#THE ONE NIGHT I'M ESPECIALLY ANXIOUS ABOUT BEING BACK IN THE CITY AND SHE CALLS.

[yououghtaknow]

you know what they say. at least this weird situationship i'm in applies to so many taylor swift songs.

[applepiesupreme]

American Apple Pie

Pairing: Low/Mid Honor Arthur Morgan and female OC.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Savigne Ricci is a temporary guest at the Van der Linde camp. Her path crosses with the enforcer of the gang, Arthur Morgan, and despite their differences, a relationship develops between them. Whole lot of smut and fluff, slow burn-ish.

Chapter 31

AOC link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54945853/chapters/149765467

Chef Ecco had arranged for them to be picked up from the restaurant in the morning and they were driven to Bronte’s mansion in several horse carriages. She watched her colleagues, each looking more nervous than the other and she herself felt nervous, too. This kind of job was a career changer – evil or not, Angelo Bronte was an important man and he had invited a plethora of important guests, the biggest names in the city. It was the perfect opportunity to make an impression. But...somewhere in the very back of her mind she had begun to wonder if she really wanted to make one. 

She had barely slept the night before, anxious about the frutta martorana she had crafted, anxious about being around Chef Ecco, and (despite putting up a brave face about it to Arthur) anxious about being around Cosa Nostra. But there was a splinter in her, somewhere deep and hidden, that she felt now itching, needling her and she picked at it relentlessly, curious what she was concealing from her own self.

For a while now she had been struggling with doubts regarding the direction of her career. As much as she enjoyed crafting food at Antoine's, a part of her was listless about it. For one thing, her experiences at Antoine's had soured her ambitions to climb up the ladder of social strata. Food was her passion but this kind of food - expensive, fine food inevitably pushed her closer to folks that were...well you could say of a certain kind. Most were nice enough, true, but some were also inevitably people like Bronte and Ecco: men who could build you up or erase you with a flick of their wrists. Was it really possible to stay out of their orbits, stay out of their influence and still make a career in this field, especially as a woman of her background? It seemed less and less likely.  

The second reason was more complicated, more subtle and evaded her grasp for a long time. She had grown aware that something was missing from her work at Antoine's, something vital and essential. Like salt from a meal or cold missing from ice cream. Then last week she had taken a bowl of spaghetti with meatballs over to Jack and he had jumped with joy and it had hit her: no matter how masterful, how creative, how stupendous her food would be at Antoine's, nobody there would ever be as excited to eat it as Jack was. She had walked back to their tent mulling over this and sat watching Arthur slurping the noodles like some savage and had asked him if he liked her food or he simply ate it because it was there. 

He gave her an incredulous look. "Course I like yer food," was the flowery prose of a retort. And then, as he was piling himself an enormous second plate: "Gonna ask me if the sky is blue?" She contemplated that until he forked one of the meatballs she had been pushing around on her plate to get her attention and threw it in his mouth. "Ya spinnin' in yer head again?" Savigne shrugged. "I'm just...wrestling with some things." His eyebrows shot up with amusement. "Ya keep poutin' like that, gonna have to wrestle me later." "God, you're insufferable," she snorted. "Settle down." "Don' look so damn fine then," he chewed with a grin.  "That's the last thing on my mind right now," she grumbled.  "What ya said yesterday," he drawled. "Think I changed yer mind on that." "Seriously, Arthur?" "The day before, too." She pursed her lips and ignored him.  "And before that," he said smugly. "Christ on a cross! I'm thinking about my career right now." He hummed and slurped his spaghetti. "Why, don' like yer fancy job no more?" "I wouldn't call it fancy," she chuckled. "I'm just a cook. Dime a dozen," she mumbled and winced when the phrase made her skin crawl.  "This ball makin’ ya twitchy?” "No. Maybe. I don't know," she ran her hands over her face.  Then she rose to stand behind him, flapped open his napkin and tucked it into his shirt. She squeezed his shoulders before she took the fork off his hand and the untouched spoon. “Observe, my love.” His head swiveled slightly in her direction with the endearment but he watched her twirl the pasta on the fork against the spoon without splattering it. “Just in case it’s served in a posh place. Or…you know…you want to eat it without wearing it.” He took the cutlery from her and gave her a scrutinizing look as she came around to sit on her chair again. "Gonna tell me what's goin' on with ya? Been goin' on with ya?" He said as he practiced the move. She thought of Arthur telling her to look away and striding to the Murfree, a blade at hand and a storm in his eyes. Nobody cared about a Murfree, but Chef Ecco? The whole city would go wild; it might even make the national news! Maybe he could evade the law regardless as he had done all his life. But maybe this would be the time he bit off more than he could chew and it would be her fault. You can never tell your boyfriend Sarah whispered in her mind. "Maybe I'm tired of Saint Denis," she sighed and cupped her chin, watching him eat. "Maybe that cabin needs to be far, far away from here." "Fine by me. Long as it ain't Tahiti," Arthur grumbled.  "Tahiti? What's in Tahiti?" "Rest of them fools," he said, jabbing his head to the gang behind him.  She laughed at that. "That's the plan? Even for Dutch, that's crazy."

But that night she had lied in bed, thinking about their conversation and it occurred to her how many people were pulled in the wake of the nonsense of charismatic men. How easy it was to laugh at Dutch and all the fools who would follow him off a cliff when she herself was allowing herself to be dragged into ever deeper waters by Ecco. I can't let this happen, she thought. I didn't come this far and work this hard so I can be humiliated and hurt and discarded by some monster. If Arthur has broken free, so can I. 

She pushed these thoughts away as the carriage slowed and they arrived at the mansion. They were guided to the kitchen like baby ducks in a row and she gawked around, stunned by the wealth. It felt like she had been transported into a different world. The kitchen was almost the size of Antoine’s and spotless. There were a number of cooks running around, preparing lunch and dinner for Mr Bronte. They weren’t assigned to help with the food for the ball – that was the job of Ecco's team. 

They were introduced, familiarized with the kitchen and the available tools and where everything was, then they had to wait a bit for lunch preparations to be over before they could go in and start the food for the evening. 

Savigne didn’t have much to do on her end – her frutta martorana had to be prepared ahead of time and she had done most of the work. She just had to put in the finishing touches so the colors would stand out vibrant when the time came. So she helped others with their assignments.

Chef Ecco arrived a lot later, towards late afternoon and she spotted him walking about in the garden with Mr. Bronte from afar. They seemed to be having a jovial conversation and she soured on him even further. It was unclear if he was just being chummy with Bronte for his own career advancement or if he really liked the guy, but there was no doubt in her mind that they were more alike than apart. 

It was her first time seeing Mr. Bronte and maybe it was knowing what he was and what he had done regarding Jack, but she immediately grew to dislike him. He had that grandiose, bellicose air to him that most men of his stature did but he also seemed to be overdoing it. His mansion was a reflection of him – big and showy but to the point of drifting into tacky, self-aggrandizing, everything for the distinct urge to impress others. She recognized the fellow immigrant in him always trying to compensate for the fact that he had arrived on a stinking ship like everyone else and was now obsessed with proving to folks that he was just as good, if not better than them.

She startled when Sarah chirped next to her: "Are they arguing?"

She turned to the two men, gesticulating in Italian. "Unfortunately no," she said drily.

A moment passed as the women watched the two men. "Are you okay, Savigne?"

"Not really," Savigne said, unable to look at her, feeling that weird shame again as if somehow what was happening was her own fault. 

Sarah didn't say anything but inched closer until their shoulders touched. 

"Some men," the blond girl sighed, looking out the window, "just want to take something from you and that's all they want. Then they're done. They move on to the next thing and they let you be."

Savigne watched the jovial back patting as the two men headed down the garden path. "Not everything is theirs to take," she droned. 

"If such men are told no, then they want to take everything from you," was the careful response. They both looked on even though the garden was empty now.

Savigne shrugged as if to say 'so what'.

"Did you hear about Estelle?"

"No, what happened?" Savigne blinked out of her stupor. 

"Heard she couldn't find a job in Saint Denis. Not even as a dishwasher. A few places accepted her but then...she was mysteriously let go the next day."

Savigne thought on this. "America is a big country."

"Sure. But some men have a long reach." Sarah turned to lock eyes then. "Don't think less of me for saying it. You're an excellent cook, that's why I'm here talking to you. Be careful."

She went back to the kitchen and focused on her job and before she knew it, it was evening and the buzz in the kitchen intensified. Savigne was used to it – there was always stress in the kitchen with the arrival of mealtime. Things had to be pre-arranged so everything could roll out smoothly and on time, because if there was an cardinal sin in this business, it wasn’t so much the taste of the food they were serving, but the nerve to waste some important person’s time. 

She pondered if she would run into Arthur and the rest and dismissed it as unlikely – they were going to be with the guests and she wasn’t going to step out of the kitchen for the most part. Still, she was curious. And apprehensive. Whatever the Van der Linde gang was up to, it could be safely surmised that it was no good and she hated the fact that Arthur, in his ripe old age still hung around this nonsense. She knew at this point he had his doubts about the whole thing, she knew he harbored some resentment for what the gang was doing and she knew he meant to leave it all behind, but he sure as hell was taking his sweet time about it! They all were. Even Hosea, who was the most vocal about the state of things, was still hanging around, idling about in Dutch’s shadow instead of putting his foot down. 

She eyed the time. The ball was going to start soon but the general air in the kitchen was collected. Things were moving about quickly and the staff Chef Ecco had brought over was used to the hectic pace of a kitchen and nobody was running around like their head was on fire. 

She went to the fridge and looked over her frutta martorana. It looked excellent to her, especially that mandarin that she had constructed, half peeled and looking as real as the fruit itself, but self-doubt was always close to her heart and she bit her lip, eyes crawling over the pastry with apprehension.  

“They look magnificent!” Chef Ecco proclaimed behind her and made her flinch. 

His arm swung around her back, patting affectionately. Savigne scurried out of his reach, trying to be subtle about it but he saw her panic and rather than surprised or angry, he was amused. 

“They’re excellent, Savigne. You have outdone yourself. Don’t be surprised if you get some calling cards delivered to you after tonight.”

She nodded politely and closed the fridge door. 

“How are things upstairs?” she managed to break the awkward silence that set in.

“People are arriving. It’s going to be a big one.”

“Where do you want me?” she cleared her throat, eyeing the kitchen. 

“You’ll find something to do,” he mused, smiling at her. “I know I don’t have to order you around.” His tone implied that he enjoyed doing it anyway.

She was about to step away when he said “Tell you what,” and glided into her personal space, “why don’t you take a break at some point and just go up and see what they think?”

“Would that be…appropriate?”

“Sure!” he waved his arm about dismissively. “Why not? You’re not a servant, you’re a cook! My cook,” he said eyes hungry. “Take your cap and apron off and go up and walk about the tables, see what folks are saying.”

She looked down at her pristine uniform. With or without a cap, she wasn’t really dressed for the occasion. 

He guessed what she was thinking and laughed. “Don’t have to attend the ball!” he grinned. “Just go about and see what it’s all like. If anyone tries to usher you out, you better take their name. Nobody pushes my staff around." Another pat on her back, the palm on her shoulder blade lingering a tad too long, and he was gone. 

Savigne exhaled with relief and rolled her shoulders to shake off the residue of his touch.

A few hours later the ball was in full swing and the kitchen was even calmer than before. Everything that was to be served had been prepared and was now just being carried upstairs. Bronte’s own staff was handling the serving, so there wasn’t much left to do for the cooks themselves. Ecco was right – this kind of event was in a way easier. It was front loaded and required a lot of preparation, but once that was done, the pace dropped off very steeply and there was a lot of time for rest. 

Having tasted food all day she didn’t feel hungry, but she was now eager to stroll upstairs and see what a ball was like. She removed her cap and her apron, smoothed her dazzlingly white, clean uniform and decided to take the offer. 

Upstairs was a a completely different world. The entire mansion had come alive with light and laughter. She walked among the guests, a little stupefied, absorbing the splendor. It was as if every beautiful person in Saint Denis was here today. Tuxedos pristine, dresses sublime, hair shaped meticulously, just the right amount of make-up, voices tuned to that polite, low tone interspersed with the tinkling of laughter here and there… She glided through the crowds, feeling invisible and, in a way, liberated because this way she was able to observe people she rarely encountered as if they were an exotic species while they hardly noticed her. She grew a little bolder and snatched a glass of champagne from one of the tables and strolled along the long laid out table, checking on the food to see what had been eaten the most and what remained relatively untouched. 

The buffet tables were regularly visited by the patrons and her frutta martorana was in the center of the spectacle, displayed like a work of art. She saw several people looking at it, pointing at it, almost afraid to touch it. It put a grin on her face and a surge of pride swept through her. 

“Miss Ricci?”

She turned to her name and for a moment had no idea who this man was. He looked very different dressed up, hair slicked back, beard trimmed down. Then it came to her: “Mr. Dunham?”

He grinned, showing his perfect white teeth. He stepped closer to extend his hand. His aftershave was excellent – noticeable but just the right amount of subtle. 

“Well at least I made an impression,” he said. She laughed and shook his hand, looking him over. 

“You would have made one today if you hadn’t already,” she complimented him. A light shade of pink dusted his cheeks and she thought it cute. 

“Should have known the excellent food meant you were in the kitchen,” he said. His grey eyes were twinkling, reflecting the lights around them. 

“I only made the frutta martorana,” she responded, brushing her skirt and taking a sip from her champagne. “Can’t claim ownership of the excellent food.”

“Which one is that?”

She pointed to the display with her champagne glass and almost chocked on a mouthful of it when she spotted Arthur there, staring at her with the ghost of a grin. He looked…well immaculate. She had to admit he cleaned up extremely well, and somehow a tuxedo looked even better on him than his usual clothes did, which was saying something. His hair was shorter and slightly combed back with pomade and the beard was trimmed professionally. The way his broad shoulders sat within the sharp corners of the stiff jacket and his trousers hugged his slim hips did something funny to her stomach. All in all, he looked like one of the heroes Mary Beth’s stupid books fawned about for pages. She stared at him, mesmerized all over again by that animalistic quality, that magnetism he had, the way he filled space and had a weight to his presence and thought no wonder I fell for him. Even if she hadn't known who he was, seeing him here in this setting where he stood out like a tiger among cats, it was near impossible to not notice him.

“My my,” she heard Dunham and felt his shoulder brush against hers as he walked around her to approach the display. She blinked away from Arthur’s gaze, closed her mouth and followed. 

“Well this is quite something!” Mr. Dunham said, circling the pastry table and Savigne tried to concentrate on him and ignore Arthur who was standing just a few feet away. “What is it?”

“Oh,” she said lightly, wetting her lips and trying to get her pulse rate under control, “it’s sweets made of marzipan. It’s very popular in Sicily. Traditional. We thought Mr Bronte would enjoy something from back home.” The way her heart was speeding up with his silhouette in the periphery of her vision, you’d think she wasn’t sleeping next to this man every night. 

“Miss Ricci?”

“Hmmm? I’m sorry. My mind went…”

“…somewhere else for a moment,” the lawyer finished, grinning again. “I remember.”

She chuckled. “Sorry. I do that.”

He waved it away. Somehow even his wave was elegant. 

“I was asking how you made it. This looks…well, spectacular!”

“Oh,” she grinned. “Thank you. It’s just…more sculpting than baking to be honest.” In the corner of her eye, Arthur stepped closer to them and her heart did a jolt. 

“But see here,” he pointed to the mandarin she had crafted, half peeled, the peel standing away from the fruit to show the inner slices, down to the detail of white flesh webbing, “you’re telling me this is desert and not a fruit?”

She laughed and shrugged in humble confirmation. 

“Well I can’t eat that!” he protested with mock outrage. “It would be a crime!”

“But…” she objected, the compliment shading her cheeks. It had been a long time since a man had earnestly complimented her. Sure, flattery was a simple and effortless thing, but there was a reason why it worked - everyone liked to be buttered up a bit now and then. Receiving it from him now so abundantly when she rarely got any from Arthur or Luther made her head spin a little.  

“Oh no I couldn’t,” he said, enchanted by her shyness.

“‘Scuse me,” came from beside them as Arthur’s big hand closed on the mandarin and retrieved it to plop it on his plate. 

She froze with surprise. Mr. Dunham was about to turn around to assess whose hand that had been when Savigne quickly spoke up: "You know," she said, giving Arthur a 'what are you doing?' look as he shot back a 'what are you doing?’ one of his own. "In some cultures food is served just as a spectacle, not even meant to be eaten."

"Interesting.” The lawyer followed her as she stepped down the line. 

"Yes. There are formal Japanese meals for example that are insanely pretty. They're paraded around and served but are meant to just be looked at. Sort of to show off the skill of the cook and, by association, the wealth of the host who can afford him."

"Why, that's fascinating," Mr. Dunham said, his grey eyes locked on her. 

"Try the grapes," she suggested. 

Arthur advanced and plucked the grapes away to stack them on his plate, too.

She gave him an incensed  'Seriously?' look. He responded with that brash and unfazed azure gaze. 

Mr. Dunham turned again to see who it was but before he could, she quickly touched his arm to divert his attention back to her. "So you're back in Saint Denis!"

Savigne was relieved when it worked. "Oh yes! I actually travel back and forth quite a bit now. Lots of business here and business is good for us lawyers."

She took a sip from her drink, gave Arthur a withering gaze over Mr Dunham's shoulder which was promptly ignored. She moved down the table further and the blond man followed and, to her chagrin, so did Arthur.

“How’s New York?”

“New York is New York. It’s the heart of this country and I daresay, the world. But…there’s a charm to Saint Denis I’ve grown quite fond of.” His eyes danced with bold mischief.

She feigned ignorance, bowed her lips and hummed. “How about that.”

They glided down the long table but he barely sampled anything, intensely focused on her.

"You didn't call on me, Miss Ricci," he said at last, voice a little more somber. "I have to say I was disappointed about that."

She smiled. "I was busy. I remember warning you about that.”

He grinned as if caught in a lie. "You did. But, guess I was hoping anyway. Are you still busy by any chance?"

Before she could respond, “So Miss,” interjected Arthur from behind him, his tone denoting that he had enough of the playful banter between them, “heard ya say you made these.”

Savigne blinked at him, caught off guard. She managed a late “Yes.”

Mr. Dunham turned and scrutinized Arthur, who stood at least a head taller and twice as broad. “Brilliant, isn’t it?”

Arthur threw one of the grapes in his mouth, chewed on it thoughtfully, then gave Savigne a long, intense look while he ran a tongue over his teeth.

She cocked an eyebrow. “Well? Do you like it? Sir?”

“Reminds me of somethin’,” he said. “Tryin’ to remember where I ate it.” He licked his lips. “Think I had somethin’ similar…”

She sipped her champagne, amused.

“…in the Bayou.”

The champagne shot out of her nose as she coughed violently. Mr. Dunham quickly came to her side to politely pet her shoulder which, of course, did nothing. 

Arthur broke into a grin and shouldered him aside. “Here, lemme.” His big hand slapped on her back not quite hard but hefty enough to dislodge the champagne that had gone into her airway and she wheezed and swallowed, recovering.

“Thanks,” she croaked, eyes watery. “It’s an…acquired taste,” she coughed, placing her glass on the table to brush the droplets off her skirts. His palm remained on her back.

"In the Bayou, you say?" the lawyer picked up the conversation. "I really can't imagine they have anything there that can compare.”

"There's this little bird..." Arthur began.

"Please, try one!" Savigne hastily urged Mr. Dunham, voice still raw.

Mr. Dunham picked a peach. She tried to inconspicuously push Arthur’s southward gliding hand away as they watched the lawyer carefully slice a piece off, fork it into his mouth and chew with narrowed eyes. 

“It’s marzipan and sugar,” she explained.

The blond man hummed, thoughtful. “Very…interesting.”

Savigne carefully slapped at the hand that had resumed its journey to her butt. “It’s a little old fashioned, I know.”

“Very unique, I must say,” the lawyer stated. Then his eyes glided up to Arthur at Savigne’s side. “I’ve never been to the Bayou, Mr…?

“Kilgore,” Arthur said smoothly.

What a name, Savigne thought and bit her lip.

"What's to do over there?"

“The fishing is good. Gotta use the right bait of course.”

The grab on her butt cheek made her jump and dance away as she shot Arthur a glare of warning.

“You, Miss Ricci?”

"Me what? Sorry."

"Have you been to the Bayou?"

“Once,” she said curtly.

“If ya ever wanna go again…” Arthur said to her with a smug grin. “…’m yer man. Would be a…” his eyes crawled over her body, “…pleasure.”

