#real estate window display

[yoda-smart]

Enhancing Education with Wall Mount Outdoor Digital Signage

Enhancing Education with Wall Mount Outdoor Digital Signage In the dynamic world of education, visual communication and information sharing are essential components of the learning process. Yetronic’s Wall Mount Outdoor Digital Signage has emerged as a powerful tool in transforming the way schools and educational institutions engage with their students and staff. The Functionality of Wall Mount…

[theoutcastrogue]

Cartoon depictions of the homeless increasingly reflect the hostility of today’s political leaders toward people on the streets. We’ve gone from images of charming hobos with bindles to zombies taking over cities. If you consume any news at all, you’ve probably noticed that the United States is pathologically cruel to its homeless citizens. This May, the brutal killing of Jordan Neely—who was strangled to death, at the age of 30, simply because he was unhoused and shouting on the Manhattan subway—captured the national spotlight, but it was just one of many such cases of unprovoked violence. In January, two cops reportedly kidnapped a homeless man in Hialeah, Florida, drove him to an “isolated and dark location,” and beat him unconscious. That same month, art dealer Shannon Collier Gwin faced battery charges after he sprayed a homeless woman with a hose outside his San Francisco gallery, barking “Move! Move!” at her. (Predictably, Gwin got a lenient plea deal of just 35 hours of community service.) Elsewhere in the city, homeless San Franciscans have been attacked with chemical bear spray on at least eight occasions. Other assaults have been more impersonal but no less vicious. On July 14, the city of Houston abruptly closed its only public cooling center in the downtown area, potentially condemning anyone without shelter to suffer heatstroke in 90-degree weather. Among the property-owning class, the phenomenon of hostile architecture—sidewalks with spikes that stab anyone who tries to sleep, benches with iron bars, and the like—has become de rigueur. The widespread callousness and lack of compassion are both infuriating and hard to comprehend. How on Earth, we might ask, did things get this bad? [...]

Looking back at older cartoons, one of the things that stands out immediately is the absence of negative attitudes toward the homeless. In fact, during the Golden Age of animation, creators seemed to have had a real affinity for the poor and unhoused, often placing their most iconic characters in that role. There’s a wonderful 1948 Warner Bros. short called “Riff Raffy Daffy,” in which Daffy Duck is looking for a place to sleep—first on a park bench, then a trash can, and finally a furniture display in a shop window—and has to dodge the harassment of the police, as represented by Porky Pig in a little blue uniform. (Literally, the cop is a pig!) Or, in the 1950 cartoon “Homeless Hare,” Bugs Bunny’s rabbit hole is destroyed by a new construction project, leading him to unleash his usual slapstick mayhem against the developers until they put it back. In these cartoons, homelessness is something inflicted on people by outside forces—gentrification and the real estate business, in Bugs’ case—and something which can be successfully resisted. Even Disney cast a homeless dog as a romantic lead in 1955’s Lady and the Tramp, contrasting Lady’s sheltered naivety with Tramp’s superior knowledge of the world. The title invokes the memory of Charlie Chaplin’s “Tramp” films, which similarly brought dignity and humanity to the role of a homeless man. (Bugs Bunny, too, takes inspiration from Chaplin, and multiple Warner animators have drawn him as the Tramp.) In 1961, Hanna-Barbera’s profoundly underrated Top Cat followed the adventures of a gang of wisecracking Manhattan alley cats, who, like Daffy, are always outwitting a meddling policeman. At worst, classic cartoons may trivialize the suffering and danger associated with homelessness—there’s a certain recurring image of the carefree hobo carrying a bindle, which paints the whole subject in a romanticized light—but the homeless themselves are rarely disparaged or made the butt of the joke. Quite the opposite. 

It took a few years, but cartoons caught up to the Reaganite turn. In episodes from the ’90s and early 2000s, there’s a palpable shift in the way homeless characters appear compared to earlier decades. The perspective is different: we’re now seeing them through the eyes of comfortably housed characters, rather than their own. Often they don’t even get proper names. [...] This trajectory leads us, perhaps inevitably, to SpongeBob SquarePants. [..] Squidward gets accused of stealing a dime by his comically greedy boss, Mr. Krabs, and quits his job in a fit of outrage. We then flash forward to see Squidward, now bedraggled and unshaven, living in a cardboard box on the street and begging for change. [...] Mercifully, the ever-cheerful SpongeBob gives Squidward a place to stay—but the moment he’s safely off the street, Squidward turns from a sympathetic victim of circumstance into a lazy, entitled freeloader, straight out of a Reagan speech. He makes no effort to find work and loafs around SpongeBob’s house for ages. [...] Eventually, an exasperated SpongeBob writes “GET A JOB” in his alphabet soup, before shoving him (bed and all) back to work at the Krusty Krab. [...] Worst of all, though, the episode suggests that homelessness can be solved on an individual basis if the people in question simply stop being lazy and “GET A JOB.” This is the biggest myth of all. In 2021, a statistical analysis by the University of Chicago found that 53 percent of people in homeless shelters, and 40.4 percent of unsheltered people, do have jobs. The problem is that their wages are too low, and rents are too high. According to statistics from the same year, it’s impossible for someone working a full-time, minimum-wage job to afford a single-bedroom apartment in 93 percent of U.S. counties, and there are no states in which someone can rent a two-bedroom space on the current federal minimum wage of $7.25 per hour. In other words, homelessness has little or nothing to do with personal responsibility, or lack thereof. It’s a consequence of large-scale economic decisions made by landlords and bosses. [...]

— Alex Skopic

[koshkamartell]

summary: one shot AU. It's a hot day and Joel Miller has been contracted to fix up your garden.

warnings: dark!Joel, pervy Joel, voyeurism, masturbation, innocent reader.

It was hot outside and the air conditioner in the truck wasn't working again. It always shit itself in the summer. He had the driver's seat window rolled all the way down with his elbow bent and resting on the window ledge, hand clutching the wheel. The sleeves of his flannel shirt were rolled up his thick tanned forearms. His other hand was nursing half a can of beer by the crotch of his grass stained jeans. Landscaping in this weather was thirsty work.

The truck rumbled slowly down the quiet street until it came to a stop outside a small white picket fence. The front yard was overgrown with thick green grass and tangles of weeds, the result of several months of neglect from the previous owners of the house.

Joel parked the truck infront of the gate and switched off the ignition. He stayed seated in the truck and took a moment to survey the exterior of the property. It was a small house, nothing fancy. It looked old and rundown, in desperate need of a coat of paint.

He finished the last dregs of his beer and tossed the can over his shoulder into the backseat. With a grumbling sigh Joel peeled himself off of the vinyl seat of the truck and got out of the vehicle. He sauntered up to the gate to enter the yard, almost ripping it off of its rusty hinges when he pushed it open.

Who the fuck lives here, he wondered.

The real estate agent who sold the house had booked him to do this job, so he really had no idea if anyone was going to be home while he cleaned up the yard. It didn't bother him though. He preferred to work alone without someone looking over his shoulder. He especially hated working a job for rich folks, the kind of people that eyed him with barely disguised disdain while he broke his back taking care of the lawns and shrubs that they couldn't be bothered maintaining themselves.

Joel lumbered through the mass of grass and made his way to the porch. There was evidence that someone had been here trying to clean up the place; a broom leaning against the brick wall by the door, a new looking welcome mat sitting at its feet, the porch swept clean of any debris.

He rapped on the door with his fist and stood back to wait to see if anyone was home. He waited a few moments but impatience was already setting in, exacerbated by the heat of the sun. He wanted to get the job over and done with already, to just call it quits for the day and fuck off to his favourite bar. It was too hot to deal with this shit.

Joel was about to turn around and just get started on cutting the grass when the front door creaked open. He didn't know who he was expecting to greet him, but he definitely wasn't expecting you. You, dressed in a summery white dress that stopped just above your knees, the soft skin of your bare legs and feet on display. Your hair was loose and wisps clung to your sweaty forehead. Beads of sweat shimmered on the swell of your cleavage. You smiled at him as you greeted him with a courteous hello, your voice sweet and airy and going straight to his cock. He had to make a conscious effort to avert his eyes from wandering all over your curves. He looked down at his feet and shuffled a little on the spot.

Joel put his hands on his hips and cleared his throat. "Afternoon, ma'am. I'm here to do your yard. Treylore Real Estate contacted me a few days ago."

"Yes, ofcourse," you chirped. "I just bought the place and they hadn't organised a gardener beforehand. But that's okay, I'm still moving my stuff in."

Joel nodded once. "I'll get started now, let ya know when I finish up."

"Sure. What's your name?" You asked.

Joel glanced up at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Usually clients didn't give a shit about his name or introducing themselves. But ofcourse you weren't like the others. He could see that straight away.

"Joel." He murmured.

"Nice to meet you, Joel." You smiled brightly and introduced yourself.

You apologised for not shaking his hand, holding up your own hands to show your palms smudged with black grease, explaining that you were tinkering with the air conditioner inside.

Not only did you look like an angel, but you had the name of one, too. Fucking gorgeous.

"Alright then," Joel mumbled gruffly, nodding once more before turning around to go get the lawn mower from his truck.

He hoped that you wouldn't stay outside, that you'd retreat back into the house and not distract him. How the hell was he going to concentrate on mowing the lawn and doing his job with you around?

When Joel returned to the yard with the mower and his gardening gloves, he was relieved to see you had disappeared back inside and shut the front door. Thank fuck for that. Joel fired up the mower and got to work.

He got half way done cutting the grass and weeds when you came waltzing out again, your dress swishing around your thighs, carrying a tall glass of lemonade with ice cubes that clinked against the glass as you moved. Joel was crouched down tugging a nuisance weed from the ground when you approached him. His thick forearms flexed in the sun and sweat was beaded along his forehead. He didn't notice your presence until you came to stand a foot away from him. You were still barefooted.

"Hi again," you said. "It's so hot out here, I thought you might like something cool."

Joel craned his neck to peer up at you, eyebrow cocked. Not only were you polite, but now you were offering him a drink? This was a first.

"It's lemonade," you clarified shyly. "Home-made."

Joel's eyes slowly trailed down your body and stopped when he saw your thighs were level with his face. Oh, what he would give to have them wrapped around his head right now.

Joel slowly ascended from the ground, knees cracking, and stood straight and tall beside you. He pulled a rag from his back pocket and wiped his dirty hands on it, then wiped the sweat from his brow with it. He stuffed it back in his jeans and accepted the glass from your outstretched hand.

"Thank you kindly, ma'am." Joel said, staring down at you.

The condensation on the glass felt soothing on his calloused fingers. He finished the drink in two big gulps. It was sticky and sweet and instantly refreshing. He handed you back the glass.

"You're welcome."

Joel watched you scamper away back into the house, admiring the shape of your ass. He clenched his jaw and brushed his palm over the the bulge of his half hard cock.

Why were you being so friendly? Were you purposely teasing him or something? Why else would you be prancing around in a sweet little dress infront of him, offering him your name and a cold drink?

Joel had to shake his head to rid himself of these thoughts. He needed to concentrate on the job and not think about your thighs and pretty face. He needed the money too, so it was important that he do a damn good job with your garden.

He started up the mower again and continued on with the landscaping.

Joel busted his ass to get the lawn manicured and the garden weeded. After he was sure that he had sufficiently completed the tasks, Joel then loaded the mower and his equipment back into the truck.

His shirt clung to his skin uncomfortably, his body drenched with sweat. He just wanted to get in his truck and drive off but he knew he had to be courteous and say goodbye to you.

Joel trudged up to the door to knock but saw that it was already open. He rapt a knuckle on the wood and took a tentative step over the threshold.

"Ma'am?" He called out. "I'm finished out here now."

There came no response from inside the house. Joel waited for a little bit before calling out once again.

"Hello?"

He knew he shouldn't be entering your home but for some reason he couldn't stop himself. He was being pulled into your space by some invisible compulsion.

What if you had fallen asleep and he had just left? Anyone with bad intentions could just come walking through your door. What kind of gentleman would he be to let that happen?

Joel sauntered to the small living room and took a glance to see if you were there, but all he found were stacks of taped up cardboard boxes and a dusty couch. He wandered into your kitchen but there was no sign of you there, either - just more boxes and a cutting board surrounded by lemons and half a jug of lemonade.

Where the hell were you?

Joel didn't bother to call out to you as he drifted throughout the house. There was something thrilling about being in your home without knowing exactly where you were, as if he were hunting you down. His heart beat picked up in his chest when he heard faint sounds coming from down the hallway.

Joel crept closer to the noise and recognised where it was coming from almost immediately. You were in the bathroom, the sound of spraying water echoing from behind door that you had left ajar. You were humming, a soft and sweet muffled sound from your throat.

Fuck, you were showering.

The mere thought of you naked made Joel's cock began to thicken in his jeans. He swallowed thickly and came to a pause outside the bathroom door.

He shouldn't be here. He's invading your privacy and being a fucking creep. A better man would leave a note or some shit, or would atleast wait for you to finish and come outside. But Joel is not a good man. He cannot stop himself; and truthfully, he doesn't want to.

Joel peered through the crack in the door and had to stifle the moan crawling up his throat when he saw your naked body behind the shower glass. You had your eyes closed and your head tilted back as the water cascaded down your round breasts and over your soft stomach, down to the mound of your beautiful pussy.

Joel's tongue darted out to lick at his plush bottom lip as his eyes roamed hungrily over your curves. He cannot remember the last time he had a woman as stunning as you are - and here you are now, naked before him like it's his own personal strip show.

His hand subconsciously started to palm the bulge in pants. Maybe you did this on purpose. Maybe you left both doors open as an unspoken invitation for him to come and join you. For all he knows, you are a massive slut who is begging for his attention.

Fuck it.

Joel hurriedly unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans before pulling his hard cock out from his underwear, the head already leaking with his precum. You continued to hum and enjoy the feeling of the water streaming over your naked form while Joel closed his fist around his throbbing length.

Oh yeah, you're a nasty fucking slut, alright. You probably get off on teasing guys like him all the time. You probably act all innocent and sweet and then beg to get fucked like a cheap whore.

Joel began to stroke himself, staring intently at the plush slopes of your body and the way your hands trailed over your skin. You turned around, your back facing him, and he inhaled deeply at the sight of your perfect ass. He jerked his cock faster, the squelching and smacking of his actions drowned out by the roar of the shower water hitting the tiles.

Joel imagines himself sneaking up behind you right now. He would quickly wrap his arm around your chest and clamp his hand over your mouth. You would squeal in shock and instinctively writh in panic but he'd make sure you couldn't get away, no matter how much you wriggled.

"Sssh, darlin', ain't gonna hurt you now," he would coo into the shell of your ear.

He would waste no time sinking his fat dick into you and drilling you mercilessly against the shower wall. You would cry under his heavy palm but eventually surrender, unable to do anything but get railed while pinned by his strong frame.

Your pussy would feel so fucking tight and warm, there's no way he would pull out. No, he would shoot his load so deep inside you that you'd be dripping for fucking days afterward.

The thought is too much for Joel; he finds himself cumming quicker than expected. His climax hits him with an intense ferocity that makes him hunch against the door frame and grunt like an animal. His cum shoots out over his knuckles in warm bursts, droplets falling to the ground while some splatters against the bathroom door.

His chest rises and falls with his ragged breaths. His hand gradually comes to a stop once the high of his orgasm fades. Holy shit, he can't remember the last time he came so hard like that.

When the shower comes to an abrupt stop and Joel sees you have turned off the taps, he quickly composes himself. You squeeze the excess water from your hair and turn to reach for a towel. Joel stuffs his softening cock back into his pants and turns on his heel, quickly making his escape before you catch sight of him.

He zips himself up as he stalks out your cottage, his heart hammering in his chest from the thrill of his secret depraved act. Joel once again nearly rips the gate off its hinges as he pushes through it before hopping into his truck. He starts the engine, uncaring of the burn of the hot steering wheel on his calloused palms or the stifling air inside his vehicle.

The tires squeal as Joel pulls a sharp uturn and speeds off down the street. He glances in the revision mirror at the sight of your cottage disappearing behind him. When he's turned the corner his body relaxes a little more into his seat. His cum hasn't quite dried yet, and he absent-mindedly wipes the back of his hand on his thigh.

When Joel finally gets back to his home and slinks through the door he no longer feels like getting drunk by himself and falling asleep in his armchair. Instead, he finds himself craving your home made lemonade and the sweetly sour taste swimming over his tongue.

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Oh hey, look, it's that massive story I've been working on since January! I'm so thankful to everyone who has shown interest in the concept of this fic and the little snippets I've posted. You've been more help than you know. Without that support, I don't think this would have ever gotten finished.

A special thanks to @numinousmysteries who kindly beta read for me and did a fantastic job. I wanted to make sure I got this right, and she was a great help!

And now I can't wait to share this with you all! New chapters posted daily!

[Read on AO3]

Chapter 1/34 - ink and paper

How long has he been thinking about this, she wonders. What exactly is he thinking? Her mind races, trying to reconcile this Mulder whose deepest desires are spilled out here in ink on worn and crinkled brochures with the one she’s spent nearly every day with these past several months.

She'd never have guessed...

Find out if adoption is right for you! Visit us at 8080 Meadowlark Ln. Annapolis, MD “A Home for Every Child!”

Scully stares down at the brochure on the desk. One of many, which are half buried underneath a pile of paperwork from their current case. Certain words and phrases are circled in pen, underlined, annotated in the margins in the familiar scrawl she knows almost better than her own.

stability – less travel? change in division? discuss with Scully

loving home – ask Frohike for real estate agent #

The word “family” is circled three times.

She swallows with some difficulty, finding—to her dismay—that her hands are shaking. Mulder will be arriving any second, and here she is, frozen like a statue.

How long has he been thinking about this, she wonders. What exactly is he thinking? Her mind races, trying to reconcile this Mulder whose deepest desires are spilled out here in ink on worn and crinkled brochures with the one she’s spent nearly every day with these past several months.

She’d never have guessed…

“Morning, partner,” his voice calls out, and she jolts in surprise. She hears the door snick shut behind him, but she can’t bring herself to turn around. With deft fingers, she pushes the brochure back under the stack of papers where she found it, only the colorful corner of the page visible.

“Morning, Mulder,” she tries, clearing her throat. It comes out strained, but she hopes he doesn’t notice. She hides her trembling hands in her lap under the desk.

He looks down at her, half amused, half concerned. “You okay? You're not getting that stomach bug that's been going around, are you?”

“I'm fine,” she answers defensively, warning him to back off. She grabs a file off the desk in front of her with a little more force than necessary, plopping it open.

‘Okayyy,’ he mouths exaggeratedly, eyebrows raised. He sits down at his desk and leafs through some papers sitting on top, arranging them into neater stacks. When he uncovers the brochures, his eyes widen and he clears his throat, hurriedly covering them with other papers and trying to act natural.

Scully thinks about letting it go and pretending she doesn’t know what he’s hiding, but she knows she won’t be able to sleep until she finds out what’s been going on in that ridiculous head of his. 

She idly flips to the next page of the file in her hand, displaying a confidence she doesn’t feel in the firm set of her shoulders

“Doing some light reading, Mulder?” she asks, attempting to look disinterested.

His head shoots up, a look of alarm on his face. For a second he thinks she might be talking about something else, that she couldn’t possibly know, but one look at her throws that theory right out the window. He glances back and forth between her and the papers on the desk a few times before dropping his shoulders in defeat.

“I’m sorry, Scully, you weren’t supposed to see those,” he says, shuffling all the brochures into a pile while carefully avoiding eye contact. “I was working here late last night. I must have forgotten to put them away.” As he speaks, he opens the top drawer of his desk and shoves them inside, then takes a seat at his desk. His nose is buried in a file before she can even respond.

