#sorry not sorry for posting only rosie contents for the past few days!!!

[majoregan]

NATE MANN as ROSIE ROSENTHAL in Masters of the Air.

#someone check on him please #sorry not sorry for posting only rosie contents for the past few days!!! #masters of the air #rosie rosenthal #nate mann #mota #mota spoilers #mota rosie #masters of the air rosie #mota rosenthal #nate mann gifs #masters of the air gifs #masters of the air edit #rosie rosenthal gifs #majoregan

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Quick question sorry if this has been asked before: do you know any Johnlock fanfic where they’re extremely sensual? Like not just making love but just super methodically drawn out and slow and sweet?

Hi Nonny!!

Ahh, because of this ask, I went through my bookmarks to see if I have any listed with “sensuality” so that’s what this list is!! It definitely doesn’t have all of my fics because I have to go back through them and tag them, but in the meantime, enjoy what I started tagging a few months ago when you sent me this ask, LOL <3

As always, add your own fics here, Lovelies!!

SENSUALITY

See also:

Emotional Love Making || [MOBILE POST]

Emotional Love Making Pt. 2

Loved. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 1,231 w., 1 Ch. || First Sherlock POV, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nose Kisses, Morning After, Love Confessions, Morning Cuddles, Emotional Sherlock, Sentiment, Bed Sharing) – Sherlock reflects on his relationship with John. Part 5 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Morning Sunlight by slashscribe (E, 3,565 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Morning Sex, Fluff, PWP, Established Rel., Soft Idiots) – A thin band of soft morning light peeks between the curtains and stretches across John’s torso, laying dormant across his forearm, dipping into the space between his arm and his chest, illuminating his right nipple but just brushing the edge of his left, disappearing into his armpit, and reappearing again right over Sherlock’s eyes where his head rests, nestled against John’s shoulder. Sherlock is not annoyed by the light’s intrusion on his sleep, not when it rests so soft and tantalizing on John’s skin, a work of unintentionally erotic art. A PWP with so much emotion.

Living Musical by VeeTheRee (G, 4,149 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hobbies, Summer, Song Fic, POV Sherlock, Painting, Play Fighting, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Love Declarations, Hair Petting, Promise of Forever) – A one-shot of John and Sherlock being domestic during summer. There is paint, fluff, and music from Imagine Dragons, namely from the album 'Speak To Me', specific song in this one-shot is 'Living Musical'. Part 1 of the Happy Fluffy Johnlock Time series

London Gods by a_different_equation (E, 11,092 w., 5 Ch. || American Gods Fusion || Magical Realism, Sex Magic, True Love, PTSD John, First Kiss/Time, Marathon Sex, Sensuality, Genie Sherlock, Human John, Internalized Homophobia, Star-Crossed Lovers, Soul Mates) – Sherlock Holmes is a jinn who does not grant wishes. However, when Dr. John H. Watson, recently returned from the war in Afghanistan, gets into his cab by "accident", it might not even need magic to grant both men their deepest wish: love.

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John,  Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch. || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you're living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn, Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.

Lucifer's Gardens by ampersand_ch (E, 32,679 w., 12 Ch. || GERMAN VERSION || Romance, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Murder, Poison / Drugging, Mystery, John Undercover, Academic Club, Therapy, Rituals, Jungian Archetypes, Doctors & Physicians, Grief/Mourning, Esotericism, Hospitals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, John Falls In Love With Another Man, Jealous Sherlock, Crying, Doctor John, Hand Holding, First Kiss/Time, Mysticism, Hugging, Touching) – John goes undercover for an investigation as a favour to Lestrade in a village in Suffolk. The events surrounding the case awaken deep-seated fears in Sherlock. While John begins to come to a realisation of what he needs in Lucifer's Gardens, Sherlock tries to find a way to reach John – in more ways than one.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w., 7 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #sensuality #soft sherlock #soft john #Anonymous

[auramindedd]

Bothered - SMAU*

Part 11

CorpseHusband x FemReader - Y/N

warning: cussing

notes: so,, i completely gave up on fixing the likes, comments, replies, times, etc. on any tweets or messages, don’t mind the time or the twitter interactions 😭 also,, yallll,, this is almost over n i’m super sad :/ i’m gonna have to do another smau series bc i got too attached to how much fun it is doing them 💀

also,, i quickly wanna say, my taglist is at it’s limit. i’m super sorry if i couldn’t get you in on the taglist, any names that are in bold are gonna be removed soon and replaced with usernames that i can actually tag. i’ll get on that soon! :)

oh! & one more thing, super sorry for the later uploads. at night is the only time i have to get on here except for and tuesdays and wednesday’s so there’s probably gonna be a few late uploads here and there.

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“You sure you wanna go out?” You ask Corpse, worried he might just want to stay in. You don’t blame him, but you thought it’d be nice to go to the park.

“Well, you told me you wanna get out of the house. It’s just the park anyway.” He shrugs, smiling at you to reassure you.

You walk down to the park that’s close to yours and Rae’s apartment. He holds your hand, his grip getting tighter everytime you pass someone. You’re not sure if it’s a protective grip or a nervous one.

You two walk in silence for a bit, just taking in the fresh air. Well, as fresh as it can get behind your guys’ masks.

“Here, wanna sit?” You ask, pointing to a bench. He nods his head, walking with you.

He pulls you closer to him, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. Fortunately, the park is empty, just some older people walking, or little kids playing out on the playground as their parents do whatever they do.

“Hey, Y/N,” Corpse says, looking down at you.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable... Yesterday, after streaming. I get really clingy when I’m drunk. And I know I got a little handsy. I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just-”

“Corpse,” You cut off his rant. “It’s okay, I didn’t mind. And I still don’t mind, really.” You intertwine his fingers with yours, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

He rests his head on yours that’s lying on his shoulder. You two sit there, holding each other’s hands, just talking about anything and everything. You sit there and listen, happy and content with what’s going on right now. It hits you, you haven’t been genuinely happy. But for these past three days, wow, you’ve been so incredibly happy.

“Dream and you had plans to stream?” Corpse asks.

“Not really. He asked me if I could and I told him maybe, but plans for sure for tomorrow.” You answer, turning your attention back to your TV. Corpse sighs, mumbling an ‘okay.’

“Um, I’ll be back.” Corpse says not even five minutes into the movie.

“Where are you gonna go?” He doesn’t answer, he starts getting up, making you get off of him. “Nevermind, I’m sorry, it’s none of my business.”

“Just for a drive. I’ll probably stay at a hotel tonight.” Without saying bye, not even glancing your way one last time, he leaves your room. You can hear the front door, a slight slam as it closes.

“Y/N?” Rae calls, coming into your room when she sees the door is open. “Where’d Corpse go?”

“I don’t know... He just up and left. He said he’d get a hotel for tonight?” Even you’re still confused with what the fuck just happened.

“Did you say something?” Rae takes a seat next to you. Upon seeing the worried and confused look on your face, she lets you lay on her, playing with your hair.

“I don’t think I said anything that’d make him mad. I posted the picture of our shadows on Instagram, but he said it was cute. And then the last thing I said was that I had plans with Dream.” Rae inhales a sharp breath. You look up at her. “It was because of Dream?”

“I can’t be sure, but he does like you doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, he said so... He’s getting jealous already? Does he not know I have fucking guy friends? We’re not even fucking dating.” You can’t help but get angry. Rae pulls you back down to her, still playing with your hair to try and get you to calm down.

“Just wait a few minutes, and then text him, call him. He shouldn’t be acting this way, I know, but Corpse is Corpse.” You let yourself relax in Rae’s arms, unclenching your fists and jaw.

After you’re calmed down, Rae goes out to order some food, leaving you to get to Corpse.

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Taglist - comment or message me to be added!

* if you’re username is in bold, i can’t tag you. *

@letsloveimagines @liljennyx3 @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @blackheartemojivibes @lo-manburg @walkingonchairs @strawberrydonkey @tayloryorkscurls @bluepancakemix @prettylittlealiengirl @yeetmymood @victoria-a567 @loraleiix @moonlightsimp @jades-bullshit @teenloves @greenie-of-shield @fanworrior @thefvckvp @bigdickdaddysatan @mirahg @rosy-feels @arossebyanyothername @kitsamii @lollipop0605 @happyyyandcrazyyy @maraudingmarauder @stickystrawberrysyrup @majasophieanna @ilovejjmaybank @starstruckllamapuppy @owl-llie @thurstyforholland @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @in-fucking-deed @a-dot-dev @rjsmochii @boiled-onionrings @neenieweenie @vvenusblue @bellomi-clarke @smiithys @londonskies @16marie @leah-0207 @officiallyunofficialperson @wineandionysus @fanficlover99 @and-claudia @cherry-piee @laurenfangirlsout @fl0ating @thesecretwriterblog @foiledcorpse @v-crazy

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Tags - ignore::

#corpse #corpse fic #corpse husband #corpse husband fic #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse husband smau #corpse husband social media au #cute #smau #social media au #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband scenarios #corpse husband scenario #imagine

[simluvbot]

Enhypen as dates they would take you on <3

tags: gn!reader, established relationship au, fluff, bf! enha

members: all members !!

wc: 400-800ish for each member ?? this is very long uh I’m sorry I got carried away

a/n: hi, welcome to my first piece of writing on this blog 😁😁 I tried to write so that these matched the members and their personalities the most! Also as this is my first post any interaction is so cherished 🥺 but anyways,, I hope you enjoy :D

open to read

Heeseung

he would take you to so many fun places!!

Your dates would consist of going bowling together, theme parks, a walk in the park — you can count on having a fun time with heeseung!

He would just want to impress you );

He’s be always so attentive to you and remember even the littlest of details about you

You’d be in a shop together looking around and he’ll tap your shoulder, showing you a lace shirt that you instantly fall in love with

It’s just your style!

You’d ask him how he knew you would like it, to which he would simply mumble  with, “you told me a few months ago that you like shirts like this.”

You’d just stand in shock like :ooo

Not even you remember telling him that ):

Please he loves you so much, if it’s something that you tell him you like or don’t like, he’ll immediately store it in his memory! He wants to know so much more about you 🥺

Your dates are definitely what you look forward to whenever you see him!!

As much as you love fun day outs with him, you also love your chiller night dates at him <3

Meeting each other late at night after practice? A must!! No way can you let your hee go home alone when he’s the last leaving the practice room after a long day ):<

You would often surprise him by showing up at belift at ungodly hours, and as much as he would scold you with a light frown for coming to see him when it’s already half past midnight,,

You still always catch that small little smile he has whenever you do surprise him hehe

to be aware of just the fact that youre there? is enough for him. you ground him and its especially those spontaneous dates youll throw upon him and inevitably show him without the words uttered that you care for him and you love him? 

those are secretley his fave (: but he doesnt have to tell you that - youve already guessed :D

But at the same time on those late night after-practice dates he just wants to make sure that you’re not staying up too late all the time just to make sure he’s doing okay after practice, his y/nnie needs their sleep too ):

And what you’ll do together? Eat ramen of course!!

Although these little late night dates with him usually dont last no longer than an hour, he still treasures them so dearly in his heart ):

Hee sometimes needs a lot of love and assurance, even if he doesn’t mention it

And you’re the best at making him feel better instantly 🥺

but we seriously cant forget about your daytime dates too! each date of yours is always filled with so so many jokes and giggles that your hearts burn with longing for the other whenever you part ways ):

i can see that he’ll even store the memory of your dates even weeks after they’ve happened - he’ll store those memories of you; all in his heart (and the polaroid he took of you in the back of his phonecase 😳) and tucked close.

Jake

as for dates, to me he seems the type to be into really spontaneous and random things!! He’d love going somewhere fun or just simply randomly travelling with you without a destination!

He especially loves to sneak out of the dorm late at night and meet you at you and his favourite park.

It’s located at the top of a really tall hill, and you’ll both spend hours sitting on the swings, chatting away with little care for the rest of the world or the time as you both simply giggle at each other’s jokes and contentedly talk about anything and everything; watching the city lights glow from hundreds of metres below you

He’d offer you his jacket when the temperature drops by a few degrees suddenly

You’d be like no!! It’s okay you should also stay warm, I’m okay 🥺

But then because he is such a sweetheart he’d huff and sit next to you on the swing, making the single-seater far too cramped as he tries to supply you with his body heat if that’s the only way that you’ll accept not freezing to death 😠

But then you’ll both slip due to there not being enough space for both of you on the wing, and your both fall flat down on your butts lmao

You’d both freeze, staring at each other blankly on the floor

but then you’d both crack up and laugh for the longest time — hushing each other in-between giggles from the fear of maybe you were being a bit too loud and could wake some people up?

But then you’d both fall into giggling messes once again as you blame each other for causing the other to fall down ):

You’d eventually sit together huddled on a bench, sitting in silence and simply staring out at seoul’s twinkling night lights as you share his leather jacket: heavy and warm as it drapes across you and his’ shoulders

But eventually you’d both finally head home! — your eyelids soon growing too heavy and both of you afraid of accidentally falling asleep at a park at 1am lmfao

idk why but i can just see a lot of late-night dates with jake,, such as

baking cookies together at 1am???? probably has happened twice already in your relationship aha 😁

honestly you both spend so much time together casually that you end up arguing on whether that time where he randomly showed up at your house wanting to make relationship bracelets together was really a date or not lmao

he is also so <3 so incredibly sweet too though uGH. he is a sweetheart and like heeseung he will remember every little detail of you which will be useful for when he comes up with more date ideas in the future (

on dates such as eating at a restaurant together he will always bring you flowers like the gentleman he is.

it’s kinda funny because when youre both on a date together alone with no other people around you both become complete crackheads

but when meeting in front of others he acts so mature and serious suddenly lmao ?? 

but honestly he just trusts and loves you so so much that he doesnt even feel like he needs to act a certain way or try to become someone complteley different on a date just to impress you

but its okay because you love the duality of jake sim <3

someone get me him pls. i want one </3

Jay

With jay, shopping dates ??? yes of course (;

he’d simply love taking you out either down a road with many well-known clothing brands or maybe even the mall, entering several clothing stores with you

he never mentions it, but its obvious how much he simply adores seeing you wear the clothes he picks out for you :D

oh and matching couple outfits are obviously always chosen whenever you go out on these fashion dates!!

he will pick out a selection of items he thinks will look good on you, and - to admit it to himself: he does a pretty good damn job

tell me why this boy will get so flustered whenever he sees you walk out of the changing room,, looking so pretty in what he chose for you ??

he’d also one day surprise you on a date with matching couple bracelets :D

you’ll get so excited and he’ll get so shy and try to hide his smile as you compliment how good his sense of style is !! and as much as he denies the fact that he’s blushing you luckily do manage to snap some pics as evidence of the rosy colour in his cheeks hehe

and especially earlier on in the relationship, he’ll always try his best and prepare cute little dates for you both )): and the members would tease him to DEATH for how unbelievably soft and considerate he is when doing things for you when he is so cranky towards them lmfao

chill dates (:

walking in the park together, getting ice cream, going for late night drives and listening to music together </3 with jay it never has to be complicated

Just as long as he gets to be with you, talk with you and touch you then that’s more than enough for him (: he just likes to be in your company

and Idk why I can just see this but he wILL have playground dates with you. dont question it

Because like ?? hanging out on the swings or climbing frame of a kids park at 11PM when there’s no one else there but you both?? Talking and swinging quietly next to each other? very romantic to me hmm

Yes <3 

he will stare at you as he silently swings a back and forth a little; brushing the hair out of your face and looking at you with so so much love in his eyes it’s unbelievable

he especially loves just relaxing with you. watching a show on the tv together while cuddling and staying close to each other is something he loves

hearing your giggles and listening to you talk while engaging in teasing banter where he’ll pretend to think the things you say are stupid by scoffing and rolling his eyes when in reality his heart is swelling and he’s trying so hard not to laugh at how cute you are? 

shut UP

those are definitely one of his favourite types of dates with you

he’ll constantly try to impress you and will be willing to try so many different things with you

i can see him as either being openly interested about going on typical couple dates together such as painting or eating at romantic restaurants,, or every time you mention something of the sort he’ll be groaning at yet another mention of the ‘couple bucket list’ you had created lol

but actually he’s secretly really excited for that couple mug-painting session you booked for you both. but he will never tell you that 😳

in conclusion, with jay it really never has to be something complex for you both to enjoy your dates <3 he just loves being in your company, even if its one of those nights where you both share no words between the cuddling and content sighs and various little soft kisses he presses to your forehead.

sunghoon

with sunghoon gOSH

whatever you two get up to, it’d be so so soft and gentle and perfect and just ):

he would always ask the members what to take you out on as a date and you bet his naver search history would consist of questions like ‘what does my s/o like’ and ‘where should i take out my partner on a date’ lmao

he just wants to make you happy and comfy ):

dates with him are usually really cute!! Like going to cafes, going ice skating etc!

But you’d also love those dates at home with him, giggling shyly as you both sit together and watch a film 🥺

he LOVES those dates! he always gets so shy whenever he comes over and it takes him a little while to get comfortable enough with you to even hold your hand pls

So when he one day pulls you in closer from where you’re sitting side by side on the couch,, bringing you closer and tucking you under his arm ??

You’re so so surprised, and you feel your heart clench a little at how gentle he is with you and how he’s finally opening up ):

And from then on,, he only will become more and more comfortable with you!!! To the point where he’ll start pouting a lil when you don’t snuggle up next to him on the sofa like you usually do );

So cuddle dates with hoon? Yes you bet they’re his fave!!

and then when its quickly approaching your 100 days anniversary, he’ll be wracking his brains for so long trying to decide what to do for you

but then it will hit him like a light bulb switching on!

he’ll suddenly remember you mentioning this specific thing that you really liked and would want to do one day, and guess what he would plan for u both!!

he’d prepare 💔💔 a picnic 💔💔 for you 💔💔

ugh youre so lucky

he’d text you the day before your anniversary telling you to expect to go on a date with him the day after and to dress up prettily :D

he’d wake up super early on the day of the date, preparing all of your favourite foods and meals into a cute lil basket ):

and when you finally both meet at a really rEALLY pretty secluded area that you somehow had no idea existed despite you living in the area for so long - you’d maybe start tearing up?? 

because your boyfriend is so so sweet and you never saw this coming from him at all ): 

and he’d just stand there shyly in front of the picnic he set up, hand at the back of his head and looking down; cute lil blush tainting his cheeks from how nervous he is!

but then you’d run over and give him a big, big hug, exxclaiming how much you appreciate what he did for you and how youre so so incredibly sorry for not bringing him something as well to celebrate your anniversary (you were dying inside fo guilt please!! how could u forget to get him something when he went out of his way like this for you )):  )

but he’d simply shake his head, smiling and not minding at all

because if he gets to see you happy, gets to see those twinkling eyes of yours that just stare up at him with so so much love before bringing him in for a sweet kiss - then he simply doesnt mind at all.

r u crying at this like i am lol

sunoo

sunoo absoloutely adores you.

and he cant stay away from you !! lmao

you’ll leave after a date and ten minutes after youve arrived you’ll get a text from him saying how much he already misses you and wants to see his bun again ):

but its okay!! because y’all would meet up again really soon again :D

sunoo really doesnt mind what you both do together, he just loves being in your company !! if he’s doing something with you, its certain that he will have so much fun and be so so comfy!

you often like to go to cinemas together, watching a film

film/drama marathons are also something that you both do very very often as a date! he loves it when you hug him tight and throw a leg over his as you both lie down in his dorm bed/your bed, watching something on your laptop

he is very very cuddly and whenever you both do have cuddle dates/sessions (which is all the time btw) he’ll like it when you absentmindedly play with his fingers or stroke your hands through his hair soothingly

and then he’ll complain and whine when you stop lmao

seriously though, without a question if either of you meet at either his dorm or your house - its always:  ‘so what are we gonna watch?’

he also likes doing very very cute couple-y activities with you! of course he does,, youre his baby ): 

(he’s more YOUR baby actually - but he doesnt need to know about that shh hehe)

funfair dates where you will go on a ferris wheels and eat cotton candy together? sharing a kiss when you reach the top? yes! and so is going to those sets designed for couples to take cute photos together as a lil photoshoot!

he is so so sweet with you ): 

and has it been mentioned yet that you’ll go on food dates? this is a very obvious date you both do very often !! 

going to food markets and trying out different street foods from different vendors? yes.

having mini dates at the korean convinience store late at night where you’ll both sit by the window and eat tteokbokki & ramen together? yes.

its all honestly really really chill, but he also knows when to be serious when he needs to (:

he’ll take you out to the your favourite restaurants often!

and whenever youre celebrating something he’ll take you to a really good and famous restaurant with mouth-watering food, and you’ll be left wondering for the longest time how on earth he managed to get a seat in since its always so booked

or ordering take-out is good too :D

in conclusion (because i just realised how long this is help 😭): dates with sunoo are always a variety of fun activities which always leave you feeling tired yet so, so happy and content at the end of the day !!

he loves you so much <3

Jungwon

Since you both go to the same school, a lot of your little dates are actually spent there

He’s pretty shy with you at times,, but when you’re both alone it’s then that dates with him are usually so so goofy and silly; days filled with his teasing and your eye rolls and giggles.

Meeting at the rooftop before school to simply talk and giggle and drink chocolate milk? Yes.

Staying after school for small study sessions in the library? Yes.

With jungwon, you’re not able to see him as much between school and him being an idol, so every little moment together means so much to both of you ):

To me jungwon also seems like a cuddler!!! cause like?? Have you seen him ?? Tell me he doesn’t look so soft 

So, dates at home when he’s free where you can both cuddle together in your bed while eating and doing homework? They’re so so cosy,, and definitely your favourite kinda dates!! not to mention that your parents absolutely adore him too

With jungwon, lots of lil spontaneous dates are definitely his and yours trademark (‘:

He’ll turn up at your house randomly with a grin and dimple poking at his cheek, holding a bag of convenience store food and asking you if you want to go on a date with him even if it’s 10pm and dark outside lmfao

And then he’ll take you to an arcade!

You’ll be the only ones there and he’s keep flexing about how he’s going to win you this cat plush from the claw machine because he says it looks like him

He’d try several times and end up spending almost 8,000 won on the machine trying to win you this plush and at this point he’s already making up several excuses about how oh, ‘it’s rigged’ or ‘give me one more chance I will get it this time!!’

You’d giggle at how he grows flustered, gently asking him if you could have a go for fun, sighing and with him and agreeing on the fact that the claw machine is definitely rigged

You’d complain together; scolding the machine and asking it to please be nice and stop ruining your date when it’s then that the claw actually picks up a plush and you’re both like ;oo

You’d both stay stood in shock as the cat plush is dropped into the receiving box, before laughing loudly

He’d stand there flustered, blush tainting his cheek before he just walks away 🚶🏻‍♂️

You’d quickly pick up the cat plush and chase after him, giggles tumbling out your lips

and uhm after that you beTTER go check up on your boy and see if his ego wasnt too damaged by that 😤

so of course you’d wrap your arms around him from behind, tucking your face into the back of his neck ): and pressing gentle kisses where you know he’s ticklish until he finally relents, a small grin and dimple lighting up his face

and phEW because you thought he was upset ): but he laughs and says youre better at the claw machine than he is so,, all good dont worry !! 🥺

It’d end up being him taking the cat plush home, which you both name ‘jungwon-two’ because of how much it actually looks like him 😭

Expect many references and inside jokes to that date and jungwon-two in the future

and tbh you love dates with won so so much. theyre so fun plus they’re always secret.

and whenever you’re out doing whatever the hell you both get up to,

It’s like there is no one else in the world. It’s just you, and him, and the blooming you both feel in your chests.