It was inexcusable, the way he was looking at her - so bold and unapologetic that even Mr. Dunham noticed it and took a step closer to her. 

“Would you like to take a walk in the garden, Miss Ricci?” he said, offering his arm.

This displeased Arthur greatly and she saw the amusement drain from his eyes.

“I should probably head back to the kit-” she started.

“What time ya done?” was Arthur’s drawl as his eyes flicked to her.

“Excuse me sir, that’s awfully direct,” the lawyer said frostily.

“I care ‘bout what ya think, I’ll ask ya,” was the hard response.

“You’re making the lady uncomfortable. I feel obliged to-.”

“Oblige somewhere else.”

The speed with which the amicable interaction dissolved rendered her speechless for a moment. A tension shot up between the two men as she looked from one to the other, nervous where this was going. It was very unusual for Arthur to act this brash but there was no doubt in her mind that he had recognized Dunham from the train station and had a bone to pick because of it. Mr. Dunham, on the other hand, had barely noticed Arthur back then so the odds of recognizing him in his current attire were slim to none.

"I think it's time I head back..." she tried, but the men had advanced to a stage of the duel where she was merely a prop for their stupid power play, so they ignored her.

“You're quite forgetting yourself, Mr. Kilgore," the blond man huffed with indignation and offered his arm to her again. "Miss Ricci?

“Ya stick that twig out again, ‘m gonna break it.”

Both Dunham and Savigne gaped at Arthur for a moment.

“Gentlemen…” she sputtered when she found her voice again.

“There’s clearly only one of those here!” was the lawyer's smooth interjection.

“Ya got the ‘gentle’ part right, tell ya that,” Arthur growled as he drew himself up and gave the other man a dismissive head to toe.

“You sir are a brute. That’s no way to behave around a lady.”

“Lady ain't complainin', is she? Go on, take yer fancy ass outta here.”

“Ar- Mister Kilgore!” she gasped, scandalized.

“How inappropr-” tried the lawyer.

“Bag it.”

“Sir, I’m about to call someone.”

“Who? Yer mommy?”

“Jesus!” Savigne muttered and nervously ran a hand over her forehead.

“That’s it! I invite you to step outside with me!”

“Thought ya’d never ask,” Arthur said and roughly threw his plate on the table.

“Absolutely not!” Savigne stepped between them. For a lawyer, Dunham seemed surprisingly stupid. Arthur could crack this man’s skull with one hand while playing cards with the other. She glared at Arthur. “I will be very cross if there’s a fight,” she hissed, pressing on each word.

He never looked away from the other man as he rolled a shoulder. “Won’ be much of a fight. Miss.”

“Erik, please!" She was hoping that the use of his first name would compel the lawyer but all it did was irritate Arthur whose eyes now blazed at her.

“Miss Ricci, I assure you, I’m not a meek man.”

“Pushin’ them papers made ya this big?” was Arthur’s tease.

“I'm quite good at boxing!”

He got a snort as a response. “Might wanna have these then,” Arthur fished his black velvet gloves out of his pocket and flung them at the other man’s chest. “So ya don’ crack yer pretty nails.”

“Gentlemen!”

She never thought she’d be this happy to see Dutch stroll over and almost sobbed with relief. 

“What’s going on here?” was his smooth question.

“This...man was bothering the lady,” spat the lawyer as if leaving the 'gentle' out was some great insult. “We were about to step away.”

“Nobody was bothering anybody,” Savigne seethed, giving both men a heated look. “And I don’t think either of you gave a damn about me.”

“Tacitus, shame on you,” Dutch drawled. “We can’t brawl here, this is not a saloon.”

Arthur flexed his fingers. “Man here wonders what Saint Denis cobblestone taste like,” he said mildly, “‘m obliged to help.”

“Really unfortunate how all manner of folk get invited to these events now,” sniffed the lawyer.

“Ya hear this mewlin'?” Arthur asked Dutch.

“I think we have more important things to attend to,” Dutch said and glared at her as if she was responsible for this nonsense. He gripped Arthur’s arm but the bigger man refused to move.

The hiss of “Tacitus” was ignored.

“Goodbye,” was Dunham’s gloat and Arthur’s face darkened.

“You know what - I’ll see myself out. Good night to both of you,” Savigne spat and practically stomped off. Before she walked back indoors she looked over and Dunham was watching her with disappointment while Dutch had managed to wrestle the bigger man away.

“Unbelievable,” she hissed to herself. Silly peacocks, all of them, strutting around and sporting their tail fans at any given opportunity. 

Things tapered off and Savigne changed her clothes and headed out so she could sneak away before Chef Ecco turned up. The hour was late and even bustling Saint Denis was somewhat empty. She cringed at the idea of riding back to camp this late, through all those dark forests and deserted paths. Maybe it was better to stay in a hotel in town today. But she hadn't told Arthur and if she didn't turn up he would surely come looking for her. She crossed the street and a dark shadow detached itself from the rest of the darkness under a store awning and glided closer. 

She waited, apprehensive, until she recognized his gait and relaxed.

“Was just thinking about you,” she said as he walked closer to stand in front of her. He smiled and placed a hand on her lower back. “Maybe we can stay at a hotel.”

He jerked her forward roughly and she stumbled into him, next thing she knew he was kissing her. Not a chaste kiss on the cheek either - a passionate, full on one that she would never expect from him in the middle of a city street - regardless how sparsely populated it was at the moment. She reflexively pushed against him and of course putting up that kind of fight just made Arthur more eager to overpower her. He swung her around and her back was pushed against the wall as he deepened the kiss, boxing her in between his arms, his body flush against hers.

Breathless, she relented, retrieving her hands and placing them on the wall in a show of surrender. It worked, he softened the kiss and eventually pulled back, but his hands glided down her chest and palmed her buttocks, implying that his reprieve was temporary.

“What was all that nonsense earlier?” she panted.

“Should be thankin’ me,” he sighed into her neck as he left a trail of kisses. “For savin’ ya from that prick.”

“Thank you for saving this helpless maiden,” she sighed dramatically.

“That’s better,” he kissed her. “Now to my reward.” He took her hand and walked her through the dark streets of Saint Denis, to the background music of drunken yowling, ranting and peals of laughter.

They arrived at a hotel that was still lively with lights blazing and music drifting from the main hall.

“Gimme yer best room,” Arthur slapped his billfold on the desk. She cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Certainly sir,” the man flipped the book around for Arthur to sign. “We have a room with a double bed and extra large private tub ensuite.

Arthur grunted in approval as he grabbed the key. Then he paused and asked “The bed have a headboard?”

“Of course,” the clerk scoffed as if the alternative was unthinkable.

Arthur grabbed her hand again and pulled her up the stairs behind him. Several of the rooms had chatter and laughter drifting out as they walked past them. And a few of them lusty moans and cries of pleasure.

“Wow,” she cleared her throat.

“Ya can sing better than these fools,” he grinned at her. She opened her mouth to argue but he was faster: “And, believe me, ya will.”

She shook him awake early next morning. “Arthur.”

He grunted to say he’s awake.

“I need you to get me something.”

His brows furrowed. “What ya need?”

“There is this thing called beigel, I need one.”

“The hell is that?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“It’s like a pastry, but savory.”

He cracked open an eye. “Ya want breakfast, we can order room service.”

“No I want beigel with lox.” He took a deep breath and rose on his elbow to look at her as if she had spoken in tongues.

”Please?” she pleaded, pulling the covers up to her chin.

“Fine,” he sighed and rose to sit up at the edge, the covers pooling around his waist and exposing his naked chest. “Ya dream ‘bout it or somethin’?”

“I guess. I’m craving it something fierce.” He paused and gave her a look over his shoulder. “Think it’s because I’m going to bleed soon,” she explained, a little abashed.

He cracked his neck and got on his feet and started to get dressed. “Where they sell this thing?”

“The Jewish quarter. Three blocks up, an avenue over.” She watched him dress in his tuxedo from last night. “I want extra onions.”

He hummed as he reached for his satchel. “Ya sure they open on Sunday?”

“Yeah, it’s the Jewish quarter. It’s this round thing with a hole in the middle, they sell it on sticks. Don’t get the wrong thing!” she called quietly as he headed to the door. “With lox! And extra…”

“I got it, woman,” he grumbled and added “Don’ take a bath without me,” as he exited the room and headed for the stairs.

Saint Denis was calm and quiet under an overcast sky and the drizzle of rain. He decided he liked the city better like this. He passed people walking by quickly under the mist of rain and missed his hat. It was chillier now that Fall was here but perfect weather to him. He strolled up the avenue as the city slumbered around him, not yet ready to recover from the lively Saturday celebrations and he wasn’t the only one stumbling around in their nice clothes from the previous night, either.

Once he arrived at the neighborhood which was livelier than the rest of the city, he asked around and was guided to a small hole in the wall shop and proceeded to buy three, curious what this food was. 

As he was heading back to the hotel a store window caught his eye and he crossed the street to look at the jewelery on display. It surprised him to see a man behind the counter at this early hour but he took it as a sign and entered.

Arthur walked in, rolled his shoulders and looked around. His eyes adjusted to the dim interior and glided over the assortment of pendants, necklaces, tiaras, brooches, swaying and clinking softly in the wake of the breeze that followed him in. It had started to rain in earnest and he was the only customer. It was, by all accounts, too early for this kind of shopping.

The man behind the counter didn’t push and merely glanced over before he dived back into his newspaper. There was a strong, warm smell of coffee in the air.

“Late night?” observed the man, looking over his tuxedo when Arthur approached the counter.

He grunted and dug into his satchel and retrieved the slender ring and carefully placed it on the counter.

“Don’ need this no more,” he sighed.

The man placed an oversized lens in front of an eye and picked it up and took his time inspecting. “Charming,” he nodded thoughtfully before the big owl eye behind the lens blinked at him and a polite “I’m sorry, son” was added at the implication. His tone was more neutral when he continued: “I can take it off your hands.” He went to the cash register but he saw something in Arthur’s eyes and shuffled back over. “Anything else you need, young man?”

“Need another ring,” was the gravely response. 

The man hesitated. “She didn’t like it or…?”

“No. That business is over. Need a new one.”

“Ah I see. Well…what did you have in mind? Something similar?”

“Different.”

“Anything specific she likes? A certain color…a certain gem?”

He thought on this for a moment.

“Somethin’…Italian.”

The man hummed and scratched one oversized ear. “That’s not a request we get every day. But I do have some interesting rings.”

He went to the back and was gone a while and Arthur watched people through the store window running around under their umbrellas, trying to jump around puddles. Horses clopped by, their legs and underside splattered with mud. 

When the man shuffled back in, he had a tray at hand. The navy velvet underlining was old and dusty. On it, two dozen rings displayed like artifacts.

“We have old, we have new, we have diamond or white gold. Anything catch your eye? I have more in the back.”

Arthur bent over and gave the rings a cursory inspection. They looked like any other ring to him. He staightened, dissatisfied. 

“Something more…unique.”

The store owner gave him a narrow eyed hum and took the tray back, then returned with another. He wordlessly places the tray in front of him and withdrew a little.

The blue eyes carefully glided over each, then paused on one. “What’s this?”

“That there is a cameo,” the man said, pulling it out of its clasp and dropping it into Arthur’s large palm. 

“What’s that?”

“A carving of seashells. It’s very Italian. Romans used to wear these.”

“Ya got more o’these?”

A nod and the man shuffled off again. Arthur held the ring against the dim light from the large store window. Rose colored background, on it the ivory profile of a woman with gentle lines and wispy details. It looked very pretty and quite different from the rings he had stuffed into the camp box over the years.

“How about these, son?”

The tray held only five rings but that was four too many. His eyes immediately snapped to the second to last on the row. “That one,” he pointed.

“You have good taste.” It was dropped into his palm and he returned the other ring. An oval head, about the size of a corn kernel, deep blue background. The band slim and elegant. On it the ephemeral white image of a lady and a horse, the mane of the horse flowing and her skirts slightly blowing as she was reaching out a tiny hand to pet it.

“This one,” he said, voice raspy with fascination. “Perfect.”

The man nodded, pleased. “I’m obliged to admit that it’s not very valuable,’ he said. “In case she…gets disappointed. Cameos rarely are unless they’re antiques. But it’s very pretty and unique.”

“She won’ care,” he said, turning it between his fingers. “Seashells, huh?”

“Seashells. The value is the craftsmanship.”

“Italian. Horse. Ocean blue. Seashells…” he noted and looked up to the jeweler to clarify: “She came on a ship.” He was astonished at his luck and at this point, tempted to call it fate. “It’s made for’er. I’ll take it.”

The man nodded and produced a small box and placed the ring in it. “I still owe you the difference,” he said and moved to the cash register.

“It’s fine,” Arthur said dismissively and pocketed the ring. 

“How about a ring for yourself instead then?”

“I got one. From before.” He hesitated. “But…thinkin’ might be better I get a new one.”

“I agree,” the man said. “It's a new journey. Requires a new vessel.”

The store owner offered his congratulations when he left and headed back to the hotel, grinning for no apparent reason. He marveled a little how that elusive thing he had thought was forever beyond his reach was here now, so close he could almost taste it:

Family.

And not one cobbled together out of circumstances or convenience, but a proper family - chosen. Asked for and accepted. After thirty-six years of living and doing, it was maybe the only mark he would leave in this world, the only deed he could point at and boast about. Six months ago he was telling Hosea it wasn’t in the cards for him and today he had bought a ring. Sure, some of it was luck. But this was no whimsical luck of a bullet missing by inches - he had chased it, fought for it, clawed at it, so it was as much an accomplishment as it was luck and yes, he was proud of it. Don’t fuck this up, he thought. Not again. Just hold the course. Don’t do nothing stupid. If he held steady, surely she would accept.

He was superstitious about counting his chickens before they hatched, wary that allowing himself to daydream about it would invite the ire of the universe and with it, all the bad luck he was owed for the life he had led, but couldn’t resist the temptation today and very carefully, almost shyly allowed himself to revel in the feeling of being loved and wanted. Of being needed. Someone in this world loved him, wanted him - the concept seemed absurd. Not because he was a skilled shooter or a loyal enforcer, not because he added money to the box or took risks - someone loved him despite those things and didn’t expect anything from him but his company. 

When he entered the room she was standing by the window, bed cover draped over her naked shoulders like a cape.

”You were gone for a while. Did you find it?” she said, running over. 

”Did,” he said as she practically ripped the bag off his hands and scrambled to sit at the table.

She fished out one beigel and bit into it, moaning with pleasure.

”The hell gotten into you?” he chuckled, peeling off his jacket.

”Dis ow yu luk wen yu eat,” she mumbled around her food and comically scrunched her face and chomped with exaggerated fury.

He laughed and sat across from her and they ate to the sound of the rain on the windowpane. The hotel started to wake up but slowly, lazily.

”Oh my god,” she groaned, caressing her tummy and leaning back on the chair when she had devoured the beigel, for the first time finishing a meal before he did. “That hit the spot. Thank you.” Then she found the third one in the bag. “You’re going to eat this, or…?”

”Go ahead,” he grimaced. “Think ‘m good.”

He got up and went to the connected room and started to fill the tub while he undressed, hanging his clothes on the hooks on the wall. When it was done and the temperature of the water adjusted, he sank in with a groan and she came in, threw the covers off her shoulders and gingerly sat between his legs. He sat back and lit the complimentary cigar placed on a tray beside the tub and she groaned with pleasure and leaned back into his chest. There were no windows in this room but there was a skylight and they listened to the rain drumming on it as he smoked and she dozed off and woke up intermittently.

“Quiet Sunday,” she mumbled at last. “Must be the rain,” and shifted to settle more comfortably between his legs.

His free hand untangled her locks and glided over her shoulders and her breasts as he smoked. He thought of the ring in his satchel and all the quiet mornings in the future. The sense of loss and rudderless drifting that always used to fill him at the idea of the absence of the gang, of Dutch and Hosea and Grimshaw and the conversations at the camp fire didn’t come. Maybe because he had been gradually weaned off it these past six months, or maybe because it felt due, earned like a deserved retirement after a lifetime of work, but he was ready for it - eager even.

Eager for peace and quiet and days spent in the unhurried pleasure of simple tasks. Eager to watch the sun set on his porch somewhere and listen to her preparing dinner inside. To set his own agenda instead of following one set for him. To come up with little chores around the cabin to keep himself busy. 

For as long as he could remember, he had coasted like a log in the river of life. Always moving, carried by the current. Sometimes caught in an eddy, a little enclave for a while, but eventually pushed out again to be rolled along. Always living off crates, sleeping in tents. He tried to imagine actually having a place of his own that was permanent and worth getting attached to. He tried to imagine waking up in the same room, looking at the same view out of the same window every single day and watch the seasons change. He tried to imagine things being in cupboards and shelves, hung on walls, his clothes in closets. He tried to imagine having a routine not for a week or a month but for years. To meet people in towns and to actually expect to meet them again.

Dutch always said there was freedom in the nomad life and there was. But he had been doing it for over twenty years now and it didn’t feel as illustrious as it did when he was younger. Hosea was right - this was a young man’s life. Maybe there was freedom in drifting, but there was comfort and peace in growing roots and he was ready, hungry to grow roots.

“This is nice,” she sighed, hands gliding up the incline of his thighs to settle on his knees. “I think you’re right - we do need that large tub in the cabin.”

He wiped the hair off her shoulder to kiss it. The rain intensified and they sat there until the water became tepid. Then they drained some of it and refilled it with hot water and sat some more. The cigar smelled woody and toasty, the soap bubbles fresh and floral. 

“Wish this day would never end,” she whispered. "It's perfect."

There was a quiet, delicious heat in his chest that he didn’t recognize.

"Wish that, too," he sighed. 

[cevansbrat0007]

Home

Summary: Andy's home is wherever you are.

Warnings: Fluff, Cuteness, Mentions of Dinosaurs, Mentions of Pregnancy, Light Smut, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: I finally managed to finish a new story! This one is dedicated to my friend @thatsrttt. Part of my Growing Pains Series. FYI, I'm gonna make some tweaks to KitCat story arch to show more of Reader's pregnancy. So, please bear with me! All mistakes are courtesy of my poor proofreading abilities. Likes, comments, and reblogs are welcome. I dig feedback!

___

Andy lets out a sigh of relief when he hears the door shut behind him with a soft click.

Home.

After four long, sleepless nights, he was finally home. If he was honest, being without his girls for that long had been akin to torture.

While his colleagues had thought he was nuts for being so concerned about you and the babies, he hadn't cared. They couldn't possibly begin to understand just how much he needed you with him. 

All they saw was Andrew Barber, the District Attorney for the city of Boston. But what they didn’t know was that, once you got past the damn title, he was just a man who desperately missed sleeping next to his wife.

He needed to hold you in his arms and listen to your soft, breathy sighs. He wanted to relax with you as you sweetly stroked your fingers across his chest, deftly tracing the patterns of his many tattoos. 

But duty called. Sometimes being in a position of power and influence meant that you had to do things you really didn’t want to do - like leave his girls behind on a business trip.

And being hundreds of miles away also meant that he’d had to go without seeing his precious Bianca Bibbity. God, how he missed tucking his little girl in bed for the night. Somehow, reading her Goodnight Moon over FaceTime just wasn't the same. Especially when she would crinkle her little nose and offer up her chubby cheek for a super special “night-night kissy” when it was finally time for her to go to sleep.

Just two nights ago, his BiBi had cried, her adorable hazel eyes welling up with tears when she’d tried (and failed) to kiss him through the phone. 

It damn near broke his heart. He’d been this close to booking a flight back to Boston, but you’d stopped him. You, ever the voice of reason, had lovingly reminded him that you all only had to get through one more day. 

Just one more lousy good-for-nothing day.

And, like the hopelessly doting husband and father he was, he’d clung to that. Just one more day and then he could come home - to his house, his family, and his bed. 

Andy scrubs a tired hand across his face as he carefully toes off his shoes. He’d leave his luggage downstairs for now so that he wouldn’t risk waking anyone - especially BiBi. And then he eagerly makes his way up the stairs. 

He was a man on a mission. And despite the late hour, he was anxious to see his girls. 

Once Andy reaches the top, he makes a quiet beeline for his baby’s room. Pushing on the partially opened door, he’s momentarily surprised to find her little bed empty. And then it dawns on him that she had to be with you.

Spinning around, he now heads straight for your shared bedroom. Seconds later, a soft smile spreads across his features when he finally lays eyes on you. 

All three of you.