She watches him now. He is a curiosity, determinedly feigning concentration on a case she knows he finds disinteresting and a waste of time.

Typical.

“You're really not going to say anything?” she asks, arms crossed in front of her.

That rankles him. “What do you want me to say?” he asks, indignation boiling below the surface.

She looks at him incredulously, the file in front of her all but forgotten.

“You're thinking of adoption? When were you planning to share this with me?”

He sighs and shakes his head, pleading silently with her. “It's too soon, Scully. I didn't think you'd want to hear it yet.”

“But you're looking into it because…”

“It's just been on my mind, that's all.”

She stares at him, brows furrowed.

“Since when?”

Since when… Images flash of a life he didn’t recognize. His sister, alive and grown up. A quiet suburban neighborhood. Cancer Man living just down the street. A wife and kids, but not the right ones. It was wrong, all of it was wrong.

“A hallucinatory trip into an alternate universe tends to make you think,” he answers simply.

He’s looking at her now, deadly serious despite the joking tone. She doesn’t respond. Can’t respond.

“I'm sorry, I didn't want to bring all this up,” he continues. “I know it's a sore spot for you.”

It takes her a moment to conjure words from her mouth, her lips moving but no sound coming out. “I just wasn't expecting…”

“For all I know, this isn't even something you'd want.”

What does she say to that? Is she interested? 

“I– I'm not sure. I've never really considered it before.”

He waits, his eyes assessing her for some hidden meaning, some insight into her state of mind. He gets nothing. She’s totally blank.

“Well… what do you want?” He thought the question was innocuous enough, safer territory than straight up asking her if she wants to adopt, but apparently not.

She shuts her folder, abruptly standing and slinging her purse over her shoulder. “I'm going back to the crime scene,” she declares, changing the subject. “I want to see if there's anything we missed.”

“Scully…” he tries.

“Not now, Mulder.” Without even taking the time to put her coat on, she flees, leaving the door partially open in her rush to get away. Cursing under his breath, Mulder grabs his coat from its hook and hurries after her.

The elevator doors are almost all the way closed by the time he catches up, but in this case, he figures it’s worth the potential loss of a limb. He throws his hand between the closing gap in the metal doors, and it bounces back open to allow him entrance, to the extreme displeasure of one Dana Scully. He wisely stays silent in the elevator, stealing glances at her every few seconds out of the corner of his eye as they ascend. He can feel the frigid air coming off her in waves. It’s been a while since he’s seen her this annoyed with him, this eager to get away.

He won’t let her. Not this time. He’s learned from his mistakes.

In the parking garage, she's walking briskly, heels clicking on the concrete, and he has to pick up the pace to keep up with surprisingly agile little legs.

He didn’t want this confrontation. There was a reason he was keeping his research a secret. This is exactly what he was hoping to avoid, at least until the time was right to carefully drop some hints here and there. But now? There’s no carefully about it. No option to wait and let this blow over. There’s only one way out of this at this point, and unfortunately, that way is through.

He picks up the pace.

“You're the one who brought this up, Scully, I was perfectly happy throwing those brochures in my drawer and not saying a word.” 

His voice echoes in the concrete parking structure, sounding harsh even to his own ears. As frustrated as he is with her, that isn’t his intent. He only wants to know what he can do to help her, how he can help her fulfill her dreams. He lets out a breath, and with it, releases his selfish frustration. She’s still walking away at a breakneck pace, and he doesn’t know how he can get her to stop and face this. 

“If you want to talk about it, let's talk about it,” he says, pleading. “I can't help you if I don't know what you want. You want me to shut up, never mention the subject again?” he shouts, throwing his hands in the air, “Fine, just tell me. What do you want, Scully?”

“I just want to be a mom, okay?” she yells, whirling around to face him. Her words instantly silence him, and he watches stone-faced as tears spring in her eyes. “I see all these other moms out there and think… I could do that too. Why can’t I do that too?”

Well, mission accomplished. The truth is finally out there. Part of him feels bad for pushing her, but the other part knows that it was doing her no good to keep her feelings bottled up inside to deal with by herself. He reaches out a hand, intending to comfort her, his eyes softening in sympathy. 

“You could. Scully, you’d be the best mom.”

She flinches away, stepping out of his reach. “You don’t know that, Mulder. I can’t even—even my body is even telling me no. Over and over.” She resumes her brisk walk to her car, and he thinks he sees her brush angrily at her face, no doubt wiping away the evidence of the stubborn tears that have managed to escape.

He rushes to get in front of her, walking backwards so he can keep her in his sight. 

“When has that ever stopped you?” he asks. “You had cancer, and you kept fighting. You’re alive today because you refused to give up when your body quit on you. What about that?” He stops abruptly, forcing her to come to a halt before she crashes into him.

There’s no way out of this, is there? Her shoulders slump in defeat.

“You saved me, Mulder,” she admits quietly, shaking her head. “You’re the one who didn’t give up. Not me. It was only because you were with me that I survived.”

This time, when she goes to walk away, he stops her, placing a hand on her shoulder. The simple touch causes her to freeze, hardly breathing, and when he steps closer, she stays. His hands slide down her shoulders, holding her securely in place to ensure that his next words come through loud and clear.

“I’m gonna be with you here on this too, I promise.” His thumbs brush back and forth on the fabric of her sleeves, for his comfort or hers, she’s not sure. “You can still be a mother, Scully. I’ll help you.”

She shakes her head, her heart feeling like it has been ripped to shreds. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” He gives her a little shake for emphasis. She still won’t look at him. “You’ve kept me alive all these years, how much harder could a baby be?”

That gets a breathy chuckle from her, and her head falls to her chest. Groaning with the agony of this burden on her heart, she stops fighting it and leans into him. Without hesitation, he wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his embrace.

Her hand comes up to find purchase on his suit jacket, relishing in the comfort only he can provide. She’s past caring if anyone sees them like this here. Let them talk. They already do, anyway.

“Well, at least when you wake me up in the middle of the night, you’re not crying,” she speaks into his chest.

She feels him shrug, and can almost see the goofy smile she knows she put on his lips.

“Usually.”

She looks up at him with her chin on his sternum before taking a deep breath and pulling away.

“It's raining,” he says softly, glancing down at her and brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “We can go back to the crime scene later.” She nods, unsure what else to say. She allows herself to be led, his ever-present hand brushing against her back as they start toward the basement.

“Adoption,” Scully mutters to herself, shaking her head in disbelief. “I don’t know, Mulder. This—this is different than IVF. With that, all I was asking for was your…” her eyes dart around, looking anywhere but at him, “genetic material. This is something entirely different.”

He’s pleased she’s at least considering it, but she doesn’t get it at all, if that’s what she thinks.

“How? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, the process of getting a baby is a little different, but in the long run, the result is the same.”

She pauses, looking at him in confusion. “What– what are you saying?”

He runs a hand awkwardly through his hair, suddenly taking a unique interest in his shoes and the floor of the parking structure.

“Yeah, we probably should have talked about this before…”

“Talked about what?”

He sighs and guides her into a stairwell. It’s stuffy and poorly-lit with a flickering lightbulb, but here, there’s less of a chance they’ll be overheard.

“Look, Scully, I don’t know what you had in mind for my involvement beyond contributing to half the baby’s DNA when you first asked me to help you get pregnant,” he starts, fighting hard to meet her eyes instead of shying away. “But, I– I had hoped it would be a little more than ‘Say hi to Uncle Mulder,’ every couple of months.”

She blinks back at him, speechless.

“I’m sorry if that’s overstepping, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable with all this, I just—” He takes in a breath. “I guess I got to thinking of what it might be like to have a family again.” His bout of honesty is met with a blank stare, and his nervous smile drops. “I completely misread the situation, didn’t I?” he asks, self-loathing waiting on standby. “Got ahead of myself…”

She stops him by catching his coat sleeve. “No—uh. No, you didn’t.” She collects herself, willing herself to offer him some reassurance. Her fingers release the fabric of his coat, shifting her grasp instead to his hand. “I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

He glances down at where she holds tightly to him, and his lips curl into some semblance of a smile.

“I guess they might have had a point with all those communication seminars we’ve skipped, huh?”

She chuckles softly.

“I don’t think this is exactly what they had in mind…”

With a gentle tug, Mulder leads her down the stairs, committed to holding her hand as long as she’ll let him. The air is stagnant and silent, only the rhythmic echo of their shoes clicking on the concrete steps as they make their way to the bottom floor.

She’s thinking. What she knows now, it changes everything. 

She had asked him to leave. Hid her grief from him as much as possible after her initial lapse into weakness when she came home with the news. She had almost kissed him, then, unsure of what else she had to live for. She knew she was hurting him by folding inward on herself in the weeks that followed, but that didn’t stop her from doing it. She was in a dark place, hardly able to see what was right in front of her. What she couldn’t see was that his hurt wasn’t just for her, born of some misguided sense of guilt or pity. It was his own, too.

“Mulder, all those months, after it failed—” There’s something like fear in her voice as she utters these words, or maybe regret.

“I was just worried about you.”

She squeezes his hand, feeling tears well in her eyes once more. “No, you were grieving like I was, and I didn’t notice. I pushed you away…”

“Dana…” He turns, a couple steps ahead of her, so for once it’s him who has to look up to meet her eyes. Her lip wobbles as she looks down at him, and he brushes his thumb tenderly over her knuckles. “You had to deal with it on your own, I understood that. I don’t blame you for anything.”

Those eyes. So open and honest and sad. She wonders how anyone could hurt him, could bear to break this man’s heart. How could she? 

Choking back a sob, she falls into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding tight. His arms encircle her back, supporting her weight, and she feels herself being lifted as he goes up a step, closing the distance between them.

His hand climbs up to the back of her head, stroking her hair soothingly.

“I just wanted to be there for you,” he mumbles into her neck.

“You were, Mulder,” she gasps between bouts of tears, finding comfort in the feel of his soft hair between her fingers. “You’ve always been there.”

He pulls back, lifting his hands to cup her face and wiping away the tears he finds there with the pads of his thumbs. 

“You don’t have to give an answer now,” he says, reassuring, “This is… a big commitment, I know, and I don’t want you to say yes just because I suggested it. I just wanted you to know it’s an option, and if you want to have a baby, I’m in. However you want to go about it, I’ll be as involved as you want. Just– let me know, anytime. Okay?”

He’s looking at her now, head ducked so those sad, puppy-dog eyes can get his message across.

She nods, holding tight to the wrists that so tenderly cup her face.

“Okay.”

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

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[zkaus]

I need to tell you all that I FUCKING CALLED IT over FIFTEEN MONTHS AGO!! And now I don't know whether to celebrate or sob.

Probably both because 😭🫣😂😫 Episode 12 was a revelation!!

But also HOLY SHIT Armand?!?!! You brutal, conniving, sinister, murderous fuck! Way to be book accurate in the WORST possible way 🫣😬

But also... I was so damn close!!

As Armand says in the episode: "Did I catch you in a fantasy, where the boy somehow fumbles his way to publication? Where Lestat strolls past a bookstore, your book displayed in the shop window, where he buys himself a copy, reads your nasty embellishments and comes chasing after you again?"

This literally maps perfectly to how the events of the original novels play out.

Louis impulsively gives an interview (a clear provocation) to Daniel, who then publishes it as IWTV. Lestat wakes, reads Louis' book, and decides to write his own book in response and publicly announce his vampirism to protect Louis (by diverting the other vampires rage towards himself) and to both communicate with and ensure Louis can find him. He is so desperate to find and save Louis, he pulls a gigantic spotlight onto himself this causing the spiral of events in Queen of the Damned and all the rest...

The original interview is the metaphorical spark that the lit the fire (IWTV), and set the house on alight (TVL), that burned the entire neighbourhood to the ground (Akasha). And we all know Louis loves starting fires.

But it never happened so... now we know.

Its ONLY because Armand is still there with Louis in San Francisco that the original IWTV was never published, therefore the events of TVL and QOTD never played out like they did in the novels.

So now we have some confirmation... If Lestat woke up in 1984, he never came out as a vampire, and therefore Akasha never woke up. She's somewhere, sleeping still...

Also here's my (also 15 months old) theory on Dubai....

So in celebration of my apparent predictive accuracy, I have a few more theories to share about season 2, lets see if I'm right...

Or completely off 🫣🤔😂

Season 2 theories:

1. In the books, for years Armand stalked and psychologically tortured Daniel. He was 'fascinated' by him, just like in the show. I think we're going to see that although Armand convinced Louis that Daniel was only involved in 1973, he actually stalked the shit out of Daniel for the next decade (at least!) and probably never truly stopped*

*I'm fairly confident Daniel's apartment is in Trinity Gate (check out those ceilings!), and now we know Armand is into real estate it's even more likely.

2. I think we'll see that Armand moved from obsession with Louis, to obsessively amd sadistically fucking with (and actually fucking) Daniel for years and years. But when Armand eventually genuinely fell in love with Daniel (and it's reciprocated) he freaked the fuck out, and wiped/doctored Daniel's memories. Forced him to forget Armand was ever in his life at all, even manipulated Daniel by transferring his love from himself towards a woman (maybe Alice, maybe his second wife).

Then Armand went back to Louis.

3. I'm about 90% sure that in 1973, Lestat was either locked up (probably locked inside one of Armands horrible drawers in the rubble under the theatre) or horribly incapacitated. Very likely, Armand locked him away after the trial, and kept him there all this time.

In the books, Lestat was sleeping while healing during the events of 1973, so it's possible that he will be in the ground in the show. But by 1984, Lestat able to revive himself (as seen in the opening of TVL). However, in the show Lestat was awake enough in 1973 to speak with Armand. So when Armand told him that Louis was gravely injured (very much like in Merrick) we all know that Lestat would have done everything he could to get to Louis, tried anything to save Louis. So we can only assume that he can't. He's weak, malnourished and most likely imprisoned. And probably reamains so in 2022...

So now, the question becomes where the hell is Lestat right now? He would be with Louis if he could be? What the Fuck did you do Armand?!?

I'll be thinking hard on this one...

What do you think? What are your theories?

.

[aziraphales-library]

hello there! thank you so much for all the work you're doing, it's amazing:)

i was wondering (since i tried to search ao3 myself and found nothing), if you know about any pretty woman AUs? thank you so much and have a great day!

I do! Not a complete one unfortunately:

Pretty Boy by SerenityStargazer [E], WIP

Aziraphale Fell, real estate tycoon, finds himself in need of a companion during a business week in London. He meets Crowley in Soho and finds he enjoys the younger sex worker's company. They spend the week together and both are surprised to find themselves falling in love.

"Hey, handsome," Crowley purred, "want a date?"

"Right now," the blond man replied in a very proper, educated accent, "what I need are directions to the Ritz. Got myself turned around, I'm afraid."

"Five pounds for directions, luv," Crowley said calmly.

"Five pounds? That's ridiculous!" the man sputtered indignantly.

"Ten pounds. The price just went up."

"You can't charge me for directions!"

Crowley grinned. "I can do whatever I want, angel. I'm not lost." He stood up and turned his back, letting his arse lean against the window frame.

"Oh, very well," the man said, pulling out his wallet. Crowley opened the door and climbed in.

"For a twenty, I'll take you there personally," he offered.

Aziraphale handed the twenty over silently then tried to find first gear.

Other fics with similar premise:

The (Half) Boyfriend Experience by ZehWulf [M]

The image on the monitor remained static for another minute or so, but then the door to the connected room opened, and the pale, curly-headed figure of Crowley's client—a man who went by Fell at the club—stepped through. As always, he stopped just after closing the door behind him to collect himself, gaze trained on where Crowley's lower half was splayed wide on lewd display. There was a whole ritual of straightening cuffs and waist coat and shifting his weight that he would go through before approaching.

Crowley felt their lingering scowl soften as they watched with vague fondness as he worked himself through the motions. At first, they'd wondered if the whole process was some sort of pre-sex psych-up, or a fussy-looking-middle-aged man version of reflexive peacocking. But, Fell had been requesting them for long enough by now that they'd been able to observe the way things evolved over time: the gestures loosening up, the amount of time spent shortening.

The poor bastard was just anxious.

OR

Crowley works part time as a sex worker at a club, and one of their favorite, most baffling clients comes in looking like he's had just as bad a day as they have.

Dreaming of You by TawnyOwl95 [E]

AJ Crowley likes helping people discover and heal the neglected parts of themselves. Even if that's only for their scheduled session. He likes being a sex worker, although he's started to dream of some genuine intimacy.

Aziraphale Fell knows he isn't deserving of romance. As much as he might like the idea, a lifetime of neglect has left him insecure and afraid to reach for what he wants. He still dreams that one day he might be brave enough to take a chance.

Hired Heart (illustrated by many artists) by GayDemonicDisaster (scrapheapchallenge) [E]

As a result of his sheltered upbringing, Aziraphale made it to 50 without exploring his sexuality or coming out. After 50, all that changed - he's gay, he's out, and wants to find love. He also wants to have sex. He's a tad nervous about that. His friend Agnes suggests he consult a professional and get some no-strings practice and advice, and build some confidence. And her friend Tracy runs an agency…

Crowley has quite the breadth of sexual experience: he’s a high class escort. He’s been in his line of work for a long time, though in this industry, that’s not exactly an advantage. He likes his work, but the more he’s reminded that he’s not as young as he once was, the more he contemplates his exit strategy. When his bookings manager and friend Tracy gives him a new, nervous client, Crowley finds him unexpectedly captivating. In fact, Crowley can’t seem to get him out of his head.

A Smitten Crowley is also a very silly Crowley, so prepare for giggles and fluff along with your love story and smut...

Seirbheis by Kalimyre [E]

Human AU - Crowley is a sex worker, hired by the wealthy and eccentric Ezra Fell for a long weekend. He goes in expecting it to be just another job. But Ezra is not like other clients, and Crowley is soon in over his head.

In which our beloved ineffable husbands have clear, honest communication, a whirlwind romance, and tremendous amounts of soft, tender, kinky sex.

~Mod N

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Stately 1870 home with a mansard roof and a belvedere. The 5bd, 3ba home in Watertown, Wisconsin is considered an estate and priced pretty low at $485K, reduced from $495K. The interior is surprisingly unique.

In a way, I can see why it's less than $500K. It's got a nice original fireplace and light fixture, but the sitting room needs some sprucing up.

Instead of elegance, this one is a playroom.

Absolutely hate the kitchen remodel.

This, however, is very unusual. It looks like some sort of sun room, yet reminds me of a promenade in an old mall. It's 2 floors and is at the back of the house.

Here's another sitting room with very nice wallpaper and an original fireplace, but it's hard to picture b/c of the lack of decor.

I don't think that these two rooms are meant to be a bedroom, especially since there's a fridge in the next room. I think that at least one could be a dining room.

This would be the real primary bedroom. It's very large and has a fireplace.

The primary bath is outrageous. Are those original pushbutton switches on the wall?

The 2nd bedroom is pretty big and it's kind of funky b/c it looks like a child's room, but it has one of those fireplaces with a display cabinet.

The secondary bedrooms are nothing special and this one is very small.

The 2nd of 3 baths is a much smaller space.

Now we're down in the basement where there's a TV room a bedroom.

Someone has a workshop down here and there's a handy sink.

It looks like they started construction on this part of the home and it has lovely exposed brick and wood.

Not sure what plans they have for this small space, but they've stripped it back to the wood lath.

The partially covered deck above the garage is great.

Look at all the windows in the back of the house- that's the promenade.

The garage top deck is spacious.

