#left behind au enjoyers come get your crumbs

[ccerealbowl]

‘remnants of a past life…’

decided to draw the boy(s) for no particular reason at all :)

#lol #left behind au enjoyers come get your crumbs #left behind au #left behind #dsmp #dsmp michael #michael underscore beloved #michael the piglin #michael the pig #michael fanart #michael #dream smp fanart #dsmp fanart #mcyt #mcyt fanart #beeduo #beeduo fanart #tubbo #ranboo #au #alternative universe #digital art #webtoon #what #who said that

[lvnatiq]

Modern!au Felix Escellun x tattoo artist!gn!reader | Headcanons

a/n: Hey!!! I’m back at it again with my beautifully fucked up request fill. I’m still working on three other things, while I make you wait I took it upon myself to not starve this fandom. So here you have it. Please reblog or comment so that I have a crumb of motivation to keep up.

Should I do a smutty pt. 2 ? Who knows lmao.

Your hand slipped through the pile of designs that your colleague (and your close friend) had sent you to choose and pick apart from.

Unfortunately you were spending the night at the beautiful library of your uni, trying to balance off your school work with your actual work.

You didn’t mind spending your time under the faint scent of books and the mere sound of wood beneath you feet, but what you ‘do’ mind is the fact that the library is way colder than you thought it would be after the midnight.

Good thing that the yearning for finishing your work and leaving as soon as possible made it easier to concentrate on the task at hand.

It also made it easier for you to not notice the presence of an unexpected company.

That was until you felt the warm floral yet musky scent invade your senses as you felt the weight of cotton drape around your shoulders.

You slowly turn your head towards the owner of the coat who’s already making their way out. Desperately trying to find a way to make them stop but failing to raise your voice because of the circumstances.

The last picture of the person buried in your head was their hair caressed by the wind and their quick steps.

Fast forward to a week later, going completely out of luck with finding a place to stay you decide to ask help from your friend whom interestingly has a lot to offer.

With things going a lot smoother than you expected you stopped by the tattoo shop to finish your appointments with couple of customers before you left to meet up with your possible candidate.

“Don’t bother I’ll just call him here so you could talk comfortably.”

Your work seemed to take a lot longer than usual. So you kindly accepted your friends offer as you wrapped up the leftover stuff, finishing up the last customer.

“Hey, oh-“

The sight of your guest tickled your memories as you kept glaring at the glorious figure in front of you.

Felix, completely avoiding eye contact, placed the fallen hair strand behind his ear as he kept his eyes on the table of the tattoo equipments.

You quickly got up as you grabbed his coat from the hanger and walked back where you left him.

“Thank you for the coat, you really saved me back there.”

“Oh- no problem.”

That day you two chatted and melted the ice in between. Deciding to rent the close by apartment and start your roommate era.

Your friend smiled to themselves knowing all too well that felix was completely crazy about you.

Your encounter at the library wasn’t a coincidence either, well don’t think of him as a stalker now, he just dumped a couple of coins in the fountain wishing that you would be there that night. That’s all.

As you two moved in together you realized that there were a lot of things to be ‘caught off guard’ about him but you were most baffled by the tremendous amount of books felix owned.

“Hey Lover boy ! Would you mind recommending me some of them ?”

Felix blushes terribly and you love it so much that you constantly bother him in order to catch a glimpse of his flustered state.

Unbeknownst to you, the pile that felix left on the doorstep of your room was consisted of the books that he thought of you as he read.

Felix, abandoning his night owl habit, decided to fix his sleeping schedule for the better. Definitely not because he wanted to see you at morning before you got off to the work.

Insisting on offering you a ride on your way back home with his nice car.

Nearly every single day.

He knows that it may annoy you but he knows how much you are devoted to your responsibilities so he at least wants for you to save a bit of energy before you dive into the work.

Speaking of his nice car, it tickled your curiosity so you decided to check the price tag on the web and... well...

“Felix... you don’t so some sketchy illegal shit for a living right ?”

“It’s nearly impossible for me to work at the moment because of my studies. Why did you ask ?”

“Your car costs more than the apartment we are living in right now.”

With that, you discover that Felix’s father owns one of the most prominent chains of pharmaceutical companies and that he basically flee from his fathers mansion because he was pressuring Felix to take over his position in the future.

Being his puppet was not a thing to be tolerated in Felix’s book.

That being said, your domestic life with felix was pretty soft to say the least.

Cleaning together, cooking while talking about how your day went or getting to enjoy his expressions while he spilled his frustration against authors that didn’t affect him well.

Occasionally noticing the new cooking books appearing out of nowhere

and the delicious smell of food welcoming you after work, quite often than you expect.

Finally, more skinship.

One day whilst you two got through the gates of your apartment block you noticed the open doors of the elevator so instinctively you held Felix by the hand and ran into the mirrored box.

What you didn’t notice was the fact that you didn’t let go of his hand as you two went up.

From that day on Felix used every single opportunity to sneak his hand into yours.