There you were, safe and sound - happily nestled together amidst a sea of tangled sheets and blankets. 

Just like he knew you would be. 

You, curled on your side, with your arms wrapped loosely around their daughter. BiBi with her bonnet-covered curls laying tucked against your chest. And Katrina, his little Sweet Pea, resting comfortably in the security of her Mama’s womb.

Andy closes his eyes as a much-needed wave of peace washes over him. In a few hours, he’d take you all out for breakfast, then for ice cream, to the bookstore, and wherever the hell else you wanted to go. Or, you all could simply stay inside all day and watch movies together in the den for hours on end.

He didn't much care, so long as you all were together.

Leaning over his side of the bed, he gingerly plucks a sleeping Bianca from your arms. Holding her close, he presses a kiss to the top of her hair, before readjusting her little pink bonnet. He smiles once more when her sleepy eyes slowly flutter open.

“Daddy!” She whisper yells, waking you up. “Hi, Daddy!”

“Hi, my Bianca Boo.” He plants a sweet kiss on the tip of her nose. “I missed you.”

“Miss you too.” She tells him as she snuggles deeper into him, her tiny voice coming out muffled. "Lots."

“Hi, Andy Bear.” You murmur as you sit up in bed, excited to see your man after these last few days apart. “I missed you.” Your hand goes to rest on the rounded swell of your belly. “We all did.”

Your man nods, his big hand rubbing circles across your daughter’s back. “No more business trips.” He mumbles as he takes to rocking Bianca back and forth in his arms.

“No mo’ bimus twips.” She agrees as sleep begins to overtake her once more. “Wuvs you.”

“I love you too. I’ll be right back, Y/N.” Andy tells you as he gently totes your now sleeping toddler out of the room and down the hall to her own bed. Stretching your arms overhead, you lay back against the sheets and wait for him to return.

You really had missed your Andy Bear. He wasn’t the only one who struggled with sleeping apart. You were entirely too dependent on the man with whom you shared your bed. And you truly did not give a fuck.

It’s not long before he comes striding back into your bedroom. You watch through lidded eyes as he slowly shuts the door behind him before resting his big body against the cool surface.

“Hi, baby girl.” He purrs softly, drinking in every inch of your sexily rumpled form.

“Hi, Daddy.” Not wanting to be without him for even a second longer, you reach out your hand, wiggling your fingers as an invitation. “I’m so happy you’re back. Now, c'mere.”

“You have no idea just how much I’ve missed you, little love.” He responds, his gravelly voice caught somewhere between a purr and a growl. You watch as he begins closing the distance between you, his gorgeous blue eyes shining in the moonlight as he goes to remove his navy blue polo shirt. Once it’s gone, he finally comes to rest beside you on the bed.

You let out a tiny giggle as Andy all but drags you against his muscled chest, his thick arms coming to wrap themselves around your swollen middle. He then goes to remove your scarf, burying his face in your curls and inhaling your scent  

He could never seem to get over how sweet you always smelled.

Deciding you needed more, you gently tip your head back. Taking the hint, your Big Man leans in to capture your lips in a heated kiss. A groan escapes him as you cup his face in your small hands, your thumbs affectionately stroking over the scruff of his neatly-trimmed beard. 

The two of you lay there like that for a while, your limbs intertwined as your tongues dance together, dueling lazily. Even after all this time, you still somehow managed to get lost in one another…

Almost as if you’d only just met. 

Eventually, your mutual need for air forces you to pull away. 

“Welcome home, Big Man.” You murmur as you work to throw one short, lightly toned leg across his hips. “I can’t wait to hear all about your tip to D.C.” Feeling a little drunk on love, one of your hands sinks its way into his tawny locks, your fingers tenderly scratching at his scalp just the way he likes.

“And I can’t wait to hear all about what I missed back home. Apparently BiBi has - what did she say?” He squeezes one eye shut as he racks his brain for her exact phrasing. “Oh yeah. She told me before I put her down that she’s 'gots dinosaur feets'. Whatever that means.”

You chuckle while clumsily trying to draw the blankets up around you both, which proves to be rather difficult since your husband is sitting on top of them.

“She grew.” You tell him with a lighthearted shrug. “She sprouted up a couple of inches when we weren't looking, plus her feet grew just a teensy bit too. So, we went out and got more shoes. And now she’s been stomping around smashing legos and claiming she’s got dinosaur feet.”

“But why –?” Andy begins, clearly both amused and confused by his little one’s newest antics.

“Just go with it.” You lovingly boop his nose. “Oh, and she roars too. Birds find it very intimidating."

Which was good. Because those winged beasts scared you to no end. 

“Wow.” He mumbles as he lightly tugs on a strand of your hair. “You know, come to think of it, I think all my girls grew.” Your husband angles himself so that he can rest a hand on your stomach.

“Daddy’s back, Sweet Pea.” You can literally feel your heart swell as he gently cradles your belly as he talks to your unborn baby. “I can’t wait to hear all about your little adventures too. I bet you’ve got lots to tell me.” 

Not even a moment later, you quickly grab his hand and reposition it so that he can feel her moving. 

“Someone’s awake.” You grin up at him, happy beyond words that your little family was back together again under one roof. 

“I see that.” His face sports a matching grin, which only gets bigger when he feels your baby kick yet again. “Daddy’s sorry, love bug. Go on back to sleep, okay? We’ll talk more in the morning.”

What’s funny is that BiBi had been like this in utero too. She had almost always responded to the sound of Andy’s voice, just like her little sister was doing now.

Overcome with adoration for your man, you bring his hand to your mouth to brush a kiss over his knuckles

“You tired, baby girl?” He asks you, the rough timbre of his voice sending tingles coursing through your body. “Need me to let you rest?”

“No.” You whisper with a shake of your head, softly grinding your core against his thigh. “I need something…more…”

“Mmm.” He groans as he skillfully switches positions so that you’re both resting on your sides. “You need me, huh?”

“Uh huh.” You nod as one of your hands slowly disappears beneath the fabric of your Minnie Mouse sleep shorts. His eyes never leave yours as you dip your eager fingers between your soaked folds before holding them up between you. “See?”

Growling low and deep in his throat, Andy greedily sucks the glistening digits into his mouth. 

God, how he loved your taste. You were easily his favorite fucking meal. 

“Make love to me, Daddy.” You lovingly purr up at him when he finally releases your fingers with a soft pop. “I missed you too much to wait any longer.” You bat your lashes up at him, before turning over on your back and spreading your thighs, allowing him to catch a glimpse of your bare pussy. 

“Is this my welcome home gift, sweet girl?” His voice gruff as he makes quick work of relieving you of your shorts. “Your letting me use your beautiful little body the way I need?”

“Hell yes.” You growl as you drag him down for yet another bone melting kiss. “Now hurry up and get moving. I’ve missed having you inside me.” You can’t help the giggle that escapes when you issue the playful command. Especially after you also slap his ass for good measure.

“Who’s in charge here?” Your Big Man grunts as he hurriedly removes his pants before tossing them in the direction of the hamper. 

He misses. Of course.

“Me.” You respond, feeling ever so bold as your fingers once against find their way between your thighs to toy with your aching clit. You tease the swollen nub, enjoying the way your husband’s eyes darken with each passing second.  

“Wrong.” Andy hisses before gripping your hips and tugging you towards him as he works to get comfortable on the bed. “This little pussy is all mine, sweetness.”

“Then prove it.” You whimper out as his bearded jaw nuzzles your most intimate flesh. "Might need you to jog my memory."

Yeah, you were playing a dangerous game, but you were beyond caring.

“Gladly.” He snarls softly as he lowers himself on top of you. "Here comes your reminder."

END

[eemcintyre]

One More Night (Tom Cruise)

A continuation of my previous fic "Something to Talk About."

TW: Nothing, as per usual. I'm a simple gal.

Summary: It's the last night of you and 90s!Tom's vacation where your relationship was uncovered by the media. He surprises you with a short motorcycle ride, a beautiful view, and a special gift to close the day out.

The last day of their vacation in Provence was coming to an all-too-swift end, and Y/N and Tom were scheduled to fly back to the States the next morning. Despite having finally been discovered by the media, they tried to spend the rest of their vacation exactly as they had planned. And for the most part, they were able to, although they did notice a number of cameras everywhere they went, and a couple of daring reporters did briefly approach them, but Tom and Y/N both gently declined to speak, continuing on their way. Annoying as these reporters and their frequent photo-taking were, Tom told Y/N that it was best to accept it and move on, as the reporters had not been confrontational, and there were no laws against being annoying, so it wasn’t as if they could have the reporters kicked out of where they were staying.

Although she was still anxious to see how she would be accepted by the media and Tom’s fans, Y/N had acquired an additional concern. Since their relationship was now out in the open, Tom had asked her to accompany him to the Academy Awards, which would occur days after they returned home. She was intrigued by the idea of experiencing the glitz and bustle of the prestigious ceremony while dressed in a gown. Tom was also excited to potentially share the occasion with her and was very hopeful that she would come; especially so because he had been nominated for Best Actor for his latest picture, Jerry Maguire. But at the same time, to debut their relationship at such a big event, where representatives from every news station would be peppering them with questions, was an intimidating prospect.

But, all of these concerns were to be put aside until the couple touched down on U.S. land. On this last vacation day, Tom had suggested they close out the evening with a motorcycle ride. The two of them were currently soaring down a road that overlooked the water, and the sky was beginning to dip into a beautiful sunset. Y/N sat on the bike behind Tom, arms wrapped tightly around his leather jacket and meeting in the center of his chest.

“Where are we going?” she called over the wind as they took a sharp turn around a winding patch of road.

“It’s a surprise,” he shouted, and she could tell that he was grinning. Both of their voices were slightly muffled by their helmets.

“Ooookay,” she laughed.

As the journey continued, they inched further and further from the heart of the city, the buildings patterned with lit and unlit windows, and the people who wandered the streets enjoying the temperate weather and each other’s company. Tom finally slowed the motorcycle to a stop when they reached the faraway edge of a small cliff, giving them a view overlooking everything they had passed. The city lights resembled gold sequins glimmering in the last few brilliant colors of the sunset above it. They could just barely spot the sea in the distance beyond it all.

Without dismounting the bike, they admired the panorama for a few minutes. Y/N rested her head on Tom’s back, and he put his hands over hers, which were still curled around him. Eventually, Y/N broke the peaceful silence, unable to contain her curiosity any longer. “Honey, don’t take this the wrong way,” she said softly, “This place is really lovely- but why did you bring us here?”

Tom chuckled and nodded his head, giving her hands a squeeze. “Because…” he trailed off, rising slowly from his seat on the bike, “I needed to appropriately set the scene, so I could give you this.” He got on one knee in front of where she sat and produced a small velvet box from his jacket pocket. Y/N brought her hands to her mouth as he opened it, revealing a ring with a halo of small diamonds sparkling around the central gem.

“Wh- darling, you didn’t have to-”

“I know, but I always wanted to,” he replied. “I just wanted you to be able to deal with the public eye in your own time, on your terms. But, seeing as everybody knows now anyway,” he shrugged, wincing slightly, “Would you do me the honor?” He gestured with the ring box. “I want everyone to see that you’re my girl, so they better think twice before they mess with you."

Y/N brought a hand over to cradle the side of his face. “I really snatched up the sweetest man,” she giggled softly, bending down to kiss him.

“Is that a yes?” he joked, the smile lines around his eyes crinkling.

“Are you kidding? How am I supposed to say no?” Y/N grinned, playfully smacking his arm. “Now, are you gonna put that thing on my finger or do I have to do it myself?”

[clicheantagonist]

WiP Wednesday Friday

just shy of the weekend!!!

Thankies for the continued inclusion in the tags: @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @aceghosts @josephslittledeputy @shallow-gravy and @inafieldofdaisies

I'M BACK ON MY BULLSHIT AND I'M FINALLY POSTING THE BOYS AU after I completely changed the plot I worked on for months a day and a half ago. Ehehehehe chaos.

Be gentle, I really did just let the first impulsive thought win after months of struggling to write and KEEP writing.

“You'd sell me to the Devil without a second glance. Trade me for a paycheck if you got the chance. […] One of many, but you say the best you've ever had. So tell me that you love me, then stick the knife in my back. God, I really worry 'bout the people that you stab, but it's your turn soon. Karma is a bitch like you.”

-Maisy Kay (ft Teisto), “Karma Is A Bitch Like You”

 “There was some other God then, a God for whom the spilling of blood was a prayer, an act of devotion. And they’ve been praying to that God their whole lives.”

-Brandon Taylor, “Filthy Animals”

“Shepherd.” Alex answers, work phone trilling loudly beside her as she lounges in bed, watching the news with morbid fascination. It seemed the Supes had beaten the mad scientists and their corpo overlords in the race to control the country. Not something on Alex’s yearly bingo list, but not entirely shocking, either.

“Got a job for ya, love.”

Alex sits up, eyes narrowing as she looks frantically for the remote to mute the tv.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not taking new clients right now and – “ Alex starts, laying low amidst the current political unrest.

There’s something familiar about the voice on the other end of the call, but it brings a vague, anxious connotation with it.

“Aw, don’t remember me, eh? That stings.”

Alex’s lips pull up in an amused smirk. At her age, coupled with her substance abuse and all the head trauma through the years, her memory isn’t what it once was and she’s open to being wrong.

“Refresh my memory.” Alex invites, curiosity gnawing at her. Its not often she can’t recall a voice, certainly not one as distinct as this guy’s.

“You and yer hubby had a run in with tha C.I.A. some years ago over biological weapons trafficking.”

Alex has to think back a moment, there had been several close calls with various law enforcement agencies throughout the years, but there’s a reason Alex is still a free woman.

“City?” Alex presses, drawing a blank.

“Miami.”

“Were you a bribe or a break?” Alex asks, not finding the further information helpful.

“Break. Ya dislocated me shoulder.”

He doesn’t sound annoyed or resentful, rather it sounds like he’s chuckling around his words.

“Ah! Yes! Handsy Fed that treated me like I  was bein’ trafficked! I do remember you. Got some tracking skills, Mister - ?” Alex laughs in recognition, the memory flooding back of the scene she unintentionally caused when some DHS assholes wanted to get a little too hands on with Wesker (and their bags). There was no quicker way to piss Alex off, especially at the end of a long, stressful retrieval mission. She'd been more than a little upset over being heckled by the stupid government after that.

“Butcher. Glad I made an impression.”

 “We are the last people standing at the end of the night. We are the greatest pretenders in the cold morning light. This is just another night, and we've had many of them. To the morning we're cast out, but I know I'll land here again.”

- Bastille, “Get Home”

Alex makes the short flight to Delaware, to meet Butcher in the smallest, most 90s diner she’s ever been in.

He’s already there, sitting in the last booth opposite the door. The diner is long and narrow, like a strip mall bar. There’s a cook barely visible in the little window behind the front counter, and a tired looking waitress straightens up off the table with a sigh, reaches for a menu and passes it to Alex as she passes the table.

“Here ya go, honey. Sit wherever ya like and I’ll be over with coffee.” She instructs, fixing a smile on her face that doesn’t look genuine (but Alex is glad for the attempt to seem happy).

“Thank you. No rush.” Alex takes the laminated menu and continues towards Butcher’s dark shape in the back. Alex notices her heels tapping on the tiles louder than the old TV in the corner, over the counter, playing the news.

‘Good ol’ 24 hour news cycle. Worst thing that ever happened to this country.’

“Good morning,” Alex greets brightly, sinking into the other side of the booth, facing the door, and making eye contact with the former Fed. ‘Well he’s quite handsome. That’s a plus.’

Butcher makes no attempt to hide the way he sizes Alex up as soon as she nears the table. Alex knows right away she’s dealing with a predator like her; there’s a look that comes with that, one that sees more than most would at first glance.

‘That’s okay, I’m eye-ballin’ you too, handsome.’ Alex thinks, casting him a cursory once over before returning to the single page plastic menu. From her peripheral, Alex watches the tired waitress return with a white mug and pot of coffee.

“Need a minute, hon?” The woman asks, causing Alex to look up with a pleasant smile.

“I’m ready actually. I’ll do the steak and eggs, rare, over medium, no toast, and home fries, please.” Alex orders, waiting for the brunette to stop writing on her pad before offering the menu back.

“You hungry? I’m payin.” Alex asks the stoic ex-Fed across from her, noticing he makes no attempt to even acknowledge the waitress.

Butcher’s eyes narrow briefly in Alex’s direction before he answers, still not bothering to look at the waitress.

“Jus’ eggs an’ toast. Scrambled, wheat.” He mutters, voice a gravelly rumble that Alex wouldn’t mind hearing more of.

“You got it. I’ll have that right out for ya.” The waitress chirps, sounding a bit more awake, and seemingly not taking offence to Butcher’s stand-offishness.

They wait for her to leave before Alex speaks again.

“How safe is it to talk here?” She asks, reclining in the booth, stretching her legs under the table, crossing them at the ankles, toes resting on the bottom opposite booth. She reaches up, rubbing her eyes and blinking them clear.

“Safe enough for some specifics. But I’m gonna come righ’ out an’ say it now – this ain’t for tha faint of heart. They all gotta go, an’ if you get in me way, you will, too.” Butcher tells her seriously, jumping right to the meat of the situation, as it were. Alex appreciates that in a client.

Alex’s lips twitch up, eyes half-lidded even as they occasionally shift between the door, the counter, and the man in front of her.

“I appreciate the warning. Do you expect me to get in your way?” Alex asks, playing it diplomatically, she wants to get a read on this man who managed to find her – its not often those outside her very particular circle manage to locate her.

Butcher smiles.

“Ya never expect it, but it happens.” He replies coyly. Alex raises a brow, smile widening the slightest bit.

“I think I understand. As long as you keep me in the loop, you won’t have to worry. I’m still alive because I deliver.”  Alex replies, knowing well what kind of animal she’s dealing with now.

“That’s what I hear.” Butcher replies, the muscles in his face visibly relaxing.

“So hang on, what makes you think I’ll take such a dangerous job with no guarantee of payment?” Alex chuckles, cutting into her steak.

“Ya don’t survive this long doin’ stupid shit like that. Sell it to me.” Alex requests, gesturing vaguely in Butcher’s direction with the piece of steak speared on her fork.

“Aw c’mon, don’t bust me balls, love.” Butcher grumbles around a sheepish smile Alex knows is not genuine.

“Get used to that. C’mon, convince me why I should risk my life for a stranger, taking on what could well be an actual Fool’s errand?” Alex encourages, curious as to what’s up Butcher’s sleeve. She can tell he’s quite calculating and clever, certainly he’s thought of this before reaching out to her.

“Savin’ tha world ain’t enough?” Butcher asks, still smiling, knowingly this time. He’s teasing her.

Alex hums a laugh before popping the piece of steak into her mouth. She chews and swallows before she replies.

“That was very cute, but you wouldn’t have reached out to me if you thought that line would have worked.” Alex replies, unaffected.

Butcher nods and laughs softly.

“You’ve kept a low profile since ‘e died. Condolences, by the way.” Butcher tells her abruptly, still smiling that malicious little smile. Alex knows her mask cracks some at the unexpected mention of Wesker, but she rolls with the punch, no stranger to the mind games people play.

‘I play them better.’

“Thank you,” She replies, voice the slightest bit choked. He knows more than she would like him to.

“I’m askin you because you’re rudderless. Adrift in tha open ocean. Wouldn’t it be nice to ‘ave direction and purpose again? Really shake up tha world, jus’ ta show ya can?” Butcher asks, leaning forward conspiratorially, arms resting on the edge of the table.

Alex tips her head and sets her fork and knife down, regarding Butcher critically. It’s concerning he’s so confident about his read of her.

“Son of a bitch, I’m in. Fuck it.” Alex answers, around a stunned laugh, reaching over the table with her right hand to shake, and Butcher grasps it firmly, pulling her in over the table.

Alex gasps, but catches herself before she lands chest first in breakfast.

“We gotta leave now then, you’re workin with a marked man.” Butcher murmurs around a reckless smirk that makes Alex think she’s found an unexpected comrade.

Her brows shoot up and her expression twists briefly in stunned shock, more over being physically dragged than his actual words.

‘I’m a magnet for troubled men.’

“Woulda worn different shoes, if I knew that.” Alex replies, expression relaxing into a soft kind of annoyance.

[invisibleraven]

Sick days for PeterPatterLina please and thank you

The first thing Julie thought when she woke up was how much every part of her hurt. It felt like a bone deep ache that radiated through her entire being. She didn't think she had pushed herself any harder than normal at the gym the day before, but maybe she had?