Niki

I don’t know but I can just see niki as being so romantic

You’re both young, and although niki is the biggest dork and always likes to play around and make jokes 24/7 - he’s also so mature compared to the other boys your age

So would he take you out to a date where he’d set up classically romantic candles and rose petals for you both to eat at for your 1 month anniversary? Yes ):

And you’d be so speechless and shocked as you blush quietly and thank him before he‘s accidentally knocking over his glass of water all over the table cloth and you’re laughing out loud

But expect every other date with him to be filled with so so much food and comfort!

He’d feel so comfy around you, and really the only word he thinks is perfectly able to describe you is home. He thinks you feel like home to him.

So he’d show you all of this favourite things, the things closest to his heart and you can’t help but feel your own heart clench at how much you adore this boy

He’d take you out to traditional Japanese restaurants and show you his favourite foods from back home and teach you the customs of how to eat sushi

You’d 100% be so so interested and excited whenever he reveals to you a vulnerable part of him, and he’d stare at you so lovingly as he kisses your cheek, blushing and smiling like the 15 year old he is

Ugh ): niki ):

Dance dates!!

You claim you can’t dance to save your life LMFAO (or maybe you can 😳?) but he only grins shyly instead as he takes you to a small dance studio he rented (he didn’t want to take you the belift building where there would be other people - he’d want you to feel completely comfortable).

You’d simply stand there with your mouth dropped open as you watch him freestyle to a random song he put on like it’s nothing

You’d spend the day getting taught some moves by him and although you’re sure you look like a cat getting electrocuted, he still smiles and  nods and even claps, giving you compliments and teasing remarks

Overall, dates with niki are so so fun and goofy and perfect. You feel your heart swell every time he takes you out on another little adventure, feeling so complete and carefree between his warm hugs, jokes and words that he has to say to you

(’:

#enhypen headcanons #enhypen fluff #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fic #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen jake #enhypen ot7 #enhypen sunoo #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jungwon #kpop imagines

[honorbound-to-the-pen]

Fictober Day 4

Prompt number:4 (”Fine, I give up”)

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)

Rating: Gen

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, domestic fluff, Johnlock, post season 4

You Win Some, You Lose Some

John was sitting in his armchair in the living room when Sherlock and Rosie approached him. Hand in hand, the pair were both giggling. For the past half hour, John had been able to hear them whispering from Rosie’s room, voices loud even in their attempt to be secretive.

They approached him hand in hand, Rosie’s face plastered with an innocent expression that slipped every few seconds when she glanced up at Sherlock, giggling and then clearing her throat and smiling again in a way that was quite reminiscent of John when he had just hidden part of Sherlock’s science equipment, or when he had removed experiments from the fridge.

Sherlock’s face was cool and neutral, having had years of practice schooling his expression into a mask. But every now and then, as he looked down and met Rosie’s mischievous gaze, his calculating cover would slip and a small but adoring smile would collect around his eyes and in the corners of his mouth. Every time he realized it, his head jerked up to make eye contact with John, seeming to assess whether John was perceptive enough to have caught the minute switch.

John snorted and folded up his newspaper before setting it aside on the coffee table.

“What have you two been up to? Nothing dangerous, I hope,” he said, fixing Sherlock with a stern gaze.

“Do you want to play a game, daddy? Me and dada have it all set up in my room!” Rosie glanced up at Sherlock for approval, who nodded and smiled devilishly at her, pretending for her sake that John couldn’t see.

“Alright, Rosie, what game are we playing?” John asked, getting up from his chair and taking Rosie’s other hand.

Rosie turned and skipped off towards her room, heedless of the tangle that her rotation made of John and Sherlock’s arms.

Somehow, the trio made it to Rosie’s room, just off the kitchen, without ending up in a heap on the floor. Across from the doorway, the table that usually contained Rosie’s collection of art supplies and chemistry sets was cleared in favor of two battleship sets, with three chairs crowded around.

Settling into the chair across from Rosie and Sherlock, who had their chairs arm to arm and were leaning towards each other conspiratorially, John glanced at his board, taking stock of the five plastic ships and the white and red pegs.

After studiously setting up his ships, taking care not to cheat and glance over to Rosie and Sherlock’s board, John looked up. Sherlock and Rosie both stared back at him, Sherlock’s fingers gracefully steepled to hide his expressions, and Rosie’s fingers locked together with her elbows on the table in an imitation of Sherlock.

John covered a laugh with a cough and cleared his throat. “Are you two ready to play?”

“Only if you’re ready to lose, John,” Sherlock said coolly, struggling to maintain a straight face when Rosie punctuated his statement with a “Yeah!”.

“Alright, are your ships placed?” Rosie and Sherlock nodded solemnly. “I’ll even let you two go first.” Relaxing back in his chair, John smiled behind a cup of coffee as Sherlock and Rosie put their heads together, gesturing at the board and whispering surreptitiously to each other behind their hands. Turning in sync, Rosie and Sherlock impishly at John, Rosie pointing to the board while Sherlock whispered in her ear. “A5.”

An hour later, John was much less content with his little bubble of domestic bliss. As his fifth ship was blown to Hell for the umpteenth time, he crossed his arms in front of himself and huffed, aware that he looked like a petulant child but too exasperated to care.

“Fine, I give up. You two win. C’mon, Sherlock, it’s time to make dinner. Rosie, go set the table.” Standing and pushing his chair back, he made his way to the kitchen, ignoring the cries of protest behind him.

Once in the kitchen, John started collecting ingredients and random pots from the cupboards before opening the fridge with more force than was strictly necessary. Making his way back to the counter next to the sink, he set down a heap of raw vegetables on a cutting board.

As he reached for a chef’s knife, he felt arms snake around his waist and a hand tugging at his cardigan sleeve. Turning slightly, he saw Sherlock’s dark, curly mop of hair, and looking down he saw Rosie at his right elbow, gazing up at him with a woeful look.

“We didn’t mean to upset you, John,” Sherlock said, kissing John’s cheek before resting his head on top of John’s.

“We’re sorry, daddy. I can’t help that I’m the best at Battleship!” Rosie smiled and hugged John’s leg. John let out a sigh and leaned back against Sherlock, settling a hand on top of Rosie’s head, tousling her hair.

“It’s ok, Rosie. Your dada can be a bit of a conceited prat sometimes. After dinner, you and I can play Battleship together while he makes dessert. How does that sound?”

"Yay! Make sure it's a good dessert, dada!” John could feel Sherlock huffing in exasperation against his back, and could imagine him rolling his eyes. John shook with silent laughter, leaning his head back against Sherlock’s shoulder and kissed his cheek.

“You heard her, dear. Let’s get to it. Chop chop!” Rosie laughed and skipped to the dining table, setting the table as she started humming in an almost correct key. Sherlock started humming along as he grabbed a cutting board and started preparing dessert next to John. Smiling to himself, already over his abysmal record in Battleship and looking forward to the night ahead.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34295887

#writing #writeblr #fictober21 #fictober 21 #fictober 2021 #fictober #sherlock #john watson #johnlock #sherlock bbc #post season 4 #post the final problem #fluff #domestic fluff #no angst this time #i promise

[courtlyharlequin]

Hello, may I order some rose tea with riddle please~ thank you very much! ♡♡♡

My Rose-Colored Boy

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this! There’s also a song by the same name of the title (you should listen to it), but it actually isn’t the inspiration for this fic. The actual inspiration is a song called Green Tea and Honey by Dane Amar. You can listen to it here.

Coffee shop-hopping—  unhealthy pastime of yours. You didn’t even like coffee. You label yourself as a tea person yourself. Yet there is a certain atmosphere in a coffee shop that no teahouse could never replicate. While you are not so keen on the bitter aftertaste of coffee, its scent stirs up a foreign sense of solace in your mind. A day’s stress melts away after you waft in the aroma of freshly ground beans. It clears away the murky gray clouds that clog the back of your head. For that reason alone, for that feeling that you cannot get enough of, you visit a plethora of cafes a day if you have time on your hands.

You could easily name your personal favorites but you would never come back to them on a daily basis. You would usually come back at two day intervals. Yes, they were your personal favorites, but you prefer hunting for new cafes, expanding your already extensive list of places to escape from reality– or at least your responsibilities.

Keyword: usually.

For the past few weeks, you find yourself coming to the same cafe every day, on a daily basis. And today, you find yourself at the same cafe once more. This is the second time you’ve set foot into the coffeehouse. Or should you say greenhouse?  Café Rosé. A coffee shop with many rose themed beverages. The interior is heavily adorned with faux flowers. The windows were tinted with a rosy pink. The shop smelled more like roses than actual coffee. It’s.. out-putting, but it also induces yet another foreign feeling of comfort within you. Quite frankly, you favor the scent of roses and coffee nowadays rather than the scent of coffee by itself.

But.. that wasn’t the only reason.

The barista greets you as the door hits the chime, cuing your entrance: “Ah! Welcome back, (y/n).”

“Hello again, Riddle,” you curtly reply.

“What can I get for you today?” he asks, making his way to the register.

“Surprise me. I already had my usual earlier today. I would like to… try something new…”

“Alright then. I’ll be ready with your order shortly. Would you like to–”

“Card, Riddle,” you beam, handing the thin plastic over to him.

He took it sheepishly, flustered by your assertive gesture. Every day for the past few weeks had been routine. He knows your usual, your preferences, how you like your tea brewed– the little things that he managed to pick up from your brief interactions. One wouldn’t call him perceptive or observant, but he sees himself as one who is able to connect the dots and see patterns if they are frequently recurring.Of course, Riddle knows that you always pay through card, but he honestly could not break way from his mental script that he practices daily with every customer.

You watch him fiddle with his fingers as the receipt prints.

“Thank you for your purchase,” he says.

You nod as you take the piece of paper, opting to sit at the table with barstools facing the counter rather than your usual nook by the window.

There is something really off about today. Today’s events move fluidly yet ever so slowly.  It’s as if the universe let you finally catch your breath. Refreshing, but with this much time on your hands, your extensive list of cafe getaways could not keep up.

Your mind wandered over to a certain redhead barista. Ah.. perhaps he is the only thing particularly “normal” and “hustling” today. He wears the same expression whenever he brews a beverage– furrowed eyebrows and a slight lip bite. He seems out of place, like the kitchen is not a place where he would belong because he has never been in one.

With a clink of a teacup and silverware, Riddle makes his way towards you, firmly gripping the tray to the point where his knuckles are white. His smile seems a bit forced, but not because of irritation. It is because he is still flustered. He has developed a slight attachment to you– a miniscule infatuation that enhances his ability to notice every little thing about you which began with your very first order– the Rosé Latte. You didn’t even like coffee. He watches you from the counter as you gag, rushing to your side. He remembers it ever so clearly:

“Hey… are you alright?” he asks.

“Oh yeah. Don’t worry about it. I’m just not a coffee person is all,” you sigh.

“Then… why did you order a latte with coffee? I could have subbed it out with tea..” Riddle let the latter half trail off into thin air.

“Hmm… I wanted to see if I could find a lover here. If you had changed something, it probably wouldn’t have worked,” you admit.

“Did it really work?”

You jokingly scan the room: “I don’t think so.”

“Hold on for just one moment.”

“Hmm?”

A few minutes later, the redhead returns to your table with another cup in hand.

“Here. One Rosé Latte– the coffee subbed out for tea.”

“Oh you didn’t have to! I’ll just get it nex–”

“It’s on the house,” he huffed, extending his arm further so the beverage would be in such a close proximity that you could not possibly deny it.

“Alright, then. Thank you… ahhhh…”

“Riddle.”

“Thank you, Riddle.”

“My pleasure, (y/n).”

“Wait how did you know my name?”

“Your order? I-I’m not a stalker! I swear!”

“Pfttt. No worries.”

It has been a few weeks since that event has occurred. Riddle is still unsure as to why you opted for coffee since you detest the flavor.

Nearly every customer orders this drink. Riddle isn’t sure as to how the rumor spread, but it seems that the latte truly does make people fall in love. Even his colleagues have found their “soulmates” with a stroke of luck. Okay. He’s a tad envious of them whenever their beloved darlings waltz into the shop with heart eyes, going on and on about the serendipitous encounter. Their interactions cause his feelings of loneliness to swell. Okay, so maybe he is profoundly envious of his coworkers– more than he’s willing to admit, that is. But… perhaps there is some hope in you. Even you aren’t his soulmate or if these unknown feelings are unrequited, he’s content with your daily visit. Seeing you every day is a gift in itself. Seeing you twice today, and right before closing, must be a blessing.

“Your order, (y/n),” he prompts, setting down the tray and handing you the ceramic cup.

You perk up from your haze, taking in the floral scent of the herbal tea waft into your nose as you sigh.

“This is–”

“Rose tea with honey.”

You stare at him for a bit. Rose tea is your usual. The only difference is the addition of a sweetener. He truly did surprise you. Riddle is, and will always be, a by-the-book person. He cannot break away from “routine”. He stares back at you with an eager expression, determined to hear your response.

You take the cup, “Thank you, Riddle.”

“My pleasure,” he beams.

That smile-!! It melts your heart. As much as you hate to admit it, you find yourself coming back here routinely for this rose colored boy and his radiant smile. He is a person of very few words when handling customers. He’s actually full of them when it’s just you and him early in the morning. Now, Riddle is absolutely terrible at small talk, but he could talk about tarts and roses for an eternity. Conversations with him feel whole, complete... as if they are meant to be. Ahhhh, you did not like the sound of that– routine. However, you did take a liking to Riddle, the rather nitpicky yet timid barista who lives everyday of his life by a routine.

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt…

You take another sip of the tea then set the cup down, turning to Riddle who is still standing beside you, fidgeting with the tray.

“Say, Riddle, are you free this weekend?”

“I- Wha- I mean- Yes?”

“Would you like to go cafe-hopping with me?”

“Cafe-hopping?”

“It’s like going to several coffee shops consecutively in one day.”

“I would love to, (y/n),” he says softly.

Bonus:

“Is he aware that that person is his soulmate?” a boy with auburn hair asks huskily, adjusting himself so that his eyes met the bare surface of the cashier’s counter.

“Oi, Ace, stop being so rude. Riddle isn’t that dense! I’m sure they’re both aware!” a hushed whisper replies, shoving him aside so that he could also spy on his coworker.

“But look at him! He’s so nervous, stumbling over his words.. I’m getting secondhand chills… don’t you feel it too, Deuce?”

“Yeah, but he sat down with his soulmate and they look like they’re getting along well!”

“That’s because they’ve got heart eyes and saliva dripping out of their mouth from drooling over each other.”

“Well, I think that-”

Bonk!

“Shhhh! Ace, Deuce! He might hear you. You won’t be able to see tomorrow if he finds out that you’re eavesdropping,” another slightly older with auburn hair scolds nonchalantly as he kneels next to them.

“But did you really have to karate chop our heads, Cater?!” Ace hisses.

“Sorry, sorry,” he giggles.

“Cater, you were supposed to get them to go back to work,” yet another voice sighs.

“Ah, sorry, Trey! It was just so interesting. I couldn’t resist. Oh-! I have to get to a picture as a keepsake for Riddle.”

Before Trey could say: “Wait no-!”

Cater whips out his smartphone, snapping a picture.

“Hashtag: soulmates. Hashtag: Rosé-Café . Hashtag: Rosé-Latte. Hashtag: Go-get-’em-Riddle anddd posted!” he grins.

Trey shakes his head, crouching down to join his fellow baristas.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twisted wonderland oneshot #twst oneshot #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #event fic #cafe rose event #fave

[lambourngb]

This Hard Lie

Fic prompt: “Just trust me.”

THIS HARD LIE follows THIS HARD TOWN an AU that explores what Michael’s life might change if Alex hadn’t joined the Air Force. It’s not necessarily an easy rosy life . This part includes the following warnings : Kyle/Michael, sexual content, a homophobic slur directed at Michael by an OC, Michael’s cynicism about the US military and some more plot musings. This is finished in full on AO3.

***

[UNDER the cut because it starts NSFW]

There was something intensely meditative about sucking cock for Michael. 

Opening his mouth wide past comfort into an ache of effort, the firm press on his palate mixing with the surge of salt on his tongue, the mess of saliva and pre-cum smearing sloppily over his face as he dropped into a state where listening to his partner’s enjoyment was the only thing that registered. The world slipped away as he took measured breaths, his mind finally quiet, until all that was left was Michael being good. 

Michael could just be a vessel to fill with pleasure instead of pain.

Normally skating his hand down to gently squeeze and massage his partner’s testicles was enough to get that hitched-curse and uncontrolled jerk in his mouth that signaled an impending orgasm. The draw and shiver of warm pliant skin before the warm, thick release in his mouth, except that was not happening.

After a firm swipe of his tongue against the slit, rubbing against the edge of the frenulum, another foolproof trick in his experience that garnered nothing more than a sigh and an absent clutch of the hand on the back of his neck, Michael pulled away abruptly to stare up at Kyle Valenti’s face. 

“Wait, why’d you stop?” 

Michael wiped his mouth with the back of his hand rocking back on his heels, his voice rough from his activities, “‘Cause you don’t seem to be into this? Which I gotta admit, that’s a mood killer for me and slightly hurtful to my pride.”

Instead of arguing with Michael over his observation, Kyle sighed guilty and shifted to pull up his lightweight shorts over his erection, signalling the close of the encounter. “Sorry, you know you’re great at that, it’s me. My brain,” he gestured to his head with a twirling motion with his long-skilled surgeon hands. 

Michael couldn’t help but follow the motion with interest, he had always been a sucker for a set of strong, confident hands.

Alex had hands like that.

Fuck, Michael pushed that thought away like he did every time it slipped in uninvited and collapsed next to Kyle on his expensive leather couch. It’s been two years since Michael’s last glimpse of Alex, no contact from him outside of the impersonal birthday and holiday cards that had begun after Michael mailed his ‘I’m sorry I dropped in your life’ letter. They’ve officially been apart longer than they were together and still Michael couldn’t stop thinking of Alex daily.

Perhaps Kyle wasn’t the only one distracted tonight. 

“Listen, I won’t bore you with the details and break our agreement here,” Kyle continued, knocking his shoulder against Michael’s. “I can still do you here-”

“‘Do me’, so romantic, Valenti. I think I’ll pass on getting a disinterested handjob, thanks.” Michael rolled his eyes at the offer and reached for the bottle of water from the coffee table to swish around his mouth before swallowing for effect.

It was Kyle’s turn to roll his eyes but fondly. “I could give you an absent-minded blowjob instead?”

Their eyes met. Kyle lifted his well-groomed eyebrow as Michael pretended to be seriously tempted with a stroke of his stubbled jaw in turn before they both broke and started to laugh helplessly.

If someone had told a seventeen-year-old Michael that one day he would be laughing with Kyle Valenti in his high-end, ultra modern condo after a failed conclusion to a ‘U up?’ text, well he probably would have been interested in the type of pharmaceutical high that would have made that possible. Hell, the Michael of a year ago wouldn’t have believed it either but that was before he met the post-med school Kyle that returned home to Roswell.

It had started one night at the Wild Pony, where Michael frequented more and more for the scraps of news about Alex from Maria. A practice she did her best to discourage, repeating her policy of ‘I don’t play messenger between exes’, which had given Michael hope that maybe Alex had asked about him. He had been one beer in, contemplating a second when Jake Frederick’s sneer had interrupted.

“I hear they’re finally opening a place that caters just for the fags in town.”

That word, not unfamiliar to Michael in Roswell, brought his shoulders up to his ears. Its ugliness brought back so many memories of how it was whispered, spat, scrawled, or just strongly implied whenever Michael and Alex had ventured outside the safety zone of the Crashdown or their own four walls. The Wild Pony once Maria had bought it was eventually added to the list, though some patrons still thought otherwise.

On cue, Maria’s voice barked from behind the bar, “Jake, you use that word again in here and you’re banned for life!”

There was a titter of amusement as Jake’s crowd of admirers teased him for the call out, before an artificial apology was offered in return. After a moment though, Michael could hear him perfectly well pick up his conversation, “it’ll be wall to wall fake wigs and limp wrists there, probably playing nothin’ but Alex Manes’s shitty music.”

The laughter echoed, and Michael started to reach for his wallet to pay for his beer. It was clear that tonight’s entertainment was focused on Michael. He thought at this point, without Jesse Manes drumming up hate for his son, that these bullies would finally move on to something new. Unimaginative pricks.

“Hey Guerin, you off to join your people at that gay bar?” Jake called, noticing Michael’s departure. “Gonna find yourself someone new to ruin now that your boy left you?”

Closing his eyes as he swept his hat over his curls, Michael said a silent apology to 17-year-old Alex for breaking his promise on violence. He turned, noting a few new faces gathered at the table, probably guys from the base with their short haircuts, along with a silent Wyatt Long. For all of Wyatt’s racist blustering, Michael knew he had a queer cousin in Austin. Still, Michael pasted a bright and fake smile, “those are my people at Planet 7, Jake, but how many times do I have to tell you? I’m not gay.” 

“My mistake, buddy. Must have been all the cocksucking you do that threw me off.”

Michael laughed harshly, ignoring the movement in his peripheral, and stepped closer, his smile growing darker, “I’m bisexual, which means, not only will I feed you my dick, Jakey, but I’ll give it to your sister too. Just not at the same time. Unless you’re into that sort of thing? You look like your parents were into it…”

The slam of chairs falling backward as Jake jumped to his feet at the insult. After that it was more blurs of movement, jostling, and chaos as Maria shouted in the background about the police while Michael traded punches indiscriminately. At one point he realized he had help against his back, as the fight spilled outside into the cold, raw New Mexico night.

Dark spiked hair, a nice set of shoulders that gave Michael an inch or two of height advantage was all he could register in the melee. It wasn’t until the breaking of glass that was shortly echoed by the boom of a shotgun that the fight dropped into stillness and Michael recognized his unsolicited ally as Kyle Valenti. 

Maria stood next to the door of the Wild Pony as a lone siren picked up in the background, “All right you assholes, you’re all out of here. Drop your weapons and fucking leave before I have the sheriff lock all of you up!”

“Gotta admit, you’re kind of the last person I expected to be fighting a bigot,” Michael commented, dabbing at a fiercely bleeding cut on his eyebrow. “Kinda remember it the other way around in high school.”

Kyle smiled humorlessly as he caught his breath, grabbing Michael’s shoulder to pull him away from the bar toward the parking lot as the sirens picked up volume. “Well, I remember you as being some sort of secret genius in high school. Taking on five guys seems kind of dumb.”

“It was just four guys, Wyatt wasn’t gonna involve himself or else Maria would have called his uncle and aunt on him.”

“Oh well, if it was just four guys, I should have stayed at the bar, I wasn’t finished with my drink yet,” Kyle quipped sarcastically, as he kept pulling Michael through the parked cars. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“Fuck off, I didn’t ask for help-” He shook off Kyle’s hand, his previous pliancy in following Kyle at an end as he bristled with indignation. Whatever strange amnesia over what a dick Kyle Valenti was in general and to Alex in particular passed at the prod for gratitude. “And my damn truck is over there-”

“Can you even see out of that eye? Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Kyle answered for him and dug out a pair of keys from his pocket as an expensive sounding unlocking chirp echoed. Of course. The dark blue BMW in the sea of modest pick up trucks and domestic sedans was his. At least it wasn’t the bright red Camaro from graduation, that car had too many associations with it for Michael. The hatch popped open on the X1, Kyle leaned in to pull out a towel to toss to Michael. “I’ve got my bag here and I could use the practice in sutures, so?”