Check it out- stairs to go inside the belvedere. I'm sure that it must be accessible from inside the house, so I would definitely have to make a roof top deck. WHY didn't they show the inside????

The lot measures .26 acre.

https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/311-S-Washington-St_Watertown_WI_53094_M84039-10197

[evermourning]

𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭 - hwang hyunjin

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader, lovertober entry iii

genre: love at first sight, non!idol au, fluff, comfort, vacation romance, slice of life

wc: 5.2k

warnings: only one bed... (literally like ONCE) , language, mentions of alcohol, getting drunk, mutual pining, hyunjin is kinda self-deprecating, that stupid fucking miscommunication trope

a/n: ouranos is the embodiment of the sky in greek mythology...there are multiple ways to spell it but there are also multiple reasons i'm not writing uranus in my work 🤓 (i am not mature)

seasonal depression was kicking your ass right now.

work was piling up, you were struggling to find time to relax, and it was all so overwhelming that you were losing yourself piece by piece. finally, the long-awaited chance for you to take a break arrived, when you received a text from your grandmother.

as she asked you how you were doing, a thought came to your head. your grandmother made all her money through real estate and rentals...so what was saying she couldn't rent her place to you for a month or so? when you asked, she agreed almost instantly, rambling on and on about you were a lifesaver.

she allowed you to rent a beautiful and modern townhouse she owned on the outskirts of the city, smack dab in the art district, a beautiful display of all different cultures. it would truly be an amazing trip. plus, the house had more than one bedroom, so you'd get the spacious place all to yourself.

now, you stood in front of it, admiring the industrial-style architecture and lovely flowers blooming in boxes beneath tinted windows. this was going to change your life for the better. you knew it.

after settling in, you took a look around. the home had two different bedrooms with a wide seating area and kitchen, boasting two levels. your grandmother had really scored with this one. you called her as soon as you finished unpacking, thanking her profusely. however, when you noticed her kind eyes bore a new, mischievous twinkle, you couldn't help but be a tad suspicious. what were you missing?

your suspicions were confirmed that night. turns out your warm, loving grandma had some tricks up her sleeve.

it was around ten o'clock at night and you'd cuddled up on the couch with a warm blanket and a book, reading quietly and contentedly under a warm lamplight. the soft bustle of the city outside the window could lull you to sleep if you weren't careful. however, a sound from outside scared the shit out of you.

it almost sounded like...a lock turning?

wait.

that wasn't just any lock. it was your lock.

you covered your mouth, heart pounding, beating rapidly as you raced over to the kitchen to search for a makeshift weapon, settling on a frying pan. then, you hid just out of sight from the door, so that you could see it, but couldn't be seen. when the door opened, you gripped the cast iron pan as tight as possible. however, you lowered it when you noticed who it was.

it was the most beautiful man you'd ever laid eyes on.

however, he could always be a murderer in secret, so you crept out from your hiding spot, calling out softly (which was frankly a horrid idea) to the man standing at the door.

"who's there?"

when the man heard your voice, he shrieked. this caused you to scream too, until you two were face-to-face, the man ready to defend himself and you holding onto the frying pan for dear life. when you realized you weren't going to be hurt, you lowered the pan, getting a better look at the mysterious intruder.

holy fuck, he was gorgeous.

his skin was fair and perfect, obviously well taken-care of, as it seemed like there wasn't a single blemish upon it except for a singular mole below one of his eyes. his eyes were like dark chocolate, warm and slightly widened from the fear, and his plump, perfectly shaped lips were parted slightly in a little "o". his hair was the color of the night sky, tousled and styled perfectly, the tips falling just slightly above his shoulders. the young man was tall and lean, and not to mention very stylish.

"who are you and how did you get in here?" you began, stepping back cautiously. he gulped, taking a deep breath before speaking. he had a tranquil voice, tinged with worry. it had an oddly comforting tone.

"i'm, uh, renting this place for a month. who are you?" he said quietly.

"the lady who rents this place out is my grandmother." you explained, and he nodded. "but this is very odd...i was renting this place for a month."

the young man tilted his head in confusion.

"okay, um...that's weird. can you like, call her?" he suggested, playing with a piece of his hair. it looked very soft...

you nodded, and as you were pulling out your phone you pointed over to a door near the back porch.

"for now, put your stuff in there. we can both sleep here tonight...i'll let my grandmother know tonight and we can sort it out tomorrow. sounds good?"

"yeah." he confirmed, before giving you a gentle, awkward smile. "thanks, by the way. i was scared you were gonna kick me out or something. i'll be honest, i don't think i could survive a night out on the streets."

you laughed, and couldn't help but notice his cheeks becoming rosier when he heard the sound. as he went off to investigate the room you'd pointed out, you dialed in your grandmother's number. she picked up after the first three rings.

"hi, honey. have you settled in?" she cooed from the other side of the phone, her voice light and cheery. "anything you need?"

"you double-booked the townhouse and now there's an unfamiliar man here, grandma." as you explained to her the situation, the young man popped his head out of the door.

"hi, um...whatever your name is - there's no bed in here. it's just the frame." your blood ran cold. this was an even bigger problem because there was only one other mattress. shit.

"oh, yeah. i forgot to mention - one of the mattresses ripped and so i had to replace it. it's coming in a day or two, okay?" your grandmother paused, before giggling. "who knows? this could be your chance for a new shot at love."

"grandma...i've talked to this guy, what- once or twice? you're delusional." you sighed, massaging your temples. "and plus, i'll just sleep on the couch. he can have the room." after you hung up, the young man tentatively sat down on the couch beside you.

"so, what did she say?"

after you recounted her words to your new acquaintance, he sat in silence for a moment, before finally speaking up.

"well, we can figure out rooming and stuff...but how about we just live here together for the month? unless you're not comfortable with it, then i'll find myself a hotel and call your grandmother for a refund-"

"no, no, you took the time and effort to come all the way here - you deserve this vacation just as much as i do. you're welcome to stay." you smiled softly at him. "what's your name, by the way? you seem very kind. i'm yn."

his lips curled upwards, and you wanted to melt into a puddle at the sight.

"my name is hyunjin."

in a shocking turn of events, you were lying in the same bed as a boy you'd just barely met, an angel on earth named hwang hyunjin. you'd reassured yourself there was no way anything like this would happen on your trip, but you were very clearly wrong.

"alright. there's one other bedroom - which has an unripped mattress, might i add - and then one of us can sleep on the couch." you explained. hyunjin was quick to counter it.

"that's an awfully small couch..." he noted, circling it to get a better view. it was pretty small...

"i'll sleep on it. you can take the bed and we'll wash the sheets in the morning." you concluded. he looked at you, eyes wide.

"you can't do that! did you see this week's weather? you'll freeze out here!" he said pleadingly. you sighed, giving him a reassuring smile.

"you're very kind, hyunjin." you replied. "but i can get a blanket or two. i'll be okay."

he shook his head in response.

"we can share the bed and pile it with blankets. deal?" he asked, staring at you hopefully. "i don't want us to start off on the wrong foot and have someone be cranky because they slept on that creaky-ass couch."

he had a point, you told yourself. next thing you knew, you were laying on your side in your pajamas beside a barricade of linen pillows, watching the steady rise and fall of a guy you'd only known for a few hours' chest. he looked so peaceful as he slept, you only wished you could feel the same. you let out a soft sigh before falling back onto your pillow and drifting off into sleep.

hyunjin, on the other hand, was praying you thought he was sleeping. he knew you'd leaned over the get a better look at him, and he desperately hoped that the darkness of the bedroom concealed his flushed cheeks. thankfully, he heard a soft sigh escape your perfect lips and a thump of a head hitting the pillow beside him, allowing him to exhale, relieved.

he didn't think he was in love with you. that couldn't be possible. he'd only known you for three hours, forty-four minutes, and nine seconds (he counted). there was no way he could be this enamored with someone like you. sure, you were beautiful...like an angel who'd floated daintily down from the heavens above...and the fact that you had the loveliest personality...

but he didn't know that! maybe it was a facade. he hoped it was a facade, so that these weird, unwanted feelings of adoration and desire would just float away with a snap of his fingers. he was looking for a muse, and he wouldn't find one in some stranger with...breathtaking eyes...ugh.

this was going to be harder than he thought.

the next morning, you woke up and the bed was missing hyunjin's presence. you yawned, slipping into the bathroom to make yourself look somewhat presentable before going out to the kitchen. hyunjin sat at the counter, texting someone on his phone. when he heard teh door open, he grinned.

"good morning. your grandmother emailed me, so wanna go get some coffee at that café down the block to wake us up? then we can talk about living situations and whatnot." he was wearing a white printed shirt tucked into a pair of ripped jeans. he paired this with casual shoes and a cream-colored cardigan. you were envious of his style. however, you accepted the offer, and side-by-side you made your way to the shop.

you found your way to a booth in the back. the atmosphere was lovely, warm and modern with the smell of freshly baked pastries mixing with the strong scent of espresso. it felt so cozy, with a soft bossa nova melody playing through a speaker, its mood quite ambient. you'd put in your order and hyunjin's, as he'd made some comment about feeling uncomfortable ordering. you'd laughed at him, taking delight in his cheeks reddening from the teasing.

eventually, your order was called out, and with much pushing and shoving, hyunjin went and picked up the coffees. now, you were sipping away, sighing contentedly as if you could practically feel the caffeine flooding through your veins and energizing you. when you felt much more awake, hyunjin began speaking.

"okay, so she apologized profusely for the misunderstanding, but essentially, there's nothing she can do because the money's already been transferred. she gave me two options: you and i can live together for this month, or she'll use my rental money to pay for a hotel room." he tilted his head. "what are you thinking?"

"well...if you're comfortable with it, we can live together. i don't want to overstep any boundaries of yours, but it'll be better than hectically trying to find a place to stay, especially at this time of year. and who knows? maybe this is fate." you suggested, chewing on your straw. "does that work for you? the mattress for the second bedroom is supposed to arrive today, too. you can truly settle in."

hyunjin took a moment to consider the offer, before extending one hand for you to shake. it fits into yours perfectly, you noticed, but you didn't say anything.

"that works. this is so exciting, i've never really had a roommate before."

and so, like clockwork, spending time with hyunjin integrated itself into your daily routine. he was so fun to be around, and gave great tips on style. together, hand in hand, you explored the city. it was nice, you decided, to have a friend like him. even if you felt your heart rate spike when he lean over a little too close to grab something behind you, faces inches apart. even if you watched horror movies together and he made you wrap him in your arms because he was so terrified. it was really nice. and your mind was clearing.

the first time you felt an emotion towards hyunjin that was something more than a platonic feeling was about one-thirds into your vacation. he was on the second floor of the townhouse, in a room temporarily claimed as his art studio.

you loved watching him paint. each brush stroke was fluid and gentle, yet so inexplicably concise. two very different colors, bright in hue and vibrant could mix together with a dash of black or white and become something new altogether. perhaps a new shade with muted, earthen tones, or a dark shade of the color wheel. before he touched the blank canvas with his essence, it was bare and boring. a simple white. but the minute he let himself be enraptured by the very idea of artistry, the creativity pulsed from his fingertips and into the paintbrush, creating a story with each swish of the tool.

he stood at the easel, with you relaxing nearby. his brow was furrowed, and he drifted his index finger back-and-forth across the empty, emotionless piece of fabric.

"i don't know what to paint." he huffed, walking over to the large window to search the streets for some inspiration. you stood up, brushing off your pants and making your way over to the place beside him. he looked down at you, and it was like a lightbulb lit up above his head comically. "yn...would it be okay if i painted you?"

you were so excited, nodding and taking his hands.

"i would love nothing more!" you crowed. hyunjin fidgeted with his hands nervously.

"um, one thing. can you take off your necklace? my art style is in many ways detailed but also abstract. i think it'll throw me off a little."

you nodded. after a few attempts to remove it, you ended up giving him a sheepish look.

"can you help me with it?" he nodded, moving right behind you. you lifted up your hair a bit out of his way. your heart was pounding, echoing so loudly within your chest you were so sure that the next door neighbors could hear it. as his soft hands worked expertly to remove it, your face felt like it was burning. you flinched a bit when his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck.

little did you know, it was driving hyunjin crazy just as much as it was making you insane. he felt like a victorian man viewing ankles for the first time, with the way he was heating up at the sight of your soft, beautiful skin. the way you shuddered when he touched the skin gently was enough to make him want to grab you and kiss you at that very moment. but he didn't, because there was no way you felt that way in return, and he didn't want to singlehandedly ruin this relationship with you that he'd been so carefully building, piece by piece. he shook it off, unclipping the chain and handing it to you, before slipping into the space behind his easel. you posed on the chair, crossing one leg over the other. after what felt like an eternity, hyunjin motioned for you to get up and come see his completed masterpiece.

what stared back at you was only the most emotional and dazzling piece that hyunjin had made (in your opinion). it perfectly captured your features and displayed them in an alluring array of colors. you looked over at him, jaw dropped. he laughed softly at your astonishment.

"you like it?"

"i love it." you murmured, tracing your own lips with your pinkie. "you're so talented. you're so humble about it, hyunjin, but i know natural-born talent when i see it. please never stop painting, especially if you love it."

"so basically, what you're saying is..." hyunjin said, dark eyes trained on you. "...that i should continue following the things i love?"

"yeah."

the second time these overwhelming feelings flooded your system was on a warm saturday night. the sky was bright and clear, so you'd suggested stargazing. you two sat on a grassy green hill perfectly placed twenty or so minutes away from the house, carefully laying out a blanket to watch from. you pointed out various stars and patterns and constellations, impressing hyunjin with your knowledge.

you laid there with him, the grass tickling your skin. his skin was soft and flush against yours, warm and gentle like a mother’s touch, your hands intertwined. you hoped he didn't feel your palms being slightly sweaty from the nervousness. his thumb softly rubbed figure eight-shaped patterns into the back of your hand. from this angle, hyunjin looked absolutely ethereal, like a beloved son of aphrodite herself. his dark hair paired with long, ebony eyelashes and full, parted lips was an absolute killer. you were trying so hard to focus on the stars, but you couldn't help yourself from staring at him instead of the night sky.

"i love watching the stars. it makes me so mad when nights are cloudy and these beauties are hidden from the world." hyunjin commented. his words struck a harmonious chord inside you.

"astronomy is really such a showcase of beauty and elegance. true beauty, like the millions of stars painting our universe as if they were the freckles on ouranos’ skin, is something one could only dream of. seeing these natural wonders makes me lucky to be alive, to be a living, breathing human. as a human, i am blessed to have eyes so that i can take in these little joys. hyune, do you realize some people will never get to see the stars?"

"i do." he was quiet for a moment, before continuing. "sometimes, i wonder if they will never see the stars because they physically cannot, or they’re just not looking hard enough. i makes me a bit disappointed that they're not admiring the universe's beauty. we're not on this earth forever. we have to embrace every second."

"yeah." you grinned at him. "i have you, though. our time together may not be permanent, i will cherish every single memory."

hyunjin frowned. he rolled over on his stomach, turning slightly to face you better.

"what says our time together can't be permanent? we've grown so close. i want to make more memories with you after this." you knew he didn't intend for his words to be perceived this way, but you couldn't help it. your mind drifted off to fantasies of hyunjin as your boyfriend. holding your hand on the street, baking together...hyunjin smiling as he swiped frosting off your bottom lip...a healthy, happy love. you needed it.

and it was almost painfully ironic, the fact that during this entire hypothetical dream sequence you were experiencing, you didn’t even notice hyunjin zeroing in on your lips. you didn’t notice the pink coloring obvious upon his skin. you didn’t even notice when his hand came up to rest against your cheek. his touch was careful, soft, like you were some fragile beauty he was scared of breaking. it snapped you out of your trance when he spoke again.

"you look like you have a tiny scar on your cheek. what's that from?"

you reached your hand up to your own face, a small sound of surprise leaving your lips as you ran your finger along it.

"i didn't even notice i had this. god, you're so observant." you said lightly, sitting up and brushing off your pants. hyunjin watched.

"i really am, aren't i? sometimes i feel like some all-knowing creature, seeing everything but saying nothing." you nodded, scooting in closer so you could lean against him. he wrapped an arm around you, keeping you both warm.

"well, if you feel like a bystander, you should try speaking up more. no matter what you do, though, you know i'll still look at you like you're polaris. i hope you shine forever, hyunjin. and i'm so happy that we've grown so close, so i pray i'll get to see you flourish and sparkle like the very stars we're dazzled by right now."

you hoped these words resonated in the nooks and crannies of the brain you'd been so interested in. hiding your true feelings was getting harder and harder. you wanted to let him know that you were absolutely infatuated with him instantly. you wanted his embrace to become tighter, more protective. but you knew it wouldn't. you weren't a fool. you could keep this massive secret of yours under wraps, yes?

your master plan was foiled a week or two later.

you and hyunjin had been playing around, and it got a bit out of control. namely, you were completely and utterly drunk. although hyunjin reacted to your state with amusement, worry coursed through his veins. you were babbling, slurring your words. you were usually so composed, hyunjin had never seen this side of you.

he sat on the couch as you were snuggled into his side, snoring blissfully. he looked down at you, his hand hovering just over the small of your back. he didn't want to touch you without your consent, but he really wanted to just hold you in his arms.

these days, every waking thought he had included you. whether it was a daydream, a nightmare, anything: you were in it. every aspect of his life had been taken over by the very idea of you. he was scared. he knew your time in this home was finite, so he'd been trying his very best to keep you with him, with his little hope being that you felt the same way.

hyunjin had never felt so strongly about someone. he wanted to hold your hand until you were old and grey, he wanted to know you inside and out. know every little detail of your beautiful brain. it was insane. he was losing it, fearing you'd forget him after you left. what if your work began to overtake you, and you stopped contacting him? he couldn't let that happen, not when he'd spent all this time loving you. okay, that was a stretch, but he felt like if you reciprocated his feelings of longing and desire, together you could blossom and grow like the first blooms upon a barren tree in the spring.

he didn't want to overthink it, he didn't want to get ahead of himself. you'd said some things he'd perceived as sentences with romantic undertones, but he didn't want to explicitly confess these jumbled feelings for you if his heart was simply going to be shattered.

however, you nestled yourself closer to him, a sigh escaping your lips, and hyunjin felt as if the tendrils of white-hot flames were dancing across his body from your touch.

"mmm...you're such a nice pillow, jinnie." you mumbled, and he turned to face you more, raising an eyebrow. jinnie? you never called him that. "it's almost like we're a couple."

he felt his cheeks slowly change to a color akin to rose petals.

"w-what?" he asked, stumbling over his words. "don't joke about that."

"i know, i know." a comically large frown crossed your face. "i don't want to joke about it because then, it'll make me believe i actually have a shot with you. i know how you feel about me will probably be obsolete after we part ways." hyunjin's mouth dropped open. he was racking his brain for proof this was happening. would he have to pinch himself? there was no way someone like you would have feelings for a person like him.

"can you elaborate on that? i know you're not really yourself right now...but please." he pleaded, steadying you my placing a firm grip on your shoulders.

"i've been a little in love with you since that night we um...slept together but didn't." you giggled. "you're so perfect though, but you're so oblivious...how can i show you i truly care?"

and then out of nowhere, you placed a hand on his cheek, kissing him. the kiss was sweet and soft, but filled with all the love and emotion your drunken self could muster. hyunjin had to admit, he liked it, but he was a sensible man. he pushed you off him.