Only the ache didn't go away even after a long hot shower and some pain meds. Thankfully she didn't have anywhere to be, but still, she had hoped to be a little productive on her day off, not clutching a hot water bottle on the couch.

Worse was that the guys were both out today; Reggie had taken the kids to a farm outside the city to see the animals, maybe see if he could convince Danny to pet a horse. Luke was doing some guitar work as a studio musician for an up and coming band they had met at some function or another.

So Julie had the house to herself and couldn't even take advantage. Instead she got herself some of her favourite feel better snacks and turned on the cheesiest rom com she could find.

She eventually drifted off, but woke up still hurting all over and started to worry. What if something was really wrong? She dragged herself up, and grabbed her phone.

Julie: Don't want to worry either of you, but I really don't feel well, gonna get papi to bring me in to get checked out.

Reggie: We're on our way home now anyways angel, sit tight and I'll drop the kids off to papi and bring you in myself.

Luke: I've got one last track to finish up, just let me know where you end up and I'll be there as soon as I can boss.

Reggie was home soon afterwards and froze when he saw Julie laying there on the couch. "Hey darlin', not feeling too hot?"

She shook her head, hissing a little when he scooped her up, patting him gently on his chest when he started to apologize non-stop. "It's okay cariño, I just hurt everywhere."

"You didn't do that at yoga yesterday though," Reggie commented, securing her in the passenger seat of their sedan.

"It's probably nothing, but I'd rather know then not," Julie said. "Now distract me with stories of the farm."

Reggie offered her a smile, even if it didn't reach his eyes, regaling her of how Danny now wanted a horse and Luna had almost caught a chicken. "Apparently they have a 4H club at their school, I'm gonna see if they can join, they'd love it."

"And see if they need parent volunteers while you're there?" Julie teased. Reggie flushed but she knew that meant yes. They were in between albums now anyways, it would be great for him to get involved in something involving the great outdoors before they missed daylight once they got stuck back in the studio.

They registered at the local hospital, and Luke joined them after a half hour, clutching Julie's hand in his, Reggie's in the other. None of them were fans of the hospital, and more than a little worried. Especially after all the tests they ran on Julie with no answers.

Finally they were called back, the doctor not even reacting to there being three of them. But nothing could prepare them for what he said next.

"We found a tumor in your ovary Mrs. Molina," the doctor said. "We are hopeful that it's benign, but we'd have to do a biopsy to make sure. If it is, it'll be a simple surgery to remove it. If not..."

"I know," Julie replied. "My mom... she went through it all. She didn't make it."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the doctor said. "But let's not dwell on that right now. We'll schedule your biopsy, and take each step as it comes, okay?"

Julie nodded, hands clenched, barely feeling her husband's hands on her. The words were muffled, the world sideways. She couldn't register anything, not even being guided home, two anxious faces sat beside her as she started to cry.

Most of the rest of that night was a blur to Julie. she was sure at some point her dad showed up, Victoria with food in tow, not that she could even think about eating. She tried to be normal for Danny and Luna, but she was also sure they could feel the tension in the air, and they treated her like she was made of glass.

Luke carried her to bed that night while Reggie tucked in the kids, the three of them eventually gathered in a tearful huddle in the bed as they made plans. Discussed what would happen if the worst should happen.

None of them slept very much that night.

The day of the biopsy, Julie was wide awake long before dawn, staring out the window. Luke and Reggie were curled around her, Danny and Luna down by their feet, the whole family wanting to be together the night prior.

"Mami," Julie prayed. "Please... look after them if I can't."

"Don't talk like that," Luke murmured. "It'll be alright."

"And if it's not, there's lots of options," Reggie said, yawning around the words. "You're not going anywhere, we won't let you."

"I don't think you have any control over that hun," Julie chuckled.

Reggie and Luke just clutched her tighter, as if that would keep her there. Like their love would make it all better, and Julie sorely wished it would.

She doesn't remember much about the trip to the hospital, or going under. Only awakening in a private room with four anxious faces holding flowers, balloons, and stuffed animals. Hugging her family close and starting the next part; the worst part-all the waiting for the results.

The next few weeks were fraught, and Julie jumped every time her phone rang. She tried writing song after song, with the guys helping when she broke down or screamed in frustration, tossing the notebook at the wall.

Finally the call came, and Julie was sure she cracked her phone screen from how tightly she was gripping it.

"Mrs. Molina? The tumor was benign."

"Oh thank God," Julie breathed out.

"We're very happy to report that we found no pre-cancerous signs either, so we can schedule a time for us to get the rest of it out and that should take care of the pain."

Julie thanked the doctor profusely, setting up a follow up appointment and turned to her family, full of smiles.

"I'm okay," she breathed out.

There was a lot of cheering, crying, and hugs that night.

And Julie slept surrounded by her family once more, not wanting to be apart from them any longer than she had to. They clung to her, and maybe there was something to their love keeping her there. So Julie hugged them back just as tight, determined to stick around for as long as fate would let her.

[buttercream-squad-imagines]

Little Red Dress

Pairings: Harry Lewis x fem!Reader, Callux x sister!Reader Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: Swearing, some violence, maybe a few spelling mistakes Request: Idk if this is a request but like a secret relationship with Harry that you hide and you like calluxs sister or something like that and when he finds out he gets really mad or something

How you had gotten here you didn't know. It was a question you had continually asked yourself for the last five or so months. You hadn't long moved to London, where your older brother Callum lived. You had wanted to be closer to him, not that you were far anyway but you were very closer to your brother.

There were quite a few years between you and the older boy, you being born when the latter was 7 years old. Now at the ages of 22 and 29, the two could not be more inseparable. Despite having different fathers - both of whom hadn't stuck around long enough for the pair to remember them - you and Cal were like peas in a pod. With no father figure for you to look up to, you naturally clung to the boy growing up, and Cal being the only male in the house, quickly took on the protector figure for both you and your mum.

As awful as you felt leaving your mum back at home, you had been missing your brother desperately since he had moved to London so long ago, having spent the latter majority of your school years without him. Now after graduating from university, you finally felt free enough to move to the city with your brother and make your own way in life.

That was nearing a year ago, which led you to now. The situation that you were currently in, sneaking around with one of your brother's best friends.

You had met Harry before you could even have been introduced by Cal in one of the most cliche ways ever. Being the clumsy git he is, he had bumped into you in the hallway of your new apartment building and had spilled the contents of the box you were carrying all over the hardwood floor. Awkwardly the man had tried to pick up the contents in a hurry, spitting out apologies to you and once again dropping things from his arms in an attempt to put them back into the box. It was something you had found very endearing and is a quality of his that you adore.

In an attempt to apologise for both spilling the box full of stuff and then dropping the contents whilst trying to pick them back up, Harry had offered to help you bring up the rest of your boxes. It was there that you both ran into your brother, who was visibly confused as to how his cumbersome best friend was talking to his baby sister like they had known each other for years.

Cal would never actually admit it to you but witnessing that interacting had a large pit forming at the bottom of his stomach. He knew how Harry could be and knew from the look in his eye that he had quickly found an attraction in you.

Any spark found in Harry's eyes quickly distinguished when he learned of your relation to Cal, knowing how protective the older boy could be of his baby sister, but nothing could stop the fluttering feeling the boy got when he was around you. Not even Cal's warnings against dating his sister. Warnings that his other friends got, to his relief, all of which assured Cal that his sister was out of bounds. Pleased with the responses, Cal never had a second thought, something you were glad for.

Something you weren't glad for however, was the feeling of uneasiness you got whenever you were with Harry. You almost felt guilty for being with him, even more so for keeping it from your brother.

Your boyfriend of five months, however, was quick to chase away that feeling with his affection. You got to see another side to the boy that many of the people in his life never got to witness. It gave you a feeling of euphoria knowing that you were the object of Harry's affections, and affectionate he was.

When the two of you got to spend time at your apartment, the boy could not remove himself from you. Whether he was lying in bed editing a video, cuddled into your side, or sprawled out on the settee with his head nestled in your lap, he always had to have some body part touching you. His hand always found yours when he was particularly anxious, something that happened quite regularly, which was one of the traits you found most endearing. It warmed your heart to know that you were able to calm him down.

Something you did a lot was steal Harry's clothing. There was just something about those jumpers, especially the sidemen merch, that was just so comfortable. Even after insisting on getting you some sidemen clothing of your own, so he could continue to make use of his own wardrobe, you still wore his. You had told him very shyly that you liked wearing his clothes because they smelled like him, and it brought you comfort when he was away visiting his own family.

Harry thought he might have broken down then and there. Not that he would say it out loud, he secretly loved it when you wore his clothes but knowing that you would wear them when you missed him? He felt like he was on cloud nine.

Which is how you found yourself right now, snuggled on your sofa, drowning in Harry's jumper and a fleece blanket, watching the TV. Harry had been away visiting his family over the new year, and wasn't due back until the following day but you missed him dearly. Your phone had been forgotten in your bedroom, your only distraction was reruns of Grey's Anatomy, a show you had already watched religiously.

You hadn't realised how much time had passed as you easily lost track of time when you got into a show. You also hadn't realised that your brother had been trying to get hold of your for over an hour. Which is why you were startled when you heard the click of the lock turning.

"Y/N?" The sound of your brother's voice filled the small apartment. "Are you in here?"

"On the sofa." You called back with a yawn. He could easily hear the drowsiness in your voice, he would put his money on you falling asleep within the next hour.

"You didn't answer my calls or texts, I was worried." He scolded gently.

"I left it in my room to charge, sorry for worrying you." You stretched causing the blanket that covered you to drop to your lap.

"Whose? Whose jumper is that?" Cal inquired, suspicion laced in his tone.

"Oh, is it not yours?" You asked, trying to cover up the fact that his best friend's jumper adorned your body and was currently the reason that you were about to be outed.

"No. You know that's not my jumper Y/N. It's too small to be mine." You winced at the hardness in his voice.

"I must've picked it up thinking it was yours. Oops." You tried to play it off coolly, and your brother seemed to be coming around to the idea that it was just a misunderstanding. Thank God, you screamed internally.

"Right." He sprawled himself out next to you and let out a groan when he noticed what you were watching. "Really? Grey's Anatomy? You know I've experienced enough hospitals in my life without having to watch this garbage."

"How dare you?" You gasped playfully, whacking the older man on the arm. "I'm not turning it off, so either accept it or leave."

"Fine."

A week later, Cal was visiting Freezy and Harry's apartment to hang out with the boys. You were meant to be coming soon though as you and Cal were going out for lunch. Cal was sprawled on the sofa and Harry was on another, whilst Freezy was in the bathroom. Cal's suspicions once again peaked as he noticed Harry wearing the jumper you were wearing just a week ago.

"I'm sure that's the jumper Y/N was wearing last week." He muttered loud enough for the younger boy to hear.

"Is it? She must've picked it up by accident and thought it was yours." Harry spoke coolly although his stomach felt like it was doing backflips.

"Hmm. That's what she said." He grumbled. The two fell back into a comfortable silence scrolling through their phones, waiting for Freezy to arrive back from the bathroom.

"Harry, I'm sure you've got some secret girlfriend you're hiding from us or something." The loud voice of Freezy echoed through the apartment.

"What?" The boy in question stumbled over his words. "Why would you say that?"

"Well, if I had to guess, I wouldn't put you down as the type of person who used Sunkissed raspberry shampoo and conditioner." He cackled.

"So, what if I did?" Harry's heart was racing, trying to play the situation off. Even if the boys found out he was seeing someone, they still wouldn't know who. That's what he was trying to tell himself anyway.

"Right, so you're telling me this dress from the washing basket is yours too?"

Harry's face dropped as Freezy held up the little red dress that you had thrown in the washing basket after a night out. A night out with your brother and his friends.

"What the fuck Harry?!" Cal seethed, gripping him by the collar of his jumper and shoving him into the wall. "My fucking sister!"

"Oh." Was the only thing that come out of Freezy's mouth once he had realised the severity of the situation. Your brother on the other hand was seeing red. What they hadn't heard was you entering the flat, having heard the shouting from the hallway. Cal raised his fist, bringing it to meet the side of Harry's face, who hadn't said a word yet.

"What the hell Cal?!" You exclaimed, marching over and pushing him away from your boyfriend.

"When were you going to tell me?" He asked you through gritted teeth.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You honestly had no idea what was happening right now, but if you had to make a guess, you'd put your money on Cal having found out about your relationship. You could count on one hand how many times you had seen your brother as angry as this. Not ever had it been directed at you though.

"Stop lying Y/N!" He roared making you cower into Harry behind you and let out a small whimper. "Come on, we're leaving."

"No!" Your brother grabbed the top of your arm and began pulling you away. You tried to shrug his hand from your arm, but he held on tightly. "I'm not leaving."

"Fine." He spat, storming out of the apartment.

"Hey." Harry whispered softly, touching your arm gently.

"I'll just leave you two." Freezy muttered awkwardly, leaving to go to his room. Harry pulled you into his chest and wiped away the tears you hadn't realised had fallen.

"It's okay." He assured you. "It'll be okay."

[fosermi]

SEMI BACK FROM THE DEAD PEOPLE

That's right! I'm back! And I bring to you CHAPTER 3 OF GUARDIAN MACAQUE AU

WHY?! Well because I couldn't sleep well and it's 5 am fuck my headache I give you content!! Fair warning: Macaque is a soft monkey especially to kids AND YOU CAN PRY THIS HC FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS ABDJFKCMCM

Some days, Biming would leave to sell the rice cultivated in their field to the neighbouring village. An oddity, Hóu realised. Why sell to another village? He didn't understand… After all, there were other houses in their village. 

"Hóu?" Ai's soft voice called for the demon. Oddly enough, it wasn't her usual tone that came through her call. 

Immediately detecting the shift from her usual beat, the black monkey jumped down from his position on the plum tree that grew in the back garden of the couple's home. The tree upon which the monkey would spend most of his free time on whenever he could. "You called, Mrs. Ai?" 

"Oh! Yes, dear…" her voice dripped with worry - fear even. In her arms a red cloak, outstretched as if allowing him to take it. "Could you please accompany Biming to the town today…?" Her eyes glimmering under the morning sun with worry, begged the black monkey to take on her request. 

Hóu, with an immediate nod, complied as he gently took the cloak from Ai's grasp. Hesitantly, the black monkey built up enough courage to ask the kind lady, her worry affecting his own. 

"Mrs. Ai… is everything alright…?" His hand reached out to Ai’s in an attempt to comfort her as his eyes locked with hers, taking notes of the high level of worry embedded deep within her honey-brown eyes.

Seeing the concern in Hóu's golden eyes, Ai's tense shoulders fell as she let out a shaky breath. "Ling Fa… he warned us that demons moved in close to the rout Biming takes to the other village…" 

Ling Fa… yes…

He was the family's guardian spirit… it was his duty to protect the family, right? Of course he would warn the kind couple.

By late morning, Biming and Hóu had headed out on the road on the small mule-pulled cart with their cargo safely secured. Ling Fa had stayed behind to ensure Ai's safety as he would not have been much help with manual labor. 

Hóu rode on the back of the cart as his mind drifted off to the thoughts of the strange family guardian. They had previously met a couple of times. Ling Fa wasn't a concerning figure, in fact Hóu believed he was incapable of fighting due to his pacifistic tendencies. 

Throughout the journey, Biming and Hóu held up a small lighthearted conversation, a conversation that seemed to have only lasted a couple of minutes was in fact just two hours. 

Soon the duo were at town close to noon, Hóu couldn't believe how lively everything was! Carts and vendors and buyers were everywhere! If he was being honest, Hóu's entire world seemed to start spinning due to the overload of his senses. 

"Welcome to the market, Hóu!" Biming said with a bright smile as he handed Hóu some earplugs. "They might not completely drown out all the new senses but its something at least… if you ever need a breath at all, then tell me and we can go to a more tame part of the town were we can rest for a bit"

Hóu's reply came in the form of a nod. However, even though his senses are over exerting himself, Hóu knew that he had to allow Biming to sell their crops so they could earn the money needed. So, the black monkey decided to sit right behind the cart after putting on the earplugs, mostly hidden from the front view as she observed how Biming bargained and sold his crops. 

Eventually, daylight started diminishing as the sun was starting to head down the horizon, turning the shy a nice shade that reminded the monkey of orange peaches… something about the sunset seems to have upset the demon and he felt a pang of pain in his chest. 

Upon noticing the sadness embedded on the monkey’s face, Biming decided that it was time to head home. "Hóu, let's go home." Came the familiar voice of the young man that got Hóu moving onto the back of the cart, and once again head off back home. "We should be back home just after sunset" Said Biming in an attempt to comfort his companion, which seemed to have worked somewhat. 

The ride back didn't have many complications, it was a smooth ride back with a few conversations every now and again. Once home, Biming and Hóu carried their goods into the home as they announced their return, only to be greeted by the smell of Ai's amazing cooking as they sat down by the table to eat. 

Biming was telling Ai how well Hóu had taken to the city and how well behaved he was. He kept on flattering the black monkey demon which got Hóu to stutter every now and again when he decided to speak up. Soon enough, it was time to head to bed after it was decided that from then on, Hóu would accompany Biming to the market. 

His days spent here in the small farm house by the valley with Ai and Biming went by faster than he expected. And soon, they would have a new addition to their family in the form of a child between the couple. 

The couple at first didn't know how Hóu would react to children, as throughout Ai's pregnancy, he had done his best to avoid her as much as possible without angering her. He however instead spent his time with Biming learning how to trade and sell as well as bargain and buy goods. 

When their daughter was born, the couple found something they never had expected to see. That night they had awoken to the sound of soft cries coming from the adjacent room that Hóu had offered the baby to stay in with him so he could make sure that their daughter was safe from all harm. Surprisingly, Hóu had also swore it as his duty out of the blue one night before she was even born. 

What surprised them however, was what they saw in the room that night. They had found Hóu gently cradling their small daughter in his arms. Biming most of all was surprised at how Hóu could be so delicate with such a small fragile being and yet possess strength strong enough to carry the entire cart filled with supplies. 

Hóu looked over at the couple with worry laced all very his face. "S-sorry… she won't stop crying… she must be hungry!" It surprised Ai how well he knew how to manage a baby and how he could tell what was wrong. She stood there for a moment as she smiled at the panicked monkey before taking her daughter to feed her in the other room, leaving Biming and Hóu together in the room. 

Biming sat down next to Hóu on the bed who seemed a bit anxious. "Is something the matter Hóu?" Came the concerned question from Biming. 

Hóu's tail flicked anxiously like an irritated cat, he lowered his head and talked in barely a whisper "she's just so small Biming… will she really survive?" 

With a comforting hand on Hóu's shoulder, a smile found its way onto Biming's face "with you worrying about her like this… I know she'll be perfectly fine Hóu…" and with that, Ai came back in, carrying their sleeping daughter in her arms. 

Without a second to lose, Hóu was up on his feet to give the bed to the sleeping baby. But instead, Ai gave him the small bundle of joy with a smile. Something within him clicked that night, and for the first time he remembered something from his past. 

A conversation? 

"Hey, [~~~] why so stiff?" 

"Because! They're so small! So defenseless! How can they survive?!" A chuckle rang out throughout what seemed like a cave as the sound echoed. 

"They're children! Of course, they're small! But hey! They seem to like you!" 

"I… I guess they do…" 

"You know… if you're really worried about them so much why not take care of them?" 

"Don't you already do that?" 

"Well, technically, yes? But what I meant was you could watch over the little ones and make sure they're safe?" 

"... alright, I'll do it!" 

Hóu held the small child close to his chest, a stifled sob escaped him as a few tears flowed down his face and onto the blankets that wrapped around the baby. This concerned the couple as they barely see Hóu cry, in fact. This is only the second time they've seen him cry ever since finding him that fateful day. 

Just before they could react, Hóu faced them. Face stained with tears but his eyes held a strong determination. "No matter what, I'll make sure she becomes big and strong. I swear on my life" 

With his sudden declaration, the couple found a sense of peace and comfort. Ever since then, Hóu had appointed himself their daughter's caretaker and would help Ai and Biming with their daughter in whatever way he could. There had been countless times when Ai or Biming would search for their daughter only to find her asleep on Hóu who had her safely asleep on or under his favorite tree in their garden, sometimes asleep himself. 

Such were the peaceful times, the days he wouldn't have to worry about much except for their family's safety. Nothing could happen to them, he used to think. Not until the incident. 

Golden eyes fluttered open as he heard a faint sound of someone calling out to him. "I'm heading off to work dad!! Text you later!!" Followed by a door slamming shut and a soft ringing of a bell. 