Normally the idea of a doctor touching him at all was enough to instill a mix of dread and panic, but Michael didn’t see anything in Kyle’s face other than genuine concern mixed with exasperation. The open air of the parking lot with police on the way seemed like a bad idea. “All right, free medical care is hard to turn down, but I don’t want your dad arresting me, so can we-”

“Your place, it is.” And then as they drove in silence, with Michael still holding the towel against his cut, Kyle spoke gently in the dark. “I was a dick in high school, I was even a dick in college. But then some things changed for me, um, so I’m glad Roswell is getting a gay bar.”

“No, no, high school homophobe does not come out as gay, not happening, no way-”

“No not gay,” Kyle cut his eyes over to the passenger seat, giving Michael a quick up-and-down appraisal. “Just learned the package isn’t really that important to me. I like sex. Med school was a small pool of sleep-deprived, competitive people and I stopped caring if they had a dick or not. I also learned a lot about anatomy.”

The appraising look, the hint of good-natured humor in Kyle’s eyes, and his suggestive words were all enough to push Michael to grunt, “changed my mind, your place instead.” He never took anyone back to his Airstream as a rule.

And that was the beginning of Michael’s almost-friends, only-benefits relationship with Kyle Valenti. It revolved around those unsaid rules from the first night, only at Kyle’s condo, and rarely did they engage in anything more substantive than talk about sports or the general stupidity of Roswell. The sex was easy, the conversation stayed light enough to fill the gaps of loneliness, and if Michael had been a different species, he might have considered it the start of something more permanent.

If only Max had been wrong. If only Michael hadn’t fallen in love with Alex as a teenager. The first year after Alex left had been devoted to trying to make it on his own financially and getting the down payment together for the Airstream. The next year he had tortured himself with believing that now that Alex was successful, he’d come back to Roswell, to him. Then after Isobel’s wedding and that trip east, Michael had to accept the truth. 

Dating in the years since, women and the occasional out man, had changed nothing for Michael. It was still Alex filling his every odd thought, and especially his fantasies at night. Doomed indeed as Max warned him, to drift through life enjoying the surface companionship of others but never anything more.

The reminder of what he did have currently, good sex and the ability to laugh with someone, loosened some of the private rules that Michael had had kept to with Kyle. “So, I mean, you don’t have to, but if you want to talk about what’s on your mind, you can.” Michael tipped his head back against the couch to meet Kyle’s surprised expression. “It would make me feel better about my sexual prowess, okay? You nodding off during a blowjob hurts man.”

“Well, as long as it makes you feel better,” Kyle teased sarcastically before accepting the offer made. “I was thinking about my dad.”

“Kinky, but gross, dude.”

“Ha ha, funny.” 

“Sorry, sorry, that was wide open.” Michael nudged his shoulder more seriously, “what about your dad?”

“He’s been acting weird lately. I actually thought he was drinking again,” Kyle waived his hand restlessly, “it’s an open secret my dad has been on and off the wagon. Most cops have a close relationship with booze.”

The Roswell circle of repeated gossipry was wide enough to reach Sanders, customers often needing to make some sort of conversation as they waited, so Michael was pretty familiar with the rumors about Jim Valenti. Most of them he ignored, like the infidelity whispers, because he could still remember the man showing up to Mimi Deluca’s house to offer Alex that first steady job in the face of Jesse’s smear campaign. An act that Jesse had retaliated by sponsoring a challenger to the next year’s sheriff’s race.

For a police officer, Michael cut Jim Valenti some slack in the character department. He also wasn’t a bad boss according to Max, though his brother’s opinion didn’t sway Michael as far as Jim’s act of kindness to Alex had.

“You said you thought he was drinking again, but he’s not?”

“Well, my other suspicion was he was cheating on my mom.” Kyle met Michael’s concerned glance with a tired, dark smile. “Yeah, not a great thought to have, but he’s been disappearing a lot. Acting paranoid too, he always carries but I noticed he kept his sidearm on him during Sunday dinner. Like he’s afraid someone is going to show up and attack him.”

“You think he was cheating with someone else who was married?” 

“I can’t really figure out what’s going on with him, other than he’s lying. But I followed him today, and he didn’t go to work, he drove a hundred miles north.” 

Michael blinked in reluctant admiration, “I guess you pick up stuff with two cops as parents.” He racked his brain for something more to say, but his conversational skills had never been gifted to begin with outside of charming someone into bed. “Um, in my experience, cheaters stay close to home. Like coworker, favorite waitress, etc. it’s definitely weird for your dad to drive that far for a little something on the side.”

“That’s the thing, he’s all secretive but it's over something nostalgic. I followed him to some old prison my grandfather worked at in the 60s called Caulfield. It’s been shut down for years. I can’t figure it out, and short of asking him directly I doubt I will.” Kyle shook his head again before inching closer to Michael on the couch, with a slow growing knowing smile, “So now you know where my head was when-“

“When I was trying to give you head?” Michael snarked playfully, picking up the change in mood easily. Apparently talking it out loud had released whatever mental block Kyle had been struggling with before. The moment reminded him of how he used to hold Alex at night, listening to him vent over the various customers in his day before he was able to wind down enough to enjoy any intimate touch. 

Fuck. He was thinking about Alex again.

This time he let Kyle pulling him into a kiss distract him fully from the renewed spiral of remembrance. His body warmed slowly as Michael shut down his brain from wandering east again to Nashville. 

***

“Your soul and your heart have been in such opposition,” Mimi murmured, holding Michael’s palm between hers as she gave him a reading at the Wild Pony. It was his way of distracting her while Maria gently soothed two customers that had received a deep lecture about the sins on their souls from her mother. To be fair, Michael could tell from their demeanor and close cut hair that each of them had served or were actively serving in the military, so Mimi Deluca probably wasn’t too far wrong from the mark with her lecture. “I know you’re a traveler, child, but this pull north and east could tear you in two.”

“My heart hasn’t been mine for a while,” Michael replied truthfully. Once he and Alex had moved in with one another, the small family of outcasts with Alex, Maria and Mimi had expanded to include him for a while. And once upon a time it had boasted more members like Rosa and Liz, but his sister’s actions had trimmed those branches in one way or another.

“That’s the east, and while it travels ever closer to you, you’ll never get that back. But north though, if you follow that path, perhaps your soul will find peace.”

“Not sure what I’d do with peace.”

“Maybe pay your bar tab once in a while?” Maria injected as she moved back behind the bar with a gentle hand on her mother’s shoulder. “And not starting a fight in my bar would also be a good start.”

“Come on, Deluca, I have been a very good boy since that last go-around Jake. I swear that kid is a closet case with how badly he seems to want me to lay hands on him,” Michael protested weakly. Truly he had only bent his old promise to Alex a handful of times in the last year and all of them because the Fredrickson kid had brought up Alex in some way. The comments about his job, clothes, and cheap taste in booze could all be ignored, but one word about Alex’s music or success and the gloves came off.

“Maria! Don’t be so mean to Michael, his people aren’t designed to live like this, divided in two.”

Despite the chill from Mimi’s words, Michael knew that Maria didn’t take her mother’s talk too seriously with how often she peppered her premonitions with nineties alien blockbuster movies. She always interpreted her mother’s words as being a romantic metaphor about a lost love. 

Suddenly Mimi straightened, looking over Michael’s shoulder. “I guess good can come from evil dying.”

In the mirror over the bar, he caught sight of what Mimi saw. A grip closed over his heart, squeezing it until the fluttering motion ceased under the force as he watched Alex Manes move confidently through the crowd toward the front where Michael was with Maria. His head was shaved close up the back of his head, leaving a long, silky dark fringe over one eye and his face was bare of makeup and piercings. The black shirt sporting long sleeves made of crisscrossed fabric over a pair of tight black jeans looked more at home on Rodeo Drive than Roswell but the completely indifferent look on Alex’s face showed he didn’t care about fitting in to the locals bar.

Fuck it was so quintessentially Alex’s attitude from high school, before the shed, that Michael was having trouble remembering it had been at least six years. 

“Alex Manes, in my bar!” Maria squealed, vaulting herself over the bar in one smooth motion to cross the distance to throw herself into his arms. 

Michael’s mouth was dry as he picked up his drink to take a sip, feeling awkward and out of place. Should he offer his hand to shake? A hug? Could he pretend to be European and kiss Alex’s cheeks? What were the rules on an ex that he traded Hallmark cards with now? 

A soft cool touch pulling him back from his spiraling thoughts to look up into Mimi Deluca’s clear and focused gaze, “he sings in the wrong key every night, but you know his song. You’re a good boy, you’re not rotten inside like your sister.”

Before he could do more than blink, Alex was suddenly next to them, looking at Mimi’s hand covering his curiously before smiling at Michael. “I would have thought you’d be tired of this place, after all those nights waiting for me to finish my shift?”

“Alex,” Michael took a deep breath, floundering for something more than the obvious, “you’re here. In Roswell.”

“It wasn’t really my idea,” Alex admitted gently, before taking a seat next to him. He reached smoothly for Michael’s glass to steal a drink from before making a face. “Oh man, it’s been a long time since I’ve had Crown Royal.” He fished out an expensive wallet to pull a crisp hundred dollar bill from a stack to lay on the bar, “Maria, please rescue him from this with some good tequila.”

Mimi gave Michael a significant look of encouragement before interjecting, “Maria, honey you should let these two get reacquainted, Alex isn’t going anywhere for a while. Jesse is dying, but he’s not dying today or even tomorrow.”

Michael jerked his head toward Alex, “that’s why you’re here? It’s your dad?”

A small smile of satisfaction twitched over Alex’s mouth before he nodded in confirmation, “Brain tumor. Doctor says he might have a month, maybe less. I’m only here because my brother threatened to go to the press if I didn’t show and my agent is worried about how that would look.”

“Oh.” Michael picked up his fresh drink, a high end alcohol he could have never dreamed of ordering for himself, out of a need to do something with his hands to keep from reaching out to touch Alex. “If I said that sucks for you that he’s dying, I’d be lying, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too, Michael.” Alex clinked his glass against Michael’s softly, “I’ve been back for a couple of days, this was the first time I could get away actually. The movies all lied you know, cancer isn’t this quiet death. My dad is ranting and raving all night long, about aliens, about being murdered, about all sorts of random shit about Roswell and the crash and hands that kill. Your name has kept coming up too. I should record it and put it on youtube, make him famous too.”

*** 

#guerinweek20 #mgweek20 #malex #malex fic #guerenti #the lost decade #au after the shed #there will be a happy ending #angst first #pining idiots in love #roswell new mexico

[edupunkn00b]

Remy & Emile, Chapter 5: Can’t Help

Word Count: 2396, Human AU, pre- and during Chapter 1 of Happily Ever After [ AO3 ] May Flowers Event Day 15 prompt: snapdragons for deception CW / Content Warning: vague references to toxic relationships and past domestic violence ---

Remy slid into his seat in the lecture hall moments before the TAs began taking attendance, panting and fighting to catch his breath. He had lost all track of time at the library, reading the new Edward O. Wilson book Emile had recommended. By the time Remy had realized how little time he had left to get to class, his only option to get there on time was to sprint the full length of the campus from the library, running with his finger caught in the book, marking his place. Once seated, he pulled out his notebook, ripping out a page to serve as a bookmark, tucking it into place. He then looked down to the first row where Emile usually sat. Remy noted the distinct lack of his pink-haired friend. He quickly scanned the lecture hall, seeking out that familiar color, but it appeared that Emile wasn’t in class that day.

He frowned but decided to focus on the lecture … if Emile was out today, the least Remy could do was share a decent set of notes.

Near the end of class, Professor Howard dramatically wrote a large date on the whiteboard. 5/30/18. Remy sat stiffly in his seat. If you interfere with my plans for that day, Professor, we're going to have ourselves a little problem … “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the due date for your final projects. This project is not listed in the syllabus and I will not be repeating myself.” Remy fought the urge to raise his hand and ask if that was the date for the ladies and gentlemen in the class, whether enby's projects were due on the same day. He bent over his notebook, ready to add the details. Professor Howard sighed loudly and called out, “If you have questions, you can see me after class or at office hours, Patshki.”

Remy whipped up his head, looking around for Emile but didn’t see him. Professor Howard must really be on his A-game today if he was mistaking another student for Emile. Shaking his head, Remy copied down the rubric for the assignment. “You may work with a partner if you so choose, but remember that you will have a shared grade, so select your partner wisely.” Professor Howard looked up at the clock, “Class dismissed.”

Remy stayed in his seat during the usual chaos caused by over 300 students trying to be somewhere, anywhere other than the spot they currently occupied. Some students rushed for the exits and others lined up to talk with Professor Howard about the presentation grades he’d posted the night before. Remy looked over his notes, using a highlighter to bracket off portions for emphasis and correcting a few misspellings or illegibly scrawled words he’d let slip through in his haste to take complete notes for Emile.

“Hi, Remy,” Emile’s voice was suddenly next to him. Remy dropped his pencil and looked up.

He blinked in surprise at a brown-haired Emile standing next to his seat. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Emile smiled, bending down to pick up Remy’s dropped pencil.

“You hair!,” Remy blurted out.

Emile reached up to touch the now-brown curls, smile stiffening. “I … I decided to change it.” He winced slightly. “It doesn’t look that bad, does it?”

Remy shook his head, “No, of course not … any hair style would look good on - “ He clamped his lips shut. “No, it doesn’t look bad at all. I was just surprised.” He smiled, tilting his head, “I thought you liked the pink. It -" Remy gestured over the ever-present splashes of pink in Emile's outfit "- matched your rosy esthetic."

Emile shrugged and gestured at Remy’s notes, abruptly changing the subject. “Your notes look really good there.” He tilted his head toward the front of the lecture hall where Professor Howard was now holding court with his TAs. “They’re better than his, I bet.”

“Oh, right," Remy frowned briefly at Emile's avoidance of their previous subject, but didn't want to make him uncomfortable by pressing the issue. "I - I didn’t see you down there and thought you were out. I wanted …,” Remy looked down at his notebook, biting his lip and feeling the back of his neck flush.

Emile’s smile softened. “And you wanted to make sure I could read your notes in case I needed to borrow them?” Remy shrugged, working to ignore the way his blush only got worse when Emile smiled at him. Remy closed his notebook and shoved it into his bag. “Remy … that was really thoughtful. I feel bad that you went to all that trouble ….” Emile shifted his bag to his other shoulder.

Remy stood, picking up his own bag and heading toward the doors, “It was no trouble at all, really.” He flashed a quick smile at Emile, checking to see that he was following him out of the lecture hall. “I’m glad you were able to hear the lecture for yourself. Especially with this new assignment.”

“Do you have any thoughts on a topic yet?,” Emile asked, walking next to him. “Perhaps we could work together?”

Remy chuckled. “ 'Now, select wisely',” Remy intoned in a deep voice, quietly mimicking Professor Howard’s warning, “ 'You will share a grade' …” Emile giggled, covering his mouth and Remy noticed that his eyes appeared lighter now in contrast to the new hair color. They looked like two cups of strong chai, he thought, before you add the milk ...

Emile's words shook him from his reverie. “I would love to work with you, Remy,” Emile’s face suddenly tightened, the laughter dying on his lips. He fiddled with the buckle on his book bag. “I - I do have a favor to ask of you, though,”

“Anything, Emile,” Remy gave him his full attention. “How can I help?” Emile twisted his fingers around the strap of his bag, watching how the material bunched at his knuckles.

“Yes, ah … You see, Max seems to think that perhaps you might have a little crush on me and he tol - suggested that I ... well, that I avoid you.” Remy stopped walking and stared at Emile. A crush? Oh ... a crush.

Emile also stopped, turning to face Remy, waving his hands in front of him. “I - I disagree. I … I just ...," Emile blew out a slow breath, looking around them where they stood on the edge of the Quad. "We just … it would be a good idea … not to … stop by my dorm room again.” Emile said the last part in a low voice, head hanging.

Finally finding his voice, Remy cleared his throat. “I can do that, Emile, no problem. I … “ Remy looked carefully at him, watching how he twisted his hands around his bag's shoulder strap, and recalling how he'd practically shrunk when standing close to Max. Everything about Emile had changed when he was around his boyfriend. He became a completely different person. Quieter. Smaller. Sadder.

Remy chewed his bottom lip, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Emile, I hope you don’t mind this question, but … Are you - “ Remy sighed, then stepped closer to Emile and gestured to a nearby bench. “Um, can we sit down for a bit?”

They walked to the bench and sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Remy dragged a hand through his hair, brushing his long bangs out of this face. “Emile, I’m just gonna be blunt.” He took a deep breath and met Emile’s eyes. “Are you afraid of Max?”

Emile paled and shook his head. ‘No, no, of course not. I'm not afraid of him. I love him." Emile's lips turned up in a toothy grin. "He's great - we’ve been together since high school.” Remy noticed Emile's smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “There's nothing for me to be afraid of. He just - he just needs a little extra emotional TLC sometimes, you know?" Emile nodded to himself, hands holding each other in his lap. "Max has a lot of emotions and just needs me to look out for his feelings. You know how strong relationships have a garden and a gardener?" He shrugged. "I'm the gardener.” Emile raised his eyebrows at Remy.

"I suppose so ... ," Remy pursed his lips. "But you deserve to be cared for, too, Emile. Shouldn't you both get the chance to ... play gardener? "

"Well, sure ... sometimes ...," Emile's half-smile came back. He focused on the buckles on his book bag, adjusting the length of the strap, tightening and then loosening it.

Remy chewed at his lower lip, watching Emile's movements. He shifted in his seat, turning his whole body to face Emile’s. “Ok, this might sound kind of woo-woo," Remy waggled his fingers around his head, "But … I get this feeling from Max that … That the other times I’ve felt like this around ... particular people, they were ... Well, they ... they were hurting people I care about.” He pushed his bangs out of his face again. “I’ve learned not to ignore this feeling.”

“Well, I think perhaps Max must be the exception that proves the rule, then.” Emile smiled, putting a hand over Remy’s and squeezing gently. “Max loves me and he would never hurt me. He's very protective.” Emile shrugged. “I just think that everything would go more smoothly if we were … careful with our study time.”

...

After Emile went back to his dorm, Remy took a long walk around the campus. He didn't want to tell Emile who Max reminded him of the most, because that would be a whole giant messy story to have to launch into. But Remy couldn't deny that familiar, cold rock he felt in the pit of his stomach that day when he saw how Max was so casually dismissive of Emile. Remy was pretty sure this is who had been telling Emile he was 'oversensitive,' too. The guy triggered every alarm bell in Remy's head and the last time he'd ignored that warning around one of his friend's boyfriends, she'd shown up for school the next day with several extra layers of foundation and sunglasses covering a black eye.

Remy needed to talk to someone.

Biting his lip, he pulled his phone from his pocket and started texting.

𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝟾, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟾 𝟺:𝟸𝟶 𝙿𝙼 𝙷𝚎𝚢 𝚄𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚎 𝙹𝚊𝚗𝚞𝚜 ... 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝? 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.

Thinking a bit, he quickly sent another message.

𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚎.

Janus replied almost immediately.

𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝟾, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟾 𝟺:𝟸𝟸 𝙿𝙼 𝙾𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎, 𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚢. 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝟼. 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎?

Remy chuckled, imagining his uncle's carefully controlled expression of 'Not that I'm concerned but should I be concerned and whose legs do I need to break if said concern is warranted?' that he got every time he asked to talk to him in confidence.

𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝟾, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟾 𝟺:𝟸𝟸 𝙿𝙼 𝙸'𝚖 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎 😹 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚍𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍.

𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝟾, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟾 𝟺:𝟸𝟺 𝙿𝙼 🤔 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚏 𝚛 𝚒 𝚎 𝚗 𝚍 .... ?

Remy actually laughed out loud.

𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝟾, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟾 𝟺:𝟸𝟺 𝙿𝙼 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 😆 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚄𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚎 𝙹𝚊𝚗𝚞𝚜

...

Remy's roommate practically lived at his girlfriend's off-campus apartment, so he had the room all to himself when he called Janus that evening. Remy told him everything he knew - and suspected - about Emile and Max. But he didn't share their names and Janus didn't press him for the information.

"So ...," Remy breathed out. He glanced at his phone screen. He'd been talking for over twenty minutes. "What do you think, Uncle Janus?"

Janus hummed in thought. He took a deep breath. "Have you seen any injuries or scars on your friend?"

Remy shook his head, worrying his upper lip between his teeth. "No, nothing like that." He sighed, "Do you think I'm just ... being paranoid? You know, because of ...?"

"While it's always a possibility that you're seeing something that isn't there ... ," Janus sucked his teeth in frustration. "Statistically speaking, at least, it is unfortunately much more likely that your history simply makes it easier for you to recognize red flags."

"So what should I do?," Remy bit at his thumbnail while he waited for his uncle's response.

Janus sighed heavily. "Stay vigilant. I ... You should be suspicious of any 'accidental' injuries." Janus was quiet for a moment. "No matter how your friend tries to explain them away. If he won't admit to you that anything is wrong, it's a tricky thing to directly help him. Sadly, we've seen this a lot in our cases."

"What about ...," Remy hesitated, swallowing hard, "What about what you've seen in more personal experiences like with ... your friends?"

Janus spoke slowly. "Remy, if you have questions about your parents, you should talk to you dad."

"I swear I'll talk to him, too ... and - and Dad and I have talked about this a lot, but ...," Remy squeezed his eyes together, "I need to know when you ... as his friend ... started suspecting that ..." Remy couldn't finish his sentence. He sighed. "Dad told me that you somehow knew before he told you what was really going on." Remy gripped the phone tighter, his palm grown clammy. "When did you know?," he whispered.

Janus was quiet for so long that Remy was afraid he'd accidentally hung up. "I had my suspicions before your brother was born," Janus said at last.

"Oh, man ... since before Patton was born?" His eyes widened. Remy's youngest brother was nearly ten years old.

"No, Remy." Janus' voice sounded choked. "Virgil."

Remy nearly dropped his phone. Virgil was sixteen. Sixteen years.

"Remy, be his friend. Make sure he knows that you are in his corner no matter what. And - " Janus blew out a sharp breath. "- I hope it never comes to this, but the second you have any evidence, any evidence at all that he's in danger, call me or your dad. We'll get all of us, you, your friend, your dad, and me in a room together and we'll figure this out."

Remy nodded, "Ok." He fiddled with the Wilson book, running his fingers over the embossed snapdragons on the front cover. "Oh, and, Uncle Janus? I know you're going to talk to Uncle Roman about this - " Remy chuckled a bit as Janus started to interject but then sighed in resignation, acknowledging the truth that telling one of his uncles something was as good as telling them both. " - But ... please don't tell my dad."

Remy knew that his uncle took confidentiality seriously, but that didn't mean he would give in without a fight. "You are very nearly an adult, Remy. I'll respect your wishes." Remy held his breath, anticipating Janus' drawn out 'however.'

"However," Remy smiled sadly, somewhat comforted by Janus' predictability. "Don't be too quick to discount talking to your dad about this. I understand - and to some extent share - your reluctance to raise this topic with him. To ... try to protect him." Remy could hear Janus take a deep breath. "But your dad is the strongest man I know. And he would do absolutely anything for you, Remy. Give him the chance to help you."