"yn, no. we'll cover this in the morning. it was really a beautiful kiss, but you're not yourself right now, and if i possibly am in love with you back, i'm not going to do anything until you're not under the influence." he helped you up, acting as a crutch for you to walk safely back to your room. he hoisted you onto your bed to the best of his abilities, where you were out the minute your head touched the pillow. he took a second to stare longingly at your sleeping face before shutting the door.

hyunjin flopped onto the couch, his head in his hands.

you liked him back?

there was no way. hyunjin was horrid, built with flaws and all sort of insecurities that you'd never be able to stand. you had been nothing short of kind to him, but what if he showed you this side he'd been so ready to conceal, and you looked at him with disgust and contempt? he'd never be able to bear it. so he prayed you'd wake up and feel the same way you did drunk.

you woke up with a raging headache and a raging feeling of dread pooling in the pits of your stomach. something wasn't right. you knew you'd been drunk the night before, but trying to look back on it was impossible. it was like a haze.

when you opened the bedroom door, hyunjin was sitting there. he gave you a crooked smile.

"i made you breakfast and got you a coffee from the coffee shop, in case you felt super hung over. once you're feeling up to it, can we talk about something?" his words made you want to violently hurl. you most likely said some vulgar thing while drunk, and he didn't feel comfortable being around you. however, you were going to face it and atone. you didn't want to lose hyunjin.

you carefully sat down beside him, your legs crossed.

"okay." he began. "this is going to be very awkward, so bear with me. last night, while you were...tipsy...you sort of confessed your feelings to me? it wasn't very direct, but you did kiss me really romantically, so please be upfront about your feelings. if they're there, they're there. if they're not, they're not."

your face burned. god, why did you make the decision to even get drunk?

"they're there. i've liked you since we met, but it didn't feel romantic until that day when you painted me. since then, i've been a hopeless mess of myself, a puddle, basically. i didn't want to make our friendship weird or anything because you've been nothing short of amazing to me..."

hyunjin interrupted you, a sigh of relief leaving his lips, much to your confusion.

"that's so good to hear. for fuck's sake, if i overthought one more of our interactions i think i was gonna burst." he took your hands in his. "i've been in love with you since we met. i know love at first sight only happens in the books and movies, but i feel like fate brought us together. i feel like i was made to be by your side. i've grown so accustomed to your presence and beauty that i don't think i can live without it anymore. i love very strongly, and sometimes that may be too much to bear, but i swear, if you choose me, i will worship the ground you walk on. you have blessed my life, yn. my mind, my body, and my soul. all drunk off the high that is the very essence of your spirit."

and then he hugged you.

it wasn't tight, like he was scared he'd lose you. it was soft and warm, gentle as his arms encircled around you. you rested your head upon his chest.

"so...are we at a mutual agreement?" you asked, breaking the silence awkwardly. hyunjin looked at you, before erupting into a soft giggle, his lips curling into a warm smile. "hey! i wanna know...what are we?"

"soulmates, i guess?" hyunjin suggested. and you smiled at him, brushing a stray hair out of his face. "we're not super official yet, so let's start with that."

the dreaded day arrived when you had to leave the home you'd known for the last month. you wanted to stay longer, but you knew you had a life outside of this euphoria. however, you wouldn't be facing it alone anymore. now, you had a boyfriend who was a drama queen and a force to be reckoned with. he'd support you in anything you did.

you stood outside the house with him, his arm wrapped languidly around your waist as you gripped the handle of your suitcase.

"i'll miss this place. there's so many memories here. it's our sacred spot." you murmured sentimentally. he laughed gently, kissing your cheek.

"i know, but we can always come back another time. who knows? maybe we'll buy a place together in this area." hyunjin suggested. after seeing your facial response to that, he grinned sheepishly. "too early?"

you shook your head, giggling. hyunjin gently grabbed your chin, lifting it up a bit so he could see your face better.

"sweetheart, your lip is bleeding." he murmured gently, moving closer to inspect it. "did you notice?"

you shook your head.

"well, i'm not a doctor, but my mother taught me if something gets hurt you should always kiss it better." and he leaned in to softly presss his lips to yours, each movement filled with passion.

it was so funny to you, how you'd came into this situation thinking this trip would change your life for the better, and instead you got something even better.

it must have been a blessing by the gods, granting you this lovely new beginning.

taglist: @darkypooo , @hyunbae-35 , @backintomykpopphaseagain , @stateofdelicategrace , @elizaschuyler18 , @lillithathecat , @imastraykidsfan , @nightimescapes , @mal-lunar-28

@evermourning, ©2023. all rights reserved.

[midnightscramble]

Hey, I know this is probably rude to ask, but I'm a sucker for Portia Featherington. Is there any chance you are to write for her again sometime soon?

Lord Featherington Must Die Part 1 (Portia Featherington x fem!Reader)

Part 1, Part 2

The Masterlist

Author's Note: Not rude at all to ask! I promise this is a romance, stick with it and see how it develops. For those who are wondering, the title is in reference to the movie John Tucker Must Die. If it is not to your liking, ask for something else (don't be shy!). Happy readings to you.

Summary: Taking place the season before the Featherington daughters enter the marriage mart. Lord Featherington not so discreetly tries to pursue another woman, inviting her on the family's off season trip to be his eldest daughter's companion. Portia is less than pleased with these events.

Warnings: hurt no real comfort, attempted one-sided cheating, marital issues, domestic violence (a glass is thrown but does not make contact)

Poised, proper, and cool under pressure. That is the mantra Portia Featherington had been raised on, a mantra which would die with her given that all her daughters' had some strain of social ineptness. She was relieved the season had ended, as she could at least take the time to try to train her daughters before their own seasons would be thrust upon them. Archibald Featherington's complete lack of interest in the girls worsened the situation, leaving her to be the only corrector of bad habits. Perhaps once the bustle of the city was far from them, he would participate in raising his children. Not that he had during any other off-season, but still, Portia hoped.

As she organized with Varley what the girls would need for the trip, Penelope approached her tentatively, "Mother, I would like a moment to speak with you." Portia quickly glanced up from the packing list, giving her daughter silent permission to continue. "Lady Bridgerton has invited me to spend autumn and winter at their country estate. I would be Eloise's companion." Portia was taken aback momentarily and her focus settled on Penelope.

Almost all of the Bridgerton sons were unwed and of age, so sending her youngest daughter to them could be an advantage come next season. "What a delightful offer. You may accept on the condition that Phillipa and Varley will go with you as your chaperones. Do be sure to thank Lady Bridgerton for her kindness." Penelope squealed in excitement, and in an uncharacteristic display of affection, rushed to hug her mother. Stumbling slightly, Portia enjoyed the rare moment and held her tightly. Her youngest daughter and she usually elected to forgo familial pleasantries such as hugging, a pattern which Portia wanted to break but did not have a single inclination as to how to go about it.

"Thank you, Mother. I promise to write to you every week!" Penelope broke from her arms and hurried through the house, no doubt rushing to the Bridgerton estate to call upon Eloise. Portia stood by the window to make sure she crossed the road safely, tracking her daughter until she made it to the front door. Before she could walk away, she noticed Prudence and Miss Y/n walking on the other side of the street, with Lord Featherington trailing behind them.

Miss Y/n Y/l/n was a new addition to Prudence's social circle, and a rather beautiful one at that. She had advised her daughter to only spend time with the young woman during the off-season. It would not do her well to stand next to someone so radiant at social gatherings, and would only serve to make Prudence invisible to eligible suitors. However, it would also be important to befriend her. Young women tend to favor platonic attachments, making them less likely to steal dance partners from those they are loyal to. If Prudence could gain Miss Y/n's loyalty now, then the woman would pose no threat when Prudence makes her entrance into society. Despite being titleless, the young woman was to be an heiress to her last living relative, a distant cousin. Which made her quite suitable company for Prudence. Portia found herself wondering what the two women talked about, her daughter was not known for being entertaining, so whatever they were laughing at must be on account of Miss Y/l/n’s cleverness. She broke away from the window and returned to her spot next to Varley, continuing their discussion on what to bring.

Moments later, she heard the familiar sound of heeled slippers bounding up the staircase to the study. Prudence entered the room excitedly, with her arm entwined in Miss Y/l/n’s, “MaMa, Brilliant news! Father has arranged with Lord Y/l/n for us to take Y/n to the country with us!” The redhead clung onto her new friend, rocking back and forth on her heels with pure giddiness. Miss Y/l/n smiled at the matriarch, “If it would please you, my Lady, I would love to be Prudence’s travel companion. My cousin has approved the impromptu trip and is willing to provide the necessary funds for any accommodations you would have to make.” Portia looked over Miss Y/l/n’s shoulder, and saw her husband leaning against the door frame with the slouched posture of a commoner. He looked over the room cooly, feigning disinterest. 

Before Portia could respond, her husband interjected, “It would please our family greatly, Miss Y/l/n. I suggest that Prudence accompany you back to the Y/l/n estate and direct your maid in organizing your luggage.” He approached the girls and took each one’s hand in his own, guiding them out of the room, “I’ll have a carriage drawn for you.” Portia did not miss how Archibald’s touch seemed to linger on Miss Y/l/n’s skin, nor how his fingers danced at the edge of her sleeve, discreetly moving the fabric aside to touch her delicate wrist. Portia’s eyes twitched, already theorizing as to what her husband’s intentions were by inviting the young woman on their trip. 

With a clipped tone, Portia looked at her maid, “Varley, leave us.” The older woman nodded politely and took her leave, making sure to close the study door to ensure the couple their privacy. Running her tongue across her teeth, she seethed, “I understand that these trips are trying for you, but can you not just visit a house of sin in the country? As you usually do.”

He walked to the desk and poured himself three fingers of whisky, “I have not the faintest idea of which you speak.” He took a long sip, pointedly looking at his wife, “It should be good for Prudence, to have a travel companion.” Portia threw her hands up at the dismissal. She hated this game, where he played the fool and she played the hag. He would never admit to any wrong doings, always denying or having some excuse, making it impossible to truly condemn him. She did not relish arguing with him, and more often than not she preferred to expel her suspicions from her mind, hoping that he was as honest as he claimed to be. At the end of the day, Portia wanted her husband to be loyal, so much so that she would accept his half cooked bluffs as undeniable truths. Perhaps, if she could make herself believe it, it would become true.

She crossed the room, and came to rest a hand upon his chest, “I was hoping that you and I would spend quality time together…” She watched as his eyes fled across the room, silently begging for them to meet her own. 

He sniffed and raised his brows, considering her words, “We will, and in order for that to happen, Prudence must be entertained.” Portia moved closer in his arms, resting her forehead on his shoulder. She could put her suspicions aside for now and choose to believe Archibald, it would make the trip much more pleasant for the both of them. He felt her nod into his shoulder and ducked his head to come closer to hers. For a moment, Portia’s breath caught. It was not often that he spared her such affections. She let her eyes close and tilted her head up, allowing him greater access to her lips. When she felt the imprint of his cracked lips on her forehead, she chided herself for thinking after all these years, he would suddenly grow warmer. She supposed that this trip would force them into close proximity, and perhaps rekindle the spark they had felt when they first married. But if that were to happen, she would need to keep a close eye on Miss Y/l/n.

…

Arriving back to the house with footmen holding Miss Y/n’s luggage, Prudence and her friend began discussing the activities they would partake in upon arrival, “I must show you the lake, it reflects an emerald green around sunset, quite the sight.” The young woman pushed the redhead in a playful manner, “So you can push me in? I think I shall skip your ‘tour’ of the lake.” Prudence snorted and immediately covered her mouth as the undignified noise met her ears. A second carriage arrived in front of the estate, confusing the women. 

“Are the bags being taken separately?” Prudence questioned the coachman. 

“No, Miss Prudence. Lady Featherington and Miss Y/n will be traveling in one, and you and the Lord Featherington in another. Your mother does not want to strain the horses on such a long, cumbersome journey.” Prudence nodded in understanding. She would have argued with her mother about being separated from Y/n, however it was perfectly reasonable for each of the young women to be paired with a chaperone. It would not be acceptable for two young, unwed women to be stranded with footmen, should something happen. 

Portia emerged from around the corner, with her husband hot on her trail, seemingly trying to dissuade her of something, “It is unnecessary, we do not need to travel separately.” Ignoring him entirely she joined the young women, “Shall we?” She motioned to the carriages and took Miss Y/l/n’s arm, beginning a very quick stride. 

Once settled in the carriage, Portia examined the woman across from her. Even if Archibald was telling the truth, she knew that men were weak when it came to the fairer sex, which is why she was determined to keep Miss Y/n within her line of sight whenever possible and thus out of her husband’s reach. Knowing that if her silent stare went on any longer, her company would surely misconstrued it to be intimidation, the Lady tried to start a conversation, “So, Prudence tells me that you study art?” She tilted her head slightly to convey her faux interest.

“I do. I find the Roman works fascinating-” Portia interrupted her, “It will do you no good to focus on such hobbies, a future suitor may find it off putting, Miss Y/l/n.” A young woman with as much potential as Miss Y/l/n would obviously be educated in all sorts of cultural topics, however, Portia thought she should have enough etiquette to not flex her knowledge. 

“Well, I do not intend to marry so the opinion of this hypothetical suitor is not of concern to me.”

Portia stared at her with wide, owlish eyes, “What woman does not wish to marry?” Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. Given that Miss Y/l/n would be an heiress, the only thing she could want for now would be a title, something only a husband could award her. This revelation was truly shocking for the Lady.

“I have no reason to. At this point, a husband would only prove to be a headache.” Miss Y/l/n gave her a tight lipped smile, hoping the display would soften the ill-mannered statement.

“You do not care for titles?” Portia tried to reason. Miss Y/l/n laughed cheekily, making the Lady agitated, “I do not care for the accompanying responsibilities of a marriage.”

Portia hummed, thinking she had figured the woman out, “You do not wish for children.” Miss Y/l/n’s smile dropped and she looked at her coldly, making the redhead shiver. “I do not possess the ability to have children. In my youth, my parents and I were in an accident. In the doctor’s haste to cure me, they removed the vital organs.” Portia sat quietly, reflecting on Miss Y/l/n’s words. From gossip, she knew that Miss Y/l/n had mourned her parents after the tragic accident, however, she did not know of the accompanying loss. Within the span of a few days, she had not only lost her past but her future. Uncomfortable with her prior bluntness, Portia apologized, “My condolences, Miss Y/l/n. I hope I did not cause any harm by asking.” 

Waving a hand dismissively, the heiress murmured as her attention was turned toward the window, “It would not be fair, to condemn a Lord to marriage despite not being able to give him an heir. Besides, it is all in the past. … You do not have to call me that. Y/l/n is my dear cousin’s last name. Ever since I came under his guardianship, it has been bestowed upon me… However, I would prefer you call me Y/n.” 

Portia licked her lips, slightly eager to please the woman after bridging up such an uncomfortable topic, “Thank you, Y/n.” The young woman gently took the Lady’s hand in her own, letting her know that all was well between the two of them. The heavy firmness of her hold distracted Portia, briefly alleviating her of any and all coherent thought. Y/n retracted her hands and rested them politely in her lap, leaving the Lady feeling a slight loss. 

They sat in silence for the rest of the journey, each consumed by their own thoughts. Portia worried herself with the details of the trip, recounting all that had been packed. While Y/n tried desperately to look forward to her escape from the city.

…

By the time they had arrived at the country home, the moon stood proudly above the rolling hills. They trudged out of the carriages and into the home. An array of finger sandwiches had been left out by the staff and Y/n used her handkerchief to gather some before her and Prudence went up to their rooms. Prudence led Y/n to her room in the west wing, and then journeyed to her own in the north. 

Archibald made no commentary as he walked past his wife and up the stairs. She followed closely behind him, unsure if he was going to bed or to the parlor. She hoped for the latter, as she had made a request that the master bedroom be prepped for the both of them, rather than have their own separate rooms. He would be much more passive to the arrangement if he had a drink or two before, and to Portia’s relief he took a left towards the parlor. He stripped off his coat and left it hanging over the back of the couch before he mixed himself a drink at the bar. 

He hummed in contentment and pressed the glass into his wife’s palm, offering her a sip. She did love these yearly vacations, the weather seemed to relax Archibald and he was always elated after the seasonal return on his investments. His agreeableness and lack of responsibility allowed them to enjoy each other’s company in the country’s splendor. She took a mock sip, not fond of his choice of gin, but not wanting to reject his kind offer. Archibald crossed the room and picked out a book from one of the many shelves full of them, “I am going to retire for the evening.”

Portia clung tightly to the drink and she flashed him a furtive smile, “Then we shall retire.” He looked at her warily, unaware that the master bedroom had been made up for the two of them. She followed him through the halls and his shoulders tensed in agitation. He sent her a grim look over his shoulder, and she widened her eyes to appear innocent. The Lord sucked on his tongue, displeased with her shallow gambit of obliviousness. He knew very well what she wanted and was not in the mood. The Lord tightened his grip on the book.

Upon arriving at the room he quickly noticed that her trunks had been deposited near the armoire, and he spun on his feet to address the issue, “It seems they have made a mistake. I shall send for someone to correct it.” She put a gentle hand to his chest to stop him from leaving the room. He halted and drew away from her, off put by what he interpreted as smothering. 

“There was no mistake, I asked for my things to be brought here.” The Lady curled her lips up, in a manner which he used to find seductive, however now instead of inspiring lust, it only inspired aggravation. 

Turning away from her, he sighed and tossed the book on the bed, which landed with a heavy thud due to the force. Archibald rested a hand on the nightstand, he slouched as he took a deep breath. Heat rose to his ears as he spoke sharply, “I will have your things moved to the west wing. The guest bedroom is just as large, you shall find it to your liking.”

She moved closer, softly pleading, “Archie,” He turned towards her, snatching the glass from her hands. She flinched at his abruptness but found herself frozen as she watched him raise the glass. Within milliseconds, the remaining liquid in it had sloshed out the sides as his arm drew back towards his head. His knuckles were white as he exerted pressure on the glass, and she couldn’t tell where he was aiming once it had left his finger tips. Blood rushed in her ears as she felt the air move by the side of her head. By centimeters, the glass had missed her. Portia remained in her position, despite the sound of shattering glass calling to her attention. Spit flung out of his mouth, “Dammit woman! Are you incapable of listening? Shall I repeat myself?”

Portia shook her head softly, feeling her nose sting as fear crept up her spine and made her eyes dewy. She rushed to the door and left it open in her hurry to leave. She strode down the hall to the opposing wing, not slowing till she heard the master bedroom door being slammed shut. She moved her jaw side to side, determined not to cry over another one of his temperamental outbursts. Portia reasoned with herself that the stress of the journey had made him tired and irritable. Sighing she entered the guest bedroom, cursing herself for pushing him to this. Sleeping in a slip rather than a nightgown bothered Portia. However, she knew by returning to Archibald, even just to retrieve some clothing from her trunk, she would be putting herself in the path of his wrath. Slightly irked, she folded back the comforter of the bed and slipped beneath the cotton sheets. It would surprise the average Lady of the Ton, how easily Portia slept after such an unsavory argument with her husband, but with great practice comes great ease. 

…

Morning came all too quickly for the weary travelers. Portia had slept through breakfast, and when she finally awoke she found a tray of pastries and fruit at the foot of her door. She brought it inside and ate on the balcony. The guest room was pleasant, spacious, and had a lovely view of the landscape. From her spot on the balcony, she could see Prudence and Y/n walking down to the lake on the property. It always perplexed her as to why Prudence enjoyed frequenting it when she had no interest in learning how to swim. Portia was a keen swimmer, and rather enjoyed submerging herself in the estate’s shimmering body of water, while the rest of the family seemed to favor simply looking upon it. She would have to find time to slip away and enjoy the advantages of nature. 

