/N: I ended up having to split this chapter in two because it was getting so long.  I hope you enjoy it anyways!

Prologue - Ch 02 - Ch 03 - Ch 04

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Ghost (I Don't Hear The Voices Anymore) [First Draft Home Demo]
  • Ghost (I Don't Hear The Voices Anymore) [First Draft Home Demo]
  • Super Movies
  • Home Demos

she said,
“I don’t hear the voices anymore,
And I know just what it takes to make you sad.
If you knew me,
You’d know I don’t see the faces anymore
And I know just what it takes to make you mad.
If you loved me,
You wouldn’t leave.”

Ghost (I don’t hear the voices anymore) by @supermoviesband

What Life Is [2/4]

It grew guys. It grew and grew.

Part two of my CSSS gift to @littlebabeswan who wanted fake dating and Will Scarlett and got this instead. Tagging also @cat-sophia @lenfaz and @profoundlyfadedprincess because you asked and are super kind people.

All credit to the wonderful ladies of the CS Writers’ Hub for the sprints, encouragement, and general tomfoolery.

This part 5.6k. Rated M (eventually). Part one is HERE.

It’s not the most auspicious start to a marriage. Or a business merger, for that matter.

Regina meets them in the cool of the underground garage, where the harsh lights emphasize Emma’s hangover pale skin and the scuff marks in the bug’s bright yellow paint.

“Is this the transport you lay on for all your honoured guests?” huffs Will as he tries to extract himself from the back seat. “No wonder you need a fucking shipping company!”

“How sweet,” Regina drawls as he finally makes it out. “You brought a pet.”

Killian’s mouth twists in annoyance.

“I brought my business manager.”

“Him?” Regina scoffs, and folds her arms, shooting Emma a look that she knows well. It’s the one that says we’ve got this in the bag. “Let’s get inside, shall we? I can tell we have much to…” she looks down at Will - a real skill being so much shorter - and smiles. “Discuss.”

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  • dumped
  • nouns
  • still bummed

nouns | dumped

(i was the nicest boyfriend you cared about your tumblr more than me and i fucking hate your guts but i haven’t told you in order to preserve your stupid fucking invalid feelings also all my friends thought you were mean)

i feel so stupid
so depressed
i don’t know why
i need more friends
i want more friends

Jay Park - Taken by surprise

Originally posted by mapleofrph

When the elevator door opened with a chime, you rummaged in your bag for your car keys as you stepped out of the elevator. You finally found them in between all of the other things in your bag. You knew you carried around too many useless things with you, and you repeatedly told yourself to empty your bag, but you always forgot.

Fishing out your car keys, you walked straight towards your car at a fast pace. You couldn’t stand underground garages. They were scary, especially when the lights were flicking as if they would bite the dust soon.
 You quickened your pace and when you finally saw your car at the end of the garage, you dropped your tensed shoulders in relief.

You were only several meters away from your car, when you heard a loud cough echoing through the silence which sent shivers down your spine. For a moment, you just stood there rooted to the ground, before mustering up your courage and slowly turning you head around to the direction of the voice.

 Your eyes went wide and you dropped your car keys in surprise upon seeing a familiar figure cooly standing there with his back leaned against the white Bentley you knew too well.

“Jay!” You called out loud excitedly. A huge smile appearing on your face.

“Hey pretty,” he greeted you with a wink and opened his arms for you.

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Shawn Mendes-Paparazzi

Requested: anonymous

Word Count: 743
Warnings: N/A
Summary: You and Shawn try to squeeze by the paparazzi to your hotel. But one move on their part, sets Shawn off.
~ ~ ~

Shawn gets out of his car and walks to the passenger side to get you out.
Luckily you two were in an underground garage in Toronto where the fans weren’t knowing of. The paps though, knew and were blinding you and Shawn while the bodyguards had their sunglasses on as they got to you and the young singer.

Shawn opened the passenger door and extended his hand to you.
You pop your legs out after taking his hand and accepting his help out of his car.

Shawn beeps his car to a lock and pockets his keys before properly lacing his fingers with yours.

A body guard was behind, infront and beside you both.
The crazy paparazzi call your names and ask for you to look at the camera.
But you and Shawn keep your gaze to the ground as you both try to make your way to the hotel Shawn booked for two nights.
It would maybe be a 5 minute walk.