@tsshipmonth2020​

#mayflowersevent #remy & emile #remy sanders #emile patshki #remile #remile needed their own story to get the air time they desserved #day 15: snapdragons for deception #there is a big difference between mostly fluff and all fluff #mostly fluff is slightly angsty

[candy-and-writing]

Fresh Mountain Air For A Not So Fresh Beginning

Summary: After a mission went horribly wrong, and resulted in you getting hurt and suffering from major PTSD and anxiety, your boys move you to the mountains to heal

Warnings: 18+, implied rape, past rape, PTSD, anxiety attacks, PTSD attacks, smut, oral, minor angst

Taglist: @imsonick @forever-a-cynical @captainn-americaa @natdrunk @patzammit @stupendousshepherdloverpony @thereluctantlady @bangtan-serendipity​

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

Steve sat on the balcony, hot mug of coffee in hand as he watched Bucky raise the axe and bring it down, chopping the wood into two. The weather was supposed to get bad this week, so he made sure everyone was doing their chores now in case they lost power. You were sitting on the couch, humming along to the radio as you finished folding the laundry. Steve had gone into town for groceries earlier this morning and did the dishes, and Bucky was chopping firewood. You were pretty high up in the mountains, so the forecast wasn't clear on exactly how bad it was supposed to be. If you had to go a few days without running the dishwasher, it would be alright.

Steve came back inside, shutting the screen door behind him. He set his coffee down on the dining table before taking his coat off, moving to hang it up by the door.

"Hey," you said, folding one of Bucky's shirts in your lap. "Buck almost done?"

"He should be, he's got enough wood to keep us warm all winter."

You stopped, a pair of boxers in hand as you looked out the window. "If he doesn't come in soon, you might have to go get him. It looks like the wind's starting to pick up."

Steve nodded, setting his mug in the sink. He'd wait for Bucky to get in and have his coffee before he washed it.

The door that led to the garage opened, Bucky bumping it closed with his backside. He struggled to toe off his shoes, a string of curses leaving his mouth. His arms were full of chopped firewood, his nose and cheeks rosy from the cold. His recent haircut was hidden underneath a woven cap, keeping his ears warm. He was wearing the heavy wool flannel jacket you liked to steal from time to time when you were cold.

"Hey, doll," he greeted, piling the wood on the rack by the fireplace. Steve was right, he chopped enough wood to keep you warm all winter. "How's laundry goin'?"

"I'm almost done," you replied, a warm smile on your face. "If you want me to wash those, though—" you gestured to his clothing, "—you should change. I think I could manage to scrape together another load with the clothes from last night and this morning."

Bucky shrugged. "They're fine, sweetheart, don't worry about it."

Steve asked where Bucky had put the rest of the firewood, he responded with, "out in the garage. Figured it'd stay dry there."

You finished folding the laundry as Bucky warmed up with a cup of coffee, talking to Steve about the impending storm. When he finished his coffee, black with a little bit of sugar, Bucky and Steve met you in the bedroom to help put the clothes away. Bucky put things in drawers, and Steve handed you clothing to hang on hangers. That was what you always did, it was your routine. It worked. And when Buck was done putting the folded clothing away, he helped between handing Steve empty hangers and handing you the hangers that had clothes on them.

It was moments like these that made you forget the reason you moved up here. That made Steve retire early and made Bucky available only for short and sweet missions. The reason you had nightmares and woke up screaming each night, and your boys would struggle to comfort you because you were so stuck in your own head it became difficult to tell what was real.

It would be six months tomorrow, if the calendar was correct. It wasn't marked or anything, but it was easy enough to count down the days, the weeks, when they've been so blatantly haunting you. Like Steve said, one day at a time, and you counted every single day, waiting for it not to hurt anymore.

You had been on a mission with Bucky. Steve was with Sam in a small Siberian town while you two were in Turkey. It was hot and bright and it was sweaty. It's one of the reasons you moved to the mountains, to avoid the heat.

You had been checking out some old HYDRA intel. Bucky thought it was probably nothing, but you needed to be safe rather than sorry. It wasn't a big deal.

It wasn't supposed to be a big deal.

You and Bucky had split up. He took the upper levels and you took the lower ones. You had made it to the basement, so far finding nothing but empty file cabinets, too large of spiders, and outdated technology. Bucky had been sure to tell you to make sure and check that none of the computers worked.

You remembered calling Bucky through your comms. He said he hadn't found anything, and you were about to say the same. You had barely taken two steps into the room when you heard something shift behind you. Before you could turn around there was a sharp pinch in your neck and you winced, stumbling. Your vision became cloudy and your head spinny and you fell over before you even realized it.

When you awoke, Bucky was chained to the wall. You were chained down in the middle of the floor, your uniform gone. You—

"Y/n? Sweetie, you with us?" Bucky's voice dragged you from your thoughts. Steve was looking at you, a hand reached out and eyes full of worry. Bucky wore the same expression.

"Yeah," you smiled. "Sorry, I just blanked for a second. What were you saying?"

Steve continued to look at you with his worrying gaze. You just smiled at him, hopefully convincing him you were fine.

"I'm trying to convince Steve we need a dog," Bucky said. "We talked about it, but Steve still has a stick up his ass."

"I don't have a stick up my ass," Steve argued. You huffed out a laugh. "If we get a dog, we'll have to build a fence. And in moments like this when the weather is bad, we'll have a hard time taking care of it. We've had this discussion, Buck."

"So we invest in a therapy dog, those are a thing, right? It'd be trained, and we can have it to help Y/n. Or myself, Lord knows I need a dog sometimes."

Steve sighed. "You're not gonna let this go, are you?"

Bucky smiled. "I'd be willing to negotiate a cat?"

Steve looked over to you. You just smiled and shrugged. You both knew he wasn't winning this argument.

"We'll look into it after the storm," Steve sighed, defeated.

A smile broke onto your face, Bucky following. "Maybe Pepper can find some shelters?" you suggested.

"Yeah, I'll talk to her."

You kissed his cheek. Bucky pulled him in for a kiss, grabbing your hand and pulling you back into them. He kissed your head, Steve hugging you.

"I want a golden retriever," Steve demanded. You laughed.

"Deal."

••••

You lost power by eight o'clock that night. The wind was howling outside your windows, the blizzard knocking against the glass. You were eating ice cream and drinking the bottle of wine Steve had bought for date night when the TV shut down and the lights turned off all at once.

Steve had lit as many candles as he could while Bucky gathered your collection of many blankets. You sat on the floor, wine in hand and wrapped in a knitted blue throw while playing a game of Monopoly.

"That's bullshit!" Bucky shouted, throwing his hands up. "That's the fourth time I've landed on this stupid thing. Y/n, baby, please, you gotta help me out here."

You giggled. "I'm not trading this property with you, Buck. Not unless you give me an offer."

"Come on," Bucky whined, "work with me, baby."

Your eyes widened as your mind flashed back to that night, back to the basement. Come on, baby, work with me. You felt his hands on you, his fingers creeping up your skin. Bucky watched the color drain from your face, tears prickling at your eyes.

"Doll?" When you didn't respond, Steve realized what was happening.

"Shit, Buck, she's having a flashback." Steve stood, swiftly tucking his arm under your knees and picking you up.

It'll feel real nice, baby, just relax.

"I'll put her playlist on, can I do anything else?"

Steve was careful to set you on the bed, still cradling you and wiping the tears from your cheeks. Even in the dim lighting of the candles, he could see the fear in your eyes. "Warm a kettle over the fire, we can make her some hot chocolate."

Bucky nodded before rushing out of the room. You were shaking now, struggling to catch your breath.

"It's alright, baby, it's okay," Steve cooed. "You're safe, you're home. No one can hurt you, you're safe." He gave you a quick squeeze, his arms tightening around you.

He went through the list your therapist gave them back at the compound. Soft music, check. Dark room, check. Tight hug or pressure from Steve or Bucky, check. The weighted blanket was under the bed, he could have Bucky grab it if you wanted it.

Get her to open up, don't let her close herself off.

"Sweetie, I need you to talk to me," Steve uttered. "I can help get you through this, you just need to talk to me, to us."

You took a couple shaky breaths, opening your mouth before closing it again.

"The. . . the basement—I—and. . . and Bucky—"

"Buck is just fine, sweetheart," Steve answered, smiling slightly. "He's making you some hot chocolate."

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and watery. "He is?"

"Yeah, he should be in any minute."

You mouthed a silent 'oh' and curled back into Steve's chest. Bucky stepped in the bedroom quietly, a mug of hot chocolate in hand. He handed the black and gold star-spangled mug to Steve—it was your favorite, you claimed it reminded you of both your boys. Your hands shook as you took the mug from Steve, your grip lax and careful as you took a small sip. You mumbled a small thank you and looked at Bucky, who gave you a sad, small smile.

"Keep talking, sweetheart," Steve whispered into your hair. "Can you tell me five things you see around you?"

He heard you swallow, gathering your voice, and you started looking at the room around you. 

"I, um—I see Bucky," you said, your voice unsure. "I can see your shirt. . . the painting you made for me for my birthday, the wall, and the lamp."

"Good," Steve praised, "that's good. Tell me four things you can touch around you?"

You took another sip of the hot chocolate, the hint of cinnamon leaving a ghost of a smile on your face. "I'm touching my favorite mug, the one Bucky got me for Christmas last year. I'm touching the bedsheets. . . I'm touching you and your shirt by leaning on you, and if I reached I could touch Bucky."

Bucky reached out and took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb along the skin below your knuckles. You sighed, relishing in his touch. He asked you to name three things you could hear, Steve kissing your temples.

"I can hear your voice, I can hear Steve's heartbeat, and. . . and I can hear the wind outside."

"You're doing so good, doll, we're almost done. Name two things you can smell?"

You thought for a moment, inhaling to smell your surroundings. "I can smell. . . the hot chocolate you made me, with the cinnamon in it. And. . . I can smell Steve's cologne."

"One thing you can taste?"

The hot chocolate, you replied. Steve smiled and kissed your forehead, hugging you as Bucky squeezed your hand.

"How do you feel?"

"Better," you sighed. You clenched and unclenched your hand, your nerves tightening after the anxiety started to fall. Your head ached, your brain pounding at your temples. "I'm sorry I. . . freaked out."

"You don't have anything to apologize for, sweetheart," Bucky said. "We just want to make sure you're alright." You nodded, closing your eyes as you focused on Steve's heartbeat jumping steadily through his sweater.

"Can you tell us what caused this?" Steve asked. You were silent for a long moment, thinking back. You weren't quite sure yourself—one second you were drinking wine in the living room with Bucky and Steve, and the next you were in bed, clutching onto Steve because you couldn't breathe.

"I think—I think Bucky said something," you said. "Something that. . . that he had said and it just—it made me spiral."

"I'm so sorry, doll," Bucky said, kissing your knuckles as he looked at you apologetically.

"What did he say?" Steve asked.

You shook your head. "I don't know." You pushed your mug into Steve's hands, and he set in on the nightstand by the side of the bed. Your hands covered your face as you stifled a sob.

"Come here, sweetheart." Steve's heart broke as he hugged you closer to his chest. Bucky crawled over to the empty space on the bed next to you and rested his hand on your stomach, kissing your head. "Talk to us."

"I thought I could get past this," you told them, crying. "I—I can still feel him, I can still feel his hands on me and I don't know how to get it to stop!"

Steve looked over to Bucky, who looked back at him sadly. It was hard, seeing their best girl like this, and they were never quite sure how to help you. You didn't like them touching you a certain way after you were attacked, but maybe—just maybe—that was what you needed.

"How 'bout Stevie and I try something different tonight?" Bucky said, running his hand up and down your arm. 

"Like what?" you sniffled.

"We know you haven't wanted us to touch you since. . . you know, but do you think that would help?" Steve asked, looking down at you. "You keep feeling him on you, maybe we can help wipe him away? We're willing to wait as long as you need us to, baby, we just want to help you."

"I—I don't know."

"Are you willing to try?" Bucky whispered against your temple. "If you don't like it, tell us and we'll stop. Is that okay?"

You thought for a moment, nodding carefully. Steve placed a chaste kiss on your neck, inhaling your scent.

"Are you sure? We don't want to pressure you—if you don't feel comfortable doing this, we won't."

You shook your head. "I want to try. I want to see if I can do it. . . please."

More than anything, you wanted to please your boys. You wanted them to be happy and proud of you, you craved their appraisal like an addict craved pills. You weren't sure this was going to work, but you wanted to try, you'd try anything just to be able to feel Steve and Bucky touch you again.

Steve placed his hands under your arms, lifting you and shifting you so you sat in between his legs. Bucky crawled so he kneeled over you, and suddenly you were trapped. But that was okay, you were safe. You were with the two people you trusted the most, and you trusted they'd take care of you.

Bucky cupped your cheek with his hand, bringing you in for a soft kiss. Your shoulders relaxed as you leaned into his touch, Steve trailing kisses down your neck. You hesitantly moved your lips against Bucky's, placing your hands on his face and bringing him closer to you. You let out a whimper as Bucky licked your lips, asking for access. You allowed it, opening your mouth and letting his tongue roam with yours. He pushed you against Steve's chest, your back collided with solid muscle, Steve's hands trailing up under your sweater. You shuddered at the warmth, at the ghost-like touches he left in his wake as Bucky buried his hands through your hair.

It was almost too much, their touches, the way they were everywhere all at once. Their touch burned, but in a good way, almost. You didn't want them to stop. If they stopped now, you were certain you'd combust.

"Can I take this off?" Steve husked against your ear, tugging at your sweater. You nodded, and he was quick to pull it over your head, leaving you in your push-up bra.

Steve bit back a groan, nibbling on your ear as Bucky trailed sloppy kisses down your jaw. You whined out a moan, Steve grabbing at your breasts. A spark of panic shot through you and your eyes shot open. You pulled away from Steve, pushing Bucky away.

"Hey, hey, sweetheart," Steve cooed, reaching out to grab your arm. "It's okay. You're okay, baby. It's just me."

Your chest fell and rose heavily. Bucky cupped your cheek, kissing your nose. "It's just us, doll. You're safe. . . . Do we need to stop?"

You looked up at him. You didn't want to stop, you wanted to enjoy them, you wanted to make then feel good. But this damn sense of panic wasn't going away.

"I want to keep going," you told them, eyes watery. "I want to make you feel good, I want to feel good. I just. . . can't stop this."

"Just relax, baby," Bucky muttered. "Focus on us. On our touch. Know that it's us and just focus on how good we'll make you feel."

You nodded, leaning back against Steve's chest. You told him he could touch you again, guiding his hands to your chest. He added the slightest pressure and squeezed, your breasts in his hands as you shuddered out a breath.

"Oh."

"That feel good, baby?" Steve asked, kissing your neck as Bucky attacked the other side. You nodded, sighing as you melted into his touch. "I bet it does, sweetheart. I can't imagine how you feel, not being able to let us make you feel good. We're here now, we're gonna take real good care of you."

"I love you," you sighed, digging your nails into Bucky's hair. "Both of you."

"We love you too, doll." Bucky kissed down your collar bone, his lips at the edge of your bra. Steve reached and unclipped your bra, letting it slide down your shoulders. Bucky was quick to dispose of it, throwing it to the floor. "You're so beautiful, baby."

You cried out Bucky's name as his lips latched onto your nipple, Steve rolling the other one between his fingertips. You focused on your boys, on the sensation of Bucky—of his tongue swirling against your hardened bud, of his hand cupping your cheek, of his hand in your hair. You focused on Steve—on his hands, on the solid muscle behind your back, of the feeling of his hair in your fingers.

Bucky's hand fell to your pants. "Can I take these off, baby?"

You nodded, afraid to use your voice. He unbuckled your jeans, slowly sliding them down your legs, off your feet. You had on cheeky lace underwear. Suddenly, you thought back to when you used to wear much less conservative underwear. Steve and Bucky always liked those—your decorative thongs, your favorite pair used to be lace with flowers. You got rid of them after you were attacked, but maybe you could get some new, less casual ones.

Bucky licked his lips, staring at your clothed core. Steve's hands kneaded at your breasts, thumb brushing over your nipple as he kissed a line on your shoulder. Bucky was quick to pull at your underwear, leaving you completely exposed.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Steve asked quietly. You nodded, keeping eyes on Bucky.

Bucky looked up at you, eyes dark. The flickering flame casted a reflection upon his face, giving him a goldish glow. The wind howled outside, ice hitting the window. Normally, that sound would've had you jumping three feet into the air in terror, but now you couldn't care less—too caught up in the way Bucky's eyes darkened as he asked for permission. When you nodded, he slid down, laying on his stomach, and dove in.

You had almost forgotten what it felt like to have Bucky's tongue wrapped around your clit. You moaned as he licked up in a broad swipe, focusing the tip of his tongue on your bud. Steve massaged your chest, tweaking your nipples and running over them with the pads of his fingers.

"Oh, God. . ." you whined. "Keep going, please. Don't—don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it, princess," Steve moaned.

Bucky continued to work his mouth on you until you were burning, writhing and struggling in both his and Steve's grasps. You were sure you were going to explode. When Bucky entered a finger into you, you cried out. It wasn't enough. You needed more.

"How's that feel, baby?" Steve cooed, hands focusing on your breasts. "Buck doin' good?"

You nodded frantically. Steve chuckled in your ear, voice gravelly and low.

"Buck here almost couldn't wait any longer, all we wanted to do was get his mouth on you, sweetheart. It's what he dreamed about when he touched himself, when he sucked me off. He's been waiting for this."

Bucky hummed into your flesh, sending vibrations up through your clit. He was careful as he pushed a second finger into you, looking for the spot inside you that could shatter you. That coil inside you was tight, threatening to explode and send you over the edge. You began to babble, endless pleas of 'don't stop,' and 'Bucky, please.'

He pushed the pads of his fingers up, still teasing your bundle of nerves and that was all it took. You cried out, the coil snapping like a taught rubber band and you grinded back into Steve as you tried to pull away, overstimulated. Steve shushed you, whispering in your ear as Bucky rode you from your high until it was simply too much. You whined, your voice cracking, and Bucky seemed to get the message. He pulled away, his chin slick with your juices. Still blissed out, he hooked his finger under your chin, bringing you in for a sloppy kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, salty and tangy.

You didn't realize you were crying until Bucky wiped away a tear. "You okay, doll?"

You nodded. "Yeah. . . yeah, I just—I hadn't realized how much I missed this. I'm sorry I made you wait on me."

"You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart," Steve said, kissing your cheek. "We'd wait as long as you needed us to."

You sat up, turning so you straddled Steve's lap. You hung your arms over his shoulders, brushing your noses together.

"Can you do something for me?" you asked, your voice low and sultry in post-orgasmic bliss.

"Anything," Steve answered, ask too quickly.

"I want you to fuck me. I want you to erase any memory of that man inside of me. Can you do that?"

"Happily."

He kissed you then, loving and dominant and so incredibly Steve. Bucky kissed up your neck, sucking a deep red spot next to the many Steve had left. You whimpered into Steve's lips, dragging your hands up his shirt. He pulled away for a second, discarding his shirt and sitting up on his knees, shimmying off his pants. He turned you around before settling back down, having you straddle his thighs.

"You sure you're up for this, baby?" Bucky asked, kissing behind your ear as his fingers danced around your nipples.

You nodded, whining. "I—I can do it."

Steve hummed, feeling himself brush against your folds. Bucky gave you his signature dorky smile, which you returned as best you could. Steve eased into you slowly, both men watching for any sign of discomfort. You were wet enough, but you were still awfully tight. Tighter than usual. Even after your orgasm, Steve was having a hard time fitting himself inside you.

The three of you haven't had sex since before the attack. Bucky and Steve had quick shower sex in the morning sometimes after a run, when they were sure you were still asleep, but they didn't like doing it without you. You were apart of them, doing such an intimate act without you didn't feel right.

Steve groaned at the feeling, the silky heat of you clutching him like a vice. He grunted, wrapping an arm around your front and hugging you close to his chest, carefully rocking his hips up. His thrusts start out slow and deep, until you're writhing and mewling for more.

Bucky crawls up and straddles both you and Steve, his tongue curling around your nipple. He wraps his tongue around your bud, sucking lightly. You let out a whimper, moaning as Steve speeds his pace up, pounding into you in the most delicious way. Bucky guides your hand and wraps it around his cock, moving it up and down in long, slow strokes. You withdrew your hand like he had burned you, your eyes wide. Steve stills inside you, watching your back muscles tense.

"It's okay, doll, it's just me. . . . Do we need to stop?"

You blinked. "No, no���I'm okay. I'm sorry."

"Are you sure?"

You nodded. "Please, I want to keep going, I can do this." You reached out and grabbed for his length, your nimble fingers wrapping around him.

It's just Bucky, he won't hurt you. You're safe here.

Quickly, you fall into the rhythm Steve has set, your other hand moving to clutch Bucky's shoulder as he fucks into your hand.

It's easy, the three of you moving in tandem. You don't know how long it's been, how long either of them have touched you like this, or when you last touched them. You feel guilty now, forgetting something that made you feel so good.

"Steve," you moan. "Bucky, please."

"You're doing so good, baby," Bucky praised. "You—ah, fuck—you feel so good."

You whined, Steve picking up his pace. You weren't going to last much longer, not with Steve pounding into you the way he is, not with him groaning in your ear and not with Bucky using your hand to get himself off.

"Can I come inside, baby?" Steve moans. "Fill you up, wash out every memory of that day. Fuck—we're gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart, all you have to do is let us."

"Yes," you nodded frantically. "Yes, please, please. I need you. Come inside, please, Stevie."

Bucky reached down and rubbed at your clit, sending you over the edge. You screamed, seizing up and convulsing around Steve's cock. Steve cursed, feeling you pulsate around him. He came with a grunt, coating your walls with his cum. Bucky finished soon after, covering your stomach with his cum.

You released Bucky, falling back against Steve in exhaustion. When you opened your eyes again, Steve was petting your hair while Bucky cleaned up his mess with a wet washcloth.  Steve whispered sweet nothings in your ear, running his fingers through your sweat soaked locks.

I'm so proud of you.

You did so good.

So perfect for us.

We love you.

After Bucky tossed the cloth in the wicker laundry basket, he laid down in the space next to you, hugging you close to his chest. Your hand rested across Steve's pecs, your head above his heartbeat.

"You did so well, sweetheart," Bucky purred, tracing circles along your back. "How do you feel?"

"Good," you hummed, snuggling closer to Steve's warmth. "Real good."

"That's amazing, baby," Steve murmured. "Did it help any?"

You nodded. It helped a lot, actually. The throbbing between your legs was welcoming, euphoria coursing through veins. You hated yourself for connecting your boys with the kind of hate you experienced, for making them wait so long.

"Let's go to sleep, doll." Bucky kissed your shoulder. "We can talk more in the morning, if we have power I'll make some waffles."

You hummed in content, sleep overtaking you. Bucky wrapped an arm around your middle, with Steve wrapping his arm behind you both.

"I love you."

#steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers #dark! steve rogers x reader #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky x reader #bucky x original female character #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #stucky #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fic #mcu imagine #mcu au #mcu #avengers #marvel

[lyrazehedgieboiii]

ZonZamy~~

DISCLAIMER: FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO DON’T KNOW WHAT ZONZAMY IS, I WILL EXPLAIN. So, this is like another dimension, in a place called No Zone. Everyone’s names start with the letter ‘Z.’ So, the Sonic in No Zone is named Zonic, and Amy is Zamy. SO, it’s sonamy, but in another dimension. This is an AU.

Ages:

Zonic/all the males: 21

Zamy/ and basically all the females: 18

It was a normal day in No Zone, and there were zone cops running around Headquarters, getting to their missions. A zonecop in particular was just roaming around the place.

    “Hey, Zonic!” Zails, the scientist/mechanic of Zone Cop Headquarters yelled at the zone cop. “Ms. Zamy is asking for you, Zector, and Zespio.” Zonic nodded.