From beneath her, she heard the door to the terrace open. Cigar smoke rose in the air, making her nose twitch. She watched as her husband took long strides toward one of the many benches scattered along the path. With a newspaper beneath his arm and cigar in hand, he triumphantly took a seat, completely unaware of his observer. He opened the newspaper as though he were covering his face, and turned his head down the path. Portia followed his line of sight and realized Archibald, much like herself, was keeping an eye on what he felt entitled to. Y/n and Prudence laughed jovially, flicking water at each other with their finger tips. Portia wished she could enjoy the scene, however her husband’s enjoyment spoiled her own.  

She figured it would soon be time for lunch, and she did not want the Lord to become accustomed to her absence at meals. Nor did she want him to become accustomed to Y/n’s presence. Portia did not blame the girl, not in any meaningful way. However, Miss Y/n was proving to be an obstacle in obtaining her husband’s attention. She also could not blame her simple husband. If she were a man, Portia would surely pursue the young woman. Y/n was captivating, she moved with grace and was charming in conversation. The fact that the heiress was utterly uninterested in having a romantic life bothered Portia, when really, it should have relieved her for her husband and daughter’s sake. She would not pose a threat to Prudence during the social season, nor to herself in rescuing her marriage to Archibald. Still, the piece of information felt incorrect to Portia. How could eyes, that were so enigmatic in the way they reflected light, not want to gaze softly into those of a lover? How could hands, ever gentle yet firm in the way they clasped her own in the carriage, not want to hold the hands of a betrothed? It seemed like a cruel joke, for a body to be so obviously built for romance, yet be condemned to a life as a spinster. 

The Lord coughed, choking on the smoke from his cigar, drawing Portia out of her thoughts. She cringed internally at the sound. One thing that she could never overcome was his unseemly noises. She truly despised the sounds he made when he cleared his phlegmy throat. Dining with him was a task all on its own, given how he chewed like a cow and scraped his fork against the plate after every bite. There were times during her pregnancy with Penelope where Portia would have sworn on her mother’s grave that she could hear Archibald’s snoring from down the hall, forcing her to move to an entirely different floor for the night. Although. when he was awake and stationary, she found him far more tolerable, even amusing. She wondered if all Ladies had such difficulties. 

Strangely, his coughing did not cease. He continued to hack, and used the newspaper to catch his spittle. She watched with apprehension as his cheeks became an unnatural shade of crimson, not entirely sure what to do. He recovered himself and took large gulps of air, and Portia released a breath she did not know she was holding. He began to stand and Portia quickly ducked back into her room, not wanting the man to know she was spying on him. Busying herself, she pulled the servant bell. It was time for her to leave the comfort of the guest room and remind her husband that he has a wife who is in need of tending to.

[humblemooncat]

Aether / Dynamis

I've decided I'm going to do these posts by Data Center as I finish running through them. So, I present to you, our first (two) data centers!

Seeing as both had a smaller amount of addresses, I've combined them!

@tristanneffxiv - Aether, Adamantoise | Goblet W19, P34

My first visit of the day was to the Allied Tribes Embassy, curated by @tristanneffxiv!

May I just say, this was a STUNNING homage to our beast tribe pals? The little displays in the basement were perfectly-made to reflect each one's vibe and location, and the BGM of the estate really tied it all together!

I highly recommend giving this place a visit! Especially if you've sunk time and energy into the beast tribes! It pays tribute to each down to even the paintings on the walls!

Just mind the back office. There's something... fishy going on in there.

@alkonosts - Dynamis, Halicarnassus | Lavender Beds W19, P19

My next visit was to @alkonosts' lovely home!

It was such a nice, vibrant cottage! Well-decorated and very cozy! The bed in the lower floor was beautifully framed by the windows, so I had to take a pose on it. <3

Also, amazing music choice! I had to stick around to see what it was that was playing when I first walked in! Needless to say I'll be getting my hands on that orchestrion roll real soon!

@crowdsourcedloner - Dynamis, Marilith | Mist W21, P59

I was absolutely FLOORED by the layout of this home. Not only is the yard very well-manicured and beautifully decorated, but the interior is like walking into a fairytale witch's cottage!

It was a very enchanting interior, and I adored how you decorated the space! It was small, but very cozy. And the BGM lends itself very well to round out the ambience!

Very much worth stopping in if you're in the area!

@kannedia - Dynamis, Seraph | Mist W2, Topmast Wing 1, Apt 58

I was told this apartment was decorated to emulate a staff room turned living space in the Great Gubal Library, and I feel they nailed it!

It has that feel of a transformed space, taking from the aesthetic of the Library, and adding a cozy, homely feeling to each room. The little study was one of my favorites, with the maps and other pages along the walls.

@rydiathesummoner - Dynamis, Seraph | Mist W19 P19

I swear, the number 19 is haunting me today...

This was a VERY cute beach home! Very bright, and very BLUE!

And hidden beneath the cute decor is a fun little game! Can you find all the hidden plushies?

I believe I found them all! Do mind the bedroom closet though, there's something lurking in the shadows...

The BGM was also very fun to listen to as I ran to and fro looking around! I also may have found the hidden Raha. We love to see it.

Cute, fun, and overall a lovely place to visit! <3

And with those posted, I'm off to Crystal! See you soon! o/

[pfffsfic]

Post-Fall Falls False Starts- Chapter 9: Double-O-Vision

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

"So, you said it's a small town, right?"

Rob stared up at the clouds from his vantage point on the ground. Last night, he had woken up screaming after several consecutive night terrors. Sarah was enthusiastic about the chance that he was being haunted after she was awoken by the first scream, but the second and third were more frustrating to her than anything. Eventually, Rob had managed to lift his pillow-shaped rock and had taken it to the small waterfall not too far from camp so that he wouldn't be able to accidentally wake her up anymore. Sarah didn't have the heart to tell him that he was so loud he had done so a few more times anyways.

The repeated bouts of laying awake in the darkness had given both of them plenty of time to come up with their own game plans for the day.

"Right," replied Sarah, nodding.

"But you said there's a shopping mall here."

"To be fair, it's not a super huge one."

"Who builds a shopping mall in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere?"

"Look, the show didn't get into the history of local real estate development, okay?"

He let out a sigh and rolled over onto his side. Despite the sunlight, sleep seemed ready to claim him at any moment, but every time his eyelid started to fall, an image from one of the nightmares popped into his head, and suddenly he was wide awake and energetic again.

"I guess we'll have the rest of our lives to figure it out," he said.

"The rest of our lives? What's that supposed to mean?"

Rob's mind was racing, and not just because of the sleep deprivation. Did she not realize that-

"We're not going back to Elmore," he said.

She sat up and turned to him- he wasn't looking, but he could tell by the sound effects and ominous music cue. She laughed nervously.

"Sure we are!"

"Oh yeah? Well, tell me how you plan to get us back, then." He crossed his arms and curled his knees up to his chest.

"Via the Awesome Store."

"What, do you have his number?"

"No, but if he comes back-"

"If he comes back, there's no way he's gonna stumble on us by chance! Besides, why on earth would he even look for us?"

"I think there's at least one reason," Sarah said, and then promptly changed the subject. "Anyways, you have an electronics store to rob, Rob! Have you ever robbed anyone before? 'Cause, you know, your name, and all?"

"Rob's a common name."

"I know! But if this is your first time robbing someone-"

"It's not."

"Oh. All the better! As I was saying, you have an electronics store to- ahem- steal from. Thankfully, there's a whole TV display in the front window, so it shouldn't be an issue. No need to even go inside! Just, wham!" she mimed smashing a plane of glass with a crowbar- "Break in, get it, get out."

"You said I also need a generator. And something to put the DVD into."

"Oh yeah. Well, hopefully once you break in everybody inside will either run screaming or pass out and then you don't have to worry about dealing with them."

"What if they call the cops?"

"They probably won't because you're so freaky-looking, and if they do, you could take those guys with one hand behind your back. As long as you're immune to getting tased."

"...I'm not!"

"No?"

"What gave you the idea I was?"

"Hmm. That's a good question, actually. I guess I just figured you were some sort of cyborg."

"A cyborg? I don't even look anything like a-" he groaned- "Never mind. So you're saying the cops will tase me? Why can't you come help me do this? You're sort of throwing me to the wolves here!"

"They're not wolves, they're people. We're literally in the middle of the forest right now. I bet there are wolves everywhere! One could be behind you and you wouldn't even know it! Maybe even mutant wolves, or wolves that have their heads on backwards and speak in code, or- you get the idea. Any one of those could be behind you."

Rob scoffed dismissively but rolled onto his back nonetheless.

"If you get arrested," Sarah continued, "you can just dig your way out with a spoon."

"Where am I getting a spoon from?"

"Good point."

After a long and awkward stretch of silence, Rob said 'welp', slapped his knee, flinched at the pain, mentally beat himself up for flinching at his own slap, flinched at the pain from mentally beating himself up, and stormed out of the forest in a huff when he realized he had to take action to avoid an infinite loop. Sarah followed him to the edge of the trees to hand him his crowbar like a concerned mother whose son forgot his lunch box on the first day of school. He didn't thank her. Five minutes into town, he realized he never got an answer to the question of why Sarah was making him do this alone, but it was too late to go back. Not really- he had all day- but it was the principle of the thing. Had he dwelled on that thought for longer, maybe he would have realized it didn't make any sense, but he was too occupied with finding the shopping mall to do that. It couldn't be too hard; after all, this was a small town!

-

Sarah read through the back cover of her DVD yet again. It was significantly less fun than rewatching the show.

Just a few minutes south of Rob's campsite was another clearing where the mud was soft and a big stick was propped against a rock; Sarah had made this place her canvas. The apocalypse had allowed her to tap into her destructive instincts, which she had discovered were almost as potent as her creative ones and just as enjoyable to use, but that didn't mean she could go a day without at least doodling something or having an elaborate daydream. The thing about drawing in the dirt with a stick was that the final product never quite looked good enough.

She drew a little heart on the ground with her finger and put an S in it, for Sarah. Just as she was about to complete it with two more initials, she glanced over at the dozen or so other identical hearts she had drawn recently, and wondered for a moment if she was perhaps getting in a rut. What if the van never returned and she was stuck here and she never got to see their faces ever again and she forgot what they looked like? On one hand, that could totally be a setup for, like, a heartbreaking reunion plot. On the other, it could be the end, assuming this was a tragedy. Was it even possible to forget them? She remembered every detail... right now. But brains were fallible. Would love protect her, or would it be a moral about how love never truly protects anyone from the inevitable marching forth of time? She sighed. Sarah was used to sighing for theatrical purposes, but now there was nobody to fool except herself. 'I am just that committed', she thought, and that cheered her up a bit- so much so that she never even considered that the negative emotions behind the sigh could have been real.

Part of her felt guilty for wasting time. She hadn't come here for the trees and occasional monsters, she had come here for the people, and also demons. Mostly demons- actually, mostly demon, singular. But that didn't mean the idea of interacting with some of the others didn't excite her. She couldn't just barge into their lives, though! She wasn't human! That had never ever mattered before.

'At least it won't matter once I'm back in Elmore', she thought.

'We're not going back to Elmore', said Rob in her head.

"Oh, Rob," she said, rolling her eyes, smiling half-heartedly, and speaking out loud to someone who wasn't there. Nobody answered. There weren't even any monsters listening in? C'mon.

Sarah leaned back, closed her eyes, and counted sheep versions of her friends and classmates until the world fell away and she began to dream.

-

By what was either a normal consequence of life in a small town or some arcane miracle, Rob had arrived in front of the television display without seeing hide or hair of a single local human. That said, he had been looking down at his feet for most of the walk there, so maybe there had been some around.

Standing in front of the display case with the TVs made everything feel so real. Rob knew that it wasn't, of course, and yet some days that seemed like a distant, irrelevant fact. This was one of those days. He knew that bashing the glass in was his purpose at the moment, and yet it was so peaceful that doing so seemed a shame, even though reality was nothing more than a simulacrum created for the amusement of a media-hungry modern audience and none of it really mattered anyway because the heat death of the universe would someday render fiction entirely irrelevant. When that day came, would he die, or would he not even know that it happened? Sheesh...

He blinked and found that his head had slumped forward against the glass in the time that it took for him to think all of that. Boy, was he tired. He could lay down right here and- no!

He gave the glass a hard whack with the crowbar before he had the mental presence to stop himself. It bounced off with a clang that rang out like a tuning fork. Oh no- he'd need to do it again? He did it again, weaker this time, and the glass still didn't break. This was more difficult than anticipated. If someone saw this, they would laugh at him... no, wait, they'd probably call the cops. And then he'd get tased-

With a frustrated grunt, he swung harder and the glass splintered.

All it took was a light additional tap for the fruits of his mission to be fully exposed, and then he reached through the hole in the glass to grab one and three facts immediately set in, stymieing the evil, triumphant laugh in his throat before it could come out of his mouth:

1. The TVs were heavy,

2. He still needed to fetch a DVD player, a remote, and a generator,

3. There were people in the store-

4. And those people were looking at him!

As he took one frozen step back, he met the left eye of the silent, awed clerk behind the counter and thought, 'they're more scared of me than I am of them'. He had to believe that for this to work. He had to. With all the confidence he could muster, he shoved his anxiety deep down inside, stepped through the broken glass, maneuvered around the stack of TVs, left the display case, and put up finger guns at the clerk as if he was robbing a bank.

"This is a hold-up," he said, and it sounded cooler in his head. The clerk's hands went up. "Everybody on the floor!"

The two other customers in the store cowered behind a rack of phone chargers, one of them slumping down. The clerk promptly passed out. Either way, everybody was on the floor. Then, to Rob's horror, one of the customers- the one who hadn't slumped over- produced a cell phone from his pocket. Rob stepped towards him and aimed his 'guns' in the terrified man's face. The phone came on, and...

"Oh no, my battery's dead!" said the man as a red 'charge' symbol appeared on the screen.

Rob sighed in relief- and then both he and the man noticed the rack of phone chargers. Rob stepped forward, prepared to take the phone and crush it if need be, when the man's face fell once again.

"Wait, looks like they don't have anything that fits my old model."

Rob shook his head, feeling less like an intimidating bank robber and more like the world's luckiest petty thief.

"Uh, I suggest you pass out, man," Rob said, rubbing his own arm.

The guy obliged. Well, he tried to look like he was passed out, at least, but that was good enough.

It only took a few minutes to get a TV, an emergency generator (from the back), and a DVD player, load them onto a wheeled storage cart, and get out of Dodge with time to spare before the two genuinely-unconscious people woke up. That had been surprisingly easy! An unsettling feeling that he was being watched crept over him as he made his away from the electronics store, but it dissipated after just a few minutes of walking. Surely just another effect of the sleep deprivation. How many effects did sleep deprivation have, anyway?

-

Sarah took a sip of her milkshake. It didn't taste like anything, but that was fine since this was a dream. It was a dream, right? Okay, yeah, there was some sort of sky whale floating nearby and she was sitting on a giant toadstool in the middle of the mall. It was definitely a dream. But not a nightmare- not the sort of dream that would be thrust upon you as a punishment by a malevolent entity with an ulterior motive. This was the sort of dream she had most nights.

"He's not here," she mused, looking up into the eyes of her date, who looked at different moments like different boys she knew, most often two of them in particular.

"But I'm here, sweetie," he said, and tried to lean in for a kiss, but he turned to soapy water and spilled all over the floor before he could make contact with her. That was slightly weird, but not 'wake up screaming' weird. She got up and wandered through the dreamscape, feeling like a paper doll in a pool full of molasses as her legs refused to move any faster than slow motion.

"Hello?" she called. "You there? You know who you are."

No response. Sarah balled up her fists, puffed out her cheeks, and pinched herself hard on the arm, waking up in her art clearing with a disappointed sigh. It was then that she heard the sound of footsteps and the squeaking of wheels and decided that either this was Rob or some kind of half-wagon half-humanoid monster. Either way, she had to see for herself!

-

When the generator was running and the TV on, Sarah moved a rock in front of the eye of providence she had carved into the tree trunk. Rob found that strange. Whatever this DVD was, Sarah didn't want Bill to see it, which seemed rather counter-intuitive considering her entire goal here.

The two of them had dug a little ditch to sit in for ease of viewing. Sarah reached for the DVD enthusiastically, but her smile dropped off her face when she saw Rob, asleep, sprawled over in the ditch. She reached for his shoulder. He screamed so loud that she fell backwards.

"Another nightmare?" she asked.

"Yeah. This one had lots of stabbing." He let out a noise that sounded somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "Thanks for w-w-waking me up! I think I would have s-shh-screamed in my sleep and kept on going if you hadn't."

His voice had a new wavering quality to it, not quite a stutter but something close.

"Okay, you don't seem ready for a 17-hour binge session..."

He suddenly seemed awake. "17 hours? What the heck is on this DVD of yours?"

Sarah held up the box. Her usual cheery demeanor had mostly faded. Rob read aloud.

"Gravity Falls, the complete series," he said, and then did a double-take. "Gravity Falls the complete series? You have this? Where'd you get it?"

"The Awesome Store."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," said Rob, recalling the VHS tape he had once purchased from the forsaken red van. "But why didn't you tell me? Why would you want to keep this information to yourself? That's-! that's-!"

"Calm down! It's because- ergh. This is gonna sound super skeevy, but it's because I know that after you see what's on there, you're gonna say something like-"

-

"You're telling me you want to mess with that guy? On purpose? That you think of this as some g-game?"

Rob's blood boiled. He wiped his eye, which was wet, probably from the 17 hours of television (interspersed with the occasional bad dream). It didn't help that he had gotten emotional once or twice.

"WHAT ON EARTH IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

Before Sarah could respond, he had stumbled backwards and fallen unconscious once again.

[testingthewatersss]

Where you left me Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture, flashbacks etc. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Chapter 4 4680 words fluff, angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI

You decide that this is definitely permanent

And that’s exactly what they do. For another 4 hours, everything is peaceful. The pair remain nestled under blankets on the newly decorated couch, and for the first time in a long time, Bucky dreams of summer. He dreams of cloudless skies, and warm light on his skin; it’s soothing, and when he finally blinks his eyes open, he’s surprised that the heat he’s been feeling is real, it’s the trailing of Y/N’s fingers up, and down the exposed skin of his forearm. It’s the kiss of her lips on his brow.

“Christ” he whispers, voice cracking from disuse, “Doll, how long have you been up?”

She beams down at him, and flicks a glance at the clock, before shrugging a fraction, and kissing him again.

“bout an hour”

He thinks she looks like an angel. She’s always beautiful, of course, but there’s something about the way she’s smiling at him, with the light from the windows illuminating her features, with a few stray curls hanging loosely in front of her cheeks, that he thinks makes her look ethereal.

“You’re starring” she says cooly, flicking a jovial glance over her shoulder as if she isn’t plainly aware that she is the subject of his admiration, “did I hang somethin’ crooked?”

He humours her with a scoff, before rolling over so he’s poised above her on his elbows.

Her hands drift up, they cup his cheeks almost instantly, and he finds himself blushing, prickling with heat under her examination.

“You look good” Bucky hears her coo, “Really good”

Oh, god.

The praise in her voice is enough to make the warmth in his cheeks become a raging fire, spreading down, straight to his chest, making his heart stammer in response.

“I… I guess sleepin’ suites me.” he forces out awkwardly, averting his eyes with a shy attempt at a smile.

Y/N laughs softly, stroking her thumbs across his temples.

“I don’t know” she says, “I think you’re pretty beautiful when you’re exhausted too, maybe it’s bein’ comfortable that’s a good look on you”

“maybe” he agrees quietly, before ducking his head down lower in a bid to disguise his bashfulness.