The wind blew your hair back over your shoulders and gave you a slight chill from the misty air.
Shawn still kept a firm hold on your hand, not wanting to lose you.

A sudden pap manages to grasp your shoulder trying to get you to look at him, “Dont touch me!” You blurt out and shrug him off.
The bodyguard specifically beside you, hears and turns around to knock him back in place.
Shawn obviously hears too and stops to tell off the obnoxious pap.
“Excuse me. Excuse me” Shawn says, trying to remain calm as he looked at the man who took this opportunity to snap pictures.
“Shawn” you say gently, trying to soothe him. But he stood firm.
John, the bodyguard who was beside you, knocks the camera to the floor and smashes it.
“Hey man!” The guy booms.
“Look, you do not touch my lady” Shawn begins firmly, “I dont care what you do to me but dont ever think of laying a single digit on her again, you hear me?”.
With that, we continue forward.
It wasn’t long before fans noticed Shawn Mendes on the streets.
They start swarming around us, the bodyguards having to get more firm.

You lean into Shawn’s shoulder, trying to hide your cheek from the cold.
Shawn has his hoodie up but he is still able to look down to you to see that you’re okay.

“Shawn! Shawn! Can I get a picture!?”
“Selfie please!”
“Can you sign my shoe please!?”
“Shawn! Sign my shirt please!?”
The demands from fangirls were endless.
“I’ll be out later guys” Shawn says more nicely than moments ago, as we approach the hotel.
The girls scream in excitement and some start jumping with joy.
* * *
Our luggage was brought up to our room for us, it was too risky for us to do it ourselves.

I sprawl out on the king sized bed, tired from trying to dodge the media all day.
Shawn was talking to his mum on the phone.
But hung up soon after just saying we got here fine and planned dinner tonight at his parent’s.

Shawn comes over to my side of the bed and places a hand on the small of my back,
“Are you okay? The man didnt hurt you?”.
“Yeah, Im fine, Shawn” I tiredly reply.
“Okay, just making sure” he says and bends down to kiss my exposed cheek while the rest of my face was stuffed in a pillow.
He rises and drags his hand to my bum.
I get up from my stomach and turn to sit on my bum while grabbing his hand.
“Sit with me?” You ask and run your hands up his arm, just below the elbow.
“I promised the fans I was going to see them” he says with a cheeky grin, knowing how to bug you.
“Please. I really want Shawn cuddles” you pout with puppy eyes.
He playfully rolls his eyes and then crawls on the bed, more specifically; over and on top of you.
His palms rest on each side of your head as your lips lock and you pull him closer by the collar of his sweater.
It was a passionate kiss dominated by the ever so lustful Shawn Mendes.

“What ever happened to cuddling?” You ask with a smile.
“Changed the idea around” he replied inbetween kisses.

A blonde walks into a bank in search of a $5000 loan

A blonde walks into a bank in NYC before going on vacation and asks for a $5000 loan.

The banker asks “Okay miss, is there anything you would like to use as collateral?”

The woman replies “Yes, of course. I would like to use my Rolls Royce.”

The banker, stunned, asks, “A $250,000 Rolls Royce? Really?”

The woman is completely positive. She hands over the keys as the bankers and loan officers laugh at her.

They check her credentials, make sure she is the title owner. Everything checks out so they park the car in their underground garage for two weeks.

When she comes back, she pays off the $5000 loan as well as the $15.41 interest.

The loan officer says, “Miss, we are very appreciative of your business with us, but I have one question. We looked you up and found out that you are a multi-millionaire. Why would you want to borrow $5000?”

The woman replies, “Where else in NYC can I park my car for two weeks for $15.41 and expect it to be there when I get back?”

Haunted Chapter Eleven

This is long overdue, I know, and I apologize!  I worked on it all week, decided to go a different direction and rewrote half of it, had second thoughts again and had to read it a dozen times before I finally decided it was okay…I’m just really indecisive lately.  Anyway, here is chapter 11 for you…

Chapter Eleven

The longer you stood there staring blankly at Kim Jae Soo, the wider the smirk on his face grew.  “This is you, isn’t it?” he asked, waving the ipad in your face.  You focused on the photo, trying to decide if there was any point in denying it.  Whoever had taken the picture was good - your face and Seungri’s were clearly visible in the car as he turned out of the underground parking garage onto the street.