With a sigh, the black monkey sat up and combed through his messy black hair before getting up and heading to the bathroom to freshen up. Mi Hóu looked at the mirror and examined himself only to be taken back to see a human face before remembering that his life with Ai, Biming, and their daughter Chu-Hua had ended a couple of hundred years ago. 

He had remembered everything since that time, and his true name is Liu er Mihóu otherwise known as the Six Eared Macaque. And he remembered that at this current time, he has a son. A son that he had to look out for in a world of hidden demons. But here's the catch, he can't let his son know that he himself is a demon even though he already knows about demons. Which is why he uses a human disguise. 

"Another regular day of work I guess…" he mumbled as he heard the ringing of the bell hung at the door indicating that someone had entered their home, or to be more specific, his clinic. Little did he know that this day would be the end of his daily routine of curing demons and teaching at a dojo. 

[bumblesimagines]

Green Thumb

Part 3

Request: Yes or No

~

You watched with slightly furrowed brows as Nick Fury walked into the kitchen, glancing at Lila when she pulled another crayon out of the box. You smiled softly at her butterfly drawing.

"That's great, Lila." You told her gently, earning a proud smile from the younger girl. She finished drawing, standing up and walking over to Natasha to show her. You picked up the crayons laying on the ground, sliding them back in the box. You looked over at Clint and his family as Fury talked about Ultron, a small sigh escaping you. You weren't expecting this to be so complicated. Then again, it was the Avengers. Everything was complicated with them.

"I contacted our friends at the Nexus about that." You blinked, zoning back in. Steve looked at Fury with a small frown.

"Nexus?"

"Every bit of data flows through there. It's located in Oslo." Bruce explained, pushing up his glasses with his index finger. Clint gently picked up a dart, inspecting it.

"So, what'd they say?" He asked, watching Tony collect the darts from the board. You looked at Lila when she sat beside you on the couch, pointing to her hair before facing away from you. You shifted towards her, beginning to gently braid her hair.

"He's fixated on the missiles but the codes are constantly being changed." Fury told them as he made himself a snack. Trying to stop a murderous robot with daddy issues from ending the world definitely hadn't been on your bucket list but then again, joining a family hadn't been on it either.

"By whom?" Tony asked, a dart flying by his face and hitting bullseye. You almost chuckled at the cheeky grin on Clint's face.

"We got an ally?"

"Ultrons got an enemy. That's not the same thing." Fury corrected Natasha, eating a small slice of cheese. You finished braiding Lila's hair, glancing at Laura.

"His mission.. Is mass destruction. Everything here will be laid in a grave." Fury looked between the Avengers. You frowned, making eye contact with Clint. His biggest fear was losing his family. The last thing you wanted was losing the Bartons.

"So, stand. Outwit the platinum bastard."

"Steve doesn't like that kind of talk." Natasha said softly, gaze locking onto the soldier. Steve's brows raised, an exasperated breath leaving him.

"You know what, Romanoff.." He trailed off as Natasha shot him a playful smile. Laura took a seat behind you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"You can stay here. You don't have to go with them to stop this.. Robot." Laura said quietly, giving your shoulder a squeeze. You ran your fingers over Lila's braid, shaking your head.

"It's fine, I promise. I'll make sure to come back in one piece." You assured her with a small smile.

"Has anyone been in contact with Helen Cho?" You looked forward at the mention of the scientists' name. You remembered her curiosity at your bracelets. A frown stretched across your face. She shouldn't have been left alone, especially when she had been there when Ultron first attacked.

"We need to get going." Steve called, glancing back at you. Everyone went off to change into their hero outfits.

"Hey, (Y/N), I got something for you." Clint said, motioning for you to follow him. You stood up, walking towards him and entering the room. Clint gave you a small grin, showing you the outfit. It was similar to his but with long sleeves. You smiled, running your fingers over it.

"I wouldn't want you getting shot so it's bulletproof and works in all types of weather. From now on, you are an Avenger."

"But.. I haven't finished-"

"You know what you need to work on and you'll continue to train." Clint smiled proudly, placing a hand on your shoulder. "I've always believed in you."

"Thank you.." You whispered. Clint nodded, leaving the room so you could change. It was comfortable and flexible so you'd be able to move without difficulty. You felt a rush of excitement shoot through you. You were officially an Avenger. Well, in Clint's eyes anyway. You'd have to check in with Tony and Steve to confirm it. You stepped out of the room, hearing Laura coo. She looked you over, smiling.

"Oh, if you were in high school, this is probably how it'd feel like during prom night." She breathed out, giggling softly.

"Now, you two better return in one piece, alright?" Laura shot you and Clint a look. You gave her a nod.

"Yes, ma'am." Clint responded, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Laura gave you both a tight, lingering hug before releasing you with watery eyes.

"We'll be back before you know it." Clint assured her, getting an unconvinced nod in return. You exited the house, heading towards the aircraft.

"Liking the new look, (L/N)." Natasha said, smiling widely as she walked beside you. You chuckled, glancing down at the outfit. You entered the aircraft, taking a seat.

"We'll drop Tony off in Oslo while we check on Dr. Cho. Stay alert and stay ready." Steve said, looking you over briefly. A small smile appeared on his face before he looked towards the front. Tony was dropped off at Nexus, the others heading off to Japan. You hoped you'd be able to stay longer than a few minutes next time. Norway seemed like a nice place to relax at. Steve was dropped off by the building while you remained with Natasha and Clint in the aircraft. You could hear everything Steve said and heard through the earpiece. You frowned upon hearing Dr. Cho's breathy voice.

"He's uploading himself into the body."

"Where?"

"The real power... Is inside the cradle. The gem.. It's power is uncontainable. You can just blow it up. You have to get the cradle to Stark."

"First I've got to find it. You guys copy that?" Steve asked. You stood beside Clint, looking over the busy city below. So many people unaware of the thing threatening them.

"We did."

"We've got a private jet taking off across town." Natasha said. "No manifest. That could be him." Your gaze darted from cars to people, anything moving that could be suspicious.

"There's a truck from the lab." Clint called. "Right above you, Cap. On the loop on the bridge."

"It's them." You swallowed, gripping the seat. You watched as Steve jumped onto the roof of the truck, reaching the back and being blown to the side. Clint drove through the city, catching the citizen's attention.

"Think you could help from up here?" Clint asked, glancing at you.

"I've never done this while moving." You reminded him, raising your hand. Cities provided little nature, apart from fake plants and small spots to make it pretty. You noticed some trees but they were by the sidewalk and the road. Clint lowered himself closer to the ground so Natasha could drop down on a motorcycle. Clint helped direct Natasha to the truck. You winced when Steve was thrown back onto a car, the cars beginning to topple over and crash.

"Who's gonna pay for their injuries?" You asked softly.

"Stark will handle anything their insurance doesn't cover." Clint replied, moving in front of the truck and shooting at Ultron. It had no impact on him, simply annoying him further. Three robots left the back of the truck, flying up. You felt your fingers tingle, raising your hand and causing a branch from a nearby tree to shoot out and go through the head of one if the robots, effectively stopping it.

"Take a seat and buckle in." Clint called. You quickly sat down, not in the mood to be thrown around the craft. You buckled in, sighing softly as your stomach did twists. You'd prefer land over air any time but it felt safer to be with Clint. You shut your eyes as the aircraft spun, probably shaking off the robots. Clint successfully got the robots off him so he turned, heading back towards the city.

"You okay?" Clint glanced back at you with a frown. You nodded, not trusting yourself not to vomit. Clint chuckled softly.

"You'll get used to it." Clint looked forward. You unbuckled your seat, getting up and walking back towards Clint. You rubbed your aching head, brows furrowing.

"Is that-"

"A flying truck? Yeah. Not the craziest thing you'll see."

"I can control plants, Clint. I'd say that's pretty tame." A laugh left Clint as he followed the truck.

"Got a clear shot. Want me to take it?"

"Negative, I'm still in the truck." Natasha replied. Clint blinked.

"The hell you doing in there?" He asked, following the truck from a safe distance.

"Just get ready to receive the package." Natasha told him. Clint turned the aircraft around, opening the back. You turned your head, noticing Natasha cutting the straps that kept the cradle in place and pushing it forward. She exited the truck as it exploded, the cradle getting inside but she was dragged out.

"Nat!"

"I can't see her and it's to high up for me to do anything." You said, looking at through the windows. Steve ordered Clint to go back to the tower but Clint would never leave his best friend behind.

"Clint, it's Nat. She'll be fine. If anything, she'll be the one rescuing us when we find her." You told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Clint swallowed, hesitating before following orders.

"She'll be okay." You assured softly. You looked back at the cradle, cautiously approaching it.

"Don't touch it-"

"Too late." You mumbled, fingers running over it. Your brows furrowed, looking over the body inside. It didn't look human. Not even close to one.

"What the hell is this?" You frowned, gaze drifting to the crystal. The one Dr. Cho said was uncontainable.

"I always thought I was magic." You said, looking up at Clint with a small smile. You hoped you could ease his mind or get him to become less anxious. You sighed, looking back down at the body before continuing.

"But then I found out I was everything but that."

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 (𝐻𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑗𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑔×𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟) 𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐾𝑖𝑚 𝐻𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑗𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑔 (𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧)/ 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒)

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑆𝑚𝑢𝑡

♡♡ 𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚, 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑦 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦 @seacottons ♡♡

♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡

Hongjoong tapped his pencil on the notepad impatiently, sighing for the 7th time in the minute that passed. He looked at the clock, signaling that it was almost 10:30.

Maybe I shouldn't have asked her to come. It's already late.

He had a tendency to forget that unlike him, most individuals don't like to stay up at odd hours of the night, especially not to work. But he always worked better and got inspired more during the nights. Something about the dark blue sky, crystal glittering stars and even the bustling sounds of the city awakened his senses, enticing him to start writing lyrics down, or play a few melodies on his piano. Of course, sometimes he had the usual composer's block, struggling to come up with the right music or words. Or he ended up feeling lonely and in need of comfort.

That's where Y/N came in. He'd always call her up and asked her if she wouldn't mind keeping him company, a pout always on his lips, almost like a child expecting to be refused. But she'd always be there for him, and he truly appreciated it. And tonight, he was particularly antsy about seeing her. He was getting anxious as more and more time passed and she was nowhere to be seen. Not even a text saying where she was exactly at the moment.

He was about to pick up his phone again to check up on her, when the rattling of the doorknob let him know someone was outside. He had obviously locked the door, never liking to be disturbed by anyone, so he wasn't surprised to hear the person on the other side knock. He got up and opened the door.

"Hi! I'm here!"

A dripping Y/N scurried inside the studio room, getting as close as she could to the heater that was next to the couch. Hongjoong stared in shock as a tiny wet trail was left on the carpet.

"Baby, did you walk here?" He asked, his voice full of concern.

"Well yeah....." She fidgeted with the sleeves of her sweater. "I didn't know it was going to rain and the weather didn't seem too cold, but then tiny sprinkles turned to a heavy downpour.....

But I'm here now!" She said that last part more enthusiastically, trying to ease his mind a little.

But now he felt even more bad than before. She could easily have gotten sick and it would have been his fault.

"You could have just taken a cab back home love."

Y/N pouted at him.

"I know...but I wanted to see you."

His heart melted at her words. She said the same words he had been thinking all night long. Taking small steps, he threw his hoodie over his head and held it out to her.

"Here. You'll catch a cold if you stay in those wet clothes. Take them off and put this on. I'll go see if I can find some towels somewhere."

Y/N nodded and took it. She began unzipping her sweater as Hongjoong went out the door to check the supply closet at the end of the hallway. By pure luck, there was a wide array of freshly cleaned towels on the top rack. He grabbed 3 and placed them underneath his arm before closing the door and making his way back to the studio room.

"I found some towels for-"

He stopped abruptly when he saw Y/N standing there, completely naked. His eyes trailed down her body, some parts still dewy from the rain.

"What? You said to take my clothes of." She reminded him, snapping him out of his trance.

He cleared his throat.

"Well yeah.... I just assumed you'd keep your underwear on."

Y/N chuckled.

"But then your hoodie would get wet, then what would we do Einstein?"

Hongjoong smiled shyly. "I guess you have a point there."

Y/N was about to take a towel from him, but he pulled his arm away before she could reach for it.

"Allow me love."

He began patting her shoulders with the towel, getting some of the wet drops off them. Then he bunched some of her hair in the towel, squeezing any excess water out.

"Let me know if I accidentally pull too hard."

Y/N knew that wouldn't happen. He was always so careful and gentle when it came to these things. Once he was done with that, he discarded that towel and replaced it with another one.

"Jesus, did you get sucked inside a hurricane?" He teased her.

"You're so mean. I wouldn't even be in this condition if you didn't ask me to come." She retaliated.

"I know. I know love."

His hands began traveling down her torso, rubbing softly at her skin. He kept his gaze away when he swiped the towel across her breasts, making Y/N snort.

"Hongjoong, you've seen me naked at least 7 times. Stop acting so innocent."

He blushed at her words and hesitated to continue his task of drying her.

"Here, let me finish."

She took the towel away from him and finished the task he couldn't. She took the hoodie he had given her and threw it over her head, the length of it barely covering up to her mid-thighs, but it would have to do.

"You can turn around now, you drama queen." She rolled her eyes at his acting.

He turned his head and his heart fluttered as it usually did whenever she'd wear any of his clothing. It was kind of a reminder that she was his and his only, a sort of sense of ownership over her, as outrageous as it sounded. But Hongjoong would be the first to admit that he was indeed possessive over Y/N. She was just so beautiful and precious to him, he couldn't help but think that way at times.

He leaned and just pulled her into an embrace, holding her as if he hadn't seen her in years. Y/N reciprocated the action by wrapping her arms around his waist, getting the hint that he wanted to stay in that position for a while. He began caressing the back of her head, her hair still humid, but he didn't care. His other hand ran up and down her back, occasionally drawing random shapes into it.

Before he knew it, he was placing kisses on the side of her face, eventually kissing her forehead and resting his lips there. Y/N smiled fondly at that. Forehead kisses were Hongjoong's way of telling her he adored and cherished her profusely. He mentioned it to her one day when he had done that more often than any other times. Ever since then, she loved it when he did it, now knowing there was a meaning behind his actions.

Pulling back, he cupped her cheeks and squished them gently. Puckering his lips, he moved her face side to side, cooing softly at her.

"Who could not fall in love with such a cute face like this?"

She cringed at his words, but Hongjoong knew better. She did have a love-hate relationship with him babying her.

"You're such a dork." She let out a tiny yawn after she said those words.

Hongjoong pouted. "Oh love. I'm sorry for making you come out so late."

She shook her head.

"It's fine. Did you want something in particular?"

Hongjoong hummed softly, thinking about it. He wanted to hold her, that was for sure. But he also knew he wanted to try something, if she was up for it. Smirking, he brushed some hair off her face.

"Well.... I still have a few verses left to finish. What do you say if we try a little..... cockwarming?"

Y/N's ears perked up at the idea.

"Cockwarming?"

"Yes think about it love. Me nestled inside you, while you take a nap on my lap until I finish the song?" He looked to her with hopeful eyes.

She eyed him suspiciously.

"And what about when you're done?"

Hongjoong wiggled his eyebrows.

"Well, if you're not too tired, we could try something else."

Y/N giggled.

"Are you sure you'll be able to control yourself?"

Hongjoong smiled before picking her up and wrapping her legs around his waist.

"Only one way to find out love."

He set her down on his desk and began unzipping his pants. Taking his cock out, he stroked himself a few times before sitting down on his chair. Turning his attention back to Y/N, he pulled her off the desk, placing her on top of his thighs. He licked his fingers before slipping them in between her folds, wanting to make sure she was wet enough so it wouldn't hurt her in any way. He slowly slid them in and out of her, occasionally scissoring them, stretching her out. He glimpsed over at Y/N, who was biting her lip as she tried not to let out any noises.

"You worry about me, but I think it's you who won't be able to resist." He chuckled.

Y/N rolled her eyes. "We'll see."

Satisfied with his job, Hongjoong lifted her up and maintained eye contact as he slowly sank her down onto his length. They both moaned at the warm feeling, it had been so long since they were like this. Y/N let her legs dangle and she rested her face on his shoulder. Hongjoong wrapped his arms around her.

"Take a rest. I'll be done soon enough"

Y/N mumbled something incoherently, already dozing off thanks to Hongjoong's warmth and his scent that she loved inhaling. Muttering a small 'cute', he went back to work.

The words were now flowing even smoother than before. He always did say he worked a lot better if Y/N was around. The others would always think he was just being delusional, but he disagreed. Her presence just makes him more calm, serene and helps him focus. He'd often joke about her being his muse, but even she would often roll her eyes at his statement.

He didn't know how much time had passed, all he could hear was the sound of his pencil scribbling on the paper and Y/N's faint breathing on his neck. Once in a while, he'd give her thigh a gentle squeeze or kiss her arm that was wrapped around his other shoulder, where her head wasn't. He had completely forgotten he was even inside her.

He was only reminded of it when he looked at the time that was marking that it was almost midnight. He debated whether to wake her up and take her home, or rearrange the couch so it could become a bed. Eden was the one who suggested keeping a sofa that could turn into a bed, and even kept a couple pillows and blankets in the studio since Hongjoong practically lived there at times.

But then again, she looked so comfortable and peaceful, and it wouldn't be the first time he slept in the chair. Turning off the light, he began closing his eyes, wanting to drift off to sleep as well.

But then Y/N shifted in her sleep, causing Hongjoong to jolt up and hold her hips, thinking she was going to fall. She groaned softly and shifted even more, causing his cock to twitch.

Oh my God.

He thought he was doing so well, and he could cool himself down, but the feeling was too good. Without thinking about it, he began to gently roll his hips up against hers, ever so slightly so as to not wake her up. At least that was the plan.

He smiled mischievously though when he heard her moan against his ear. He could feel her growing wetter, making it easier for him to slip in and out of her.

"Fuck." He whispered to himself.

He was getting even more turned on by the fact he was practically fucking his girlfriend while she was asleep. He shouldn't get aroused by that fact, but he was. And to know that even in her sleep she was moaning boosted his ego.

Y/N fluttered her eyes open, whimpering slightly at being woken up with an intense need. She lifted her face and was met with Hongjoong's face, his eyes full of lust and desire as he continued rolling his hips against hers.

"I'm sorry baby. It was just too tempting."

He apologized, but she knew he wasn't the least bit sorry. And she wasn't mad either way. It was definitely one of the best ways to wake up. She placed her hands on his shoulders, to steady herself as she began grinding down on him, not wanting him to have his fun only. Hongjoong hissed at the change of pace, loving the way she looked: in his hoodie, on top of him and desperate to get some release.

Hongjoong's hands went to her waist, pressing her closer to him as he kissed her passionately, his tongue slipping inside hers. His hands wandered inside the hoodie, cupping her breasts and playing with her nipples, causing her to shudder and tighten around his cock.

Hongjoong pulled back, gasping for air.

"Fuck baby. If- if you keep doing that, I w-won't be able to last much longer." He told her, trying to hold back as much as he could.

Y/N chuckled and challenged him.

"Then make me cum."

Oh. Those 4 words always set Hongjoong off. One of his hands went down between her legs, his thumb playing around with her clit. His lips attached themselves to her neck as he sucked and nibbled on all her sensitive places, having memorized all of them. All of that, plus the way his strokes got even deeper and faster had Y/N whimpering and panting above him. Hongjoong pulled back only to tease her:

"What? You asked me to make you cum and that's what you're going to get love."

His free hand wrapped around her neck, squeezing it enough to make her dizzy, but not harshly. He growled in her ear:

"Now do it baby. Cum all over my cock. I want to feel you come undone before I fill up your pretty little pussy with my cum."

She threw her head back as she clenched around him, his words being the final straw for her to break and release all over him with a soft cry of his name. She hid her face on his neck, gripping him tightly as he helped her ride out her orgasm. Her walls clenching and squeezing him tightly had him coming undone seconds after her. She felt his hot cum coat her walls, his voice muttering curses as his movements stilled, trying to catch his breath.

After a minute, Hongjoong looked back at her.

"Baby? You good?"

She nodded. "Tired."

"I know love. Hold on."

Getting up, still inside her, he walked over to the couch and set her down. He began to miss her warmth as soon as he pulled out of her. Grabbing one of the previously acquired towels, he wiped her inner thighs where some of his cum had dripped out.

Y/N was pretty much half asleep by now. So Hongjoong tried to move her as little as possible as he adjusted the couch to turn it into a bed. Grabbing one of the blankets from under his desk, he covered Y/N with it and layed down next to her, pulling her against his chest.