She loves they affectionate display, her fingers slip up into his hair as he nuzzles at her throat, earnestly relishing in the contact, and the moment of quiet.

“I’ve gotta talk to Nat” she says suddenly, “do you think she’ll be around?”

Bucky’s head snaps upwards, eyes wide and curious. His expression silences her mid sentence, as she snaps her own head to the side.

“Maybe, doll, whatcha’ need her for?”

“because” she replies, “she’s got the number for that real estate agent that SHEILD use for safe houses-”

The line between his brow deepens, so she lets herself grow quiet again.

Doubt prickles in her chest for moment, when she catches herself, and realises that she hasn’t actually spoken to him about the permanence of this ‘temporary’ visit.

“Sorry… I, uh… We… we should talk things through, I-”

“You’re sorry?” Bucky repeats, genuinely confused, “Y/N/N, what are ya’ talking about?”

“We need to talk, sweetheart, about all this” she says, rubbing her nose against his to try and offset some of the anxiety she suspects this conversation is triggering, “about me staying, Buck- staying-”

“For good?” he cuts in, hope making his voice an octave higher than usual, “or… or have you changed your mind?”

That possibility strikes him like a punch in the ribs. The optimism he’d experienced for a second, when he’d first deciphered her words leaves him instantly, and he finds himself clinging to waist with a little more strength.

He considers apologising for his behaviour, even though he’s not sure what he might have done during the night to have spurred her imminent departure. He considers skipping that step, all together and just flat out pleading with her to stay with him regardless.

“Honey” Y/N says, snapping his attention firmly back to her, “Of course I haven’t changed my mind”

The breath leaves his lungs in a deep, relieved sigh.

“I’ve just been thinkin’” she continues, “I’m not sure I want this to be temporary, and I don’t want to presume, I- I don’t think you want me to go, but-”

“I don’t” Bucky inserts urgently, “I… god, doll… I- I don’t want ya to leave”

Her smile is wide, it’s genuine and beautiful and he can’t stop starring as he waits for her response.

Part of him is still expecting some type of rejection, a gentle shake of her head followed by an explanation of how he’s misunderstood, seems possible, likely, even but all he gets instead is a kiss agains the fingers she’s holding, as she guides them up to her cheek.

“Good” Y/N coos, squeezing his palm “I kinda cleared it with T yesterday, but I should probably get that number, see if I can get the ball rollin’ on at least rentin’ my place out, no point in keepin’ it empty, drawers more attention that way”

Bucky is beaming when she looks at his face again, it’s involuntary, she’s known him long enough to be able to read that, to read that this isn’t one of his deliberate smiles, it’s not a mask, or a tool to distract or assure someone else of his wellbeing, it’s a totally humane response that he’s not even trying to hide, and she thinks, that that makes it all the more beautiful.

She closes her eyes when he kisses her, it’s intense, it’s precious and it’s clear from the sweet noises he makes against her lips that he’s trying his best to tell her something, even though she’s not sure what, exactly that might be.

“I” he murmurs, the second they break apart “I fuckin’ love you”

She laughs beneath him, before pecking at his cheek,

“Glad to hear it, Sarge, since you’re kinda stuck with me”

His heart swells at her voice, it swells at her term of address and again, at the reality of her statement.

She’s staying, she’s not going to up and leave him when she thinks he doesn’t need her anymore.

“What are you smilin’ at?”

“You” Bucky says honestly, “It’s always you”

“I’ll be sure to tell Steve” Y/N snorts playfully, “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to hear-”

“He’s always thrilled” he replies, “Kid’s like a damn Labrador most of the time”

“You sound like Tony” Y/N says, “you been spendin’ too much time in the labs?”

“I don’t go to the labs” Bucky counters, “not without you”

“ I thought you were supposed to go every few weeks?”

Her tone is almost accusing, it makes guilt flare hot and sudden in his cheeks. His gaze drops, heart plummeting.

“Hey” she soothes, running her fingers across his knuckles, “What’s that?”

“I’m sorry” he whispers, voice cracking, “I know that was the plan”

She nods. It had been part of the plan they’d set up a while ago, when he’d first mentioned the pain he often experienced across his metal arm.

Phantom limb syndrome, compromised tendons, un-capped wires and exposed nerves, alongside the reality of having a deep, old scar that had been put through decades of cryogenic freezing had meant that sometimes it wasn’t just nightmares keeping Bucky awake for hours on end.

Y/N had been the first to learn about this, about how sometimes the joint of his shoulder burned just as intensely as it had when he’d first woken up, and realised he didn’t have his own arm anymore.

She’d taken him to Bruce, who’d called Tony, who’d called Steve, who’d sat awkwardly on his right, whilst everyone had discussed the options and eventually decided that monitoring was the best way of creating a plan that wasn’t going to push Bucky too close to the edge.

“It was” she agrees softly, “But the only reason there was a plan in the first place, was to help you- it was yours, baby, you never had to do anything”

He nods, biting his lip.

“Is it still hurtin’ you?” Y/N asks, “Or has it settled?”

She knows it’s unlikely that a sudden recovery is the reason for his avoidance of the medical suites in the tower, but it seems like something worth asking anyway.

“I’m fine…” is his immediate response, the tone in which he says it is so robotic that it takes even him by surprise, Y/N barely has to quirk her brow before he inhales, and re-evaluates his answer, “… It’s not bad right now, it… it comes and goes”

That, is believable, so she nods-

“It’s comin’ more than it’s goin’ lately” he confesses next, “I just couldn’t make myself go up there, Y/N/N… I knew I should- it- it was all set up but, but I- I just couldn’t-”

“I would’ve come with you” she reminds him, “if you’d have asked”

“I know, doll” He offers her a tight lipped smile, “I just, didn’t want to bother ya’”

Her face shifts to something equal parts sad, and understanding, before she guides his cheeks down, so that she can press a gentle kiss against his brow.

“You never bother me” she murmurs against his skin, before reaching up to brush his hair back, with the same kind of tenderness as she had during that night, “I promise.”

The genuinity behind her words silences him. He’s heard it all before, not even just from her, Steve, has spent plenty of time assuring him that he’s not a burden, hell, he’s sure every resident in the tower has told him something similar at one point or another, but he doesn’t think it’s ever hit him with as much force, as this.

“I’ll tell ya…” he whispers, “…when it next flares up”

“Please” Y/N agrees, letting him retreat to the crook of her neck, to the place where he’d spent the majority of the night, “you’ve gotta let me help you, sweetheart”

“I don’t deserve ya” he whispers, “I really don’t, doll- you, you do too much-”

“Stop” she murmurs, feeling the tension building in his upper body, “Baby, I don’t do anythin’… I just, I just love you…”

“That’s plenty”

Y/N chuckles a little at that, before shaking her head and palming at the back of his neck, to try and ease some of the strain from his muscles.

He melts at the contact, every fibre of his being lurching out towards her in an insane rush of affection.

“You gotta promise me somethin’, Y/N/N”

She hums, watching as he curls around her front, to blink at her sweetly from his position against her chest.

“You’ll tell me, if, if I do somethin- or, or if it all gets too much-”

Part of her wants to cut him off, to assure him that he won’t do anything, that it won’t all suddenly become more than she can handle, but there’s something about his expression keeps her silent, with one hand in his, and the other, starting to comb through a tangle of his curls.

“I can’t… I… I couldn’t…” he continues, “I don’t want to be on my own again, I- I don’t think I could live, live without you…”

“Oh, sweetheart…” Y/N whispers, feeling his sheer sincerity, “…please don’t worry about that, you’re never goin’ to be alone again, I promise, I’m not goin’ anywhere”

“If I do somethin’ wrong please just, please just tell me, I- I won’t have meant to-”

“You wont” she’s quick to soothe, “Bucky, we’ve been over this, you’re not goin’ to do anythin-”

“Please” he insists, “Just, just promise you’ll- you’ll give me a chance to- to put it right, if I- If I-”

“Alright” Y/N agrees, sensing his increasing desperation, “Alright, I promise, baby, I- I promise”

He blinks at her, shocked but grateful for her assurances, before nodding shakily, and inhaling deeply through his nose.

“Can you promise me something, too?” she asks carefully, watching the way he’s staring up at her from his position.

He nods again, even though he doesn’t know exactly what she’s asking for.

“You’ve gotta keep trying to let me in” she begins, “You’ve gotta tell me, when something’s botherin’ you, tell me, when you need somethin’, baby, you don’t have to pretend you’re alright when you’re not.”

“I… I’m scared, doll” he admits, “It’s… It’s like I said yesterday, I— I don’t want you to see what a mess I am-”

“I know, and I know you didn’t have a choice for a long time, I know you’re not used to opening up, and I know that terrifies you, but you’ve gotta try, you’ve gotta try and trust me-”

“I do” Bucky cuts in, “I do trust you, Y/N/N, more, more than I’ve ever trusted anyone, ‘cept maybe Steve,- it’s, it’s just a hard habit to break..”

The woman who he’s settled on nods, understanding, and gives his palm a comforting squeeze.

“But, I’ll try” he tells her, “I promise, I’ll try and get better about sayin’ somethin’, it- it’s easier for me, to, to let that guard down with you… you always seem t’know when something’s wrong anyway”

Y/N smiles at that, bringing their entwined fingers up to her lips, so that she can press a kiss against his knuckles. Her eyes drift down, to the soft fabric of the sweater he’s wearing, she smoothes it down across his chest,

“You asked me if you can keep it” she says, “Durin’ the night, do’ya remember?”

Bucky ducks his head, bashful, as a soft noise of agreement leaves the base of his throat.

“Guess I can’t believe my luck”

The scoff she gives him is gentle, it’s affectionate and airy, and it makes the heat start to dissipate from his cheeks.

“It’s just a jumper, sweetheart”

“Not to me” he counters, meeting her eyes again, “I… I didn’t have things, before, doll, and I- I never put much stock in buyin’ stuff when I got out- I, I took what I was given and was grateful, I don’t think I could ever tell ya’ how much it means to me, the room, and, and the clothes-”

“You’re a sap, Barnes” Y/N teases, kissing his cheek, “anyone ever told you that?”

He chuckles silently, grateful for her joking, and the way it’s lightening the previously thick atmosphere.

“No, I don’t think they have”

“I’m not sure I’m buyin’ what you’re sellin, I’ll have to ask Rodgers later”

“You do that, doll” Bucky says, kissing her lips before making the move to stand, “bring him a squeaky toy, and he’ll tell ya’ whatever ya’ want”

She lands a playful swat on his ass, as he turns to grin down at where she’s sprawled across the couch.

“Coffee?” he asks, still beaming, “I guess I should try and figure out that machine”

“You definitely should” she agrees, rolling over and grabbing her cell phone from the coffee table, “Since I’m gonna be a permanent fixture, and I refuse to drink powdered decaf for the rest of our lives.”

By the time he goes to rejoin her, two steaming mugs of real espresso in his grasp, Bucky’s cheeks are aching from how long he’s been smiling.

Y/N’s expression is similar, even though he thinks it’s infinitely more beautiful, especially in the increasing daylight.

Her bare legs are kicked up over his, the TV is back on, the news chattering on at a low volume-

There’s a strike, at the postal office, and a newly elected member of the democratic party seems to be trying to garner some support.

The pair make half-interested conversation about the topics, and the enjoyable mundaneness of the day they plan on having.

“Nat says she can have an agent handle listing my apartment” Y/N announces, when the weather crosses the screen for the second time, “She says it’s probably safer that way, less chance of HYDRA linkin’ me to it, if anythin’ got out about the move”

He tries not to tense at the sound of the word on her lips. He makes a quiet noise of consideration, and lets his free hand trail up, across her shin.

“I’m not sure it matters, to be honest” she sighs next, “They know about us already, we haven’t exactly been hiding”

“Still” Bucky grunts, “Romanoff knows what she’s talkin’ about, if she thinks it’s better to let SHEILD take care of it-”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right… I guess I just feel bad, wastin’ peoples time on somethin’ so trivial, y’know?”

“Your safety isn’t trivial” Tony says firmly, over 3 hours later, when Y/N broaches the same concerns in the common room, “Christ, I’ve hired agents for-”

“I don’t care what you, pay people to do, Tony” Y/N/N argues calmly, “and I’m plenty safe.”

Bucky is sitting a few metres away, beside Steve on the dark leather couches that occupy the far end of the room. He shares a strained glance with his friend, before returning his attention to where his girl and Tony are still bickering by the refrigerator.

“I don’t know why you’re makin’ a big deal out of this” Y/N says, “I can handle packing my own boxes-”

“Nobody is sayin’ you’re not capable” Natasha inserts, speaking for the first time in awhile, “we’re just sayin’ that maybe you shouldn’t”

Frustration makes Y/N’s cheeks burn red, she runs a hand through her hair, and grabs the open bottle of orange juice from Tony’s hands, taking a swig before putting it down on the counter with a little more force than had been necessary.

“You can’t keep me here indefinitely” she says, making deliberate eye contact with the billionaire in front of her, “I am going to have to leave, at some point, y’know? to work, or to get-”

“I thought you said you can work from the labs?” Steve asks- The way she glares at him instantly making him wish he’d stayed silent.

“HA!” Tony chortles, thrilled, “I knew you-”

“I am not leaving the hospital for good!” she refutes, “just because I could take a non-clinical role does not mean that I’m going to do that long term.”

“Stark industries will pay you more than-”

“It’s not about money, T, I know you’d give me a hell of a salary”

“Then why-”

“Because” she sighs, “I help people at the hospital, Tony- I know I help people here, too- but, it’s different, and I’m not willing to stop doing a job that I’m good at just because me leaving your tower makes you a little antsy”

“a little antsy” Tony quotes, in a mocking voice, “can you back me up here?” he shoots an exasperated look at his friends, lingering a little longer on Rodgers’ “you-”

“I-” Y/N cuts in, drawing all the eyes in the room back to her “Have managed to keep myself safe, whilst living in the outside world for years. You are not going to stand there and pretend that this is the first time in my life my relationships have put me in danger.”

That is a little bit of a low blow. She feels a sting of guilt when she catches the look behind her oldest friend’s eyes. Her expression softens, she leans in to kiss his cheek.

“I know you worry, Tony” she allows, “but just because I’m movin’ in doesn’t mean you can keep me locked up here for the rest of my life”

“How about just for the rest of mine?” he offers, tone deliberately playful.

She knows it’s his way of apologising, of making amends, and telling her he doesn’t mean to be difficult.

Her hip bumps his, as she moves past him, to lean against the pool table, that’s only a few feet from Bucky and Steve.

They’re watching her with a mutual curiosity that she can’t help but snigger at.

“What?” she pokes, “why’re you both lookin’ at me like that?”

“Like what?” they say in unison.

Tony’s cackle makes Natasha roll her eyes.

“Like I’m new app on your cell that you can’t figure out.”

The duo look at each other, and then back at Y/N. She waits patiently, until Steve finally speaks.

“What’d you mean, darl?” he asks, “when you said it’s not the first time your relationships have put you in danger?”

It’s the way that he looks at Tony that makes her laugh this time. She quirks her brow and tilts her head,

“Are you askin’ her if she’s slept with me?” Stark cuts in, almost choking on the words.

Natasha scoffs, perching on the large window sill, ready to watch the interaction unfold.

“I wasn’t-”

“Yes you were” Bucky counters, rolling his eyes, “I wasn’t, doll, but-”

“Thanks Buck” Steve gristles, ignoring the urge to grin when Barnes lets his shoulder knock against his,

“No” Y/N answers calmly, “I haven’t had the pleasure”

“Though if my dad had, had his way we’d have probably been married by now” Tony inserts, ignoring the playful shove of Y/N’s hands against his waist as he scoots up beside her, “couple of kids, maybe a cat-”

“I hate cats” she reminds him, “and, if we’d have gotten married, you’d be long dead by now.”

Stark feigns a look of hurt, clutching his chest to convey his false offence.

“Oh come on” she coos, “you gonna pretend you wouldn’t have at least tried to smother me in my sleep if we’d been paired up like that?”

“Never” he says, “But, I might have tried to poison you once or twice”

“I’d have shot ya’ first” Y/N tells him, “you’d have never gotten the chance”

“Ha!” he snorts, “You’d’ve never gotten away with it, way too-”

“Oh yes I would” she counters, cool, “I’d have gotcha in your study, maybe even at the office, gotten the angle right, faked a note, the stress of a company like yours, Tony, it gets to the best of people, and well, we all know you’re troubled…”

“Troubled” he repeats, awed by the fake emotion in her voice, “You’re evil”

She laughs then, and he joins her, head falling to her shoulder.

“You two are insane” Natasha comments, almost fondly, “if your father really wanted you to get hitched-”

“Oh he did” Y/N allows, “I’m from good stock, and he thought I’d straighten him out”

Bucky has heard this before, in passing more than anything else, he’s still curious though, he rarely hears about Y/N’s past with Tony, despite how close they are. He suspects she holds back to try and stop him from feeling uncomfortable, despite how undeserving of her protection he feels.

“Yeah” Tony says, replying to a question Romanoff had put forth during Barnes’ moment of distraction, “she was always hangin’ around, couldn’t get rid of her”

Y/N snorts at that, looking down at where Stark is nestled into her flank as if to excentuate his attachment;

“You” she says, “are the one who kept inviting me over”

“father’s orders” he lies, “wanted me to court ya’ early”

“That is such horse-shit!” she exclaims, half laughing again, “you just liked havin’ someone to show off too”

He shrugs, “always asked for a sister when I was a kid, and I always got what I wanted”

She lets her eyes roll, even though the affection of his words makes her smile wide.

“Did you know his folks well, Y/N/N?” Steve asks, broaching the subject for the first time.

“Not his mother” she replies, “I was pretty close with Howard, though, always had time to show me what he was workin’ on-”

“That’s my old man” Tony says, “anythin’ for a pretty face”

“shut up” she scoffs, bumping his hip with her own again, “he was a good man,” she continues, looking at Steve, “took me under his wing when my parents got sick, I was about 11, and I turned up on his door, and-”

“I told you to stay” Tony recalls, “I told you we’d go ask him together”

“yeah” she chuckles, “turns out we didn’t even have to ask, he’d already heard about the whole thing, he just gave me pat on the back and showed me to my room”

“That was a great summer” he says, nostalgic, “apart from-”

“Apart from my parents dying” Y/N laughs again, shaking her head at his expression, “yes, I suppose it was.”

“he tried to get me to stay, after their funeral” she continues, looking back at the duo on the couch, “they both did” she adds, nodding at Tony, “but, I was young, and wanted to try goin’ it alone”

“You never told me that” Bucky says, speaking for the first time in awhile.

He’d known about her parents, she’d told him about their deaths when they’d first met, and about how she’d gone back to her aunts aged 11, and been sent to a private boarding school, to finish growing up.

“You never asked” she replies calmly, “Howard kept an eye out though, he payed for me to stay at the academy, I only came back when…”

“when he died” Tony finishes for her, remember the way she’d run from a private jet and flung her arms around him, “I’m surprised the flight got you home so quick, in that storm”

She chuckles, remembering too.

“That was a hell of a storm” she agrees, recalling the harsh rain, and how it had splashed on the runway tarmac around them “It came down like bullets”

“Yeah” Tony murmurs, pawing at his goatie to hide his sudden emotion, “yeah, it did”

“I offered to stay” she tells Steve after a pause, because she knows he’s wondering, “but-”

“I wouldn’t let her, said she should go back to school, said I’d make sure it kept gettin’ paid for”

“I was so pissed!” she laughs, the light sound cutting through the air in the room like music, making a smile tug at Tony’s lips, “I had no idea the Stark’s had been footin’ the bill all that time! I thought my folks had left me a fund or-”

“The look on your face” Tony chimes in, “that was the first time I’d smiled in days”

“because I was calling you a jack-ass?” she asks, half disbelieving, “I’d been calling you that, and worse since we were little kids”

“Exactly”

Their eyes meet, and just like that, they could be teenagers again, talking about anything over a stolen bottle of malt whiskey.