“I’ll pay you good money for a scoop,” Kim Jae Soo was saying.  “Just give me an exclusive interview before you talk to anyone else and I’ll -”

Your phone rang, interrupting him, and you used it as an excuse to back into your apartment and slam the door in his annoyed face.  You weren’t at all surprised to see Seungri’s name on the caller ID.

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Underground Carpark by Roberto Braam
Via Flickr:
Multi-storey car park Ossemarkt-Groningen, The Netherlands.

Imperfectly Perfect [Bucky Barnes x Reader] One Shot.

Title: Imperfectly Perfect

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Request: Imagine where the reader is kinda curvy and has stretch marks and is really insecure about it but Bucky reassures her that she’s still beautiful and like kisses her marks and supes fluffy

Warnings: Self-esteem and body issues, general angst

Tags: @kairos34

Originally posted by buckypupbarnes


Bucky expected to see you waiting for him in the underground garage of the Avenger’s facility when he returned from his mission. The sparse greeting he received in the form of Steve and Wanda came as a surprise.

It had been a simple observe and report, with most of the dirty work left up to Nat. They got to play dress up, something she didn’t mind but he wasn’t particularly fond of. He would have preferred Steve to take his place, but Captain America was just too damn recognizable. A metal arm was pretty recognizable too, which he had tried to point out to Tony, but the man simply smirked and noted a tailored suit and some snazzy gloves would do the trick.

The party was in full swing when they arrived, arm in arm, and they were able to blend in seamlessly with the crowd. Eventually Nat snuck off to gather information and he stood guard, in case of trouble. With little fuss, she was able to copy the necessary files onto a flash drive and they were gone before anyone could take notice of their absence.

Bucky took notice of your absence upon his return.

Normally, if you hadn’t accompanied him on the mission, you would be there to welcome him home no matter how big or small the assignment. The two of you hadn’t been together long, not officially at least, but Bucky had come to look forward to seeing your brilliant smile after a long day’s work.

Nat bowed her head, offering him a silent goodnight as she prepared for debriefing. His assistance had been minimal that night and his report could wait until morning. Steve gave him a hearty clap on the back before following Natasha, speaking with her quietly about the information she uncovered.

Wanda remained, waiting for Bucky to notice her. Her concerned expression left him with a feeling of worry.

“She is on the third floor again,” Wanda sighed sadly. “I tried to talk with her but she did not wish to speak.”

Bucky frowned. “How long has she been up there?”

“You’ve been gone for four hours,” she considered, “so nearly as long.”

“Damn it,” he muttered,” clenching his fist in frustration. “I’ll talk to her.”

“This must stop,” Wanda murmured, wringing her hands anxiously. “She cannot go on like this.”

“I know,” Bucky assured her, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder. “I know.”

Wanda slipped from his grasp airily, and they made their way to the elevators. No one said a word, both too distracted by their thoughts.



You were tired.

You had lost track of time but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Running was a good distraction. Bucky was off on a mission along with Natasha, and if you had stayed in your rooms you would have gone mad in the silence.

The third floor became your refuge when stress began to gnaw at you. It was hardly a surprise that the Avengers facility had a state-of-the-art gym, and you had frequented it previously on a regular basis. Lately though, you could be found here more nights than not. Especially on nights like tonight.

First was the stationary bike. Just a quick spin to get your heart rate up before moving on to the weights. You lingered at the weight stations for a long time, going through endless repetitions. Just before your muscles were about to give out, you finished with a few sets of the free weights.

You had needed a break after that, though you loathed to admit it. So you splayed yourself across the bench, taking a moment to just breathe and rest your aching body. Wanda said you were pushing yourself too hard. Steve sometimes frowned in that fatherly way only he could manage. You ignored them both.

When you were finally able to move again without your body threatening to seize up on you, you took a deep drink of water and then started running.

Speed wasn’t the objective, so you tried to keep a steady pace. You paid no attention to how long you had been on the track or how many laps you had done. By now, you had slowed to a crawl of a jog but you had to keep moving.

A tightening in your abdomen as you took a breath made you pause, and you took a second to right yourself. Hunched over, your hands on your knees, you took slow breaths as you worked the cramp away.