    “Thanks, Zails.” And with that, he zoomed off to Zamy’s office. Zector and Zespio were already inside.

     “Where were you?” Zector whispered to Zonic. He just shrugged. The chair behind the desk of where they were standing at spinned around. It revealed an 18 year old pink hedgehog with a white office blouse, and a black pencil skirt with a slit on her left leg’s side. She had her hair in a bun, a few strands of curly quills messily placed in with a bobby pin. It was, Zamy Rose.

     “Oh! Zonic, finally. Now that all three of you are here, I would like to address two things. Number one,” Amy stood up, and leaned against her desk. “You failed to catch Zcourge. Again.” She had a disapproving face as Zector whistled, nodding his head to the side, gesturing that it was Zonic’s fault they got away. Zamy looked towards Sonic. He sighed.

      “That son of a b-” He looked at Zamy to find that she was not amused with what he was about to say. “...I mean, Zcourge, was insulting you, and I got outta control and started beating him up-

     “-and started destroying anything within a one mile radius.” Zector interrupted. Amy just glared at Zonic.

      “Thank you for defending my name, Zonic.” She went back to her office chair and sat. That’s when Zonic noticed that her quills were a little out of place, and her office blouse was pulled down a little. “Anyways, I have Zhadow and Zilver working on that. “Number two, Zails has found some new leads on a mission that we’re debating on. We don’t know whether to abandon the case, or continue. We don’t even know what it would result to finding out! It’s stressing me out!” Zamy was their friend, but also their boss. No wonder her blouse looked out of place.

     “Don’t worry, Ms. Zamy. We’ll go to Zails to ask for the leads, and we’ll try to figure something out.” Zespio spoke up. Zamy nodded. Zector and Zespio left, while Zonic stayed in place.

      “Well?” Zamy asked, not taking her eyes off the paperwork she was skimming through.

      “Aren’t you going to lecture me about letting my anger get the best of me?!” Zonic snapped at her. She seemed unfazed by his actions.

      “Actually, I’m in a good mood, and I want the people around me to feel happy too. But, I like scolding you when I’m happy too. It’s usually a source of my happiness.” Zonic looked annoyed, but decided not to think too much of it. 

     “C’mon, babe.” He sat on the desk, and leaned his face towards her. She nudged her face away, a small smirk visible. He pulled at the bow of her blouse, causing her to lean forward.

    “W-What are you doing?!”  Zamy asked, feeling a little spooked at his actions. He slammed his lips against hers, and continued in a compassionate, little bit of tongue kiss. He licks his lips, and pulled back.

    “Mind telling me why you’re wearing a pencil skirt with a slit?” He took a breath, trying not to let his inner-feelings do something unexpected right on the spot. “And a blouse that shows cleavage?” He asked, dragging his finger along her cheek.

   “I’m having a sleepover with the girls.” Zonic held a laugh in. 

   “A sleepover? What are you? Eleven?” Zonic burst out, falling to his back and started laughing hysterically. Zamy just kicked his foot. Once he was relaxed, he went over and hugged her from behind, taking in the rosy scent of her quills. “Baby, I’m sorry!” He kissed her neck. “Why are you so excited though?”

   “I’ve been so stressed these past few weeks, that I’m starting to not care about my hygiene, and never really pay attention to how I look.” She turned her head to Zonic. He lowered his eyes, and put his nose on her cheek. “I’m not wearing make-up. Sorry.” He pulled away.

   “Zames, don’t apologize about not wearing make-up. You’re beautiful either way. Second of all, why hang out with them to relieve the stress? You could always ask me~” Zamy rolled her eyes at his playful behavior. They were secretly dating, with only Zails and Zream knowing.

    “By the way, the sleepover’s happening in Zouge and Zhadow’s room.” Zonic made a face. Zhadow gets to be a part of the sleepover. That’s not fair. As if Zamy knew what he was thinking, she cleared his misunderstanding. “Znuckles won’t be in the sleepover. Zhadow will be hanging out with you!” Zonic grimaced. He didn’t enjoy hanging out with Zhadow. Zamy kissed his cheek and pushed him out of her office. 

- time skip because I can hehehehe~~~

Zonic was with Zhadow, Zails, and Znuckles as they tried to find out how to crash that sleepover. Zilver was there too, but was raiding through Znuckles’s fridge. 

      “Why don’t we just dress up like Pizza Delivery guys?” Zilver asked, as he brought some soda back to where the boys where. Zonic snapped his fingers.

      “YES! I mean, it’s not full of pizzaz, but that’ll work!” They all snuck into Zyra’s (lol my oc in no zone dimension) room and looked around. She had some pizza delivery outfits. They took an old pizza box from Znuckles’s fridge, and ran to the other side of the dorms, where Zouge and the girls were. Zonic was forced to wear the delivery uniform as it would only fit him. He rang the doorbell, getting ready to switch to Znuckles in case Zouge opened the door. To his luck, Zamy opened the door.

In. A. Nightgown. 

Zonic’s seen her in nightgowns before, seeing as they both share a dorm. (Zamy managed to switch with Zhadow because of their arguments.) This one just seemed. . .

Different.

Not a bad kind of different. Zonic liked what she was wearing but tried not to focus on that. She leaned against the door, obviously recognizing Zonic. 

    “Yes?” She asked, amused at his antics. 

    “Pizza delivery for some young ladies?” He bowed, as he showed the pizza box. Amy smirked. 

    “Code pizza, girls!” This confused him heavily. What did she mean, code pizza? She turned back to her secret lover. “Lower your men.” Now this made Zonic even more puzzled. What did she mean by lower? She pointed up towards the ceiling. Zails was in the vents, while the others were kept up against the ceiling by Zilver. Zonic mentally face-palmed at their stupidity. 

     “Oh...Still...pizza?” He asked her, as if hoping she would get the memo to open the door all the way for him. She knew their plan, and she wasn’t going to let them have their way. 

     “Mmm...No thanks, we’re fine with pizza.” She smiled at him, and started to close the door. Before the door shut all the way, he stopped the door with his foot. 

     “I hope you know...I don’t go until I’m paid.” He said in a flirtatious voice that got Zails and Znuckles suspicious.

     “And I hope you know that I don’t want anything to do with that cheesy stuff.” Zamy’s words had a double meaning. 

     “OH C’MON, ZAMY, LET ME IN!” Zonic yelled in anger. This was not the plan. She was supposed to let them in so they could have fun with them. It wouldn’t be fun looking through their window, because they’d just be doing something boring, like putting make-up on, or gossiping.

     “Wow. You already resorted to begging? Hm. I thought you could do better than that. Oh well,” She opened the door all the way, as Zilver dropped the the boys without mercy, and Zails climbed out of the vents. She let them in, and the boys sat down next to their respected girls. Zonic sat a little closer to Zamy, giving her a pillow to cover herself. Did I mention that even though this is another universe, Zonic is still overprotective of Zamy.

      “Let’s play Truth or Dare! I’ll go first. Who’ll I choose?” Zouge asked. Everyone raised their hands except for Zonic and Zhadow. Zouge smirked and picked Zonic. Zamy and him were internally screaming at what she might do. “Zonic, I dare you to go into the closet for seven minutes with Zamy.” Zamy looked away. Zonic sighed in submission. Zamy followed. Zouge put a timer for seven minutes and stood outside the closet, with Zyra and her tripod.

     “So...what should we do now?” Zonic asked, loud enough for the people outside to hear them. 

     “I don’t know, but what I do know is that you’re going to keep your lustful self on that side of the closet, and me on my side.” Zamy said, making noise in her corner, pretending that they’re moving. Zonic grabbed Zamy and locked his lips with hers. They tried to be as quiet as they could, not raising suspicion. He pinched her butt, however, Zamy kicked him in the crotch. Knowing that Zouge may have heard that, she goes “Zonic! Are you alright? Did you hit your head against the shelf?” She said loudly, making sure that Zouge didn’t suspect anything.

     “Ow...I’m fine, Zamy...” He rubbed his head. “How much time is left on the timer?” Zamy looked at her phone.

      “Two minutes left.” They sat there, cuddling to their hearts’ content, until the door opened and Zamy was pushed to the other side of the closet. She glared at her boyfriend, who only nervously chuckled. He was gonna get his ass whooped later on.

HEY, SO, I know this was TRASH, but then again, I am sonamy trash, so...

THE NEXT THING I’M GOING TO POST IS GOING TO BE EITHER A FLOOFY ONE SHOT, OR CHAPTER ONE OF ROOMMATES AU.

#lyra ze hedgie boiii #zonzamy #zonzamy fanfics #lmao this is sonamy #sonamy #sonamy fanfics #no zone #sonamy fanfiction #zonic the zone cop #zonic the hedgehog #zamy rose #zream the rabbit #zails #zector #zespio #zilver #zhadow #znuckles #zouge #zyra #lmao my crappy oc

[nightingiall]

things i love about you: your love is golden

a post-little do you know drabble series // story page

Mona’s favorite part of the day was getting to go home.

She loved her job and happy hour with her co-workers. She even loved meeting Harlow to grab a coffee during their respective lunch breaks or meeting the guys at Connemara’s—where she no longer worked but will sometimes help Jingle out if she was ever in a pinch—for a drink or two.

But none of those things could ever compare to getting back to her and Niall’s apartment, kicking off her shoes at the door, fingers promptly finding the warmth of her sunshine boy, the weight of the world evaporating from her shoulders.

Today, she opened the door to the heavenly scent of cinnamon, her body instantly warming up from the slight chill outside. From the kitchen came telltale sounds of Niall moving about, probably baking something, and Mona was already smiling at the thought. She shed her jacket and shoes, stowing her bag away on the hooks near the door before she followed the smell to the kitchen.

“Mmm,” she hummed as she entered, taking in the aroma of cinnamon and brown sugar and coffee, all the most homely and wonderful scents she could think of. There was her sunshine boy, back turned to her as he fiddled with something on the countertop. “Smells amazing in here.”

At the sound of her voice, Niall turned around to send her the absolute sweetest smile, a slight sheen of sweat glistening against his forehead, a bit of flour dusted across his nose and chin. Her heart warmed at the sight, never losing the opportunity to flutter at how endlessly adorable he was. And he was all hers. “Hi, darlin’,” he greeted, voice soft and warm and filled with a sort of adoration that made her toes tingle. She would never get tired of him calling her that.

“Hey, stud,” she replied through a smile, fingers automatically reaching out to swipe at the flour on his face before pulling him in to press a quick kiss to his lips. “You’re home early.” When she pulled away, she was delighted to find that rosy blush she loved so much blooming across his skin and she couldn’t help the way she laughed at the sight of it. All these years later he still couldn’t take a compliment. “Watcha making?”

He shrugged, turning his attention back to meticulously folding dough into a bundt pan. “Cinnamon roll coffee cake for Liam’s party. Special request from the birthday boy himself.”

Mona rolled her eyes but laughed nonetheless. The cinnamon roll coffee cake concoction immortalized after a particularly draining study session back when they were in college. It was four in the morning and none of them had gotten any sleep; Niall, Liam, and Harry had been mucking about in the kitchen as they procrastinated, tossing ideas back and forth of a dessert they could create, and low and behold, the cinnamon roll coffee cake was born.

It wasn’t her favorite dessert. She found it tooth-achingly sweet and too much of it could give her a headache. But, after all, it was Liam’s birthday and he loved this stuff. “What time are we leaving for that anyway?” she asked, already rummaging through the fridge for a snack. She didn’t think she’d be able to hold out until the party for food. She found some bread and decided on toast with the leftover pasta from the night before.

“Whenever you’re ready, I suppose. You know Liam’s parties…no beginning and no end.” They both shared a laugh at that. Gatherings at Liam’s place were known to get a bit wild, lasting well into the next morning. Once, Mona wondered out loud whether perhaps they were getting a bit old for the crazy rave-like parties; Harlow had mulled that over before deciding that they would never get their twenties again and they were exactly meant to be spent at Liam’s parties.

As the microwave warmed her pasta, she took at the opportunity to slink into her sunshine boy, pulling him away from his dessert preparation for a moment so she could wrap her arms around his middle. She couldn’t help it. He was wearing his softest jumper and he was always so warm. She often went about her day wishing she could have somehow captured some of his brilliance in a jar to save and carry around with her so her skin never had to tingle with the boundless way it craved him. But then she’d remember that being away made it so much sweeter to come home and wrap herself up in him like this, feeling the pools of his sunshine permeate through her skin and fill her up.

Niall, for his part, was used to this way of hers, and pulled her into him as best he could with his sugar caked hands. The microwave gave off a loud trill to signal that her food was ready but she didn’t care. She just wanted to be able to stay this way and have time stand still for them, which of course wasn’t possible, but at least they could steal these moments together when they didn’t have anywhere else to be for a while.

“You’re extra lovey today,” Niall remarked, smiling against her forehead.

She wrinkled her nose in response, looking up only for him to press a proper kiss to her lips, slow, languid, and gentle, and she absolutely melted into him. She sighed. “Long day.”

“Yeah?” He pulled away, sweet smile intact but eyes watching her carefully. “We don’t have to go tonight if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’m okay,” she said, smiling when he pressed their foreheads together. “Just a little tired.” He hummed, seemingly unbothered by that answer since he seemed perfectly content to close his eyes, holding her close in the middle of their kitchen. “How was your day?”

He shrugged as best he could with them all wrapped up in each other. “Was meant to interview someone running for city council for a story but they canceled at the last minute. Slow day so ended up leaving early.” His voice was slow and serene, dripping with sweetness and warmth. Mona made sure to savor him. She often forgot to do that with the bustle that came with a workday. Niall noticed because he always did, smiling against her cheek. “You know, I’d love to stay like this but I have to get the stuff out of the oven.”

She giggled lightly. “Fine,” she muttered, huffing slightly as she begrudgingly let him go. He swatted her playfully with a tea towel when she grabbed her food from the microwave.

They spent the rest of the time chatting aimlessly, with her eating leftovers and him putting the finishing touches on his dessert. He surprised her with a batch of chocolate chip cookies because “I know you don’t like this sugary shit so I made you your favorite,” and she thanked him with a grateful kiss.

Slowly, Mona felt the typical exhaustion brought on by the workday leave her, as it always did whenever she spent time doing absolutely nothing with Niall. He had this uncanny ability to make her feel completely at peace, her pulse a steady thrum, mind cleared from the buzz of thoughts that plagued her. He didn’t even know he was doing that for her, or at least she figured he didn’t. How could he anyway? It wasn’t something one could do on purpose.

And if she held onto to him for a few extra moments before she went off to take a shower, well then he simply smiled and took it in stride.

~

Liam’s party was, as usual, nothing short of absolutely wild.

Just as she and Niall were walking in, someone bustled past them only to puke in a plant outside someone’s door, a few loud boys trailing out afterwards, guffawing at the person for being a lightweight, and Mona sent Niall an unamused sideways look, mentioning that she almost felt like a college freshman again. Niall, in his typical easygoing fashion, simply laughed and told her to lighten up, promising that they didn’t have to stay for too long if she didn’t want to.

They parted ways shortly after making their way inside, with Niall being pulled away by Harry and Mona spotting Harlow in the distance.

“You’re back!” she said excitedly to her best friend as she approached, throwing her arms around her in an embrace. “How was Greece?”

Harlow laughed, leading Mona to the bar area for drinks. “It was really fun. And I think Zayn and I needed some time apart anyway.”

This surprised Mona. “Trouble in paradise?”

Harlow shrugged, preparing a rum and coke. “I don’t know. I just feel like things haven’t really been great between us lately. And I think he feels the same way.”

Mona accepted the drink passed to her with a frown, mulling this new information over. It was the first she’d been hearing of any trouble between her two friends, who have been in an on-and-off sort of relationship for years now. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. After all, she was never one to meddle in anyone’s relationship, only offering advice if she was asked for it.

Harlow smiled before taking a sip of her drink, and from the familiar sparkle in her eye, it was clear to Mona that she wasn’t all that upset about anything. And if Harlow wasn’t bothered, then Mona didn’t see the need to broach the subject any further. After all, they were adults and could work out their issues themselves. “It’s whatever. Wanna see some pics from Greece?”

They pushed their way out towards the balcony area to find seats, the night air warm on their skin—a stark contrast to the cold, rainy weather that morning—as they laughed at videos of Harlow’s drunk co-workers singing karaoke terribly. Harlow remarked that Mona and Niall should take a vacation somewhere since all they seemed to do was work and Mona had to admit that the idea wasn’t half bad, making a mental note to ask Niall about it later.

“By the way,” Harlow started, eyes sparkling in that mischievous way of hers, and Mona braced herself for whatever she was up to this time. “I think Niall’s gonna propose to you soon.”

Mona simply blinked at her friend, completely caught off guard. So caught off guard, in fact, that she started to laugh. “What makes you say that?”

Harlow shrugged, downing the last dregs of her drink and sliding it onto a nearby table. “I just have a feeling.” At that, Mona rolled her eyes, sending her nosy best friend an unimpressed look, which had Harlow grinning madly at her. “Okay, fine, he might have said something to me.”

A yelp left Harlow’s lips when Mona threw a napkin at her, damp from the condensation that had dripped from her cup. “You’re not supposed to tell me about it, then!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Harlow tossed the napkin right back at her, but she did at least have the decency to look a little apologetic. “This came out all wrong because I’m tipsy but I just wanted to see where your head was at, that’s all.” She smiled, eyes soft now, and when she reached out, Mona let her hold her hand. When Harlow spoke again, her voice was gentle and soothing, all traces of playfulness gone, replaced with that protective, almost maternal tone she always took up when checking in with her friend. “I just want to know if this is what you want and if you’re happy.”

Mona suddenly felt so much all at once, a million thoughts running through her head. Then, she thought of Niall, her sunshine boy, who brought light and warmth into her life every day, who loved her unconditionally, even when she didn’t love herself, even when she could be unlovable. It hadn’t been easy, letting him in completely, allowing herself to feel like she deserved him. But he made her feel so very safe and loved. He was her home, her anchor at the end of a long day, a beautiful soul whose arms were always open for her to step into whenever things felt like too much.

She looked up at Harlow again, who was still watching her carefully, her eyes filled with something Mona always saw whenever they talked about this: hope. So she smiled back, squeezing Harlow’s hand. “I am happy.” It was the honest truth. “And…I do want this.”

Harlow exhaled in what seemed to be relief, her smile growing tenfold now. “Then I am happy too.” She untangled their hands and relaxed back into her chair. “I honestly didn’t really want to have to stall him or something if this wasn’t what you wanted. I know you don’t like surprises.”

Mona laughed, thankful for her best friend in that moment for always knowing what she needed. “Thanks. But Niall and I have talked about this, you know. I guess I just didn’t really think that it would be so soon.”

Harlow waved this off. “Well, to be honest, for all I know he could have been talking about doing it next year or something. He didn’t tell me when.” She turned to give Mona an amused smirk. “Maybe he knew I’d have this conversation with you.”

They both laughed at that because it was probably true. Niall knew all of them more than they probably knew themselves. He’d somehow become the person everyone turned to for advice these days. “So,” Mona started slowly, taking a sip of her now watered-down drink. “What else did the two of you talk about.”

Harlow sent her a wicked grin at that, grabbing Mona’s drink from her hand and downing it herself. “Now, Mona darling. Some things are better kept a secret.” She giggled at her own cleverness as Mona rolled her eyes, muttering something about getting another drink before rising from her seat, Harlow following her to the bar.

The night progressed as it usually did at that sort of thing: they drank and laughed and danced. Mona tore up the dance floor with Harlow until she couldn’t feel her feet anymore, peeling away from the crowd of sweaty bodies in favor of the cool breeze of the balcony, wandering around in search of her boyfriend.

She found him on a couch, an already drunk Harry draped over him, unruly curls pressed into his neck as he rested on Niall’s shoulder, and she couldn’t help the way she laughed to herself at the sight. Harry Styles, always the lightweight.

“Hey,” she called out teasingly, slumping into Niall’s other side and giving Harry a playful shove. “Paws off my boyfriend, drunkie.”

Harry whined, frowning lopsidedly at her as he shoved her back. “Can’t we share? You know I love a good cuddle with Nially Poo and I never get to see him anymore because you hog him.”

Mona giggled at the way he grinned at her. “That’s not true!” she retorted, even though it was kind of true. She and Niall worked all the time and the little bit of free time they had was always reserved for each other. “And anyway, no we can’t share because he’s mine.”

Harry huffed, nuzzling closer to Niall regardless. “And to think I was going to tell you that I missed you,” he said sarcastically, reaching out to flick her wrist but missing, which had Niall laughing his big sunshine laugh.

Mona scoffed. “Well I didn’t miss you because I’m mad at you.” At that, Harry sat up slightly, pouting now. “You never have time to hang out with me even though you literally work across the street from me. All I ever hear from you are excuses of how busy you are.”

“That’s not true!” Harry groused.

“It is kind of true,” Niall said, shrugging when Harry sent him a sad look. “I mean, we usually hear updates about you from Jingle, of all people.”

Harry sighed, apologizing. He caught them up on his new job at an elementary school, how it was a bit crazy and he was so tired at the end of the day that he didn’t have the energy to socialize. He promised to stop by one day when Niall offered to cook him dinner and his favorite cupcakes, his spirits lifted at the mention of food. Mona even got in a cuddle with him before they were all being gathered to another room where Liam was going to cut his cake, a massive thing with sparklers on top.

When Harry, Niall, and Mona found Zayn and Harlow, they all took photos and smashed cake into Liam’s face, laughing their heads off the entire time, and Mona realized how much she missed seeing her friends every day now that they didn’t all live in the same apartment complex. They made the most of their time together anyway, getting stupid drunk and dancing the night away like a bunch of idiots.

When the night wound down, she pulled Niall into her, their bodies swaying gently to the slow song that had been playing through the speakers. He smiled at her and she melted into him, thinking of Harlow’s words earlier, thinking of starting a new chapter of life with him. The mere idea of it filled her with an unparalleled happiness, the feeling bubbling through her, growing tenfold when he leaned in to press a kiss to her lips.

“What’re you so smiley about,” he murmured against her mouth, a laugh knocking around in his throat, and she couldn’t help herself when she kissed him again, not caring that they were in the middle of the dance floor.

“I’m just really happy,” she whispered back, and she knew that he heard her through the music because he smiled even bigger.

And maybe she had too much to drink. Or maybe she was just drunk on happiness and Niall. But she couldn’t help herself later when she tugged him into a bathroom to kiss him deeper and harder, couldn’t help her fingers as they curled into the waistband of his jeans, and especially couldn’t help the way she reached out to turn the lock on the door when he let out a delicious sigh into her mouth.

Besides, they hadn’t been reckless in a while.

#things i love about you #1dff #writings #niall horan fanfiction #i know i said i was gonna do a hitc drabble but this happened instead

[yeet-or-be-hawed]

Arthur’s Adventures- “Contemplation”

I’m not sure how much attention this will get, but I wanted more content of just Arthur himself. Arthur’s Adventures will be non-linear stories, based on little interactions and ideas I’ve had for him. No romance, just good ol’ Arthur being Arthur. I’ve got a few more ideas, and depending on how well they go will depend on how many I write. 

After a gunfight, Arthur gets himself a bath and reflects on his past actions and how its beginning to negatively affect him. After encountering someone he had once saved, his heart feels lighter and begins his transition into being a good man. 

Masterlist

-

Arthur didn’t make eye contact with the man at the front desk, he barely muttered his request for a bath-being covered head to toe in blood and grime made his request apparent had the man not heard him properly. He was quick to remove his clothing, the cold winter air penetrating every cranny, slipping between every groove between boards and into the steamy room. His muscles were sore, his whole body ached as his skin hit the hot water in the tub. He could feel his age seeping into his bones.