Don’t blame him, it’s just that your hands are warm and the feeling of security that radiates from your fingertips is his medicine.

You absolutely avoided to tease or point it out to him because you knew that he would never do it again so you went with the flow.

You really enjoyed it though.

Snaking your arms around his waist while he is organizing the bookshelf. Feeling him shutter into your arms.

Nights became more and more enjoyable once he started to accompany you.

Everytime you caught him slacking on the sofa, you used his lap as a pillow.

Felix is extremely easy to figure out, mainly because he can’t hide anything.

Also, well

He is ticklish and you use his weakness against him, a lot.

Diving your fingers down to the sides of his tummy you started to tickle every possible sensitive spot you could catch on.

“Spit it out.”

“I-I wan’t you to- give me my first tattoo.”

Telling his words apart from his adorable giggles, needless to say you were ecstatic.

“Alright. What do I get in return ?”

“Name your price.”

You thoughtfully stared at the ceiling, humming as you blurted out your very obviously well thought out response.

“I want you to show me what keeps you up all night.”

You can’t be serious.

If you asked for an organ, he would’ve been more compliant.

You didn’t know what you got yourself into.

You basically asked for him to show you his ‘masterpieces’ that he showcases on AO3. Something that you were already well aware of.

“Deal ?”

“No !”

“Good ! Let’s see what you got.”

Felix anonymously contributed to the community by writing some of the most famous slow-burn stories on the web.

Just so you know, his author persona blew up thanks to the mind blowing, earth shattering smuts he wrote.

Yeah you heard that right

Smuts

Well he is fucking panicking now.

Nonetheless days kept on going as felix prayed each night to every single deity that you forgot your ‘deal’.

The days go on even if his worries don’t.

Did I say that Felix is a whimpering, whiny mess ? he struggles to stay in one position as the needle drags upon his skin.

“If you plan to keep on moving, I might as well strap you down felix. 5 more minutes and then we are done. Please behave.”

When you put it like that how can he refuse I mean you made things worse he is internally screaming at what you just said but he is not going to refuse a command when it’s given by you.

In exchange for giving him a tattoo you decide to let him give you one even though he’s inexperienced.

He’s terrified because he thinks that something would go wrong, his hand would slip or something and he would scratch that pretty skin of yours with a horrendous tattoo.

But you assured him nevertheless and offered him to draw something very minimal and easy. He accepted eventually.

As it turns out Felix is a natural. His hand is extremely steady and the tattoo turns out great.

Throughout the process he’s constantly asking if you’re hurt because he thinks that he’s doing something wrong but in fact he’s very delicate and gentle with the strokes and his touch.

You decide to be evil and use it against him. After you touch up your tattoo you lean in very closely and turn your cheek towards him.

“What are you doing ?” He stutters.

“I can’t possibly ask you to kiss my freshly made tattoo, so won’t you give me a kiss so that it heals faster.”

If his hands were steady before they weren’t now.

As soon as his lips left your cheek you held him by his wrist and pull him back close again so that you can lean in onto his ear.

“Don’t think that I’ve forgotten our deal. I am excited to see what you have in store for me tonight.” You winked.

Then the worst thing happened

The “tonight” came.

Felix was running in circles around the living room with one hand on his forehead wondering what could get worse after this.

Maybe you’ll be disgusted or scared hell if he knows.

He wanted to do nothing to harm your relationship in anyway because you and what you two have is all he ever wanted.

...and he believes that he has a tendency to ruin things.

But what happened was beyond his expectations.

Your eyes followed every single sentence throughout the screen, the white light traced your expressions as your eyebrows raised up and down and the corners of your lips inched closer to your ears. Your lower lip became a victim of your teeth’s assault.

He was so confused. Still waiting for you to lash out or make fun of him, at least.

“I used to think ‘what am I gonna do with you’ when it comes to you. Mostly out of frustration.”

Yet here you were with the laptop closed shut and your arms behind your head as you closed your eyes and groaned.

Slowly the smile plastered on your face grew.

”Now I know what to with you.”

#felix escellun #fictif felix #last legacy #fictif last legacy #felix escellun x reader #felix x reader #felix fictif #nyx hydra #fictif #mc

[sylvanfreckles]

Bedridden (Time for Whump, Boys #16)

Someone has a birthday!

This is for @angelfishofthelord, who not only has a birthday today but also keeps asking for stories in the AU where Ellen and Jo survived "Abandon All Hope" and adopt human!Cas in season 9

This is one of those stories

Summary: Castiel tries to comfort Jo when she's injured on a hunt...only to find himself the one comforted.

...

Castiel froze with a wince as a floorboard creaked beneath his feet, betraying his presence to the occupant of the room at the top of the stairs. It was ridiculous, anyway...he was here to deliver a meal to his bedridden friend, not to sneak past her.

“You might as well come in,” Jo called, her voice muffled through the solid wood of the door. “Not like I can get the door right now.”

Carefully, Castiel nudged the door open and wisely held the tray of food in front of him before entering Jo's room. “I brought nachos,” he offered.