You jumped when a gentle hand met your back, a hitch in your breath. Bucky, still looking ridiculously handsome in his tailored suit and minus the gloves, was looking down at you in alarm.

“Are you okay?” he blurted out, worried at the sight of your red face, the sweat dripping from your clothing, and your trouble simply breathing.

“Fine,” you smiled weakly. “Just needed a quick break. You’re back early.”

“It’s been hours,” he murmured, mouth downturned. “Come on, let’s call it a night.” While his tone was sweet and persuasive, he left no room for disagreement. His metal arm wound around your waist and he began leading you toward the elevator.

You huffed at his insistence, but happy to see him you obliged.

He pulled you into a hug as the elevator took you to your floor, unbothered by the sticky sweat on your skin and clothes as it marred his pristine suit. When the doors opened, he steered your effortlessly to your shared rooms with a simple hand on your lower back.

“Why don’t you go take a shower?” he offered as he closed the door behind him, “Then we can relax for a bit.”

You trudged into the bathroom, really beginning to feel all the aches and pains in your muscles as your endorphins faded.

It was a fast shower, a quick washing of your hair and a slightly longer cleansing of your body. You didn’t linger though, you never liked to. There was too much vulnerability in being naked. There was no hiding the swell of your stomach or the imperfections on your thighs. When you looked down, you didn’t like what you saw, so you tried not to look at all.

By the time you left the bathroom, shrouded in a roomy Captain America t-shirt and shorts, you had expected to see Bucky stretched out on the couch in sweatpants flipping through channels on the television. He had changed out of his suit and into his sweatpants and a t-shirt, but he wasn’t lounging comfortably on the couch.

“Come here,” he entreated, standing in the middle of your living room and reaching a hand out to you.

Curious, you did as he asked, taking his hand and tilting your head inquisitively. He held your hand tightly, bringing his left hand to the nape of your neck and massaging it lightly as he rested his forehead on yours.

“What’s going on with you?” he wondered, eyes searching yours pleadingly.

“Nothing,” you replied in confusion.

“You’ve been hiding away on the third floor,” he sighed, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Wanda tells me you go there every time I’m gone. And tonight…you weren’t there when I came back.”

“I lost track of time,” you argued, feeling suddenly defensive. “I wanted to blow off some steam. I don’t know why you and Wanda are so bothered by it.”

“You could barely hold yourself up,” he grimaced. “You’re working yourself too hard. And I can’t understand why,” he admitted in frustration. “You’re a great agent. Steve hasn’t complained once about your performance. You train everyday as it is. Why isn’t that good enough?”

You let out an indelicate snort, leaning back and taking a step away from him.

“You really don’t get it,” you chuckled mirthlessly. Bucky’s jaw flexed.

“Then explain it to me,” he pleaded.

“Tell me what was wrong about tonight,” you pressed. He furrowed his brows in confusion. “I’ll tell you what. We are a great team. We work well together, better than anyone else. But I wasn’t your partner tonight.”

“Steve thought you needed some time to rest,” Bucky guessed with a shrug.

“Steve knew I wouldn’t belong,” you confessed as you tried to ignore the break in your voice. “You were going to party in high society, filled with beautiful people. You needed to blend in. So he picked you and Nat. Because I would never fit in.”

“That’s not true,” he cried, moving forward to pull you to him, but you danced away.

“It is,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “Natasha is flawless. She can slip on an evening gown and seduce any target in her path. And I can’t. If I wore satin, you would see every bump and dimple. If I tried to distract a target by flirting, I’d probably get the brush off,” Bucky looked shocked in dismayed, but you continued. “And if I showed up on your arm, everyone would know I’m a fraud.”

He wanted to argue every point you made, but Bucky was so stunned he remained silent.

“I just…I just want to be good enough,” you whispered, hiding your face in embarrassment. “I know I’ll never be as pretty as Nat or Wanda, I can’t change that. But maybe I can change in other ways. I’ve been working hard, you know? Cardio to help with weight loss. Weights to get more toned. It’s just—not happening fast enough.”

“You are good enough,” he stumbled over his words, not allowing you to slip from his grasp again as he held you close, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “You’ve always been good enough.”