He frowned at his forearms as he scrubbed the furiously. The dried blood was stubborn, clumping his arm hair and staining his skin. Memories from earlier that day flashed in his mind: a shootout, men falling, the smell of gun smoke and blood. He was the cause of the brawl, and he was the cause of the deaths of the men who would not return to their beds. It used to not bother him so much, in fact he used to take pride in his actions. He was a killing machine, a damn good one at that.

What had changed him so? When did the feeling of pride and accomplishment get replaced with the feeling of damnation and shame? He scrubbed some more, the blood was gone but he could still feel it on his hands.

A knock pulled him from his thoughts, “need some help in there dear?” A kind voice called from behind the door.

“No!” He cried, immediately embarrassed by the insecurity in his voice. He cleared his throat, “no, I’m fine.” He said calmly.

“Okay then, have a nice day.” The voice responded, he waited until he could no longer hear her footsteps before returning to scrubbing himself. The water was tinged with the color of rust-the color of blood.

He wondered what she would’ve said had he allowed her to bathe him. Would she have held her poker face as she scrubbed the dried blood with her hand towel? Or would the color drain from her face as she made tried unsuccessfully to let it not phase her?

He grunted as he looked over his own body, he didn’t even feel human anymore. He felt like a monster, wrapped in the skin of a man. How many families had he robbed of their fathers? Or their brothers? How many wives would crumple are the corpse of their husbands after he made his escape? These were people he was killing, people with lives and families and responsibilities. He couldn’t deny himself anymore, he couldn’t tell himself every man deserved it- how many lawmen had he killed over the years? Men just doing their job.

He splashed himself in the face as his chest began to seize, he longed for a bottle in his hand to drown out the horrific thoughts that had invaded his mind space. He leaned his head back into the water and scrubbed his scalp. His eyes were closed, but he could feel what he couldn’t see. His hair was matted and clumped with sweat, mud, and more blood. With his eyes closed, he could escape to a secret fantasy that he seemed to yearn more for with every passing day.

He imagined the tub to be his own, in a cozy homestead nestled between the flat cliffs of New Austin. The cabin would be small- he didn’t need much as he never had much to begin with. He would have a bed- a real bed, not some worn out bedroll, a real mattress with sheets and a quilt- and a nice fire in the hearth. Sometimes there was a woman there, sometimes not depending on how he felt about himself. Today he saw himself as a monster, a wolf wearing his prey’s skin so there was no woman today. After his bath he would put on his day clothes, grab his bow, and roam the plains looking for pronghorns and white tails for supper. After a successful hunt, he would go into the nearest town and sell the carcass and skins to the local butcher. Everyone would wave to him and ask him about his day- his bounty would be paid off and he would make great friends with the townsfolk. He would have casual, honest conversation with the butcher like normal people do, without the fear of saying too much. He would then leave town without the fear of having the law on his tail. He would make his way home slowly, never in a hurry to get back, never worried about being ambushed by bounty hunters or someone needing him to do something when he returned home. He would cook his venison over an open fire, or maybe make a stew in the stew pot- he did learn quite a bit watching Pearson. After dinner, he would sit down with a book, or maybe his journal and relax in front of the fire. When he would get tired, he would make his way to his bed and sleep comfortably through the night. No nightmares, no drunken idiots waking him in the middle of the night, no one waking him at first light and sending him off to god knows where to do god knows what. He would wake up on his own, open his eyes, and do it all again the next day.

Except, when his eyes opened he was still in the hotel. His bath water was turning lukewarm, and he could still feel the blood of innocent men on his hands. He would not be returning to the cabin he could see so clearly in his mind, he would return to a camp of lost souls and when he laid his head down tonight, he would be tormented by the night terrors that haunted him everytime he closed his eyes.

He sighed heavily, was it normal to feel his heart break over the simple idea of a normal life? Or maybe the clenching feeling in his chest was reality kicking in- his logical side overriding and telling him it’ll just never be.

The water was room temperature now, his time was up and his body wasn’t comfortable in the tub. But he didn’t want to get out yet either. Getting out of the tub meant facing reality- his reality. He is not a normal man, he’s an outlaw. He doesn’t have a cozy bed to return to, but a caravan and a bedroll. And even though she wasn’t there this time, there wouldn’t be a beautiful woman waiting for him with open arms.

When he pulled himself from the tub, a shiver made its way down his spine, but he wasn’t as quick to pull his clothes back on as he was to get them off. He looked over himself as he placed the hat on his head- the mirror reflected a man, but he felt like a monster. The man looked at him with sad eyes, as if he knew something Arthur didn’t.

Again, a knock at the door pulled him to reality. “Everything alright in there?” This time it was the man from the front desk. His time was up and it was time to go.

He turned away from the sad man in the mirror, the longer he faced him the heavier his heart felt. When he opened the door, the man had returned to his post at the front. Arthur tipped his hat to the man and slipped him an extra two dollars, “sorry I ran ya behind.” He mumbled as he turned toward the door. The man tried to argue but Arthur kept going.

His horse was still tethered just outside the hotel, waiting patiently. “C’mon girl,” he said as he mounted and gave the reins a whip. She trotted slowly, the town was heavily congested in the midday rush.

“Mister, hey mister!”

Arthur turned his attention to the young girl walking towards him. She looked familiar, but he just couldn’t place why.

“Howdy mister,” she said when she reached him. His cheeks were pink and her smile was shy. “I thought what was you, I caught glance of you goin’ into the hotel but when I saw your face I knew it was you.” She twirled her hair around her finger as she spoke, her eyes would dare to look at him and then dart away quickly. “I don’t know if you remember me, but my horse went and twisted it’s ankle on me bout a month back. I had no one and then you showed up.” When she looked at him again, even he could see the admiration behind those eyes. “You got me home safe and sound, I don’t have much money but I promised myself I would properly thank you if I ever saw you again.” She reaches into her basket and pulled out a loaf of bread, wrapped in brown paper. “It was freshly baked this morning, I wish I could give you more. I was out there for hours and so many passed me by and you- you stopped with no hesitation. If we had more people in this world as good as you, it would be a better place.”

He opened his mouth to argue- him, a good man? Of course not, but it felt wrong to argue with such a kind face.

“I really should go,” she said as she handed him the loaf. Her small hands caught his and she held his gaze fiercely. “I’ll never forget you.”

Although she turned away quickly, he could see the rosy flush of her cheeks and his hands ached when hers left his. His heart felt lighter somehow, and he felt a little more human. He knew he wouldn’t be on this earth forever, but is it really too late for him? Damnation felt like a wild hound, nipping at his heels as he fled his own past but what if he stopped? What if he faced the bloodthirsty hound and changed it? He was out of excuses now, he was tired, and he wanted to change. He had been lying to himself for so long that he had convinced himself he wanted this- this life on the room with no guaranteed future except for death. He thought of the wad of money stuffed away in a hidden place only he knew- he had close to three thousand saved up now. He never knew what he was saving for but it felt clear now: his freedom. He would talk to Charles and Sadie, maybe John too. He didn’t want to be the bad man on the run anymore, he wanted to be the hero that girl thought he was- he wanted to be human.

#arthurs adventures #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fan fiction #rdr fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #van der linde gang

[cela-astral-projection]

Don't say a word, just come over and lie here with me. 'Cause I'm just about to set fire to everything I see. I want you so bad I'll go back on the things I believe. There I just said it, I'm scared you'll forget about me.

So young and full of running, all the way to the edge of desire Steady my breathing, silently screaming, "I have to have you now"

18+; Cut for length and content. 

Celeste sat in Julian's nearly finished office at the makeshift desk, a board bridging two sawhorses, making a list for their contractor.

She was in a bit of a time crunch. They were leaving tomorrow. Of course, her bags had been packed for days. It was more the prospect of actually going that made her feel harried.  

She had been milling around the shop for days, making sure that everything was ready for Asra. And, when she wasn't fussing there, she was worried about the clinic's progress. But it was all nerves.

The past few years had been a test, to put it mildly.

Now that all the fires were put out, she didn't quite know what to do with herself.  

Going away with Julian seemed like as good a plan as any. To get out of her head. To get some perspective. There were no more Devils left to fight. No more ghosts were lurking in the dark night. She was as free as she would ever be again.

She had only left Vesuvia a few times. To Nopal, with Asra. To the south, with Muriel. One, painfully short. The other, agonizingly long. The prospect of leaving a was daunting. But the way Julian framed it, even knowing that he had a particular way with words, seemed appealing.

Her note finished, she looked around the room. Light streamed through the window. Fine dust covered every surface. But, even in an unfinished state, there was so much potential here. A place of healing. Where she could get back to who she was meant to be.

Julian stepped into the door frame, leaning against it, grinning broadly. He had been positively giddy for days. She knew that if he could have left days ago, he would have done.

"Are you almost ready, Lovely? Goodbye dinner with Nadia in about an hour. You're going to want to change..."

Celeste gave him a quizzical look, eyebrow raised. "Goodbye...oh. Oh!" she exclaimed, remembering. "Oh, Julian. I'm sorry. I completely forgot. I have some loose ends I need to tie up before tomorrow morning. Give them my regards."

The wind appeared to go out of his sails a bit, tilting his head. "Are you sure, Lovely? Nadia will be disappointed. Portia, too."

She sighed, nodding, sorry to have let him down. "I...Yes, I'm sorry. I promised Asra and Muriel..."

"We can be late if you like. Nadia may even appreciate a spot of fashionable tardiness." Julian pressed. "I can come with you, and then we can go together."

"No, this is something I need to do alone. You go. I will see Nadia when we set off tomorrow." She stood, dusting herself off. She crossed the room to him. Julian straightened. Celeste slipped her arms around his waist, inclining her head to him. He straightened and gathered her in, long arms draped over her shoulders. "Nervous, Doc?"

He shook his head. "I have been waiting years for this, Lovely. I'm beyond ready."

Celeste smiled up at him. "Me too," she replied. "Ready for our next adventure."  And she hoped she sounded sincere. Though, in his reverie, she doubted he would catch her apprehension.

She went up on her tiptoes, and Julian bent to kiss her. It was soft and sweet. She could feel his mouth fixed in a perpetual smile—the happiest she had seen him in their entire relationship. For all her apprehension, this was worth it. Seeing him so delighted.

When their lips parted, his forehead rested against hers, his grey eye heavy-lidded. "Thank you for coming with me. There's no one else I'd rather go with."

Celeste felt her cheeks go rosy. She could never resist this look. It melted her. "I love you, Julian," she whispered.

"I love you, Celeste.." he murmured in reply, voice going husky.

She sighed, sobering at his tone.  "Let's wait for your desk to get here before we christen the office? I don't much relish the idea of splinters in my backside before we get on the boat."

Julian laughed, still heady. "Whatever you say, love. I have other ideas for your backside, anyway."

----

Celeste stood in front of the mirror, desperately trying to get her hair to behave.  Any other day, she would have been happy to throw it up in a bun and go. But, tonight was different. She wanted to look memorable.

Just now, she knew she'd make an impression. Though, it would likely be more of a nightmare than a daydream. She had fussed the waves into frizz.

She tapped her nails impatiently on the counter, tongue pressed into her cheek. She closed her eyes for a moment and drew a deep breath.

Every moment that ticked by added to her nerves. Her trepidation. She had fought to keep herself placid. Convince her self that she was ready. Keep a brave face.

She did want to try. To see something new. Be something...else. See what she could be outside of this city.  

She had fought against herself for weeks. Her anxiety was getting the better of her on more occasions than she cared to count. Despite Asra's encouragement. Despite Julian's joy.  She couldn't shake the dread.

She opened her eyes and stared at her reflection. "Nine years, Celeste. You can do a few months away. You can. No Lucio. No Morga. No demons. No devils. You can do this." she scolded herself. "Pull it together." she spat, steeling herself.

She was shaken from her pep-talk by a heavy knock coming from downstairs.

"The hell?" she said, confused and irritated. The shop had closed early. The sign was clearly posted.  Asra had gone to the hut, and Celeste had planned on meeting him and Muriel there. To say their private goodbyes.

She shook her head and moved her hands back to her hair, deciding to ignore the knock. But, another hard rap came. She called out a warning, hoping that her voice would carry.

She had quiet for a moment, but then another loud bang came. She groaned and tied her dressing gown, harried. She turned and moved quickly from the bathroom, down the stairs, swearing viciously.

She rounded the front counter, yelling. "Hey, motherfucker! We're closed! Read the goddamn sign!"

But, the knocking persisted. So, in her thin white slip of a dressing gown, she cast down the protective wards and flicked the bolt open, throwing the door open in one fell swoop, still swearing. "Listen, you feeble-minded son of a...Oh."

Muriel stood in the doorframe, looking amused. "Yeah, you're closed. Loud and clear."

Celeste blinked up at him. He was...dressed. Muriel was dressed. And well-dressed, to boot. It was no masquerade outfit (a look she had taken no real pleasure in if she was honest. Much too frilly and fussy. Not at all her Muriel.), but it was clean, and it fit him well. A buttoned-down white shirt. Black pants. Boots. Hair braided back. He was impossibly handsome. But that was just Muriel. Impossible.

Celeste was shocked. And Muriel's blush was growing with each moment she spent staring at him.

"I...Asra, he...helped."  he stammered, unable to meet her gaze any longer.

Celeste nodded, still stunned.  "...he did a hell of a job."

"Can I..." he jerked his chin, begging for entry.

"Oh, yes! I'm sorry!" Celeste stepped aside, shaking her head to break the spell. "I just...I'm astonished. This is a surprise."

Muriel ducked his head in the entryway as he stepped in. It was then that Celeste noticed the bouquet in the crook of his arm. Wildflowers. She pressed a hand to her chest, her mouth falling open anew. "Muriel...did you bring me flowers?"

He grunted his confirmation, extending the bouquet to her. They were wrapped in odd, blue paper. She took the bundle from him, bringing a finger to stroke the delicate petals of a coneflower.

"Thank you, sweetheart. They're gorgeous."

"They're flowers. You're gorgeous."  Muriel replied. Though, her hair did appear as if she'd had a struggle with a raccoon. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. She barefoot, wearing just a white silk dressing gown. Hastily tied and barely covering anything of substance.

Celeste blushed at the compliment, her eyes falling back on Muriel. "Flatterer."

She stepped to him, and he stooped, bowing to kiss her. His fingers under her chin, drawing her up. For a moment, all her dread fell away. Rough fingers, the scent of myrrh, slightly chapped lips. Home. Muriel felt like home. Peace and safety and love.

When they broke away, her eyes fluttered open. He was smiling down at her. A full, genuine smile. It was disarming. More superb than any flower this world could conceive.

She drew a breath, trying to sober herself. "So, are you here to escort me to the forest? Is Asra joining us here?"

He shook his head. "No, I thought I would...try something else. Just us."

"Oh? What...did you have in mind?" she said, eyebrow raised.

"...Just go get dressed," he said, not wanting to reveal too much.

Was Muriel acting playful? Coy? Was Muriel...flirting? She lifted her hand to his forehead, pressing her palm against the skin. He pulled back a bit, confused.

"Just checking for a fever." she teased.  "You don't feel sick. But you are behaving...oddly."

Muriel snorted. "Go, get dressed, please."

Celeste raised her hand, relenting. "Okay, I'm going. Let me put these in water..."

He reached out and took the flowers back, almost looking panicked. "I'll take care of that. Please, go get dressed."

'Ah, yes. There he is.' Celeste thought, laughing to herself, shaking her head.

---

Celeste had wrestled her hair into compliance and dressed. A simple black dress buttoned up the front with wide lapels and a flared skirt. She was shuffling through her jewelry box while Muriel watched, reclined on the bed.

She found a pair of simple seed pearl earrings and held them in her palm, appraising them. Good enough. She slipped them into place, then went back to the jewelry box, trying to find the matching necklace.

She heard Muriel shift behind her as she shuffled through the box.

"Try this."

Celeste gave a "Hm?" as she turned to face him.

A small, wooden box in his hand.

She immediately felt her knees go weak, and she stumbled back, bracing herself on the dresser, her eyes wide. Heart thudding in her ears. "Muriel?!"

Muriel, for his part, looked genuinely bewildered. "Wha--are you okay?"

"Is that...are you...are you pro--" she stammered, eyes locked on the box in his hand, torn between panic and elation.

"Pr--Oh. Oh!" he barked, his panicked expression matching hers when he realized what she thought was happening. "No! I'm not...I mean..." He opened the box, presenting it to her.

It was an herb locket. It was meant for holding charms. Golden. Swirling metal tendrils in an orb shape, held with a tiny clasp. She could see the tiny chips of myrrh held inside. It was elegant. So much more sophisticated than the bundles she carried, even now that the curse was broken.  Celeste straightened, catching her breath, reaching her hand out to touch it.

"Oh, darling," she whispered. "It's lovely. Thank you."

"You're not disappointed that it's not a ring?" he asked, watching her expression.

"That feels like a trick question, and I decline to answer." She said, meeting his eyes. "I love this. It's perfect."

Muriel nodded. He couldn't disagree with her assessment. It was, in fact, a loaded question. And, he was lying to himself if he said he hadn't considered it.

"Will you put it on for me?" she asked, turning around, lifting her hair from the nape of her neck.  

He lifted the necklace from the box, reaching past her to lay the container on the dresser. He brought the delicate chain around her throat. He fumbled with the tiny clasp. Big fingers not quite adept with such diminutive closures. But, he fastened it.

Celeste ran her fingers over the charm and turned to look up at him.

Her eyes were soft. They were reflecting devotion and love.

"It suits you," Muriel stated plainly, bringing his hand up to cup her cheek, running his thumb along the soft flesh.

"All these gifts. I feel...utterly bereft. I feel like I should give something to you."

He shook his head. "Stay with me. That's all the gift I need."

Celeste was satisfied with her self that she didn't flinch at his answer. Though, it stung badly.

"I'm always with you, Muriel. Always." She responded voice sweet, and placid.

Muriel knew her well enough to know when she wasn't engaging. That was alright. He had all night to drive the point home.

"Are you ready?" He asked, breaking the tension.

Celeste nodded. "Lead the way."

----

Celeste knew precisely where they were. She had made this journey many times. Never with Muriel. It made no sense to her.

Her arm was linked with Muriel's. She could feel the tension radiating off of him. He was better in public, but he wasn't exactly great. Curse or no curse, he would, by and large, prefer to go unseen. He was staring straight ahead and ignoring the onlookers' stares.

"Em...Sweetheart? Angel? Light of my life?" Celeste said, growing more concerned as they forged forward. "Why exactly are we going to the South End?"

"Going on a date." He replied. Succinct.

"In the South End?"

He nodded, eyes still fixed on the road ahead.

"Muriel, darling? Are we going to The Raven?" she ventured.

He grunted his confirmation, and Celeste's eyes went wide, turning her attention back to the road ahead, blinking slowly.

Celeste wasn't sure what to say. She wanted to ask him if he had lost his goddamn mind. But, when it came to Muriel and trying new things, she was always cautious about redirecting him. It was important to her that he did try something.

But this seemed like a lot. Especially when she had fully anticipated spending the night in bed.

She had spent her fair share of evenings in the Rowdy Fucking Raven. Things were rarely, if ever, calm. Hence the name. She could pray for a quiet evening. But, she could easily see this becoming a nightmare for Muriel.

When they finally came to the tavern, Muriel paused outside the door—steeling himself.

"Muriel," Celeste said, bringing her free hand up to his bicep, giving a gentle squeeze. "Vesuvia is a big city. There are a lot of places that aren't The Rowdy Raven. We can even just...walk around. Go back to the shop. Go to the hut..."

"No. I can do this. You come here, don't you?" he asked, but his tone was a bit shaky.

"Yes, and I've ended up having to patch up more idiots after barfights than I care to recall. It's what pays for most of my drinks. I'm practically on the payroll." She replied.

"If you can do this, so can I," he said, seemingly finding his resolve and moving to the door.

Celeste shook her head and followed behind, bracing herself for impact.

It was, thankfully, still relatively calm. There was a band playing. Not a particularly good one, but serviceable. Quite a few patrons, but nobody actively bleeding that she could see. Blessing enough.

Barth looked up from drawing a drink, and his eyes fell on Muriel. The liquid flowing into the tankard continued to rise, spilling over the rim of the container. Utterly shocked at the man who had entered. Several other heads turned as well, eyes going wide. One of the musician's timing went wildly off as he was distracted by the newcomer.

Celeste waved and called out the barkeeps' name, trying to break his reverie. "Barth! Any way we can get a corner booth?"

The man blinked and shook his head, swearing at the spilled ale and righting the tap. "Oh! Cela, love! You've got the run of the place! Your usual?"

She nodded. "Dark and stormy. And Mead for him?"

"You got it, Angelface."

She pulled Muriel along after her to the back corner. She found the booth occupied by a regular. Quite drunk. Quite asleep. "Randall?" she said, sweet, tapping the man on the leg. "Gotta get up for me, darling. Barth has something for you up at the bar."

The man stirred. He was groaning loudly in protest.

"Randy," she said, a bit more authoritative. "Move your ass."

The man made another heinous groan but lurched up. He was blearily shifting out of the booth, muttering something under his breath. Celeste shook her head.

"Tell Barth to get you a black coffee. On me." She said, patting the man on the back as he stumbled away, waving her off.

Muriel watched her, shocked to see how easily she navigated the chaos.

She slid into one side of the booth, and Muriel took the opposite side, looking her over.

"Oh, you thought I was joking about being on the payroll, didn't you?" she said, lifting an eyebrow, teasing.

He nodded, not quite sure what to make of it. He had seen the woman drink. After one glass, her cheeks and nose went red.  Usually, after her second glass of wine, she required someone to hold her hand so she could walk. Not precisely standard barroom fare.

Barth personally delivered their drinks, smiling broadly. "So, Angelface. Tomorrow is the big day, isn't it? Come for some liquid courage?"

"It is. You coming down to the docks to see your best customer off?" She smiled back.

"You or Doc? He's the best, but you're my favorite." The man winked. "Will he be joining us this evening?"

Celeste pulled a face. "Doubtful, unless he comes down for last call. But, I have a feeling he's getting the top-shelf stuff tonight—dinner with the Countess."

Barth nodded, looking impressed. "Well, I don't know if I can get away. But I'm glad to see you tonight. And, the Big One, too." He said, turning to Muriel, who had been watching the exchange, rapt. Barth extended his hand. "Good to meet you..."

Muriel lifted his hand to shake Barth's but did not respond. Barth's eyes fell back on Celeste.

"This is my Muriel," she answered for him.

"It's good to put a name to the legend, Muriel. Welcome to the Raven." Barth finished, clapping his other hand over the top of their joined hands, giving an affectionate pat. "Well, I'll let you get back to it. Whistle if you need me." He finished, releasing Muriel. He moved to the other side of the booth and leaned in, kissing Celeste's cheek. "Take care of yourself, Love. Gonna miss you something fierce."

Celeste turned to kiss Barth's other cheek, reaching down to squeeze his hand. "Keep the place standing. I'll be back soon."

When Barth had departed, Celeste extended her hand across the table to Muriel. He took her hand, stroking his thumb across her knuckles.

"So, do you want to tell me why we're here?" She asked, searching his face.

"Because I want to go on a date with the woman I love."

Celeste made a noise of understanding. "So how long did you and Asra sit around prepare this for me?"

Muriel's brow furrowed. He knew it wasn't precisely opaque, but he had hoped she'd be somewhat more receptive to the attempts.