Y/N shakes her head, but keeps the soft smile on her lips, even as her attention flicks back to Steve, and Bucky, who, she notes, is trying not to meet her eyes.

“anyway” she says, “to answer your first question properly, Steve- I have never been romantically involved with Tony, but that doesn’t mean being his friend hasn’t put me in some precarious situations over the years”

“precarious situations” Natasha repeats, quirking a brow at Tony, who deliberate turns away, “like what?”

Y/N shrugs,

“I was a freelancer for SHEILD too” she reminds her, “Once upon a time, and not for very long”

“That wasn’t anythin’ to do with me” Tony objects, “I believe I strictly forbid you to-”

Bucky has to disguise his laugh as a cough. He knows Y/N well enough to know that there is no surer way of making her do something, that strictly forbidding it.

Tony squints at him distastefully, but otherwise ignores him in favour of sticking his fingers in his ears and childishly chanting over Y/N’s explanation of how she had been dragged into SHEILD as part of Tony’s disobedience during his first personality screening.

“You’re such a brat” she scolds, pulling his hands away from his head, trying not to laugh at his smug expression, “and my point still stands, T, I love you too, but I am a grown woman, who can handle herself, and I am not letting you get into the habit of hiding me away in this building”

“Fine” he surrenders with a huff, “Fine, but I am tellin’ you, that if you do anythin’ to get yourself hurt, I will kill you”

“Fair enough” Y/N allows, leaning into the kiss he places on her brow, “kill me all you want”

1 | 2 | 3 | x | 5 | 6

[luckyroll3]

Crimson Lights: Chapter 2

Saturday evening arrives quicker than expected. I take one last look in the mirror, smoothing down a flyaway and adjusting my braided ponytail. The silky t-shirt dress, black with yellow accents, is not too tight, but still accentuates my ass. The colors look great against my brown skin. And my boots complement the mid-thigh length. I look great. I haven’t felt this cute in a while. I haven’t had a reason to be this cute in a while. 

I slip my phone into my pocket and head out the door. As I enter the elevator, I feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness. I hit the button for the 25th floor and it starts to move, noting that security has turned off the special access typically required for the penthouse floors. 

My heart starts racing as the car moves higher. I haven’t been able to get Chris out of my head since we chatted the previous night and I was desperate to see him again. I take a deep breath and smooth my dress down. When the elevator beeps signaling that it had reached the penthouse floor, I hear doors open behind me. I’d always wondered what those doors were for…the rich people! I chuckle to myself as I turn around and step into the living room of the unit. 

The penthouse is breathtaking, with double high ceilings, a modern design aesthetic, and panoramic views of the city thanks to floor-to-ceiling glass windows taking up an entire external wall. The party has a hint of sophistication, but people were clearly having a good time. Servers walk around with appetizers and glasses of champagne, and I scope out a few bars, as well as several food stations: pasta, sushi, ramen, fruit, cheese, and more. 

I scan the room hoping to locate Chris. A server approaches and offers me a glass of champagne. “Thanks,” I say as I turn to grab a flute. As I turn back, taking a sip, I see Chris approaching. 

“Hey! You made it!” he says with a bright smile as he makes his way through the crowd. 

I take in the sight of him. He looks even better tonight in a crisp, white long-sleeve button down shirt, a black vest, and fitted black slacks. His smile and dimples make my stomach erupt with butterflies, but I focus on maintaining my confident demeanor. I start to walk towards him. “Hi Chris. I decided to come. I just canceled my other plans. The Housewives won’t mind.”

He laughs, “I was worried that maybe I scared you away last night.” He looks down, seeming a bit bashful. 

“Not yet. I was more intrigued than anything.” I take another sip. “So this is how the other side lives.”

His eyes return to my face. “Some of us,” he says, grabbing my hand delicately and leading me in.

I allow him to guide me through the crowd, his strong hand gently gripping mine as we make our way towards the extravagant display of food. “So what is it, exactly, that you do for a living?” I ask, genuinely curious.

He smiles and his deep brown eyes meet mine with a hint of amusement. “I run a successful import/export company and have a few lucrative real estate investments,” he replies casually as he stops us in front of a table covered with fresh fruit.

“Import/export?” I repeat, taking a sip of the champagne. “So basically a drug dealer, then?” I joke. 

He raises an eyebrow at me, a slight hint of concern crosses his face. “Why would you think that?”

I let out a laugh. “Well, according to all the soap operas I’ve ever watched, import/export usually equals drug cartel.” I lower my voice to whisper, “Are you secretly a drug lord, Mr…?”

“Bahng,” he finishes for me with a chuckle. I notice the server at the station watching our exchange with interest as she arranges a colorful plate of fruits.

“Well Mr. Bahng….?” I say playfully, shifting my weight from one foot to the other and placing a hand on my hip as I raise an eyebrow in mock suspicion. 

He immediately shakes his head with a grin. “No, no. Definitely not a drug lord. Just a boring businessman who spends most days buried in spreadsheets. Like today.” The server hands him a full plate. “How about you? How was your day?”  

“It wasn’t too bad.” I take another sip of champagne. “I only worked for a few hours. Saturday mornings tend to be kinda quiet at the clinic.”

“The clinic?” he asks. Chris turns to the server, flashes his million watt smile, and says “thanks!” 

She shyly blushes and murmurs softly, “No problem, sir.”  

“So a clinic you say,” he turns his attention back to me as he pops a pineapple in his mouth and offers the plate to me. 

“Yeah. I’m a vet.” I grab a small bunch of grapes from his plate. 

He leans in closer, curiosity and intrigue written all over his face. “Oh, so you’re DOCTOR Kay?” His lips quirk up into that devilish smirk I’ve come to recognize.

I can’t help but chuckle at the emphasis he puts on the word doctor. “Yup. That’s me!” I pluck a few grapes off the stem, and pop a couple into my mouth, savoring their juicy sweetness and trying to look cute as I do so. 

I notice Chris’ gaze lingering on my lips as he continues the conservation. "That must be such a fun job," he says, breaking the silence between us. "But also really challenging, I bet."

I nod in agreement. “Definitely. Some days can be rough, but we do it for the good ones.” 

He smiles at that sentiment and his eyes lock onto mine. We continue engaging in small talk, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. As we spoke, the noise of the party faded into the background. Chris was charming and easy to talk to, and I found myself losing track of time in his company. Everything felt so natural, as if we had known each other for years, old friends reconnecting instead of just meeting recently.  

“I’d love to hear more about th….” His voice trails off as he glances past me, his focus drawn to something in the distance. “Ah,” he says as he sucks in air between his teeth and his brows crease with concern. “There are a few people who just arrived that I need to connect with. Hosting duties.” He sighs and hands me what’s left of the fruit plate. “Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Uh, ok.” I stutter. 

“I’m really glad you came,” he says as he walks backwards, flashing me another smile before turning around. 

I continue eating fruit and drinking the champagne as I watch him work the room effortlessly. Some folks were happy to see him and others looked rather serious for a party. 

I turn back to the food stations and fill my plate with cheese and a few appetizers. I also grab another glass of champagne and start to do my favorite activity - people watching. It’s an interesting collection of folks.

As I sip my champagne and observe the room, I can’t help but notice the slight hint of tension in the air. There is an underlying current of unease among some of the guests, despite the elegant setting and sparkling chandeliers above. I watch as Chris moves through the crowd, his smile never faltering, but there is a tightness to his jaw that hinted at hidden stress.

After setting my empty plate aside and refilling my champagne, I begin to wander around the room, attempting to subtly listen in on nearby conversations.

As I stroll through the room, I overhear snippets of quiet conversations.

As I pretend to admire a painting on the wall, a nearby voice continued, "... can't believe he had the nerve to show up here after going back on that deal," one man whispers. “This could cost us millions….”

Another taller and more intimidating man adds with a gravelly voice, "We need to be careful. He's playing a dangerous game. Chan needs to teach him a lesson in respect."

My ears perk up at hearing the name Chan; he seemed to hold power and authority among them. He seemed to be someone they feared.

I continue my walk around the room, discreetly moving through the crowd and trying to piece together the fragments of conversations I overhear.

It is clear that there is more going on beneath the surface than just this elegant gathering.

I catch sight of Chris across the room, his expression now masked by a tight smile as he converses with a group of guests. But his eyes flicker around the room, betraying a sense of unease. As I look around the room, following his gaze, my eyes finally land on the large, burly men dressed head-to-toe in black. They were strategically placed around the perimeter of the room, clearly serving as security. It was strange how despite their size and imposing presence, they manage to blend into the background seamlessly.

I approach one of the couches where two incredibly handsome men are sitting intimately close, whispering and giggling to each other. They are both Korean; one blonde, the other brunette. Intrigued by how unbothered they seemed by everything else happening in the room, I settle into the loveseat across from them.

The one on the end has platinum blonde hair that frames his face in soft waves. His features are soft and gentle, with a heart-shaped face and a button nose. A smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks adds to his boyish charm. As for the other, his dark brown hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, revealing an undercut style. With both delicate and masculine features, he is undeniably attractive - I can't tear my eyes away from him.

Their laughter dies down as they notice my presence, and the blonde one flashes me a warm smile. "Hello!” He greets me with a voice much deeper than I expect. “Haven’t seen you before. Do you work in one of the offices?"

I return his smile, feeling a sense of ease wash over me in their company. "No. I actually live in the building,” I reply casually. “It’s my first time at one of these,” I gesture subtly towards the ongoing party behind us. “Chris invited me.”

“Channie invited the neighbor!?” the blonde exclaims to his friend. I note that he referred to Chris as “Channie”. Chan is Chris? I wonder to myself.  

The brunette leans forward slightly, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh! The one from the 10th floor?” he asks, gesturing towards me.

I can’t help but laugh at their reaction. “I guess that’s me. Kay from the 10th floor.”

“Hyung has good taste!” the brunette teases.

“Don’t mind him,” the blonde chimes in, playfully nudging his friend. “I’m Felix and this is Hyunjin. We’re Chan’s brothers.” He flashes me a big smile. “Having a good time so far?”

I nod, taking in their relaxed demeanor. “I am. It’s definitely…interesting,” I admit cautiously, not wanting to give away too much of my observations.

Felix tilts his head curiously. “Interesting is one way to put it,” he agrees cryptically, exchanging a knowing glance within Hyunjin.

“These parties are always either dreadfully dull or overly dramatic,” Hyunjin huffs, rolling his eyes. “But at least the drinks are never in short supply.” He gestures to a server who promptly refills his champagne glass. “The last one had dancers. We partied with a few of them afterwards. Remember Lix?”

Felix reachs for Hyunjin’s glass and takes a generous sip. I can see him mentally searching for the right memory, followed by a smirk. “I do remember not being able to locate my boxers the next morning and finding you coated in honey instead. How long did it take to scrub that shit off anyway?” Felix asked with a burst of laughter.

Hyunjin gives Felix a massive side-eye and snatches his glass back. “It was maple syrup,” he says before chugging down the remainder of the champagne. Then, he turns his attention towards me, his eyes scanning my body as he says, “You look like you could be a lot of fun.”

I can’t help but laugh at their boldness. “Yo, y’all are wild!” I lean back in my chair, crossing my legs and taking a sip from my glass. "So, how much does a gallon of maple syrup go for nowadays?

Felix erupts in a fit of laughter. “I like her. She’s funny.”

Hyunjin can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. “She’s definitely something.”

Felix wipes away a tear of laughter, trying to compose himself. “We need more of your energy around here.”

Hyunjin tilts his head in mock consideration. “Or maybe we don’t. We might cause a scandal.”

I raise an eyebrow at them playfully. “Scandal, you say? Count me in.”

A mischievous glint appears in Hyunjin’s eyes. “You seem like someone who enjoys a bit of adventure,” he remarks casually, as if testing the waters. “We could show you a good time, Kay from the 10th floor.” Hyunjin's lips curled into a smirk, clearly enjoying the playful banter.

Before I can respond, Felix’s phone starts to ring. He quickly shows the number to Hyunjin before answering the call and putting it up to his ear. After a few moments of listening, he nods and says, “got it.” He hangs up and turns to Hyunjin, saying, “Jinnie, we need to go. Great to meet you, Kay!” He flashed a smile in my direction before standing up.

Hyunjin stands up as well, his lips curling into a charming smile. “Indeed, Kay. It was a pleasure meeting you. Maybe next time we’ll get to play….” With a wink, he follows Felix towards the elevator.

As I watch them depart, I can't help but feel a sense of curiosity stir within me. Those two were definitely trouble, especially Hyunjin. He radiates mischief. And it didn’t help that he was gorgeous. I need to steer clear of that one, I think to myself.

I scan the party looking for Chris in the sea of unfamiliar faces, feeling a bit uncomfortable now that I am alone again. Unable to spot him, I make my way to the balcony, eager to take in the promised breathtaking view. With a fresh glass of champagne in hand, I weave through clusters of chatting guests until I finally reach the towering glass doors leading to the balcony.

The night air is cool against my skin as I step out onto the balcony, the city lights twinkling below me like a sea of stars. The soft hum of conversation from inside the penthouse mingles with the distant sounds of the city, creating a strangely comforting ambiance. I make my way to the edge of the balcony and lean against the railing. I take a deep breath and my gaze wanders over the skyline.

Lost in thought, I don’t notice the figure sitting at the other end of the balcony until he speaks. “Quite a view, isn’t it? This is my favorite spot.”

I turn to see Chris reclined in one of the patio chairs,his body partially cloaked in shadow. My lips curl into a smile at the sight of him. “It really is,” I reply, my voice soft and warm. “What are you doing out here?”

“I just needed a break. And some fresh air.” He rises from his seat and saunters over to lean his back against the railing next to me on the balcony. “You?”

“You’re the only person I know here. And I barely know you!” I say shoving his shoulder lightly. He chuckles in response. “When I couldn’t find you I decided to escape. By the way, I think I met your brothers?”

“Uh oh!” he exclaims and then hides his face with his hands in amusement. “Which ones?” he asks, still laughing.

I turn to face him. “How many are there?!?!”

He raises seven fingers.

“Oh wow. Are they all like Lix and Jinnie? Cause, those two were a lot.”

He smirks at my use of their nicknames. “I’d say they each have their own unique qualities.”

“Tell me more,” I say, taking a sip from my glass and turning back to the view.

He turns to face the same direction as me, his eyes scanning the horizon as he begins to share the story of how they became chosen family. Twenty years ago, the 8 of them met in a group home, each one lost and lonely, but developing a strong connection amongst themselves. He, being the oldest, shouldered the responsibility to protect what he affectionately called his "Stray Kids". But as time passed, they all took care of each other and now work together in the business.

A gentle breeze rustles through his thick, dark hair, causing a few strands to fall across his forehead. He casually runs his fingers through it, pushing them back into place, and continues sharing details of their childhood, both good and bad. As our conversation becomes more intimate, I feel safe enough to confide in him about my past tragedies - losing my parents in a car crash at 18 and my last relationship ending in betrayal when my fiance cheated on me in our own bed.

“I can see why Seattle isn't your favorite place,” he says nonchalantly.

"Yeah," I reply quietly, shivering as a stronger gust of wind blows by.

He turns to the table just behind us and picks up his jacket. “Come here,” he says as he drapes it around my shoulders. The soft fabric brushes against my skin as he carefully holds the collar closed around my neck. A shiver runs down my spine as he guides me towards him, his warm body pressed against mine. He leans in close, his breath tickling my ear as he whispers, "He didn't deserve you. If you were mine, I'd never let you go." His words send a tingling sensation through my entire body as he softly kisses the delicate skin just below my earlobe. “Is this okay?” he asks in a low voice, pulling back to look into my eyes.

His gaze is intense and captivating. I am completely speechless under his spell, so I simply nod in agreement.

"Good," he continues in that deep, alluring voice, "because for the past 3 months, all I've wanted to do is kiss you." And with that, he presses his lips against mine in a tender yet passionate kiss. As our tongues dance together, one of Chris’ hands gently caresses the side of my face while the other slowly makes its way up my thigh. Every touch sends waves of pleasure through me as I give into the desire and lose myself in the moment with him.

The hand on my thigh inches beneath my dress until his fingers tease the edge of my panties. My heart races as he expertly traces the outline of my clit through the thin fabric. I feel him slip the fabric to the side and slide his hand down my crotch, positioning his index and middle fingers near my opening. He pauses his kisses for a moment, looking into my eyes before asking, “still okay?”

“Yes,” I sigh out, desperate for him to continue. Taking control, I place my hand on top of his and guide his fingers into me. A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as his other hand pulls me back in to resume kissing. I moan softly against his lips as he presses his fingers deeper into me. Our hands move together rhythmically, back and forth, and I can feel his fingers curl inside me just slightly grazing my g-spot.

Caught up in the moment, we are oblivious to the sliding glass door slowly opening.

"I'll bet he's out here," a voice booms over the loud party noises. 

Chris quickly pulls his hand away from me and smooths down my dress before turning to face the two men who have just joined us on the balcony. 

[epithet-beloved]

could i request romantic electroswing (jericho x slim)? perhaps some post story fluff where slim is NOT dead canon is FAKE /lh

DON'T LEAVE.

synopsis… For being the fastest man alive, Jericho Felocity has been quite slow in realizing his feelings for a certain someone.

ft.  california slim, jericho felocity, alcatraz

tags…  fluff, pre relationship, pining, feelings realization

word count… 1568

a/n… THEIR SHIP NAME IS ELECTRO SWING I LOVE THAT SO MUCH WHAT?? Also you're so right canon is fake. Free real estate !! ✧ 🦇

Well, it was better than nothing.

After escaping prison, California Slim certainly couldn’t afford some luxurious apartment, or an apartment at all; so this abandoned one would have to do. Then, after a while, he would move to another one, and another one after that. Constantly on the run, like the criminal they thought he was.

He’d been alone since the escape; as alone as he could be, with the actual ghost of his past actually following him at all times, buzzing in his ear like an annoying mosquito he couldn’t get rid of. Alas, Alcatraz was no mosquito and there was no window he could shoo him out of, nor could he kill him with a rolled up newspaper.

He didn’t mind being alone, maybe. He thought he didn’t. He was never truly alone anyway. But…

He was still hoping for that phone call.

The one he had asked Jericho to give him after their successful escape from the Lockdown.

Despite being constantly on the run, he still had his own phone, as old and battered as it was.

He knew Jericho wasn’t one to waste time, either he was busy or just didn’t consider it worth it to call him. Which Slim found bitterly understandable.

He’d convinced himself of this notion: Jericho probably didn’t want anything more to do with him, being his cell mate had been enough for the fastest man alive. And yet Slim still couldn’t quiet the feelings that bubbled in his chest and burnt at his heart, like magma ready to explode.

It was ridiculous, honestly. He had convinced himself he couldn’t love anymore; that all that was left had been ejected from his body along with his epithet. Had he been wrong? He didn’t like being wrong.

And yet he kept finding himself reaching for his phone, keeping an ear out in case it would ring. Some part of him still hoped. Some part of him still ached.

It was another night of tending to Hollywood Boulevard and ignoring Alcatraz’s monologues when the familiar music caught his attention.

The tune of an old Frank Sinatra song that he used to listen to many years prior. Of course he had made it his ring tone.