“I’m fat,” you said bluntly, letting out a heavy sigh, and squirming slightly in his embrace. He released you reluctantly. “I always have been. I feel like an imposter on this team. But I can fight. And I’m smart. But what use is any of that if I get benched when it’s game time?”

“Look at me,” he said softly. When you hesitated he repeated himself with more insistence. When your tired eyes met his, you were taken aback by the fire in them. “You’re beautiful.” He saw you open your mouth to object but kept going. “Honestly, doll. You could have knocked me over with a feather the first time I saw you.”

“I’m pretty sure I couldn’t knock you over with a sledgehammer,” you huffed with a tiny laugh. He grinned at the sound.

“If Steve ever made you feel like you weren’t good enough, or pretty enough, I’ll punch that jerk in the face,” he threatened with a teasing grin.

“You know he didn’t say anything like that,” you shook your head. “No punching necessary.”

“But you’ve got to pushing yourself like this,” he was serious again, staring at you beseechingly. “You can’t keep this up. You’re killing yourself. And I can’t—you can’t leave me.”

You weren’t the only one feeling vulnerable; you could see it in the curve of his shoulders and the bow of his head. This time you were the one to reach out, slipping your arms around his waist and holding him tightly. Bucky returned your embrace desperately.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, and he let out a shaky but grateful breath.

“And if you ever feel like you’re not good enough, you have to tell me,” he implored, looking longingly into your eyes. “So I can show you how wrong you are.”

“You could show me now?” you bit your lip anxiously, and he smiled widely.

His thumb traced your bottom lip, teasing you and making you smile. His lips met yours with aching softness, as he poured every ounce of love he felt into that kiss. He left you breathless when he finally pulled away.

“I could use another demonstration,” you mumbled and Bucky laughed huskily. He was more than happy to oblige.

Francis Pritchard x Reader Chapter 1



         In the distance sirens can be heard as I made my way to Sarif Industries. The building reflects the face of Detroit, dismal but full of new hope. This new company just became well known only a year or two ago.

       A motorbike coming to a stop in the underground parking garage barely lit by the lights embedded in the walls. The basement entrance unlocked with a triple beep granting access to the engineer room. Spacey and dark since none of the lights in the building have been turned on yet. Black lights can be seen out in the hallway running low on power.

     I flip the switch fuses that give power to everywhere in the building. I squinted at the sudden brightness of the room as I hung my jacket on the coat rack.

     The last Engineering manager disappeared and they needed a replacement asap, so they gave me the promotion to fill the position. My talent can go from fixing Coffee machines to hot wiring cars in hollywood movies. Speaking of coffee, I should go get some myself. I walk up the flight of stairs towards the Café, provided by Sarif himself, and to where the kitchenette can be found.

      “Froger’s Instant Coffee.” Tastes just as good as its name. Cheap. Sarif may provide for the Café, but it doesn’t mean he has to get the good stuff.

         I start the coffee maker and began digging through the cupboards for that one special mug. Scribbled on it was the word ‘coffee’, but in a /blue/ sharpie instead of black. I took a quick look inside and noticed something crusty in it, “JC. Whoever washes the dishes around here need more elbow grease next time.” I rinsed it quickly and watched the coffee maker…make coffee. Just as exciting as watching the scientists work, but eventually something good happens.

       The coffee maker started gurgling and stopped making coffee, so I banged on it a few time just to get it going again. After ten minutes of a whistling solo the coffee maker beeps abruptly bringing me out of my wind concerto and over to the pitcher to get the daily dose of caffeine one needs if they wake up at 7am every morning for work.

         The rest of the building was silent. Pretty peaceful unlike later in the day where everyone is running around like they’re trying to get someone to the moon in a day. BigBro cameras were the only thing making a noise at the moment buzzing as they scanned the areas. I inspected one that has been fizzling in and out just outside the dining area. It needs to be tweaked soon. It has been two weeks its been doing that. Maybe I’ll tackle it after I do something nice for my bosses. Besides give them more paperwork to fill out. Today is going to be slow and boring, so why not give them some encouragement.

   I turned to read the clock on the microwave.


        “Crap, Pritchard will be here soon.” I hastily dig through the cupboard to find his mug which had the infamous Nucl3arSnake logo drawn on it. I did that for him since he was getting vexed at people stealing his mug, ‘Just put my name on it or draw a logo on there or SOMETHING so they’ll know not to take it.’ He frantically said a few months ago.