"Don't blame Asra. I...wanted you to see me..." he trailed off, trying to find the words. "See me try. Do the things that you do with--"

"Julian." she finished for him, eyebrow raised.

He nodded. She sighed.

As the pieces started clicking into place, she picked up her drink and took a long sip, eyes closed.

The past few weeks had been a strain, to put it mildly. Muriel had taken the initial announcement badly. He had been tolerant of her relationship with Julian. But leaving Vesuvia, together, for months was more than Muriel was prepared to deal with. So, he hadn't. He had all but refused to speak about it.

Muriel made more trips to the city to see her. When she stayed at the hut, he kept her as long as he possibly could—holding her tighter—fucking her longer and harder. Silent but desperate pleas.

He had lost her twice. Death. And that should have been the end of it. But, she had come back to him. Only to be ripped away by his curse all over again. He finally had her. He wanted to respect that she was learning to navigate the world with the new knowledge of her own past. But, he also wanted her. And he had her. And he did not want to let her go.

Asra was part of the deal. That was how it was meant to be. Julian was not. And now he was stealing her away.

"Muriel, I am coming home. This isn't forever."

It was his turn to drink. He didn't drop her gaze as he imbibed.

When he was sated, he sat the tankard down and took a sharp breath.

"That's something else I wanted to discuss with you...Home. Whose home are you coming back to?"

Celeste narrowed her eyes, trying to parse what he was asking.

"I'm coming home to Vesuvia," she unsure of how to answer.

"Are you coming home to the shop? Home to Julian's apartment? Or home...to me?"

"I always come home to you, Muriel. I also live at the shop, and I stay with Julian," she said, shaking her head. "What are you asking?"

"I want to give you a home. Our home. I want you home with me. I am asking you to stay with me."

Celeste had emotional whiplash already. First, from what she thought was a proposal. And now, this, which also felt like a proposition.

"So, you're asking me to move into the hut permanently?"

"Not exactly."

Celeste pressed her tongue into her cheek, baffled, her irritation growing.

"Why today, Muriel?"

"Last-ditch effort," he responded, more quickly than either of them anticipated.

Celeste released his hand and crossed her arms across her chest.

"Elaborate, please," she said tersely.

"I don't feel like I need to. I want you to stay with me. I want to have a home with you. It seems simple."

"When I'm with you, I'm home."

Muriel drew a deep breath. "I want more than that. I want you to choose to stay with me. I want to build a life with you. I want to give you a home. I love you. I want you to stay."

Celeste softened, deflating a bit from her incredulity. "I want to stay. I do. But... I need to do this. It's a few days in the grand scheme of things. I will come home to you."

Muriel closed his eyes, considering his words. "What...do you need to do that I can't be with you for? Why do you have to leave me?"

"Would you come with me if I asked you to?"  Celeste retorted before taking another drink.

Muriel blinked at her, reeling a bit.  That was a response he hadn't considered. Going with her? With Julian?

When he didn't respond, she made a vague gesture of dismissal. "I guess we're at an impasse, then."

They sat quietly for a long moment, drinking. Muriel extended his hand again, searching for hers. Celeste relented, giving his fingers a squeeze.

"I don't want to argue with you. Not today." He said, low, his eyes downcast.

The music shifted. A slow song. There was a shuffle of chairs and barstools as the dance floor occupants adjusted. Some joining with their partners, others falling away to make room.

Celeste sighed and moved to stand, hand still connected to Muriel's. He eyed her warily.

"It's not the Masquerade. Everyone is drunk. Come on." she said, coaxing him out.

Muriel narrowed his eyes but followed. When he stood, Celeste took both his hands, pulling him backward toward the dance floor.

She pulled his hands to her waist and moved her arms around his torso, finding her favorite spot. Head on his chest. She heard a familiar wolf-whistle from the bar and gave a laugh. Barth, cheering them on.

Celeste took the "lead." Whatever that looked like. They simply stood in the circle of each other's embrace, swaying to the music. No attempts at dipping one another. No spins or twirls. No fancy footwork. Just nearness.

Muriel's hands were firm at her waist, looking down at her as they rocked. The way her eyes fluttered shut, and she breathed him in. As if there were no one else in the world watching. He could feel the eyes, but just now, he could push their stares away. The lantern light playing in her hair. Her skin glowing. Cheek just the slightest bit flushed from drink.

His Celeste. The great love of his life. In front of all these people, completely at ease in his hands. Never afraid of him.

When the music subsided, there was a smattering of laughter. For the musicians, Muriel thought and turned to the stage. When he found all the eyes on them, he blushed wildly. Celeste laughed, shaking her head.

"Why are they...?" he asked, bewildered.

"It's not every day they get a folk hero in their bar."

"Hero?" His tone was incredulous.

"The imprisoned Gladiator that defeated the devil himself? It's a favorite story around here." She said, giving his hand a squeeze.

"You know it wasn't quite that simple," he said, looking down at her.

"Smile and wave, Darling. Your public adores you." she teased.

"Give us a kiss, Love!" Barth called out from behind the bar, and there was a swell of other voices, cheering them on. Some glasses and tankers banging on various table tops. A low chant of "Kiss, Kiss, Kiss."

Muriel blinked, caught off guard. Celeste smiled up at him. "Should we--"

She was suddenly off her feet, swept up in his arms and dipped low for a kiss. Celeste scrambled blindly, hands trying to find purchase on him. His lips were heavy and hot against hers. His hand at the back of her head, his other arm around her back, holding her aloft and horizontal to the ground.

After a long moment, he released her. She was breathless, heart pounding. The din of the crowd was deafening. He carefully lowered her back to the ground. His face looked positively mischevious.

"I'd like to take you back to the shop now." Muriel said, husky.

Celeste nodded rapidly.

He had her by the hand and moved swiftly for the door, Celeste had the presence of mind to look back at Barth, who waved her on. "On me!"

---

They practically fell into the shop once Celeste managed to wrestle the door open. Muriel kicked it shut with a bang. Muriel hoisted her up onto the countertop and was immediately on his knees in front of her.

He was thwarted by her crinoline and groaned, frustrated. Celeste was fumbling with buttons, not quite able to manage them. "Fuck the dress," she said breathlessly.  And Muriel nodded, his hands coming to her lapels and yanking roughly. The fabric rended like paper under his hands, leaving her exposed. She shed the sleeves, and he tugged the crinoline away, tossing it aside in a heap.

His mouth was on her in an instant, and her legs were over his shoulders. Muriel could feel her boot heels pressing into his shoulders, drawing him into her. He brought his hands up to her waist, holding her in place, so she didn't slip off the counter.

His tongue parted the outer lips of her sex, and darted out to find her clit. She was already soaking wet, her fluids drenching his mouth. Celeste hissed above him, her hands in his hair, the braids falling loose from the various stops they had made en route to the shop, unable to suppress their need.

His lips closed around the bud, and he sucked gently. She was calling out his name above him, held securely in place, but still tensing and writhing, back arching. He ventured a hand upwards, finding her breast and cupping it, thumb finding her nipple, brushing his calloused thumb across.

He could feel his cock straining against the trousers, painfully. He fucking hated these clothes. All these buttons and fastenings. He pulled away from Celeste's cunt, and she whined. "Just-- just a second," he said, releasing her breast and reaching down to find the buttons at the fly. He managed to undo the top fastenings and slide them down far enough to allow his member to spring free. He gave a satisfied sigh when he could take himself in hand, stroking.

He returned to his ministrations, tongue seeking out her canal. Dripping with desire. He lapped away the slick with long strokes, thrusting in and out of the hole, drinking her in. She was so warm and wet, and the smell saturated his senses, overwhelming him.

"Muriel..." Celeste hissed, trying to draw him up. He pulled back and stared up at her, mouth slightly agape, eyes heavy-lidded. She didn't need to ask. He knew.

He pushed himself up off the floor. Celeste's legs were still on his shoulders, but she shifted herself so she could lay back on the counter, head falling over the edge.

The counter put her at the perfect height for him. He moved his hand along the planes of her stomach, feeling the way she fluttered under his touch with anticipation. He slid his fingers through her curls, noticing, for the first time, that she had groomed her pubic hair. The smattering of dark curls on her stomach shaved away and the shape altered. Refined.

He clenched his jaw, staring down at the smooth skin, running his fingertips over the bare spaces.

He felt something inside him snap, and he grabbed his cock in hand, finding her entrance and thrusting roughly. Celeste made to cry out from shock, but her breath was caught in a cough. The violent contraction of her body sending her cunt into a spasm around him.

Muriel rocked into her with long, slow strokes to accommodate for his initial roughness. But, his hand stayed firm on her stomach, not allowing her to rise, keeping her down. He could feel himself moving within her.

Celeste was pressed against him, barely able to move, legs straight up. Muriel was deep inside her from the first stroke. She was still trying to catch her breath, but the shock was giving way to pleasure. The exquisite stretch of being filled by his cock. She felt each inch as he withdrew. The ridges and veins, the swell of the head. Moving fluidly inside her, coated in her slick.

Muriel's movements became more frenzied, with each keen and gasp that came from Celeste's lips. The wet sounds that came from between her legs. The thud of his hips against the backs of her thighs.

She came for him, wetness surging from her, her walls clenching as he continued fucking her, hitting her deepest and most sensitive places.

When he was close, he withdrew from her and took his cock in hand, stroking himself to completion. Hot, thick spurts of come on her belly, on her mons. He groaned with each spasm, head falling back.

When he was spent, he took a deep breath, bracing himself on the countertop. He looked down at Celeste, covered in his seed. He released his cock and reached up to take her by the wrist, bringing her hand to the sticky mess, drawing her fingers through the substance, making her spread it across the bare places that she had shaved.

Celeste was still in a haze from her orgasm. But she realized, even in her daze, his point. She should have known he wouldn't have been pleased. She sighed to herself, allowing him to move her hands.

When he was satisfied, he pulled her up, sliding his hand under her back and drawing her up. He brought her fingers to his lips, drawing them into his mouth, sucking away the remaining come. One finger at a time. Celeste watched the display. Soft lips wrapping around the digits. Tasting himself on her skin.

When her fingers were cleaned, he drew her hand up to his neck and leaned in to kiss her. It was positively chaste compared to his previous actions. Soft and tender. When they parted, he pressed his forehead against hers, staring intensely into her eyes.

Celeste stroked her fingers across the nape of his neck, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Mine." Muriel whispered. Not a question. An assertion.

"Yours. Always yours."  Celeste replied.

Momentarily satisfied, Muriel pulled back, hitching his pants again, situating his softened member. When he was settled, he moved to sweep Celeste into his arms. Bridal style. Celeste laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Bath," he said shortly, moving towards the back of the shop to the staircase.

---

Celeste had always been a big fan of the bath in the shop. It was ridiculously large. Now that she knew Muriel, she assumed it was an accommodation Asra had made just in case. It wasn't nearly the size of the baths in the palace, of course. But she didn't need a swimming pool. She liked being pressed up against Muriel, between his thighs.

He was stroking a soapy cloth over her body. Lazy, languid circles. She was melted against him, eyes closed.

"Cela?"

"Hm?"

Muriel sat the cloth aside and brought his hand to the necklace, rolling the orb between his fingers thoughtfully.

"If it had been a ring..."

"...I would have said yes."

Muriel sighed.

"Then, I'm asking."

Celeste tensed, and her eyes shot open.  

"Why?" she asked, dubious.

"Because I love you. Because I want you..."

Celeste stared up at the ceiling, measuring her response carefully. "Okay. I will marry you...but I'm leaving tomorrow. We can plan the wedding when I get back."

Muriel swore. "God damn it, Celeste."

Celeste made a noise of confirmation and planted her hands on the sides of the tub, pushing herself out of the water, stepping out. He caught her wrist, but she wrenched out of his slippery grip.

"I'm not doing this, Muriel," she said, beyond exasperated. She was offended. She grabbed a bath towel and wrapped herself in it. "I'm having a hard enough time, I do not need this from you. I am going, and you'll either be here waiting, or you won't."

Muriel was up and after her, watching as she swept out of the bathroom while he fumbled with a towel. "Celeste, we love each other. Why do you insist on leaving me over and over again? I'm so...tired of being left."

"You don't think I know that? Don't you know how selfish I feel? But I have to do this for myself. I am going. I have to go--"

"You don't." Muriel bit out. "Once you wept to leave me. You fought against death to get back to me. And I have been patient. I have given up everything for us. And I have been tolerant. But, there was always supposed to be an end to this...you were my promise, Celeste. We're supposed to be together."

"I didn't make any fucking deals, Muriel. I had nothing to do with any of this," she shouted back. "What you and Asra did I am grateful for, but I am not indebted to either of you. I made no deals.  I stood by your side. I fought alongside you. I went through hell. You made deals. Not me. And if I want to get on a fucking boat and go be something else for a couple months, I'm going to do it."

Muriel stood to his full height, eyes hard, jaw set. Then, in an instant, he was going down the stairs, sending Celeste reeling.

"Where are you going?" She called after him, following after.

When she caught up to him, he had the bouquet in his hand, unwrapping the flowers from the blue paper. Celeste watched him, eyebrow raised. He thrust the paper at her.

"What is..."

"Fucking look at it." he spat.

Celeste laid the paper out on the countertop, squinting at it.

They were plans. Blueprints.

She clutched the towel to her chest with one hand and stroked the lines on the page with the fingertips of the other. It was a house. A cabin.

She looked up at Muriel, who was scowling.

"I want you to stay. I want to make a home with you. I love you." He growled.

"Oh...Muriel." Celeste said, righting herself. "This is for us? This is our home?"

"Stay," he stated, his tone still biting.

"You're building this for us?"  Celeste asked, her lip trembling.

"Stay," he repeated, his harshness fading. "I need you to stay."

"We can still have this. I am coming home." Celeste felt the first tear fall. "I want this, I want the same thing you do..."

Muriel drew a shuddering breath. "Why do I keep losing you? What am I doing wrong? Why do you keep leaving me?"

"I don't know how else to explain the distinction between going on a trip from which I will return and leaving you," she said, trying to keep her composure. "I love you. I don't ever want to leave you."

"But you don't love me enough to stay." he retorted. "Not enough to realize that I want you. I will give everything in the world away for you. I want to give you my whole heart for my whole life."

"You have had a decade to love me. I didn't know...I need to leave for a little bit and see the world with clear eyes. I just...please. Understand."

"I'm trying. I am. But I'm tired. I'm ready for you. I'm ready now." Muriel pleaded. "Please don't leave, Celeste."

"Come with me," she said, crossing the room to him, looking up into his eyes. "You're free, too. Nothing is holding you here. Come with me. See the world with me."

"I will go anywhere with you. With you. I will not go with Julian."

"I made a commitment."

"You made a promise. To me. Long before Julian."

"I will keep my promise. I will."

"When? After he takes you halfway around the world where I can't get to you? Gets you pregnant? He decides that he doesn't want to come home? That he wants you to stay with him?"

"Why don't you trust me? I am coming back."

"I trust you. I don't trust Julian. And I do not trust him with you in the slightest. He will try to keep you. And I won't be able to get you back."

Celeste shook her head. "I don't know how to make this better for you. I love Julian. I love Asra. But...you have to know that I choose you. I choose us," she paused, wiping tears away. "But, I deserve your respect. I deserve to take my time."

Muriel nodded, defeated. "Then, I guess you're going. There's nothing left to say." He stepped past her, back to the staircase.

Celeste was frozen in place, watching him go.

After a long while He descended the stairs, dressed. He stopped in front of her, silent tears falling.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, fixing his eyes on hers. "Stay with me, Celeste. Stay."

She was shivering, trembling. "I can't." she forced out. Her tone all regret.

Muriel nodded, his heart broken. "Fine." He spoke, his tone cold.

And then, he was gone, across the shop and out the door in an instant.

---

Celeste stood, side by side with Julian at the docks. The ship behind them.

Portia and Nadia to one side, hands clasped. Portia nearly in tears as Nadia repeated all the ways in which she would be missed.

Asra stood in front of Celeste. He had been apprised of the rudiments from the previous evening's activities. First by Muriel, then by Celeste. His eyes were sad. Because she was leaving, of course. But, because he had hoped that it would work.

Asra would never be the one to hold Celeste. He felt it would be hypocritical to do so, after all she had put up with. And now, all she was contending with regarding her new-found knowledge. He knew the peace that came with being away from the strains and stresses of daily life. To retreat. To be free.

But it still hurt to see her go.

"You're going to come home to me, right?" Asra said, trying to force a lilt into his voice.

Celeste nodded. "Always, Asra. My Heart." She placed her hand on her chest. "I'm always just a heartbeat away."

Asra leaned in to kiss her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, fighting back the urge to break down in tears all over again.

This was supposed to be a happy day. A fresh start.

Asra's grip was tight, holding her to him, his kiss feverish.  His mind calling out to make her stay. Find a way. Do whatever it takes.

But, he had already done that. He had found a way to keep her.

Celeste was his.

But, most wonderfully, she belonged entirely to herself. Free to choose. To live her life. And how lucky they all were to have her. That she chose all of them. Loved all of them.

His heart had been a gift. It wasn’t a life sentence. 

When their kiss ended, their foreheads were pressed together. Hearts beating in sync.

"I love you, Asra," she whispered.

"I love you, Celeste. Oh, how I love you." Asra replied, his voice wavering.

From above them, there was a sharp whistle. Mazelinka, looking equally amused and irritated. "Alright, Lovebirds! We're pushing off!"

Celeste's eyes went wide with panic, pulling back from Asra, looking over his shoulder. Asra caught her gaze and turned to follow it.

There was nothing. A line of well-wishers, offering similar sentiments to their loved ones before they boarded.

No Muriel.

She sighed. Asra felt his heart skip a beat. He turned back to her, giving a sympathetic look. "He...hates the docks." He offered.

Celeste gave a rueful laugh. "Well...he hates...something, that's for sure."

"Sweetheart...no. He...doesn't hate you. He could never hate you."

Julian's hand fell on her shoulder, giving an affectionate squeeze. "If you want, I can tell Maz to hold off a little longer."

Celeste drew a sharp breath and shook her head. "No...It's time." She said relenting. Turning to smile up at Julian. "We're free, Julian. As free as we'll ever be again."

He grinned broadly. "Oh, you lovely, lovely woman."

Asra caught her free hand and gave it a squeeze, tears threatening to fall. "Be safe. If you need me..."

Celeste laughed and nodded. "I'll be surrounded by water. I know where to find you."

She leaned in to give him one last kiss. Delicate and short.

Asra released her hand and looked up to Julian. "Take care of my Heart, Ilya," he said, his tone a warning.

"You have my word, Asra," Julian said, sincere.

Maz whistled again, less amused this time, staring down at Julian with a hard look. He smiled back, unphased, but when he turned to look at Celeste, she could see the slight dread on his features.

"Time to go?" she asked sarcastically.

Julian nodded. "Before she finds things to throw."

---

Celeste stood with Julian at the side of the boat. His arm was around her waist. Julian eagerly waving at the remaining wellwishers.

Asra and Nadia stood side by side after vowing to watch them over the Horizon line.

When the boat finally began moving away from the dock, she rested her hand over her heart, and Asra mirrored her.

Then, Asra felt his heart drop and saw Celeste's face shift.

Muriel stood at the top of the docks, watching as the boat was unmoored and began to move away.

Julian, to his credit, did rush to the captain to try to convince him to stop and was met with a firm, hearty "Fuck you. No."

Asra rushed up the docks to Muriel, who met him halfway.

"You didn't stop her?" Muriel asked, eyes wide.

"How the hell was I supposed to know that you were coming?" Asra retorted, looking back at the boat that was well away from the dock now. He whirled back to Muriel. "What is...do you have a bag?" Asra's mouth fell open, looking at the satchel that Muriel was carrying. "Oh, fuck."

"Can I get to her?" he asked, trying to figure out what to do.

"I...don't...Nadia?" Asra said, looking for a solution.

Nadia shook her head. "I'm afraid not. They generally won't turn back." She said, her tone compassionate. "We might be able to send another boat after them? Meet them at their next port?"

Muriel sighed, shaking his head. "I thought I had time."

"Muriel, we can figure this out," Asra said, reaching out to rest his hand on Muriel's arm. "We can get you to her."

"No." he said, setting his jaw, eyes going dark.

"Muriel.." Asra began, but Muriel turned and walked away, eyes cast down.

Asra looked back at the boat, then to Muriel. He swore, and chase after him, calling his name.

---

Celeste stood, shocked. Cold all over. Portia stood at her side, a hand on her back, trying to settle her down.

"Can...can I get off?" Celeste asked, her voice shaky.

"No, I'm sorry, sweetie! But, I'm sure Nadia will figure something out." Portia offered sweetly.

"I can swim. Can I jump?"

Julian came back from the captain and his eye went wide. "No, you may absolutely not jump."

"Julian...he came. He won't understand. I have to go back." She broke away from Portia, rounding on Julian.

"I know, I know." He said, catching her by her upper arms. "Nadia will figure something out. We've got Malak. We can send word back. It will be fine."

"He won't understand..."

Julian's sympathetic expression shifted, eye narrowing. "He's a grown man, Celeste. He made a choice. You asked him to come, and he waited until the last possible moment to make a decision. He'll be here when we get back, or he'll figure it out."

Celeste sobered a bit. She couldn't argue with that. She sighed, looking back over her shoulder. The docks further away with each second.

And Muriel, followed by Asra, retreating.

#fanfiction #fanfic #apprentice x muriel #apprentice oc #apprentice x julian #apprentice x asra #muriel #asra alnazar #julian devorak #apprentice celeste #celeste #mc #oc #arcana oc #the arcana game #arcana #the arcana muriel #the arcana asra #the arcana julian

[heregoesthoughts]

Horrible Person

Day 2

I was able to sleep better today but I woke-up feeling shit. I have been trying to snap out of it since I know it’s going to affect my work and I can no longer allow this jerk even have a hold of my emotions. He’s not even sorry or guilty about what happened - a day after the break-up he tweeted about being with someone and I just know that he’s been thinking about this for quite some time. 

I will stop choosing what isn't choosing me. If it’s not mutual why pursue it? Your love life is just one aspect of your life and do not forget to nurture the other  parts. 

You are not a dog and you shouldn’t keep going back to your vomit. Stop obsessing. It already happened, you are here and it’s real. One thing you can do is to accept it as soon as possible and understand that you are no fault on this and you did your best. You are amazing and you are capable of giving true love that understands, nurtures and cares. Something that you didn't know before. 

He's a horrible person and I’m just glad I dodged a bullet and I am no longer in it. Remember all the things he did that made you feel like a trash: 

1. Remember when he didn't care about you and didn’t text you the whole day when he went to Nueva Icija. 

2. Remember when he left you waiting in airbnb not being sorry

3. After breaking-up with you, he left you crying inside the room. Didn't even text you after, blocked you across social media and posted an insensitive selfie of himself talking about his lips? GGSS, you saved yourself from this horrible person who doesn't deserve your love. 

4. Remember when you told him about your triggers? He didn't care about those, he gaslighted you and invalidated your feelings. First lie is the hardest, the next ones will be your personality. 

One he’s right - you deserve better. Don’t ever feel sorry for the lies that he threw on why you broke-up. You broke-up because he was cheating on you and he looks at you as a trash. 

He’s also right that 4 years from now, I will be a big shot in the corporate world. And I will make that happen. 