He stared at her sleeping figure for a while, admiring her features and smiling to himself. His finger traced her lips slowly before he pecked them with tenderness.

"I love you Y/N."

He wasn't expecting her to answer, but she surprised him when she unconsciously nestled herself closer to him and mumbled 'I love you' back to him, causing him to giggle at her cuteness.

She truly was such a precious being.

♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡･ﾟ:*｡.:*･ﾟ♡

[syuga-s]

The Last Time

w.c 4.3k

pairing. Jooheon x gn!reader

genre. angst, a little fluff maybe, idk how to classify it but it's my take on relationships in real life(?)

a/n. (warnings) I throw some curses here and there, mention of the word "sex" once, tried to make it as gender-neutral as possible, I could really use some help about t/w, feedback is more than welcome, hope you like the fic 🧍‍♀️

Once again you were at the same bar. With the same friends. Same music. Same drinks. It's safe to say that nothing's changed in here but you.

For some reason, you were awfully quiet tonight. Everyone was away from the table by now. All of them talking and dancing in groups.

You were regretting saying yes to going out the very moment Jasmine was at your front door. But your best friend really wanted to get you out of your house.

The thing is you weren’t going to be alone, all of your friends were tagging along. I guess I need to suck it up, maybe I could have fun, despite him.

And you really tried, there was no need to make a scene anymore. All of your friends have had their fair share of nights seeing you 'talk' with him and making things awkward for everyone. It's been a while, though. You haven't seen him in exactly 2 years.

How do I explain this? There's no resentment anymore, no hate for what happened between you. But when there's a choice between spending your Friday night at the same place as him or staying at home? Well...

But tonight was clearly different. Something (Jasmine) had dragged you here and to be quite honest, it hasn’t been half bad yet. Jasmine kept waiting for you to get up from your chair to come and chat with Jackson and Changkyun. Her all-time crush and his best friend.

"In a sec!! Just let me finish this drink!" You said while you showed her your glass. She quickly nodded and turned to keep talking with those two. You have to remember to thank them later for keeping her entertained because if it weren't for them cracking jokes every single second, she wouldn't have let you off the hook that easily.

Meanwhile, you decided to get a little lost in your head. Laughing to yourself because you were feeling like having a main character moment. Being the only one sat down in a place full of people. The mysterious persona drinking by themselves.

But that didn't last long.

"Mind if I sit here?" You shook your head. He put his drink next to yours and asked, "How are you?" And it somehow felt like you couldn’t have avoided this exact situation.

You released a breath that you didn't even know you were holding. "I'm sitting Jooheon, drinking… existing, you?" He forced himself to smile. Trying to hide the fact that he was still feeling uneasy around you. Nonetheless, showing you the dimples that you used to love so much.

“I can see that”, he paused, "it's been a lot since I last saw you, you look different".

You hummed softly, finally making eye contact with him. "So you expected for me to look the same?" You surely weren't going to pass up the opportunity to be passive-aggressive to him.

It still makes you happy to know that he has never minded this side of you.

"I'm teasing, I guess we both look different, it's been what? Two years?"

"I'm not sure, but it feels like a lot" He took a sip of his drink and started to fidget with the glass. Maybe you're not the only one that's changed after all.

In the two years, you were together, you never saw him like this. But let's remember the fact that you never fully knew him back then. It just feels weird to see him this anxious. Especially with you.

"I've wanted to reach out to you for a while now," You frowned at his words. "Guess I lacked a little courage" He let out an airy laugh. "I really want to talk to you".

Now it was your turn to feel tense. What is this supposed to mean? How long has he been wanting to talk? And talk about what?

You tilted your head and opened your mouth to ask him all this, but he didn't give you the chance to get the words out.

"Before you say something, please believe me I just wanna talk", "but not in here”.

"Alright then, where do you suggest we ‘talk’ Jooheon?” He took his phone out to check the time. 10:44 p.m. He pursed his lips and said, more like hesitating, "I could walk you home?"

You stared off into your group of friends. This was going to make their night interesting. Seeing you two go together again, just like all those times before.

Jooheon's been waiting for this since he saw on your social media that you were leaving the city. And Jasmine took care of letting him know that you would be coming back in about 6 months.

That was a year ago. More than 365 days waiting to be in the same room with you. Praying that you would let him talk to you. Not that you would reject him. But he was scared, he was perfectly aware he messed up everything.

As you were both saying goodbyes to your friends, you started to think about how everything had ended between you two.

You know what? Yes, maybe I was wrong in ghosting him but after all, I don't owe him anything. Just like he threw me out of his life two years ago. We didn't work out, he never communicated with me. He didn't choose me back. I just had to watch him get rid of me, no explanations, no nothing. And I find it really hard to believe that he's been dying to talk to me. What could be so important that he wants to have a proper conversation? How will I explain to him that I stopped replying for no particular reason? That I just realized that we weren't good together, and I had to let go of him? Should I tell him that no matter my hard feelings, I still thought about him constantly?

You had left each other in the cold back then.

He called your name, and you snapped back to reality. Didn't even realize you were already outside of the bar when he softly asked you, "aren't you cold?"

You smirked and told him "Well yeah, walking back home in this weather wasn't in my plans dummy, but I didn't bring a jacket though".

He used to be so attentive to you. One of the other things you used to love about him. Always concerned about you.

He simply put his jacket around you and started walking before you could complain about something as simple as this. Like you always did.

It feels nice to know that someone in this world knows you to this extent. The way you’ll react to simple things. How can you still love someone despite knowing that you don’t work together?

You realized he still has this jacket. It's the same one he gave me the first night we spent together. Why do I have to remember this now? Not fair. Maybe he wore it on purpose.

You gave a little run to catch him. Now that you were by his side, you were getting impatient, "Can you please start talking? I'm intrigued by all your seriousness".

You were kind of hating this feeling. Everything about him felt familiar. Suddenly, you wanted to cling your arm to his but thought twice about it.

He chuckled. "Well it's not super serious, I want us to have a nice conversation, you know?" You snorted at this, what does a nice talk mean?

"I can be nice, as long as you tell me WHAT you wanna talk about…", "come on Jooheon, just get to the point".

"Okay!! OKAY… I-" he took a deep breath and continued, "First of all, I want to apologize to you for everything, then I want us to talk about what happened between us if that's okay with you?"

You'd be lying if you didn't say that you wanted this to happen since you drew apart the first time. You always dreamt of having an adult conversation with him.

But the dream left your mind bit by bit. Just like your heart got itself back together after he left you, piece by piece.

Overwhelmed, you could only stare straight ahead into the street. He called your name again. Now your eyes were on his, and you could see his concerns. How his mind was going miles per hour, just like yours.

"I want to apologize too,” you smiled and finally let yourself link arms with him. “It’s gonna take us a while, isn’t it?”.

The walk to your apartment took around 15 minutes. The words you exchanged with Jooheon were kept to a minimum. You weren’t gonna get into the heavy stuff right there in the street.

When you finally arrived, you gave him back his jacket. It was gonna get uncomfortable to talk with him with a piece of clothing that made you remember too much.

“Want something to drink? I have a beer, wine, you name it”. He sat on your couch while you searched for something non-alcoholic in your little fridge. “A beer would be okay”.

You got yourself some water. Otherwise, your head would be fuzzy, and wouldn’t be able to tell him all you’ve had on your mind for years.

You handed him the bottle, and you took your seat on the carpet. Your mind wandered off to the last time he was in here.

When he told you goodnight and planted a soft kiss on your lips like he always did. You knew it wasn’t a simple ‘good night’, for you.

You remembered how your eyes followed him until he closed the door of your apartment.

He took a swig of his drink and by the time he put the bottle on your little coffee table, it made you realize he was sitting right there, in front of you.

Finally, gathering the courage to start telling you what was on his mind. “I never thought I’d get the chance to talk to you again”.

I didn’t think so, either. We both fucked up multiple times.

──────────────────────

You were never a couple. After 5 years, you never understood what had lacked between you. The desire was there. Now and then you had your moments of happiness. Usually on the weekends.

When you met, you weren’t looking for love or a serious relationship. At least one of you.

Jooheon was free, like the wind or like a bird. He flew back and forth and once in a while he needed to land somewhere for a while. Every so often he sought another fire, another bed, other arms that weren’t yours.

The time came when he made you feel a million things inside. Overwhelmed with words and emotions, mostly love. But also turmoil and maybe desperation.

It made you happy that he made you feel so much after being empty for months. You felt different with him. It was the kind of love you didn’t know you had in you. Didn’t even think it was possible to express about someone like this. Until him.

You didn’t need anyone else. You just needed Jooheon. Not only that, but you didn’t care for how long your love would last because you believed that the meaning of the word love was what you had built together.

A few hours together. Every so often the whole night.

But when the morning came, the nightmare started to take form. Texts at inappropriate hours, and even unanswered messages.

You started thinking that you didn’t know better. You started feeling insecure. Replaceable. Maybe he knows better than to be with me.

Desperate to know what you had. But afraid that you would ruin everything with the words “What are we?”.

Tried to convince yourself that all of this was okay. That it was a good thing that you were going slow, giving him the chance to open up to you.

Months kept passing and your trust in him was running thin. He made you feel weird on the daily. Wondering if he was seeing someone else. If he danced with someone tonight. Had they kissed? Is he having sex with someone who isn’t me? What if he’s tired of me?

You wanted to be with him, but It was starting to hurt.

I hate that when I try to get myself to think that I don’t like you anymore… you do these little things that make me love you.

When you were together, he treated you like there was no one else for him. His hand was always wrapped up in yours. Talking until dawn, about college, his family, and your relationship. Those times, you couldn’t lie to yourself about your feelings.

He was the only face you could see in the world. The only guy you’ve ever wanted to keep around. But how did we get to this point?

The day you told him you were starting to fall in love with him, all he could reply was, “I don’t know what to say, I never thought you would be in love with me”.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“Well what do you want me to say? You took me by surprise”.

“You could tell me how you feel. I’m not expecting for you to tell me you love me back, I-“

There’s no return now, you have to keep talking.

“I’m just tired of not knowing what’s in your head, I’m not sure if you want to have something with me anymore, it’s okay if you don’t so, just be honest with me”.

“I like you”. You stayed quiet after hearing this, urging him to tell you more than just three words.

“I mean, of course, I’m attracted to you”.

At that moment, you liked what you heard. But the more you thought about it, you realized that he didn’t actually care for you, or loved you. Maybe that was a greedy thought from you. Maybe you expected too much.

You were angry but mostly angry at yourself.

Why are you still waiting for him? It's been years and nothing has happened between you. Nothing ever will at this point.

You ended up telling him not to bother you again, that if this was his way of ‘loving’ you, you were better off without it.

But that was a lie, you longed for your phone to show his name, even if it was at 5 A.M. Still thinking that there was no other way to love someone.

Unable to put an end to it, months kept passing and nothing changed between you. Jooheon had many others, and you only had him.

You loved spending nights like this by his side, watching him sleep, wondering for hours about you two. Unable to explain how you could love him this much.

Maybe he did love you, but you can’t handle this kind of love anymore. It’s better for both of you to end this, whatever it was because it's driving you crazy. And you meant it this time.

Jooheon told you goodnight and planted a soft kiss on your lips like he always did.

You knew it wasn’t a simple ‘good night’ for you, this was the last time you were gonna let him in. Your eyes followed him until he closed the door of your apartment. Fighting back your tears while softly saying to yourself, “I’m always going to love you…”.

The texts at 5 A.M. came again, but this time there was no answer. Jooheon started calling and sending texts for days, but you didn’t reply. All your efforts in disappearing from him on social media weren’t stopping him.

He met someone else, yet the texts wouldn’t stop. Until one day they did.

Now and then your curiosity would get the best of you and you would see his Instagram stories with her. An older girl you had met once. They were supposed to be friends.

You wanted to avoid comparing yourself to her but, he never posted something with you. It’s a dumb thing to worry about, but it’s one of those things that sometimes matter.

You tried to understand the whole situation. Accept the fact that you two weren’t meant to be. That he didn’t see a future with you.

Your days stopped revolving around him. You focused your time on getting your degree, learning another language, going out with your friends. Even tried meeting new people.

There were a few here and there. No one was enough for you.

Your ideas of love and relationships were different now. You gave another meaning to the word love. You wanted to find someone who would love you and take care of you. A quiet kind of love, real love.

What you had with Jooheon, was something you never wanted to experience again. Days went by, even months until you saw each other once more; for the first time in Jooheon’s life, he felt a knot in his stomach, he knew he lost you, for good this time.

Months passed and Jooheon left his girlfriend. He now felt different because he looked for you in everyone, yet he couldn’t find you, and he felt empty.

He cursed himself a thousand times for not knowing how to appreciate you and the love you gave him for two whole years. Tears finally fell from his eyes, he couldn’t believe he was crying for someone, crying for love, crying for you.

He took his phone out, swallowed hard, and started typing another text.

“I miss you, and I need you with me now and always, I never thought I would say this, but I’m not happy without you. Maybe I should’ve loved you less and loved you better, I just want you to know that I’ll always be waiting for you my sweet y/n…”

But the message was never delivered. You had changed your number.

It made sense that you would do that someday. It’s been too long, but this didn’t stop him from sending you texts in the middle of the night. When he felt the overwhelming need to have his arms wrapped around you.

──────────────────────

I still love you

(9:05 p.m.)

no, I don’t

(9:06 p.m.)

I’m confused why did this happen

(2:26 a.m.)

I want you to be happy, if this is what it takes then I’m okay with it. be happy. for me. please.

(10:45 a.m.)

I kind of hate you for changing your number

(8:57 p.m.)

I’m sorry

(1:43 a.m.)

maybe if I wasn’t so fucked up this wouldn’t have happened

(3:37 a.m.)

why can’t things be like they were before

(10:13 a.m.)

please come back to me. I need you. You need me

(1:58 a.m.)

I still want you

(4:06 a.m.)

──────────────────────

The day you left town was the day he swore to himself to try his best to get another chance to talk to you, just once more. To make things right, not caring anymore about his pride. He just wanted to let you know everything he didn’t say when you were by his side.

That he was sorry that it took him too long to acknowledge he was wrong. That he knew he was a little too late and wishes that he could say something more meaningful than a simple “I want you back”.

──────────────────────

“I wonder why” You smirked at him.

The more you kept making eye contact, the more you realized you didn’t feel any kind of resentment anymore. You both had grown, and while you didn’t actually need this kind of closure, you figured this was the healthiest moment to do so.

His eyes were avoiding you now, his smile was still there, but you could tell he lost a bit of his confidence. “Okay, so I’m gonna talk first, please just hear me out. I want to rip the band-aid,” He said with a forced laugh.

“I don’t know why I could never tell you that love scares me. That it scares me to be attached to someone”. His tone was soft now.

“I still play in my head the day you told me you were falling in love with me. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you not to tell me those things because you could have changed your mind any moment”.

“I never told you how I felt one of the many nights you spent with me. You were stroking my hair and I seriously felt like crying because I was fucking scared”.

“I was scared to lose you”.

“I’m sorry because I know I made you think I didn’t want you for something serious. I’m sorry for being immature”.

“I look at you now, and I’m happy to get to see you like this. You’re still everything I’ve ever wished for and more. You need to know that nothing compares to you”.

“And believe me, I don’t expect you to take my words as a way of asking you for another chance, I know I don’t deserve it… but I would really love it if you could let me show you I could love you better this time”.

You never imagined these words coming out of his mouth. Couldn’t believe how he was looking at you. Hopeful but understanding at your loss for words.

“Can I ask you one last thing?” His voice was barely audible, but you nodded at him.

“Well, maybe it’s not an actual question, but I’d like to know why you stopped talking to me”.

“Look Jooheon, I don’t know how everything I wanna say will come out, so please bear with me”.

You didn’t know where to start, either.

There were so many things to be said that you were getting nervous to start talking. Because once you opened your mouth, you didn’t know if you would be able to piece everything together.

“When everything ended I really wanted to hate you, everyone around me hated you,” you admitted to him, “except for me and I hated that”.

“I knew that all I could be able to do was cut you from my life, so I just decided to stop talking to you”.

It may sound harsh, but it’s the truth. “I admit it was a poor way of handling things, and I’m sorry for that”.

You’ve always been scared of having this type of conversation.

You let out a sigh because you never thought that the following words were gonna come out of your mouth, ever.

“I’ve only been in love once in my life, and that was when I was with you”.

“It used to frustrate me that I wasn’t able to make it work with anyone after you. I couldn’t help but compare everyone to you”.

“I swore to myself that I never wanted to go through the same thing we had, maybe because those memories are yours and I don't want anyone else messing that up, you made me feel so safe, I felt alive with you, nothing could stop me when I had you”. 

“You've been the only one I've ever wanted to see every day, no matter the hour or how busy I was, I truly wanted everything with you”.

You hadn’t noticed how he had been looking at you this entire time. He couldn’t believe that you used to feel that way about him. Still couldn’t wrap his head around hearing you say how you loved him.

You quickly wiped a tiny little tear that escaped your eye, hoping we wouldn’t notice. But he did.

You let out a nervous laugh and said, “I’m not sad, I swear, It’s just that I never thought I would say all this out loud, especially to you”.

“You don't know how many times I wanted to call you, run to you”.

“Last year before I left I wanted to see you, I kept trying to convince myself that It didn't have to mean anything, that I was just desperate for any physical touch, but from time to time, I wonder if what I really needed was just you”.

He didn’t say anything. So you just said his name out loud. “Jooheon…” Followed by a long pause.

“I feel so different now”.

“When I was far away from you, I realized that I need someone who isn’t absent when it comes to me, someone that isn’t a ghost in my life”.

While you were talking, you were watching his every move and how he couldn’t stop playing with his rings. You’re still not used to seeing him act like this.

“At this point, I want someone who will take care of me, that makes me feel safe. Someone who wants to be with me because they love me, and they love to have me next to them. I’m beyond only spending the night over, I want whole days”.

You finally got up from the floor and sat next to Jooheon. Facing him, making him do the same. He kept looking at you for a whole minute but it felt like hours.

You didn’t know what to do after his following words.

“What I realized with being away from you is that I was pushing away what I’ve always wanted. I wasn’t confident that I could meet you where you were. I felt it would be better not to waste your time back then, but that was then, and this is now…”

You kept looking at each other a little too long. Both realizing you didn't need words anymore. The love was still there.

[valeskakingdom]

Request

Could I request a part 3? Jerome keeps the reader as his hostage for popularity and attention. Reader is really fond of the attention she gets as well and eventually sleeps with Jerome again? In the end she sees how Galavan kills him and is really sad?

Here's part 4!!

Had to split it in two again...I'm sorry. Post the other half right after this one here!!

Gif credit: @bonniebirddoesgifs

Jerome x female reader (part 4)

Warnings: smut

Word count: 1877

*Days later*

Living with Jerome wasn't as bad as you actually thought. Yes, his possessiveness and always playing the boss annoyed you a lot but you've learned to ignore it.

You literally zoned everything out that made you feel uncomfortable or that annoyed you. And it worked. You were a lot calmer than before, you didn't start panicking immediately when Greenwood or Dobkins were staring at you. You stayed calm because sooner or later they would end up arguing with Jerome if he got aware of it because he hated people staring at you.

You even found 2 new friends: Tabitha and Barbara.

They both were kind to you and helped you how to defend yourself against all these strange lunatics. They treated you how to use a gun, how to fight with or without weapons. You weren't a pro but you got it fast.

It was just a little ordinary for you that they both kept fucking behind Theo's back but it didn't matter to you. You did that with Jerome as well, well, it was more or less behind Theo's back. You both weren't really quiet and you both did it pretty often...and the bites and marks on your neck were pretty obvious because your neck was full of it.

Right now, you were relaxing in your bed watching the news:

"Breaking News

Since a few days (Y/n) (Y/ln) will be missed. Her friend (Y/bff/n) (Y/bff/ln) told that she was about to visit them after watching the cruel claim the Maniax' shot caller Jerome Valeska was giving us. Her friend said she tried to call (Y/n) several times but she didn't pick up the phone. Her friend's afraid that either the Maniax have kidnapped or killed her.

If you see her or have an idea where (Y/n) (Y/ln) could be then please report to the GCPD. Every information can be useful!"

You turned the TV off.

You smirked for yourself. Yes, it sucked that you couldn't be with your friends not could you go out - but you loved this big amount of attention. You were the person peope were looking for. Everyone's eyes were on you as if you were a famous person.