The sudden echoing of the song had silenced everything else that had been happening, including Alcatraz’s speech as he stared curiously at the device buzzing on the coffee table that was missing a leg. Everything was silent except for the music echoing through the walls, and the occasional creaking of Alcatraz tilting his head like a confused dog.

The phone screen displayed an unknown number, and for a moment Slim hesitated to answer. It could have been anyone: a cop, someone tracking him down, some weirdo who had dialed a wrong number but that could have recognized his voice and reported him to the police.

Slim picked up anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hi Slim!”

He froze. Was that…?

“Jericho?”

“That’s me!”

Oh, he could definitely recognize that cheery voice even behind the static that was sizzling in the receiver. Something tightened in his chest.

“So, why the call?”  Slim tried to seem nonchalant, but his heart felt as if he had been running a marathon. “Changed your mind on being a hitman?”

“Oh, not at all! Just wanted to hear from you, it’s been a while!”

It had been something like three weeks, maybe, since the last time they had seen each other. A lot had happened in those three weeks. For Slim, at least. But he barely remembered most of it. All he knew is that it had been a while since the last time he felt truly rested or energetic, and yet he couldn’t sleep, because everything ached.

“Uh. Yeah, it has been a while.”

“Think we can hang out? Really want to catch you up on all the progress I’ve made on the main story so far!”

The way Jericho talked would always be a mystery to California Slim.

“...Sure.”

He had to take a pause before he answered; his first instinct would have been to interrupt Jericho mid sentence with an enthusiastic “Yes!”  but he didn’t want to weird the man out. Although Jericho was already pretty weird himself.

“Alright, I’ll be there in a minute!”

“What?-”

Before he could process what had happened, Slim found himself face to face with a man stuck in the wall of his apartment.

“Oh.” He hung up the phone as Jericho wriggled uncomfortable in the concrete wall.

“Hello!” The speedrunner waved as if nothing was out of the ordinary for him. Because it wasn’t.

“Hi.” Slim replied dryly, “You’re in my wall.”

“Seems like it!”

A moment of silence, before Alcatraz piped up with a “Hi Jericho!” Which sounded ever so slightly panicked. 

“Hi Alcatraz!” Had been the reply as the man struggled to remove himself from the apartment wall. “Could I get some help?”

Alcatraz turned over to Slim, who had turned his head over in his direction at the same time. The man just nodded towards their friend with an exasperated face that screamed “Just get him out of there already!”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Minutes later, Jericho and Slim were sitting on the worn couch of what Slim called his living room.

“... And I thought that gear was a cookie! I tried to eat it, and I just got stuck in an animation loop!”

“For a whole day?”

“Yep!”

“Sounds tough.”

Slim lit himself another cigarette as Jericho kept talking about his speedrunning shenanigans. He couldn’t help but notice the little things about the man’s body language: he constantly moved his hands around as he talked, often mimicking whatever action he was talking about as if saying it aloud triggered some sort of muscle memory; he constantly jittered in place, making the couch cushions under him vibrate along with him, and Slim could feel the vibration from where he was sitting, as if the man was the epicenter of a constant low magnitude earthquake. There was something… Endearing about the whole thing. He tried his best to ignore the look Alcatraz was giving him from across the room.

“And after that I decided, you know, sometimes it’s good to take a break from things before trying again! Maybe I was just tired.”

Jericho kept talking and talking, and yet Slim found it hard to keep focusing on whatever he was saying. He didn’t notice he’d let out a yawn and let his cigarette fall to the floor until the sudden silence caught his attention, and he blinked a couple times when he noticed Jericho staring at him.

“What?”

“You can sleep if you’re tired, I don’t mind!”

Slim blinked again, dumbfounded.

“You keep yawning. It’s okay if you need to sleep. I can just hang out.”

“Oh, I… Uh…”

“I’m serious, I don’t mind!”

Jericho was quick to get up from the couch, just as he was always quick to do anything, so Slim could have the space to lay down. Without thinking, Slim did just that.

“... Don’t leave.”

Slim managed to catch Jericho’s attention with his request.

“Please don’t leave while I’m asleep.”

Jericho just stared at him for a moment, then offered the man a smile. “Okay, I can stay!”  He chirped, and before Slim could notice it, Jericho was handing him a blanket to cover up with during his nap. “I can stay here and use it as a main lobby, or a nice pause screen!”

Slim couldn’t help but smile at that, and mumbled something among the lines of, “Sure, I’d like that… Just stay.”

To which the immediate answer was, “I will!”

Jericho didn’t mind stopping over at Slim’s place for a break. It was kinda like old times, three weeks ago, when they used to share a cell! But now it was a bigger place with lots more stuff!

Jericho liked being around Slim: the man could be somewhat pleasant to be around sometimes, when he wasn’t threatening the people around him. Jericho noticed a decrease in the times Slim threatened him, too. Maybe they really were friends! Maybe Slim liked him. Jericho liked Slim.

His gaze wandered over to the man on the couch again, and he was surprised by how quickly he had fallen asleep; he was even snoring! Jericho had missed the sound of Slim’s snoring filling the room.

He had missed Slim. Maybe more than he thought he would.

…

Did he… Like Slim more than anticipated? The man had been his first thought when Jericho considered visiting his friends from prison. And he didn’t mind staying in one place with him, and waiting as he took a nap he seemed like he needed.

… Jericho didn’t mind waiting for Slim. He didn’t mind staying.

Don’t leave.

It was the first time Slim had outright asked him to stay. And Jericho had no problem obliging.

…

Oh.

Oh, he understood now.

For being the fastest man alive, he had been a little slow in realizing his own feelings; but they made up for the tardiness by hitting him like a high speed train.

Jericho liked Slim. Maybe as something more than a friend. Maybe Slim felt the same, with that request.

Something other than his own speed started buzzing in his chest, and Jericho could have sworn it made him vibrate a little more.

Maybe he’ll talk about it with Slim when he wakes up. The sooner the better.

[nuclearanomaly]

Do you take returns?

What if I went insane an posted old writing just because [Modern | Bookshop AU. | wc 1695 ]

The bell above the door tinkled softly, just loud enough to be heard over the quiet murmur of the radio drifting through the small used bookstore. From the back of the shop Ninira couldn’t see the door or the potential customer who entered, despite the fact that she was currently poised atop a stepladder. The filled shelves and other haphazard stacks of books created a series of walls between her and the store’s entrance. 

“Good afternoon!” She called blindly, heaving a particularly hefty book into its new place on the shelf. She’d been organizing all day, though that wasn’t anything new. Since taking ownership of the shop she’d been organizing it. Slowly making her way through the mountains of books and attempting to place them in a semblance of order, something that customers could, at the very least, browse without confusion. It had turned out to be a monumental task, but it at least kept her busy since the customers that came to her small used book store were few and far between. 

“Afternoon.” The reply that came was smooth, refined, and unlike anything she’d heard in her shop before. She knew the usual customers, the grunts of old men, the cooing voices elderly women, and the ramblings of the regulars; this was none of them. Cautiously, and curiously, she climbed down from her stool and crept towards the front of the store. 

The voice belonged to a man. Even with his back half to her, and she only just peeking out from behind one of the store shelves, she was sure that he was perhaps one of the most stunning men she’d ever seen. He was undoubtedly the most beautiful man that had ever set foot inside her dusty little store. She watched as he browsed one of the bookshelves casually, hands clasped behind his back, his raven hair catching in the late afternoon sun that was just starting to shine in through the front window. He radiated refinement from his posture to his clothes and Ninira’s initial feelings of awe were slowly replaced with suspicion. He looked as though he could afford the whole store, what need would he have for a dusty used novel. 

He may be the prettiest but he was not the first of his type to enter her store. Usually they were sleazier than him. Sauntering in and trying to bully a price out of her for the shop on the up and coming street. Prime real estate they called it. Not for sale was what she called it. 

Ducking back behind the shelf she took a breath, preparing herself for the roundabout conversations that were to come, before stepping out beside the front desk. “Are you looking for something in particular today?” She asked in her best customer service voice. 

The man turned his gaze drifting down to her and his eyes a shocking blue. He smiled warmly and Ninira once again had to firmly remind herself that there was no way this man had any good intentions.

“Browsing mostly, though perhaps you can help me… I’m looking for a gift for a friend.”

Ninira blinked. That was the last thing she had expected. Was he in fact genuine? “O—oh, of course!” She fumbled, suddenly aware, under his gaze, that the last lot of books she had been sorting had left large dusty streaks on her shirt. She hastily brushed at them. “What kind of book were you looking for?” 

He gave his chin a thoughtful tap, “they’re… an artist so to speak, so something along those lines.” 

“I have a display of art books in the front currently, if you would like to look at those.” She hesitated before adding, “they’re probably the nicest ones I have in stock at the moment.” It was the truth, they were fine collections of traditional Hingan art, yet she was reluctant to sell them. For very foolish reasons since her display had not enticed the buyer she had hoped for despite having it set up in the front window for a couple weeks now.

Her customer’s smile deepened to something akin to a smirk. “No... I saw those and don’t think they’ll suit his tastes. Do you have anything different?”

Ninira’s suspicions returned. He was amused by her offer? She frowned slightly, hoping it looked more contemplative than annoyed. He was playing her after all... He’d buy a book in good faith; or more likely watch as she struggled and failed to find the perfect book. Then make some comment about how she should give up on the store. Well he could try. 

Ninira turned and started down one of the cluttered aisles. “The other art books are back here.” Fortunately she hadn’t moved them much since she’d dug through them all to make the window display.

She weaved her way around haphazard stacks, books unable to fit on the already full shelves before stopping beside an overflowing shelf, and an open box filled with excess books. “Here…” she gestured to the box, “sorry for the mess.”

He smiled that warm smile and knelt to look through the box. “It seems like you’re in the process of moving things around here.” 

“Yes. I’m trying to have less of this.” She gestured to the general clutter surrounding them, unsure why she was telling this in the first place. “And more something that someone could navigate on their own.”

“A wise idea for a business. Do you not have help?” 

Ninira sensed the warning flags once more. “No… But I make do.”

“That’s a big job to tackle alone— ah.”

Ninira watched, baffled, as he pulled a book titled How to Draw Action Anime and Manga from the depths of the box. His devious smirk returned as he held it up. “Perfect.”

It dawned on Ninira that perhaps the person he was plotting against was the recipient of this book rather than her. She felt some tension lift from her shoulders. “Are you sure?” She asked politely. 

“Positive.” He started to rise but paused and looked at her. “Though... do take returns?”

Ninira nodded.

“Wonderful! It’s just… he might already own this one, you know?”

—

“What the actual fuck is this?”

Estinien stared at the book that had been unceremoniously dropped into his lap mere moments before. The wide eyed spiky haired abomination on the cover stared back.

“A book on Hingan art.” Aymeric was unable to keep the smug amusement out of his voice as he took a seat. Estinien’s apartment was already cramped but he’d managed to squeeze in a chair alongside the couch, coffee table, and entertainment unit that occupied his living room. Aymeric sat in the armchair now, an infuriatingly pleased look on his face. “Just like you asked.”

“I asked for the book on traditional art that was in the window!” Estinen snarled from his own spot on the couch, “not this!” He brandished How to Draw Action Anime and Manga angrily at his friend.

“Ah, the one in the window. I apologize, I didn’t see that one.” Aymeric’s face cracked into a grin. The bastard. He knew full well about the book sitting in the bookstore’s window. Estinien had been eyeing it for a while now and despite the fact that the aforementioned bookstore was directly across the road from his soon to be tattoo parlor he’d yet to venture inside. Too busy he’d told himself. If he was at his shop it was to work on the renovations needed to get the place open. After all, he had a schedule to keep and no time to waste browsing a bookstore. It had absolutely nothing to do with how cute the store owner was and the prospect of having to talk to her.

“You’re taking this back.” Estinen tossed the book at his friend. 

Aymeric deftly caught the book before tossing it back across Estinien’s living room. “Unfortunately I’m terribly busy, much too busy to return your book. Besides,” he folded his arms. “It’s a gift! Quite rude of you to demand that I return it. If you don’t like it, the receipt is inside, you may return it. Or exchange it, whichever you prefer.”

Estinien opened his mouth to argue but Aymeric continued. “Don’t give me you’re too busy with the shop spiel again. It’s directly across the road. Perhaps you could use some of the precious time you spend looking through the front window at the store to go over there instead?” 

Estinien scowled. 

“I’ve done you a favour! You have a reason to go now, not that you didn’t already. You go in, exchange the book your horrible friend bought you. Maybe ask the cute owner if she’d like some help moving some of the books around? She looks like she could use a hand in there. Take her out for a coffee afterwards?” Aymeric’s smile grew as the flush crept up Estinien’s face.

He rose, discarding the art book onto the coffee table as he made his way to the kitchen and wrenched open the fridge. The line of beer cans stood waiting on the top shelf and he grabbed one, cracking it open and taking a long drink. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

From the other room Aymeric sighed. “Of course you don’t…” 

Estinien returned to the living room, tossing Aymeric his own beer before slouching onto the sofa. He was only slightly disappointed that Aymeric didn’t open the can immediately and cover himself in a shower of beer—he had given the can a few extra shakes just in case. Aymeric of course had the foresight to set the can aside, the bastard. 

“Well if you do nothing I do hope that, for your future clients sake, you decide to put up some blinds. I wouldn’t want you tattooing my arm only to be distracted when your neighbour across the street slips out for her lunch.”

Estinien took an angry sip of his drink. “I’m not going to get distracted.”

“Hm, evidence proves otherwise.” Aymeric retorted, finally tempting fate and opening his own drink. He did not get sprayed much to Estinien’s further disappointment.

[writing-envy]

Writing snippet (Thrawn x Reader)

One time I was writing this for a bigger story, but now I don't really know what to do with it. Please tell me what you think; pointers and critique is appreciated!! ALSO, I was experimenting with an AU where Thrawn is an officer in the Republic, so bear with me.

Word count: 1,268

CW: mediocre writing, talk about intercourse, some bad words, break in (lmao), lack of ideas.

Clicks at the lock pad echoed in an empty hallway of an apartment complex in the upper levels of Corusant. The dimly lit corridor was devoid of any other residents, quiet and slightly menacing. Although you’d rather it remained that way, the less people saw you come in the better. Especially after the receptionist had been side-eyeing you for visiting at such strange hour.

It would’ve been far more suspicious to force my way in or even pretend to be a resident you thought. Still, not your best work. With that thought in mind you continued to fiddle with the door’s lock and after a few seconds, they opened to reveal the inside of the room.

The apartment wasn’t the most extravagant you’d ever seen; regular loft space, with neatly made bed, vacuumed sofa cushions that were lacking in pillows you’d usually see in the living rooms in holovid programs. The kitchen was presumed unused, the surface clean from any traces of cooking, but you could see the rags drying on the cabinets’ handles. They were wrinkled and with damp spots on them. Otherwise the apartment looked almost uninhabited, as if you’d walked in expected to be given a tour of the place by the real estate agent. 

Considering Thrawn’s character, you’d expect nothing less; a spotless space for a thorough and focused person like he. And you had to admit, he had chosen a home with a great view.

The city-planet’s skyline was visible through the three big, connecting windows. The capital of the Republic was especially beautiful at this time of day. Or night, as it really was. You moved closer to admire the view; skyscrapers littering the surface, lanes of ships and speeders cutting in between them. The neon lights reflecting from the glass buildings, creating a mirage on the grey concrete structures at the base of them. From here you could see one of the tunnels leading to the lower levels, where such a sight exists only in the imagination of the inhabitants.

All so beautiful, but only from afar you thought as you moved away from the window, further into the apartment. For a second you debated looking around for any hidden weapons but finally deciding not to, you’d be able to sense them anyway if he were to use them. Which he wouldn’t you retorted yourself. You broke into his house already, going though Thrawn’s personal belongings would’ve only made him angrier.

Well, maybe I want him to get angry — . You stopped yourself before you finished that thought. Tonight you’re just here to talk.

With that you seated yourself on the armchair in the dark corner, with his thermal vision Thrawn would be able to spot you without a problem. As you sat there and waited, you pondered the events that led you here. If you were honest with yourself, you’d never expected to find yourself in a situation like this; sure, you’ve had hook ups with a few fellow Jedi, but never the ones you closely worked with. Especially not after you’ve left the temple five years ago. This was most peculiar, since you never would’ve guessed that Thrawn found you attractive or that you brought out feelings in him, other than annoyance that he displayed so frequently in your presence. 

I suppose frustration is to blame. He got so frustrated with me that he fucked me on the floor of a supply closet. No big deal, not at all. Not that I liked it or anything, after all I’m just here to talk this out. Yeah, just to talk.

The weak defence of your actions that brought you here was interrupted with the sound of the door to the apartment sliding open and a figure emerging form the very hallways you stood hours ago. Have I been waiting for so long?

Just as he entered, Thrawn froze in the entryway, the door sliding shut behind him. A few beats of silence passed and then he spoke with a strained voice.

“I hope you know you’ve ruined any plan of attack you had by sitting exactly where I can see you.” He said, clearly stating that he could see where you were in complete darkness, where most people would fail to notice you. But then again, he’s not most people.

“It’s on purpose. If I’d been trying to kill you, you’d never see me coming.” You rebuked, dramatically. He only scoffed and for the first time since entering moved to turn on the lamp next to the sofa. 

“I have a hard time believing that.” The sudden brightness and his comment caused you to frown at him. He was now sitting on the opposite of you on the sofa and looking around his apartment as if to determine if everything was in place, just as he left it. He continued. “Although nothing seems amiss I have to ask, did you search my home?”

“As if I’d find anything interesting here, no. Did you expect me too?”

It took him a second to reply as his gaze settled on you. 

“No.”

This wasn’t a declaration of trust but of caution; he knows you’re not that stupid. At least he didn’t think that low of you. 

“Why are you here?” His words came so suddenly and pointedly, you almost felt surprised he cut the chase so quickly. You wondered which version of the story he would buy; now you regretted spending this time pondering about dumb shit, you really should’ve thought about a better excuse than ‘just to talk’. A second later you answered.

“Would you believed me I missed you?”

The silence was deafening, really out of all the things you could’ve said, this is what you came up with? 

“I believe you need to leave, I’ve had a long day and I’d rather go to bed than deal with you”. 

The way he venomously spit the last part had you hesitating but you’d decided to proceed.

“Sorry, I just came to talk”.

“Really, I don’t want to hear it. Go home.”

An exasperated sigh ripped from your chest as you rebuked.

“I want to have sex with you again.”

That statement had him paused in the middle of the room, while looking at you like you had grown a second head. Clearly he whatever he was expecting wasn’t this. Thrawn stopped for a second just looking at you and any sigh of falsehood in your features. You were quick to follow.

“We don’t have to! I just thought… you know. Only if you’re okay with that.” All traces of confidence had dissipated, stumbling with words you continued. “I know I said that- you know- that there won’t be a second time. Well, I’m here now. So- you know- if-uhhh- you’re okay with that, I would like to have sex with you again.”

Oh the Force help me, what was the most embarrassing, dick hungry, pathetic proposal that had ever left my mouth. Any second now, he’s gonna laugh and I will die on the spot. Why did I say that?! I’ve never been more embarrassed in—

“Okay.”

Hold on. Okay?

You finally focused on his face. He was serious.

“Just like that? Really?” you asked trying to cover your embarrassment. 

“Just like that.” He simply stated. Before you could react he was in front of you. He had a few centimetres on you so you had to look up to meet his red gaze. “Next time you try asking me to fuck you, just knock.” And just like that his lips were on yours, passionately kissing away your embarrassment.