      I’ve been with SI since they started hiring advanced security back in 2026 in January and Pritchard joined in just at the end of July of the same year. He is the very same way today as he was a year ago, annoyingly snarky and dashingly clever. He’s recently been opening up a little more to me. Considerably everyday actually, I’m quite honoured.

      Looking back at the mug and out of my day dream I look at the drawing again. It wasn’t the best and was quickly squiggled on, I’ll just put it on my to-do list to fix later. I filled the mug with hot coffee, spilling some on my hand in the process and opened the fridge to find the vanilla coffee creamers. It’s never another flavour is it. Hesitating a moment to think about two creams or three. Three of course, he has a sweet tooth and man he can be so cranky in the morning.


          I was about to book it with the coffee to his office until more hot liquid touched my hand. “Geez!” I politely cursed to the nonexistent audience that I write to while grabbing a small tea plate to put over the mug and run towards the Tech Lab. Almost tripping on the stairs going up, I safely managed to open the door with my free hand and speed walk inside to set the plate and coffee next to the computer. The only reason I know the code to his office is so I can make sure the cameras are facing the proper direction…and he secretly enjoys my late-night company, but he’s too proud to admit it.

    The little Korean vacuum cleaner beeped at my presence upon entering.


      I hear his motorcycle rumbling underneath my feet even from the second floor. I quickly leave the office accidentally squishing the bot that followed me out the door. “Sorry buddy, you can’t come with.” I gently move it back in the office with my foot and close the door. Soft thumps can be heard from the bot and from the nearby stairs. I make a 180° in my tracks and take the scenic route to the stairs to avoid him for multiple reasons. Peering around the corner, I check to make sure he’s in his office before proceeding downstairs.

      Now back in the dining area I take my coffee and go to my own office to begin a long and bland day. “Wait, I forgot Adam’s coffee.” I breathed in then clumsily got out of the Jetson chair and went kitchen bound, again. Finding the only other clean mug and /carefully/ filling it this time. Two creams, two sugars. I grabbed another small plate to hold the lava hot liquid in the mug then hurried onwards up an extra flight of stairs and to his office. “Oh geez,” I forgot his code… 0451…1723…? I only have one entry left. Do I risk the alarm system going off and having an even scarier morning Francis? Or do I just ask him…5375. “Oh thank god,” the door opened to reveal a very hot and humid office and a slightly dishevelled and sleeping Adam. He must have left his humidifier on by accident. I didn’t even realize he didn’t leave work last night either. I set the coffee on his desk and poked the cactus on my way out. They thrive off of negligence I heard.

      Now finally in my office there’s a stack of paperwork I have to get to and a camera to fix later.


    The fucking alarm system went off on the first floor. Where the café is with the busted camera of course. When I got to the area, Adam was already down there checking out the scene for clues as to why the alarms were going off.

All of the workers except for Francis, Adam, and I have evacuated the building to safety protocols. A walking turret was stalking about looking for the intruder that it will never find because there are none.

    “What the hell is going on Jensen?”

    “I might ask you the same thing since you have all the camera feeds in /your/ office, Francis” Major emphasis on his name.


    “It’s not my division.”

    “Damnit Jensen it /is/ a part of your division! You are a part of our security, tech or not!”

I figured I should do something before their quarrelling turns violent, so I disabled the bugged cameras making the alarm system shut off.

    “Finally, could this day have anymore interruptions!” Francis’ ponytail swished as he walked off. How cute…I didn’t realize I was staring until Frank spoke up.

    “And thanks (y/n) for doing something right unlike /some/ other people.” he glared at Jensen then disappeared up the stairs and probably to his office.

    “Thanks (y/n), seriously. Im sure he was about to have a seizure from restraining himself from punching me.”

    “Pfft, you’re welcome, but y’know he’s not as bad as people think he is.”

    “Could be, but you have also been working with him and the company for quite some time. He knows you.”

    I shrugged then walked back to my office broken camera in hand, “Maybe so.”

So I’ve been on a big underground garage rock kick lately and the entire genre is so interesting. Half of it is sunset overdrive-esque grungy angsty fast paced rock. The other half is straight beach boys surf music. Technically, it’s all the same genre, but there was some sort of divide that I feel like I missed.