Suddenly your door opened - Barbara.

"Hey darling- ugh, is Jerome still in the bathroom?" She sighed frowning "He should hurry up. Time is running!"

"Calm down Babs," you giggled a little "Wanna watch the news with me? I'm in the TV! My friend is missing me."

"Yeah, I've seen that already." She gave you a short smile "We just need to be careful now. Don't want cops chasing my ass."

"Understandable." You nodded "But...you know, somehow I like this attention. All eyes on me...I never really had that. I was just a simple girl, you could even call me a ghost because no one really noticed me...and now the whole city knows me because I just 'disappeared'. I feel famous and happy."

"Probably because you're famous, somewhat." Barbara gave you a grin flickering her tongue.

"May be, I just know I want more of it. I love being the head of missed people, and I love being the headline." you chuckled letting out a sigh in happiness.

"Wow, Jerome's really got a big effect on you, darling." Barbara scoffed.

"Why's that?"You frowned not understanding what she meant.

"Sweetie, days ago you've been the most anxious and shy girl amongst us. You were frightened by everything that was just moving...and look at you now. You're a smart, calm, sassy ass that reaches for fame - as he does." You both chuckled.

"I could tell you the same with Tabitha. She has to be a master in bed for calming you down after a stressed day. I mean, on the one you're bitching around and after Tabitha 'talks to you in private' at night, you're a sunshine in the next morning." I laughed loudly making Barbara blush.

"Says you! I think I don't need to remind you that the whole city can hear you." Barbara mocked with a laughter.

"At least just the city is hearing me." You laughed louder "I'm sorry, I had to."

"Hey ladies,"Jerome came out of the bathroom before Barbara could respond. He was   just wearing a claret gown, his hair was still wet from the shower "I see, we're in a good mood, doll, aren't we?"

"As always," you grinned "Just had a very nice conversation with Barbara."

"Yeah," Barbara grinned, it faded though as she faced Jerome "Now hurry up, ginger. We don't wanna be late." She left quick.

"She's a feisty one, I like that," Jerome just let out a sigh with a short grin closing the door "But I hate being bossed around. I am the boss!"

He made  his way to you slowly. Then he grabbed your hands pulling you fast out of the bed that you stood close to him. You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck while wrapped his around your waist.

You knew this rough undertone on him. He tried to be kind in front of you but actually he was pissed of being commanded - especially by a woman.

"I know and she does, too. She doesn't mean to be a bitch," You assured him with giving him a smile "She's just stressed. Probably needs a quick fuck or something to calm down."

"Hm," Jerome just hummed and shrugged, not really paying attention to what you were saying. Instead he grabbed your ass harshly pulling you close to him. You could feel his bulge growing against your leg "Talking about a quick fuck..."

Before you could even answer, Jerome pressed his lips against yours. His hands grabbed your cheeks and pressed your face even more against his to intense the kiss. His light chuckle in the kiss only made let you blush after you let out a little moan. He pressed his body against yours to close the gap between you two. Your lips parted this time to let his tongue explore your mouth and you couldn't help but moan as he slipped his tongue into your mouth fighting for dominance. You r hands wandered up tangling hour fingers into his hair, gripping and pulling his head further down, deepening the kiss.

He pressed you against the wall and slid a knee in the space separating your thighs to position his body between your legs. His hands gripped your ass lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. He lowered his head down to leave a bunch of wet kisses on your neck, you pulled him in closer with your hands and bit your lip in arousal. He licked and bit at the soft skin of your neck, leaving his mark there making you gasp. His lips found yours again and once more.

Your shirt was ripped apart from your body by his eagerness to fuck you and he could feel a strip of your bare skin against his. You arched up into him more and suddenly your hands left his head so that you could the knot of his gown. You shove the gown down from his body, now he stood naked in front of you; his errection was strongly pressed against your crotch.

He unclasped your bra hastily and without pulling away from your mouth he tossed it across the room. With your bare breasts against his chest, you felt a rush of heat slowly spread throughout your body.

You tightened your legs around his waist and pressed him even more against your body. You became horny from the wild make out session; you wanted him right here, right now.

His hand reached down and shoved the button of your pants through its hole impatiently. Eagerness was written in his face. He couldn't wait anymore to finally inset his hard member into you, feel the warm and wet walls on his skin, making you moan and scream his name until you cum.

He slid his hands down to your panties, ripping it off from your legs and throwing it behind him. He moaned quietly when he felt just how hot and wet you were for him. You didn't want to wait any longer and neither did he, it was becoming unbearable. You both wanted, even needed pleasure to be satisfied.

Instantly and without any kind of hesitation, he shove his member into your wet entrance. You let out a gasp followed by a moan, your body stretching to accommodate him.

He slowly pulled out before thrusting back in with a sharp snap of his hips.

Your whole body felt weak with every thrust he did into you as every time you had sex with him. You were completely understand his control, he could do everything with you. Your body shivered slightly through this pleasure he was giving you. Every thrust hurt more, each of your moans became louder, Jerome became faster. Your head was dug into the crook of his neck, your nails were dug into his shoulders leaving marks while you tried to adjust just fast pace and the pleasure.

"Oh God, Jerome!" You cried out loud while scratching his whole back down.

You felt his nails were dug deeper in your ass and his grunts made you shiver in pleasure with every thrust. And again he drilled his long hard member into you making sure he hit your g spot every time he entered your cunt.

He loved hearing you moan, you say he was addicted to it. You moans were giving him chills, aroused him. He couldn't get enough of it. If he could he would fuck you non stop, just to hear all these sweet moans of yours.

You moaned louder as he speeded up. You were hot and tight around him, you heard him swearing with a moan as he felt your walls clenchinh more on his member.

He groaned your name out quietly and you responded by rocking your hips up to give him all the pleasure he needed now.

You bit your lower lip nervously as a knot was built in your abdomen - you knew you were close. You moaned uncontrollably caused by all the pleasure which didn't even give you the chance to hold anything back - you really couldn't as hard as you tried to. You couldn't handle it all. It was too much for your body. You legs started to shake with each of Jerome's thrusts.

Gripping onto his back tighter, you buried your face in the crook of his neck to stifle your cry as you came all over him without any warning. He gasped lowly as you covered him in your tight and warm wetness. Your legs were twitching and your chest heaving. He thrust his hips several more times until he couldn't hold back any more, releasing into you. A soft moan escaped your lips upon the contact, you held him close and kept your head underneath his neck, breathing heavily with him.

"Didn't know you needed it that much right now." You said under gasps still trying to calm down from your high.

"Dont think I'm done with you, doll," Jerome grinned "I just wanted to let you breathe"

[chronicalchaos]

Wick modern AU: Explained +Some fun facts

Uhm, i was gonna wait until i finish this AU's synopsis and new book cover, but both will be taking a while until they get ready...

And i wanted to post this "overview" for a while now, anyways, here's some fun facts and a summary of the story:

Old book cover:

I'm really proud of Sam's shading, but the twins look weird and Tom looks old...I won't use this cover, 'cus Travis and Duncan are main characters as well and i want to include them on the cover. +My art style changed!

Story summary:

Just a quick thing! I changed quite a few things to fit the narrative and the modern days setting, i hope you understand!

The story of this AU happens in September 2014, a little less than a month until Sam’s birthday, where the Weavers aren't dead– Well, most of them aren't...

The narrative is centered on a curse, that was based on the audio that plays when you pick up Benny's bible, where 7 people are affected by it: Tim, Tom, John, Sam, John's brother/Sam's dad(I won't name him), Mary and James.

Sam's, Travis' and Duncan's side of the story will be more on the investigative side maybe with a bit of comedy(I'm not good with writing that, so it will most likely be just investigation), while Tim and Tom's side will be the more angst and unusual/horror side. Sam will have a bit of horror as well, since he's linked with them by the curse, but the twins will definitely have the spotlight when it comes to horror/unusual stuff.

Fun Facts:

General:

The story happens a week, maybe a bit more, after summer break

Even tho one of the first chapters is set on school, them going to school will probably just be mentioned or implied, Example: Them leaving a school bus

For some reason, i saw a few stories where everyone knew what polio is and how it works, which i felt it wouldn't be realistic, so that won't happen here

It has a lot of paranormal stuff

The summer camp by the Weaver's property is closed and has been like that for a few years now

Just Mary and James call the twins Changelings, the rest of the city knows there are "changelings" walking around, just, not that the twins are them

There's no changelings, they think there is, but in reality it's just a curse(like that's something lighter than a demon switched with a child at birth)

The song that helps me get in the mood of this story when I'm writing is "Far too young to die" by Panic! At the disco

Timas Weaver:

Tim is 12, he'll be 13 in...approximately 3 months

He was born December 30th 2001 and is the oldest between him and Tom

He's almost an inch shorter than Tom

He has a huge burn scar! It goes from a bit more than half of his chest, both his arms, his palms and his whole neck, he got that scar when he was 3 years old

He's does not have asthma, but he does have extreme pyrophobia on it's place

He has flat affect, his face doesn't match his emotions/he looks serious most of the time(I'm so sorry if I don't portrait it right! Please give me constructive criticism if I do something wrong here!)

He's a theater kid and would be quoting a lot of musicals if Mary didn't isolate him and Tom from the world(The theater part only exists because of his and Tom's masks)

The whittling thing exists here, but like, it won't be of much importance to the story, the knife will! But not the whittle part

He despises spiders and it's Tom's fault!

He climbs trees (there's not much I can say here to be honest)

He has this...i don't know if you can call it a quirk, but, he tends to tilt his head to the left, it's kinda random

He's ambidextrous, was left handed, but Mary forced him to learn to use his right hand

He teached himself how to throw knifes...don't mess with him

Paranoia!

Needs therapy

Tomathy Weaver:

Tom is 12 and will be 13 in approximately 3 months

He was born December 30th 2001 and is the youngest between him and Tim

He's almost an inch taller than Tim

He doesn't have Polio now, he did when he was...around 5 years old

His left leg is bigger than his right one, his right feet reaches his left ankle

His left ankle is paralyzed, that's why he uses a leg brace

He's claustrophobic, he developed that on the same day Tim got his scar and pyrophobia

He won first place on a spelling bee before he got Polio and he used to spell when he got anxious, but after John's disappearence he started shuddering, shaking and cracking his joints instead, very similar to how he shudders on the game

He loves spiders!

He is really flexible, but, because of his polio, he can't play around with it anymore

He likes to draw

He has pretty bad scoliosis

Paranoia #2!

Socially awkward baby

Went to therapy when little, needs to go back

Caleb Weaver:

Caleb is 9 years old

He was born August 19th 2005

He's almost the same height as Timas

He was a year old when Tom had polio

He's actually James' kid, not John's

He won first place in 2014's(the year the story happens) county track meet

He dislikes Tim

Lillian Weaver:

Lillian is 5 years old

She was born February 28th 2009

She's a bit tall for her age

She's notorious for making little deals between her and her siblings, like helping them get away with something in exchange of something(getting her out of class during their recess, buying a new plushy, etc.)

She's a really curious and affectionate kid, loves hugs, kisses and especially being picked on someone's lap

She loves bunnies(even tho this isn't a surprise)

Benjamin Weaver:

Benjamin is 14 years old and will be 15 in less then a month

He was born October 24th 1999

He's just really tall compared to the twins (it's kinda funny, Tim and Tom are 4 years older than Caleb, but they are just an inch taller than him)

He's really religious and prays a lot for his siblings' health and safety

He's been trying to take care of Tom after John's disappearence, since Mary doesn't do it, much the opposite, she hides Tom's medicines on purpose

Mary Weaver:

I didn't give her neither an age nor a birthday...i probably need to do that

She had an affair with James, when the twins were 4 and Benny was 6, Caleb was born from this affair

She doesn't hit any of her kids, but she does neglect most of them

On the nights between Saturday and Sunday, she doesn't sleep, she spends this time praying with a candle, then, before they go to church, she writes everything that happened that night on her diary

She has a lot of diaries, she keeps them in the attic

She's a little bitch(i don't know what else to say about her)

Pastor James McAlroy:

James also doesn't have an age nor birthday (i only have the Weaver kids and Sam's birthdays)

He won't appear much, but he does have a big role on the story

He's Caleb's biological dad(i mentioned that like 3 times already)

He tried doing a "honest-to-god exorcism" on the twins, it was just a cover for an attempt of murder

He's a toxic little shit(there's not much I can say about him)

Samuel Burton:

Sam is 12 years old and will be 13 in less than a month

He was born in October 2nd 2001

Him and Travis are Brothers on their mom's part

He's cousin with the Weavers, minus Caleb, they just don't know each other

He can be just as smug as Travis sometimes

He absolutely hates going on ghost hunting, he thinks it's dumb

He has long hair and freckles all over his body

He's just too lazy to tie his own shoes

He's the only one that remembers to bring a backpack when ghost hunting

While Travis is the camera man, he's the flashlight guy

Travis Burton:

Travis is 15 years old and i don't have a birthday for him, well, he would be born in 1999 just like Benny

He doesn't like wearing glasses, but doesn't have other choice, he either doesn't take proper care of his lenses and gets his eyes irritated or he just lost them

He's the face of his and Duncan's channel

He tries to drag Sam to be part of the channel, but he doesn't really want to be part of it

He cusses way too much

He's brave, only because he goes face first into danger without thinking

Duncan:

Duncan is 15 and would also be born in 1999

Big ass coward, sends Travis and Sam to go investigate on his place every fucking time

Entitled as fuck

The "brain" behind his and Travis' channel

He's suspiciously good on researching, he'll find the most unexpected things about you

He's a little shit as well

...i think that's it! Now i can go continue the first chapter and maybe finish it soon

[visionsofus]

Hey I just wanted to tell you that your writing is really great. I love reading your fics. You are doing a really great job and I hope you continue and enjoy writing as much as we all enjoy reading. I was wondering if you still take requests because I think that the song Remedy be Adele would maybe fit wanda and vision between cacw and iw really good. Thank you for your time. I'm off now re-reading all you fics. Have a great day :)

hello anon! gosh this has taken me a while, I hope you don't mind :) I really loved your song prompt and I hope you like the direction I have gone with it (though it is more post AoU than post CW sorry :')

Track #25: Remedy by Adele

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

Wanda comes back injured from a mission and Vision has to come to terms with her mortality, and the limits of their relationship. Tender touching and the intimacy of tending to wounds.

Ten minutes into his pacing Vision grew worried that he might wear down the carpet. Instead, he rose a foot off the air and took to floating back and forth before the third-floor windows. It was the perfect vantage point to watch the empty drive leading from the gate to the compound’s front door.

Ten minutes quickly lapsed into half an hour, yet he had still heard no update from his teammates since the foreboding message which marked a start to his anxious pacing.

Everything went well. ETA 1 hr – stopping at hospital first.

Vision had sent something back along the lines of – if everything is okay then why the hospital? But was yet to receive a reply. The compound was equipped with a certified med bay extensive enough for most simple injuries, for Steve, Nat, Sam and Wanda to stop at a hospital meant they thought it something beyond their capabilities.

An ounce of the tension in his shoulder dissipated as he watched the front gate slowly open, and the hulking SUV begin down the drive.

Vision reached the driveway below just as the car pulled up beside the front door. From what he could see, the team looked to be in good spirits. There were smiles all round despite the soot across their faces and some general wear and tear.

“Is everything alright?” Vision demanded as Steve reached the door.

“All fine, just a little more fire power than we were expecting.”

“Who was hurt?”

Steve opened his mouth to speak, then glanced over his shoulder. “Wanda.”

Vision started forward but Steve placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Easy,” he said quietly, “don’t smother her, all things considered, it wasn’t too serious.”

Vision held Steve’s gaze a moment longer before shrugging the captain’s hand off and heading for Wanda’s side of the car. She was being helped out by Nat which Vision quickly saw was owing to the white cotton sling tied around Wanda’s neck.

When Natasha had Wanda steady on her feet she let go and left them alone, giving Vision an all too knowing look as she passed. He held his arm out for Wanda to hold as she started towards the front steps, but she ignored it.

“I’m fine.”

“Yes, a hospital trip is absolutely fine.” It was a challenge to keep the sarcasm from his tone.

“Don’t,” Wanda said holding a hand up and Vision wisely stayed a step behind her.

A few moments of silence later and Vision felt he were able to ask her properly. “Are you okay?”

“I am.” There was an earnestness to her voice that he couldn’t help believing. “It was just a bit of a burn and Cap was worried about treating it ourselves, because of scarring and stuff…” Wanda trailed off as she turned away from Vision.

So, it wasn’t quite as bad as he had feared but it scared him nonetheless. These sorts of accidents hadn’t been uncommon in the year since he had joined the Avengers. But the fear, no matter how synthetic, never failed to unnerve him. His teammates readily accepting such risks to their fragile human bodies was even more scary. For Wanda especially, he always worried. Not because she couldn’t handle herself, Vision had seen and experienced her force firsthand. Rather, he dreaded the idea of anything bad happening to her. Vision had first been confronted with her mortality as he’d watched her suspended in mid-air, her city hurtling to the ground. It was an image that had often occupied his thoughts since.

Vision hadn’t noticed the takeout that Sam had retrieved from the back of the car, so he was surprised to see the full meal set out on the table when they arrived upstairs. He frowned with concern noticing just how much slower Wanda’s steps were as she took her seat at the dining table.

Vision sat next to her, taking the glass of water that Sam passed down to him and onto Wanda. Next came a plate loaded with three different kinds of pasta dishes which he set in front of Wanda.

He watched as she stabbed a few pieces of pasta onto her fork, turning purposefully to him and pointedly shovelling it into her mouth. Vision looked away sheepishly, practically hearing her satisfied smile as he did. Don’t smother her, he reminded himself.

He stayed quiet throughout dinner, half listening to the team recounting their mission, only really paying attention when they described Wanda’s injury. He was grateful to hear that the burns weren’t bad, though he noticed Wanda’s barely concealed winces when she bumped her arm against the table every now and then.

After dinner they all migrated to the television, a regular routine when it was just the five of them in the compound. Vision leant against the living room wall, his eyes flickering between the last light of the sunset which was casting the sky in shades of violet, and Wanda, who had settled into the couch for the evening news.

Steve had said that the doctors hadn’t seen the need to prescribe any pain medications for Wanda besides simple aspirin and Vision knew that Wanda had a higher pain tolerance than most. It didn’t mean she should deal with the pain though – so he set about researching the best options for helping with burn pain.

The evening continued on smoothly though Vision’s mind was far from the television that occupied his friends. It was always like this when someone get hurt, everyone acted like it was normal even as they all harboured secret concerns – he saw how everyone’s eyes followed Wanda as she moved to the kitchen for tea.

“You don’t need to hover, Vis,” Wanda said, not looking over her shoulder but having heard him follow her.

“I—” he meant to say he wasn’t hovering, but that would be something of a lie. Wanda smiled and raised her eyebrows as he leant against the kitchen island, the kettle boiling noisily about them. “I’m sorry, I was just worried.”

“It’s alright, thank you for worrying about me,” Wanda said pouring the water, keeping her sling carefully out of the way, “but I promise, I am fine.”

He didn’t reply, following her back to the living room and allowing himself to sit when she indicated he should join her on the couch.

Vision was pulled from his mind, and the rabbit hole he had fallen down regarding burn rehabilitation, when Wanda yawned and stretched gracefully beside him.

“I’m off to bed,” she said to the others, getting to her feet and waving good night to them over her shoulder. There were noncommittal murmurs of ‘goodnight’ in return from Steve and Sam, Natasha had since gone to bed herself. Today’s mission had worn them all out more than usual.

Vision shifted in his seat, fingers tapping nervously against his knee. He lasted a minute and a half before getting to his feet and following Wanda off down the corridor. Her bedroom door was closed. They had something of an open-door policy at the compound – if your bedroom door was open, you were open to company, if not – well…

He resumed his pacing from that afternoon, walking up and down the corridor outside Wanda’s room and weighing up his options. He could risk irritating her further by knocking on the door to see if she wanted company, or he could trust that she was okay as she claimed and go to his own room.

He had just resolved to return to his own quarters when she called his name from behind the shut door. Without hesitating, Vision phased through the wall, arriving swiftly in her bedroom, a space he was more familiar with than his own room.

What he saw before him had heat crawling up his neck and sent him spinning around. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry I thought you said my name—”

He tried to rid the image that was currently burned into his mind, even as his heart beat wildly in his ears.

“No, I did call you,” Wanda said, he heard the sound of her struggling, “I need help.”

When Vision didn’t make to move from where he was, Wanda spoke again. “Vision you can look, it’s not that big a deal.”