Get this clear in your mind that why you need to stop stalking or thinking about him. Does stalking help you positively in any way? If you uncontrollably continue doing it know that your life would be like a disastrous heap with every passing day and also know that if you do stop your life would emerge differently. Besides, don’t you think your boyfriend has demeaned you by choosing someone else? Isn’t that enough insult to your self-esteem? What are you waiting for to see yourself suffer more? To love someone ferociously is fine but you should also know when to stop and walk away. It’s your feelings that’s redirecting you back to him nothing else. The roots of the tree have been chopped off and you're still believing that it has got its life by seeing its leaves!

In order to move on, you need to understand what you felt and why you no longer need to feel it. His new life is affecting you because you are letting yourself to be affected by it. Allowing him to nestle in your mind has retained his virtual existence in your life and directing your actions. Your mind is a part of you, you’re not a part of it. So, use it wisely to serve your own purpose and for your own good. Don’t be a slave to your thoughts, practice to control and conquer your mind it’s yours. If you can control your mind only then you can control your life. It’s highly advisable to think critically with the mind not emotionally with the heart post break-up.

Just know for sure that the wrong one leaves because the right one would come to stay. Once you realize, that you deserve better, moving on was the best decision you ever made. 

With time you will realise what a waste of time and emotions it has been to stalk him.  In the end, self respect is the most important thing.

You have the rest of your life ahead of you with so many options. The only thing that isn't an option is a life with him. We have a tendency to remember our time with the ex as being happier than we really were. If it was all happy you wouldn't be broke up so obviously the ex wasn't the soul mate he claimed he was when he met you or vice versa. Fuck it. Its over and its time to do your own thing.

He does not deserve your time or energy. You deserve a one hundred percent better than what he has to offer in comparison. He is no longer a man but a coward. A coward who sought out opportunities to deliberately inflict harm on you. A coward whose public plastic mask covered up those icily calculating eyes and that sickening smirk that said otherwise. A coward who knew how to cut you down with a few words in a matter of seconds. A coward who made you feel lonely in his arms and instead feel an ache for genuine affection. A coward who denied you of your sincere feelings and numbed your heart by constantly belittling and disrespecting you. This coward has no power over you because you are a one hundred percent stronger and powerful than him. You have the power to completely heal from everything he has done to you all those years. You have dauntlessly escaped his hellish mind and body prisons. This coward will tremble in fear because you hold the amazing power of sharing your testimony with your head held high.

When you're in a relationship, you get used to the routine. Even if it's toxic. So when you take away the routine, the withdrawal feels unbearable. You just want that fix of going back to your usual routine. Every day I would check his social media. I had to know what he was up to, if he missed me, if he found someone else. I was so obsessive about it. But you know what I didn't do? I didn't contact him. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much I wanted to reach out, I refused to let myself contact him.

A day came when I no longer needed to check up on him. I no longer needed the crutch to have some sort of contact with him. I have permanently blocked him. I haven't thought about him at all in the past few years. He has reached out a few times to give me a sob story about how apologetic he is. But that moment is gone. I don't feel the same anymore. He doesn't have any meaning to me anymore.

Accept the symptoms of withdrawal from him and tell yourself, he was just the path to the man you’ll really know you want to be with later down the line. Some day the thought of him and what you feel now will be vague.

Regardless of what he posts, do I really care what he gets up to? Like others, I started applying the state of mind that he is just simplt someone I used to know. I also start to think about other friends and ex's yesterday and it helps me to slot him into that category of ‘once was'.

Day 3

I have been sleeping better but I have to recognize that I still feel empty in the morning. Thinking about what went wrong and trying to patch things together - I don't want to dig a deeper hole inside my head and my heart, trying not to be too hard on myself. 

I kept on reminding myself that your actions will no longer affect me in any way. You are fast to move on since you have been thinking about this for quite some time, you jerk, you were ready. And now you feel so free. 

I still wonder sometimes if you ended up with that guy and doing an active effort to get what you want. And I don't care - it won't do me any good to dwell on things that I shouldn't involve me. I will not compare myself to him - I am my own person and I have unique traits that others won't be able to duplicate. I will bounce back from this. I will still be thinking of you now but sooner or later, you’ll be just a memory. Not bad or good, but just a story I get to remember at times and whenever that happens, Ill tell myself ‘ I dodged a bullet, I wasn't really happy and myself in that relationship’. 

I will not blame myself nor dwell on the bullshit reasons you have provided me because I know I did everything to make this work. Those excuses could have been worked out but I know that you no longer want to. It will cause me my peace and happiness. 

Sino ka ba. 

Day 7

I remember him in almost everything. Everything I do, everything I see - it’s just full of him and all the moments we had together. He probably forgot about me completely but who knows. 

Maybe he’s too happy now that he only wishes that he could have done it sooner. The moment you appear happy and content with things as they are now, they’ll start to panic a bit inside. Once your ex sees that you’re okay without them, they’ll remember how strong and vibrant you are. It’s all those qualities that drew them to you in the first place and will reignite their interest again.

Good relationships are those in which there is an equal amount of give and take. You should be concentrating on yourself, not on your ex. You should be looking at ways to enhance your own life and make it worth living for its own sake. Then other people — including your ex — will want to be part of that life.

I know it will take more time for me to move on from this. I am starting to relive what once were but sooner or later, I should face reality that what we had is over. We had our time and it was good, I was happy. But now it’s time to let him go. And move on with my life and open my doors to other people who can make me feel safe and warm. 

All might be rosy in the garden of romance now between them and their new boyfriend/girlfriend but those old patterns that you witnessed probably time and time over like groundhog day will gradually start to reappear in this new relationship or dynamic too. It’s currently serving as a quick fix. The new person won’t get the ‘best’ of them and you won’t be ‘missing out’ because they don’t have the power to create that in your ex. Just like you don’t, which is why getting back together isn’t the answer either.

What it does mean, is that you will be taking full ownership of your own emotional health and happiness. Those thoughts of your ex will start to fade bit by bit once you start to put yourself at the centre stage of your life.

I want you to, as you deserve so much more. 💖

The only thing that gives me comfort is this: no one gets to keep anything here. No one gets to keep their families, spouses, children, sense of belonging, ANYTHING in this life, we do not keep. It’s short, passing, and we all leave it at some point. I am not so different (less favored) than others. It’s all temporary. 

[totallynotafetishblog]

what you wish for

this is the first fic i’ve ever posted anywhere!! i hadn’t had the desire to write fanfic in years, but go/od om/ens has taken over my life.  

enjoy some sick cr0wl3y a few months after armageddon’t  

(note: adam is present for plot reasons at the beginning. skip 1/4 of the way down [past the break] if you just want that good good in/effable h/usbands content)

After the world didn't end, summer faded into autumn faded into winter, and a biting chill now hung in the air, driving animals into their dens and the family members of climate change deniers up a wall. ("It's in the negatives! So much for 'global warming,' eh?" "That's not how it... climate and weather aren't... never mind.")

The cold had also driven Crowley, who was wont to bask, given his serpentine nature, to locate the most substantial heat source in London. He found himself in a bustling shopping mall sauntering aimlessly between shops, and with no purpose to his visit other than "be warm," he was drawn to the coat racks of an affordable clothing store. He had no intention of buying any of the jackets, but if something struck his fancy, he might miracle himself a copy later. 

As he was feeling the fabric of a rather fetching black peacoat, a voice off to his left said, "Hey, I know you."

Crowley spun around, not sure who, exactly, he was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn't...

"Adam?"

The eleven-year-old nodded and gave a curious look to the demon whom he had met exactly once at the Tadfield airbase. (Twice, if you count the bit where Crowley delivered Adam to the Sisters of the Chattering Order of St. Beryl, but Adam didn't remember that one.)

"How've you been?" Crowley asked, poorly faking nonchalance. He had frankly never considered the possibility that he might run into the Antichrist again, and certainly not at an English shopping center. 

"Alright, 'spose. But this week's been so boring."

"Mm, I agree. Not a big fan of the cold weather myself."

"Oh, no. That's alright. The pond nearby's frozen over and you can skate and slip around and it's loads of fun. But I haven't been able to 'cause my friends are sick and mum says I can't hang out with them. That's why she dragged me out shopping." Adam huffed and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

"Yeah, well, probably beats being sick."

"Being sick's not so bad." Adam brightened. "You don't have to go to school and you can watch movies all day and no one tells you what to do."

"Hm," Crowley said, considering this. "Might have to try it some time."

"You mean you've never been sick?" 

"Nah. Not sure I can get sick, actually."

"That's rubbish. Everyone can get sick."

"Guess I just haven't been lucky enough to catch a cold yet. Here's hoping this'll be my year."

A thin woman who Crowley didn't recognize but inferred was Mrs. Young placed a hand on Adam's shoulder. "Adam, there you are! Come here, I have some clothes for you to try on." Adam started 

to roll his eyes, but a stern look from his mother stopped his pupils from making a full circuit. She ushered him away, and Crowley was left alone at the coat rack once again.

"Well," he said. "That was a thing."

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

Crowley awoke the next morning with the overwhelming sensation that something had gone terribly wrong.

He peeled open heavy eyes, somehow more tired than he'd been when he collapsed into bed the night before, and tried to ignore the hammering in his head and the dull ache residing in his limbs. He hadn’t gone out drinking and forgotten to sober up, had he? 

Upon attempting to purge his body of any alcohol and finding none, he pushed himself into a seated position and he swallowed. The small gesture aggravated his tender, burning throat, and a rattling coughing fit tore through him, leaving the demon hunched over and panting, head in his hands. 

"Ghk," Crowley grumbled. "Fuck."

Grabbing the mobile phone from his nightstand, he stood on uncertain legs and stumbled to the bathroom, catching himself on the sink. He hesitated to make eye contact with the mirror, not knowing what state he would find himself in. Bracing for the worst, he lifted his eyes and was met by a pale, disheveled reflection, a rosy flush across his nose and cheeks, and glassy yellow eyes. Another coughing fit overtook him, and his knuckles tightened around the basin of the sink.

Crowley was fairly certain he was about to discorporate. 

He hadn't done it before, but he couldn't think of any other explanation as to why he felt so positively awful. Though he wished he had some more time to set his affairs in order and find a good home for all his plants, he did, at the very least, have time for goodbyes.

He dialed the only number in his phone which he called with any regularity. After a few rings, Aziraphale picked up. "Hello?"

"Hey, Aziraphale. It's me." 

"Oh, Crowley!" Crowley could hear his smile through the phone. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Yeah, not quite. Something's happened."

Aziraphale's voice dropped to a concerned whisper. "What do you mean 'something's happened'?"

"I mean, I... I think I'm dying, angel."

"You're what? What happened?"

"Dunno. Just woke up feeling sorta...not good."

"Well... 'Not good' is good for you, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but... no. Felt liked I'd been poisoned or something. My head feels like it's full of cement and my throat's on fire a-and..." He paused and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to massage away the building pressure in his sinuses. "...and my nose ihh-is... hih!" In vain, he scrubbed a fist beneath his nostrils, failing to fight off the spidering itch. The phone slipped from his hand and clattered in the sink as he snapped forward, sneezing against the back of his palm. "Huh'ATSHhuu! h'RSHHuh! Nng..."

He sniffled and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror again. Was this what death looked like? Clammy skin and a sore throat and a dripping nose? Frankly, those sounded like the symptoms of... 

Oh.

Clearing his throat, he held the phone back up to his ear.

"Crowley? Crowley, are you still there?" came Aziraphale's worried voice. 

"Yeah, 'm still here. Sorry about that."

"What was that? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry about it. Uh, actually, on second thought, I'm... fine. I'm not discorporating. Just... forget I called, yeah?"

"I most certainly will not!" Aziraphale huffed. "You can't tell me you're dying then expect me to forget about it. Shall I come over?"

Having never been sick before, Crowley wasn't entirely sure how these things worked, but he'd lived through enough plagues to know diseases could be contagious, and he didn't want to risk dragging the angel into misery with him. "No, no. I'm fine, really. Was just overreacting a bit." He turned away from the receiver and muffled a wet cough into his shoulder.  

"I'm coming over," Aziraphale decided.

"Listen to me, you really d-don't-!" Hissing at his own rebellious body, he tossed his phone down again and tented both hands over his face.  "h-hih-EKSHHHiuu! AKSHHUUh! ihihih...? h'EkSHHHUH!" He groaned, sniffling back the mess before lowering his hands and blearily opening his eyes to see Aziraphale. 

"Christ, Aziraphale!" Crowley cried, staggering backward. "Are you trying  to discorporate me? Could've knocked, at least, 'stead of materializing in the middle of my bathroom."

Eyebrows knitted together in sympathy, Aziraphale frowned and wrung his hands. "I do apologize for intruding, but... Oh, you sounded so dreadful, and I thought you might've been hurt, or, or..." His eyes flicked up and down as he took in Crowley's appearance. "Are those pajamas?"

"Just woke up."

"But it's nearly four in the afternoon!"

With a slight panic, Crowley glanced at his phone to double check the date, and his anxiety settled when he determined he'd only been out for 16 hours, and not 16 days or months or decades. He shrugged. "I've slept longer."

Aziraphale sighed. "Will you please just tell me what's going on?"

"I told you, it's nothing to worry about. I've just got a bit of a cold."

"A cold?" Aziraphale replied incredulously. "What ever do you mean?"

"I mean my throat's scrachy and my nose is all stuffed up and...you know. A cold."

"Right, yes, but how on Earth did you catch it?"

Crowley rolled his neck, produced a half-sigh-half-cough, and exited the bathroom, saying, "Does it matter?"

Not relenting, Aziraphale followed him to the living room where Crowley slumped back into the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table. "Of course it matters. We aren't supposed to get sick, Crowley. Comes with the whole 'angelic healing' business, I suppose."

"Right, angelic healing. Maybe your lot can't get sick, but it seems mine can. We might not be playing for Heaven and Hell any more, but I'm a still a demon, er, biologically, or whatever."

Aziraphale took a seat beside Crowley at that, confusion sketched across his brow as he mouthed 'biologically.' After another second of contemplation, he turned to Crowley and said, "Now, you know that can't be right. You've never gotten sick before."

Crowley rubbed a knuckle under the tip of his nose and sniffed. "Sure I have. Loads of times."

"You most certainly have not." Aziraphale didn't even attempt to conceal his eyeroll. 

"Maybe you just haven't been paying close enough a...atten... ahKSHHHUh! ATSHHiu!!" He held a cupped hand over his face until he was confident the itch was gone. "Attention." 

"Goodness! God bl- ah, gesundheit, dear." He miracled a red silk handkerchief for the demon which Crowley was grateful to accept, though he would never admit that. 

After a productive nose blow, Crowley let his head fall back against the couch. A cough clawed its way from his throat and he belatedly raised the handkerchief to his mouth before sighing and turning his head towards Aziraphale. "Angel?"

"Yes?"

"I may have done something very stupid."

Aziraphale looked wary. "What did you do?"

"So. Right. I ran into Adam Young yesterday."

"The Antichrist?"

"No, the singer behind Owl City. Yes, the Antichrist!” Crowley knew Aziraphale wouldn't understand the reference but was too tired to care. "Anyway, he mentioned something about being sick, and I said I'd like to try it some time..."

"Oh, Crowley. You didn't."

"I did. And apparently Adam can still bend the universe to his whims, so." He gestured broadly at himself.  “Be careful what you wish for, I guess.”

"Should we be...concerned? About Adam, I mean. I didn't realize he still had full access to his powers."

"Well, if he's only using them to give demons head colds, I'd say it's nothing to worry about." Crowley's eyebrows quirked up and his breath hitched one, two, three times before- "heh’EKSHHiu! IKSHhuuh! AKSHhiuu!" He shook his head. "Nguh. Sure is annoying, though."

Aziraphale offered a soft smile and cupped Crowley's cheek with a gentle hand. "Poor dear. I don't suppose we could miracle it away?"

"Probably not a great idea to try and undo the wishes of the Antichrist."

"No, probably not. We could always ask Adam to undo it, though."

Crowley scoffed. "If you want to try driving us up to Tadfield, be my guest, but I think if I drive, I'll sneeze us off the road."

Aziraphale pondered this for a moment, then stood up. "Right then." With the snap of his fingers, a thick white blanket appeared and draped itself over Crowley. "We'll deal with this the human way."

"Aziraphale, what're you-?"

"Hush," he said, tucking the blanket snug around Crowley. "You just rest. Let me take care of you."

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"I want to." Aziraphale brushed a strand of hair out of Crowley's face. "You're always so kind to me." Crowley started to hiss, but Aziraphale continued. "You are. You're so kind and you do so much for me, and, well... I'd like to return the favor." He placed a light kiss on Crowley's forehead. "Is that alright?"

"Mm," Crowley hummed. "Very alright. Thank you."

"Of course, my dear. Now rest and I'll put some tea on, hm?"

Letting his eyes slip shut, Crowley did as he was instructed for perhaps the first time in his immortal life.  

#mine #sickfic #apologies for any mistakes! #i wrote this in one sitting and now it's 1 am lol #kinda want to write a part 2 #kinda just impressed i even finished 1 part lmao #g/ood o/mens #tnafb fic

[bts-fantasy]

part eleven

Genre: Thriller AU

Characters: Yoongi, Hoseok x Reader

Previous — Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was your first day of school after missing a whole week. Hoseok was so nice to send you all of the notes he took while you‘d been struggling to even get out of your bed each day. He and his sister had helped you to get out of your room at least and you actually had a great time if it wasn‘t for the surprise that had been waiting for you at home.

Jae had quickly left the house after telling you the news and you weren‘t able to close your eyes even a little bit for the rest of the night.

Your thoughts were constantly revolving around Yoongi and the messages from the stalker as you tried to calm yourself down again. You tried to avoid thinking of Yoongi being the stalker now that it was proven that he‘s innocent. But there was still a restless feeling inside of your chest that you couldn‘t shake off.

Maybe it was your mind going insane trying to find a scapegoat for the things that’s been happening to you. Maybe you didn‘t want to think of the stalker still being out there somewhere looking for you or maybe it was your own guilt gnawing at you for jumping to conclusions without talking to Yoongi first.

You wouldn‘t be able to look him in the eye anymore and you were certain that he‘d never want to see you again either.

You sighed picking up your bag and walked out of your house as the same thoughts kept running through your mind again and again like a broken record.

It was a sunny November day but as soon as you stepped out you could feel the icy wind hit your bare face and you instantly regretted not bringing your scarf with you to keep you warm.

Halfway through the day, you questioned your decision of showing up to class at all. You weren‘t paying attention at all as you kept doodling in your notebook trying not to fall asleep.

Suddenly, you felt someone slighlty poke your side and turned to look at Hoseok who was smiling at you warmly. You only then noticed, how everyone was packing their stuff and your things were still scattered across the table. Waking up from your doze you quickly stuffed your things in your bag and followed your friend outside.

„The class was really interesting today, don‘t you think?“, Hoseok asked as soon as you‘d left the classroom.

„Y-yeah. Totally.“

Hoseok laughed knowing that you hadn‘t paid any attention but stopped when he saw your spaced out expression. He knew that your mind was somewhere far away and leaned down to talk to you quietly.

„Don‘t worry, I‘ll send you the notes I took.“

It was the first time for that day that you smiled genuinely and his face immediately lit up when he looked at you. He went on to ask you to study with him and when you tried to come up with an excuse he convinced you by inviting you for a drink.

The rest of the afternoon you tried to catch up with the work you‘d missed for the past week and Hoseok was ready to help you whenever it was needed. Sitting in front of your friend at your regular place in your favorite café studying together almost made you feel like everything was back to normal again. It reminded you of the time when everything was going smoothly without any disturbance. You‘d gotten used to the life in the new town after moving here and you’d felt like you were finally able to breathe.

But somehow life always found a way to knock you down.

You let out a deep sigh closing your book shut as Hoseok did the same. You both decided to go home after looking at the dark sky outside of the café. Diving into your studies for the past couple of hours had helped you to distract your mind for a while and you were glad that you‘d been able to get your work done in such a short amount of time. It made you feel good.

You were walking down the street of your little neighborhood looking forward to a long, warm bath when suddenly a voice shouted your name behind you. You immediately froze in your tracks not being able to move and turn around to face him because you knew exactly who was calling you. You tried to ignore it and move forward as you sped up your pace to reach your house but you heard his footsteps hitting the concrete indicating that he was running to catch up with you.

„Y/N! Wait!“

You closed your eyes not wanting to see him or hear him as your heart was hammering against your chest. But you knew you wouldn‘t be able to escape and when you opened your eyes again Yoongi was standing right in front of you.

His cheeks tinted in a rosy color as small clouds of breath left his lips when he exhaled. The black strands of his messy hair almost covering his dark eyes. You stopped breathing for a moment looking at his face trying to unravel your thoughts and feelings about the boy standing right in front of you.

Yoongi seemed to be doing the same thing because now that he was finally in front of you he couldn‘t think of anything to say. His lips parted and closed again as he was desperately trying to form a sentence to tell you everything that he‘d been thinking of lately. But he couldn‘t.

After a moment of complete silence that felt like the world had stopped turning for a while, Yoongi somehow managed to get a word out.

„Why... why did you do it?“

You looked up to meet his eyes that were glistening with unshed tears. You had never seen him so broken before and it was tearing you apart wanting to hold him tight but you refrained from doing so. The guilt you were feeling inside was unbearable and you could feel your own eyes burning by the thought of what you‘d done.

„Yoongi... I...“, you stumbled over your own words as your voice cracked. However, Yoongi remained silent waiting for your response patiently.

„I‘m sorry...“, you finally whispered knowing it would never ever fix the damage that you‘d done but you meant it with your whole heart.

„When I saw those pictures on your laptop I freaked out and I immediately called the police. I know I should‘ve confronted you first but I was so scared. I‘m so sorry, Yoongi and I understand if you don‘t want to see me ever ag-“

You didn‘t get to finish the sentence as you suddenly got pulled into a tight hug. Yoongi‘s arms wound around your waist as if they were made only to hold you. He buried his head in the crook of your neck sending shivers down your spine as he kept whispering to you.

„I dont‘t want to leave you, Y/N. I couldn‘t even if I wanted to.“

His words were the last straw and you burst into tears clinging onto him as if your life depended on it. Droplets of your tears stained his hoodie but you were too busy inhaling the familiar scent of him to even care.

You had missed him so much and you were finally able to admit it without feeling weird inside. You needed him and you loved him.

Yoongi pulled back and you could see his red eyes indicating that you weren‘t the only one who was crying and you reached out to gently wipe his tear-stained cheeks. He leaned into your touch loving the feeling of your soft hands and you took the opportunity to get on your tip toes to place a quick peck on his lips which startled him.

You giggled at his perplexed expression but soon it turned into a smirk before he pulled you into a deep and passionate kiss. Now it was you who yelped at the sudden action but you enjoyed every second of it with a content smile on your lips.

You walked into your house with the biggest smile on your face as you thought back to the moment you and Yoongi had shared just a few minutes ago and you felt like things were finally looking up.

But just in that moment,your phone rang inside of your pocket...

A/N: after a long process and few minor breakdowns I was finally able to post this chapter!🥳 today was great, I hope you also had a nice day or are still havin‘ a great day hehe🤓😋

There are two parts left of this AU and then I‘ll go back to my main series that I‘ve been neglecting this whole time (woohoo...😣)

Anyways thanks for reading & I hope you enjoyed this!🥰

Masterlist

#the boy next door #bts #bangtan #bangtan boys #jungkook #taehyung #jimin #namjoon #yoongi #seokjin #hoseok #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts au #bts thriller #bts x you #min yoongi imagines #min yoongi #yoongi imagine #yoongi au #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts army #min yoongi imagine #suga imagines #suga imagine #yoongi imagines