Vision swallowed, turning around but keeping his eyes on the floor, nonetheless. When he finally looked up, he was able to confirm what he had seen upon entering her room. Wanda was – well she was stuck. Her slinged arm was raised above her head, caught on the edge of her top as she had seemingly tried to struggle out of her clothes.

“I think,” Vision said, speaking quietly, “that you’re supposed to undo the sling before you change.”

“Yes, well,” Wanda huffed, “I only have two hands and one of them I can’t use.”

Vision glanced up to her face, refusing to acknowledge her mostly bare torso, the slope of her back, her waist, her chest.

“A little help, please?”

“Oh – of course!” Vision said starting forward, unsure where to begin. Wanda watched him approach and turned, nodding her head to the knot tied at the back of her neck.

Delicately, Vision untied the knot, letting her injured arm free of its sling, his eyes firmly focused on not looking below her shoulders. Wanda turned around to him and he held his hands out to help lift the top off, waiting for her invitation before he touched her.

“Go on,” she raised her arms to the best of her ability, the top hiking higher up her ribs as she did.

Vision pulled her top over her bandaged upper arm, freeing it from the thin material before doing the same on the other arm. With the utmost care, and desperately trying not to think about the tense quiet between them, Vision laid his hands on the hem of the top, pulling it up and over her head. He let the top fall onto the bed, unable to keep his eyes away from her as she shook her hair out of her face.

Vision started and quickly turned around again, the intimacy sending his eyes back to a spot on the wall which he bore into intently. He listened to the rustling of fabric as Wanda pulled a sweater over her head. When she was done, she tapped his shoulder, her other hand extending the sling for him to support her arm with again.

Vision leant in, looping the fabric around her shoulder, taking care to not jostle her wounded arm.

“Do you not fear getting hurt?” He asked hesitantly, his chin brushing against her forehead as he finished the loose knot.

“Of course I do,” Wanda murmured back, her eyes closed contently as Vision pulled back a little and set about readjusting the fabric to make it more comfortable.

“How do you manage it?” Vision asked. “The fear.”

“I don’t.” Wanda’s reply was a harsh confession that had Vision’s own heart clenching empathetically.

He finished with the sling, gently brushing her hair over her shoulder. “How do I manage it?” He hadn’t really meant to speak it aloud, but it was an honest question. He wasn’t sure how long Wanda would still want to be around him if he hovered like this every time she got the smallest injury. Vision would do anything not to jeopardise their current relationship, this thing that was something and wasn’t at the same time. Anything to reinforce the line between friendship and whatever was on the other side that they both seemed intent on keeping to.

“We manage it together,” Wanda said softly, shrugging with her good shoulder. “We take it one day at a time, one accident at a time and we help each other.”

Vision smiled at her, reaching out to cradle her hand gently. “I suppose we can manage that.”

[sweet-cynical-writer]

Author's Notes: On top of not writing as frequently, I wrote two fics. This one will be the sequel to the previous fic, “I couldn't care less.” I haven't written this much before but it likely won't happen again anytime soon.

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1.7k

Additional Notes: Another thank you to @soukokuwu for proofreading! I'm not used to anything more than 500 words so the help is appreciated!

Fresh air and a clear sky.

You can already feel that today was going to be better than yesterday. What’s more, you were on your way to your favourite little flower shop in the corner of the city near the bay. You were planning to surprise your sweet new boyfriend with this spontaneous gift of a bouquet.

With a little hop in your steps, you made your way down the all-too-familiar stone pavement. Once in, your eyes sparkled at the sight of red camellias. It was perfect to express your desired message: “forever mine”. 

You were about to reach out for it when someone else’s hand bumped yours. You drew yours back and apologised out of instinct, thinking you must’ve upset them.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you—"

Your heart skipped a beat the moment your gaze flicked up to meet the man in question. The surprise you felt made you take a few steps back. But then a comforting voice played in your head.

“Hey, don’t worry okay? If you ever feel panicked just imagine me beside you, holding your hand, just like this—” you felt a warmth around your palms— “and then take a minute to collect your thoughts before saying anything.”

He was your saviour in more ways than one, really. His words only reminded you of how patient he was. Kind, caring. A vast difference to how your old relationship was. You were better now. Way better than before. But now you found yourself looking your past in the eye, in its — Dazai’s — chocolate brown eyes. 

The corners of your mouth upturned into a sweet smile, and now it was his turn to flinch.

"It's alright. I was only looking. I don't really have flowers to buy anyone." 

What was this ache in his chest? And why did it only appear the moment he saw you? You were just another woman on his list, just another number he conquered. So why was he feeling bitter now that you seemed… happy without him?

The silence that surrounded you two was unnerving. It had been quite some time since you broke up, since he broke your heart. But thinking of the days that came after that — it was good. Life had been good to you. You had spent a huge fraction of your time bawling over him, until you realised it just wasn’t fair. How could it be when you could spend all that time to better yourself rather than being miserable over that bastard?

"I heard from Atsushi that you're doing well. I'm guessing you found some happiness after all?" The way he said it — so pointedly, sharp, leaving no room for negotiation. Much like pointing a dagger to your throat. It was a rhetorical question. Dazai already knew. He always knew.

But no, this time, you weren’t going to let him have the upper hand. You weren’t going to let him bask in the glory of steering everything in his direction. No, this time, you knew who you were. After all, your boyfriend’s words kept ringing in your head. No more grudges, no more spite. 

"I took time to myself and found my footing again. Atsushi told me you haven't been doing too well.. is everything okay, Osamu?"

For a moment you thought you saw a hint of malice in those dark brown eyes. 

"Everything fell apart after losing you. I tried to fill the hole inside me that you once filled so perfectly. And so sweetly too. I never realized how much you meant to me until you stopped calling out to me one day."

There he goes again, using such honeyed words to cast another spell on your fragile heart. Or rather, your once fragile heart. But not anymore. Part of you would always care for and love Dazai. But your intimate love for him ran dry like a dozen roses left out in the hot sun to wither.

And he could tell. He always could. He knew how your love for him, what he thought he had control over forever, was gone. He knew, just from your gaze, how you were looking at him like an old friend, nothing more. And the next few words that fell out of your rosy lips hurt him like thorns in his heart. 

"I'm so sorry you're not well, Dazai. Truly I am. But I found happiness and I really hope you’ll find yours. Besides, you're free now. I really hope you’ll find it."

His happiness after you had been short-lived. After only a few parties did he notice how much he missed you. The way you would pick him up after he had a drunken night out, and cooked him hot meals to wake up to. Those light feathered kisses you trailed along his neck to gingerly rouse him from his slumber. 

"Well, maybe you could embrace freedom with me sometime?" 

It felt satisfying to have Dazai being so smitten towards you. Where Dazai used to always rule your heart, it was now only filled with your boyfriend. An image of crimson locks flashed in your mind and with a deep smile you shook your head, picking up the bouquet of camellias to leave.

But a sudden embrace from behind stopped you in your tracks. 

"Let me at least see you again."

You knew what the old you would think. She would be anxious, questioning everything, each possibility. Things like: should you keep in contact with your ex even though it’d create problems with your current boyfriend? She’d think there was a chance that Dazai had changed for the better. But she’d also have to consider if he was just manipulating her. And that if he was, she’d lose Chuuya. She’d think that she could end up all alone again. She’d shiver at the thought of that. 

But the current you? The one Chuuya loved with every fibre of his being? He loved you strong, he made you whole again when you never thought it could be possible. And you loved him all the same.

When he caught on that you weren’t moving, Dazai released his grasp on you. Did he scare you? Was it too much? 

"Hey.. are you okay—"

You pulled away and turned to face him. “Be brave, stand tall, but most importantly, don't lose control.” Chuuya's words rang in your head and you regained composure.

"You know.. it's funny how you miss me more than you could ever love me, Dazai. I may have forgiven you in order to move on.. but I did it for me, not you. I'm happier with Chuuya now. You had that chance already."

The tears were building up in your eyes and you had to turn away to not let him see. You didn’t want him to misunderstand. This was just the closure you never got, the hurt you never got to feel when he so abruptly left you. He would see this as an opening, not a close. He would try to snake his way back into your life, and you didn’t want that.

With that, you forced your legs to move forward, to move away from him. To move on from your past. It was hard — to say goodbye to someone who had once meant so much to you. That would explain the constriction in your chest, making it hard to breathe. But you knew that better things would be coming. And that made it easier.

***

A few minutes away from the flower shop — there he was, waiting for you by a bench. Right on time, never late. It was a small gesture to many, but to you it meant the world. He was a busy man, a Port Mafia executive, and yet the one person he would turn the world over for — it would only be you.

You ran over to him, your hands wrapped around his neck and his own snaked around your waist. You caught a whiff of the sweet cologne you had gifted him as a present after the first month together. This familiarity, this comfort, this warmth. It could never get old. You’d never felt this way. And it wouldn’t be the same with anyone else. 

Both of you didn’t have to say a thing, and yet you both knew what the other was feeling. It was something special you shared with Chuuya, and only Chuuya. This bond was what you cherished the most. With him, you didn’t have to keep second-guessing anything, not his actions, not his words. He never tried to push you into anything, unlike a certain someone. Even now, when you were sobbing slightly. Chuuya never pushed you to explain. 

The two of you walked home hand in hand, with you offering him the bouquet only then. You had smiled, and your dried tears had made tracks on your skin. He accepted the bouquet, giving you a quick peck on the forehead. 

"My sweet love.. these are perfect. Let's get you in a better mood hmm?"

Once you were home, you let him take you by the hand to the bedroom. Chuuya knew you preferred to be pampered before talking about what was on your mind. You just needed to relax. 

He began peppering your face with kisses. It made you giggle — how soft and gentle the way his lips pressed against your skin. And the way his fingers twirled your hair playfully felt comforting. Especially the way he would lean in and whisper every kind of doting compliment he could think of. 

"You're so gorgeous, my love. I'm the luckiest man alive to have an absolute sweetheart as my lover."

There was a loud buzz coming from the nightstand on your side of the bed. Usually, you would check it yourself but Chuuya insisted on looking at it for you since he was closer. He peered over and the caller ID read Osamu Dazai. 

"Who is it, Chuuya?"

He silenced your phone before turning his attention back to you. Chuuya ran his hand down your shoulder to take your hand in his. 

"Nothing important. Let's continue where we left off, my love."

You wanted to check for yourself but quickly shook the urge off when his lips locked with yours. Chuuya was right. No matter who it was, it didn’t matter. Right here, right now, only he did. You fell into his love, fell into the way his lips pressed against yours. You drowned in him, and you thought only of him. 

And this ocean, this one you called home, you would happily drown in. 

[xanderwithanx]

Chloe does night-time diary posts on HER tumblr, so I'm going to start doing them here, sometimes. It would be nice if you read it, but, please, don't feel obligated! This is more for me to write.

(I got tired of my normal journal, I guess. It's full of bad poetry anyway. Besides, where's the thrill of losing anonymity in a physical notebook?)

I've basically been asleep and depressed for several days, because I had withdrawal after not being able to get my adhd meds. But, I got it today, and DID THINGS. (This is SO much better than before!)

Today, I went to a small café or restaurant (focused on tea) called Alice's Teacup that was Alice in Wonderland themed! My long-standing obsession with Alice in Wonderland knows no bounds. It was a really cute place. I got pumpkin pancakes, and some really good iced tea. Like... REALLY good iced tea.

Still, it seemed like the entire place was geared towards having a pot of tea and snacks with your friends, which left me a bit lonely. The person I asked couldn't come, and by the time I heard back, I was more than halfway there. Still, I read Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead and watched Monty Python on my phone, so I still had a good time!

I dressed pretty eccentricly and effeminately all day, but, with my facial hair, I was ALWAYS coded as a man, even by people on the street! Pastels, a stupid hat, a crop top, and facial hair was a winning combination.

On my way, I was stopped by some guys soliciting for charity. I don't make a habit of stopping for strangers on the streets of Manhattan. What if it's a scam? What if I'm being pressured to buy something? What if it's a strange political rant? But, I had already taken my earbuds off, I wasn't in a hurry, and I'm terminally polite. The first guy said he liked my energy, which seemed to come from a genuine place, because I liked his too!

They were asking for donations for a breast cancer charity, the United Breast Cancer Foundation. After a discussion, it seems like the charity helps pay medical debt, medical bills, and other practical needs, which is much better than *some* others I could name. I regretted not being able to give their minimum there, as it was pretty high, but told them I'd give what I could when I got on the website.

I... did not. Money is tight, because I'm bad and irresponsible with money, even though this is more than a worthy cause. I didn't NEED to go to that tea place, and I don't NEED to spend so much money on food. Sure, I can justify it: I wanted to go to that place for so long, and it was near the college anyway! But, if I was responsible with money, you KNOW my friends direct fundraising drives would go first, worthy charities second. Still, I feel bad about it.

Then, I went to the college library, to get books to start my thesis research. I have literally been unable to go to the college itself, aside from getting my ID, so this was great! There just wasn't a reason. It was... very empty. I went to the library stacks, which was deathly quiet and deeply haunted by the old books. I half expected something to pop out at me, as I turned the stacks, but I wasn't even paranoid or anxious. It was like I was in something else's house. I was welcome, but on thin ice.

I picked up an irrelevant psychology book on the "schizophrenia problem" from the 1930s, out of morbid fascination, and quickly put it down when it threatened to shatter in my hands.

Some students walked past (which was a suprise in those monastic basement library stacks), and I added something to their conversation, in a totally natural and casual way. But, omg the poor girls, I made them jump! Luckily, I'm the least threatening person on earth, and we laughed it off.

After a lot of hunting, I got 5 out of my 10 books (for the most part)! (The rest are, sadly, online. I like to read physical copies.) Strangely, I only came in with a list to get 3 books out of 6.

Most of the books I got are about art in the AIDS crisis, which is the core of my thesis, I think, all with different value. One about exhibitions, one about the larger narrative of those gay artists, and another contradicting the larger narrative.

I also got a book about "Art and Homosexuality". Just, the parallel construction of both "art" and "homosexuality" across cultures and times, from earliest history to the modern age. It wasn't on my initial list, but I'm really excited to read it.

Finally, I got a book called "The Thief, the Cross and the Wheel", about the pain and spectacle of punishment in Medieval and Renaissance European art. I'm mainly interested in Italian Renaissance art of the crucifixion--and its masochism--for the second quarter of my thesis.

The rest are online, and Should mostly focus on Bacchus in the Italian Renaissance (especially through art) and what I call the art of "gay liberation", concurrent with the AIDS crisis (i.e. The Cockettes). These two topics make up the last half of my thesis.

I'm SO excited to get started!!

I even got to cross the college's sky-bridges! (The college is a few skyscrapers.) Still, the loneliness and novelty were kind of the same thought. Imagine if I had been here before COVID, or, if COVID hadn't happened. Who would I have been able to meet? What would the college buildings mean to me? Because, for now, they're just buildings. But, I got to see the street from above, and that was amazing!

Just walking through New York--the Upper East Side--on a cool, sunny day was beautiful. It takes 20-30 minutes to get from my place to the college (and the tea place), but it was great being able to listen to my music (a lot of They Might Be Giants on the playlist today) and see the city. You know, people, super cool old architecture being pushed out by terrible new architecture, and pigeons.

Oh my god, the pigeons. I took pictures, but none of them are good. I kept thinking about how pigeons and doves are functionally the same. We domesticated pigeons, which is why they're here, and no one is stopping to notice them? Even the ones that were splotched with pure white, like doves? There's only so many pigeons you can take until they're just white noise and a nuisance, I know, so don't think I'm blaming anyone! But it's so hard to look away from these quirky little birds.

Also, at one point my walk, I was vaping very strategicly. The mental task of searching through library stacks will do that to you, when you already have an addiction to nicotine. I made sure no one was around, and no one would be affected. I stopped on a corner next to an old, ornate Catholic church while the traffic light changed, and I almost juuled right next to a priest! I'm glad I stopped. I don't believe in Hell, but, I would have walked down there myself had I vaped at a priest. Still, the church advertised itself as LGBT+ friendly, so maybe they aren't so trigger happy on the damnation. Either way, I DIDN'T vape at a priest today, which is good.

Once I got back, I spent a few hours watching things with my amazing girlfriend Chloe, who you may know here as @cisphobiccommunistopinions. She is so beautiful, and I love her more every day, every time I see her. God, it's almost been 5 years!

I just wish I could spend more time with her. She's in Virginia, and I'm in New York. Like she said to me earlier, I'm flighty at the best of times, and, with my lack of object permanence for the digital world, I find myself not giving her the attention I deserve, or, the full connection I long to have with her. We used to live together. Luckily, someday we will live together again! All these problems won't be forever, and we can live together again.

We watched a lot of things, but we're pretty deep into Serial Experiments Lain right now. It's a postmodern anime from the 90s, and, wow, do I have no idea what's going on in it. It's about the internet, and potentially schizophrenia as well. However, I'm obsessed! One day I'll be able to crack this artistic code, and it's unreality, thematic knots, and double-meanings. I will probably understand it better on the second watch. I don't see myself in Lain, but I see my 14 year old self in her, when I had just developed schizophrenia. Her cyberpunk fate seems like it's railroaded towards tragedy, but I want to save her, even if it's silly and irrational.

I told Chloe that I was scared about spilling apple cider on my library books, and she referred to it as "The Great Apple Juice Disaster of September 11, 2021." To which I said that it was the second worst thing to happen in New York on that date. It was funnier if you were there, and also were in my brain at the time.

Anyway, tomorrow I'm meeting some online acquaintances from the college's "Queer Srudent Union" at a Japanese Culture Fair in a park. (I do not know which park.) It emphasizes "fun"! I don't know them very well, but they're friends with the one person I know irl, so it should be good.

Tomorrow night, I should Probably head downtown to check out a gallery show by MFA (masters of fine arts) students at Hunter! After all, I was in a group project with one of them, and they're absolutely brilliant. I missed the Thursday gallery opening by a landslide, because of the aforementioned lack of adhd meds and Being Asleep, which I infinitely regret. I could have listened to all the artists and curators talk about their art and exhibition! Maybe I could have even talked with the artists and curators. But, it's best for me to go sooner, rather than later, so I don't forget. And, I REALLY want to go.

It's "This dialogue which happened to be present in all other dialogues" at the Alyssa Davis Gallery. From the email I got, "Each of these works observes a threshold of transition. [...] [These] intimations [are] of a frame of mind shared by the artists. These works perform, record, access, engage, document, and entrap, embalming the viewer within the gallery space."

sgp is a really good artist, by the way. Their work is just next-level. Be sure to check out their art, if you have a chance. Let me link their portfolio: https://saragracepowell.com/

(I highly suspect spg and the other member of my group project ghosted me afterwards, but I understand. I was really in over my head. Still, they're both really sweet and kind people, don't get it twisted!)

I ALSO really want to see The Cake Boys. They're performing at the 3 Dollar Bill in Brooklyn on September 26th. (It's only $15!) They're the only all drag king collective in NYC! (Are... there any Other all drag king collectives out there?) Other than the fact that a lot of them are trans or nonbinary, which I love, this show is a totally non-judgmental competition for over 40 drag kings! I've heard their shows are hilarious and unique.

I just have to wait until I have $15 to spare. I... didn't eat dinner tonight, because I'm irresponsible with my money and don't want to ask my parents for money... again. Don't worry, it's literally fine, and I don't make a habit of doing this!

Which reminds me! For my birthday, my parents gave me a gift card to Lush! I'm definitely going to Lush tomorrow, which will be great. I would describe my personality as "Lush store employee acosting you about a bath bomb demonstration", so I'll fit right in.

I also made a transition timeline, to show how much I've changed on testosterone. For the better, I hope! I really believe I'm becoming, if not Have Become, the man I was always meant to be. It's so strange to look back at who I was not too long ago, and to know the absolute pain I was in. It's also strange, in a good way, to see the man looking back at me in the selfies. I'm so much happier now! Much more candid in my pictures, at least. But, I know that I'm so much more comfortable as myself than I was even 6 months ago. It's strange. Sometimes I think to myself, "I don't pass yet; I'm not who I Need To Be yet." Then, I look at my selfie from today, and... I'm THERE. My mind just hasn't caught up with my amazing, natural, normal reality.

The end. I have to get ready for bed, (even though I could be partying on a Saturday night in the city. I'm lame.) If you actually read this, I am kissing you on the mouth right now. I hope it made you calm down tonight, like a terrible bedtime story. If you didn't read it and just skipped to the end, don't worry: you did the rational thing.