“Oh my god,” Jo groaned. She dropped the paperback novel she'd been reading face down on her bedside table and held her hands out, making grasping motions with her fingers. “Quick, get in here before Mom sees.”

“It was suggested that you might like extra cheese and tomatoes,” Castiel said as he carefully unfolded the tray's legs so it could rest on the bed on either side of Jo's hips.

“Hey, I'll take pulled pork and sauerkraut as long as it's not more oatmeal and chicken broth,” Jo retorted. She was already levering up a chip to cram into her mouth, her other hand cupped close to her chest to catch the dripping cheese. “This is amazing,” she moaned around a mouthful of cheese.

Castiel couldn't help but smile as he gently straightened out the blankets across Jo's legs. Her right leg was wrapped in a heavy cast from just above her knee to the tip of her toes, and even her enthusiasticenjoyment of the nachos couldn't distract from the bandages around her wrists and throat.

Ellen said it was all right. Jo was hurt but they'd made it in time. She'd be okay. Life was all that mattered.

He knew this wouldn't have happened if he'd still been an angel.

“Hey,” Jo's voice pulled him out of his dark thoughts. She was staring at him, eyebrows raised until they all but vanished beneath her bangs. “You really making me eat this whole plate by myself?”

Castiel hesitated for a moment. He needed to eat now, of course—although it was growing tiresome. But there were plenty of simple, inexpensive foods in the kitchen downstairs...leftovers, even, that would go to waste. No use intruding on his friend's convalescence any further when he would be of no use to her.

“I mean it,” Jo said. Her gaze was intense, her eyes suddenly hard to meet. “Get your ass up here and eat some of these before Mom takes 'em away.”

Slowly, carefully, he sat on the very edge of the bed, head down to study his hands in his lap.

“Hey.”

He twisted to look at the young woman. Jo was holding out a nacho, the cheese threatening to overrun her fingers. “Eat it,” she insisted.

He took the chip from her and solemnly took a bite. She huffed out a laugh and returned to the plate. “Come on, man. I could really use the company.”

The nacho reminded him just a little of the Gas-N-Sip. Though the cheese Ellen kept in the kitchen was of a much higher quality than that in the gas station, there was still that combination of the crisp saltiness of the chip and the smoothness of the cheese that he remembered.

“How are these so good?” Jo demanded around another mouthful of cheese. “You have to tell me your secrets.”

Pleased, Castiel edged further back on the bed, until he was sitting against the headboard, bent knee rested on the bed to keep his shoes off the blankets. The least he could do was keep Jo company, after all. “You need to layer the chips and cheese,” he informed her. “Otherwise you end up with a hot mess on top and dry crumbs on the bottom.”

Jo let out an alarming snort and clamped one hand over her mouth. Castiel leaned close and rested a hand on her back. “Jo? Are you all right?”

She waved her free hand, coughing. “Promise me you'll never say that again.”

Castiel leaned back, frowning a little in confusion. “All right....” He'd only been repeating what Brandon had always said. The Gas-N-Sip night supervisor (Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday—but not Friday because he was a freelance DJ) had always waxed eloquent on the best ways to prepare the leftover food. Nora didn't care if they ate it, since it had to be thrown out anyway, as long as everything was properly recorded.

“Hey,” Jo elbowed him in the arm and gestured at the two cans resting on the far side of the tray. “What's this?”

“This is, ah,” Castiel picked up one of the cans and held it between his hands, focusing on the label. “BuckSnort root beer.” He didn't need to look to know Jo was staring at him. When he glanced over she just looked from his face to the can of root beer and raised her eyebrows. Castiel sighed.

“You can only find it in Idaho. It's a small batch soda company. Nora bought...she got some for the store but couldn't make an arrangement to carry it, so she gave us the leftover stock.”

“So how does fancy, handmade root beer from Idaho make it all the way here?” Jo asked. She was licking nacho cheese off her fingers, despite the pile of napkins Castiel had left on the tray.

Castiel tried to pull himself out of his memories. His time at the Gas-N-Sip hadn't always been pleasant, but Nora had let him keep the leftover half of that case of root beer. Small kindnesses like that always left him in awe of humanity. “Ellen ordered it. I thought you might like the taste.”

“Oh, no,” Jo shook her head. “Mom must've ordered that for you. You keep it.”

He hesitated for a moment, then leaned over to pull another chip off of her plate. “Are you really making me drink that entire case by myself?”

Jo let out a laughed and picked up her own can. “Fine, you win. Fancy, handmade root beer for everyone!” She held her can out toward him, and he gently touched it with his own.

He popped the top on his can and waited while Jo tasted hers. She took a sip, held the can out at arm's length to study the label, then took a longer drink. “This is...”

“Wintergreen, sassafrass, and licorice,” Castiel explained before drinking from his own can. The carbonation fizzed at his nose and the inside of his mouth, but in an oddly refreshing way.

“It's incredible.” Jo set her can down on her tray and reached over to rest a hand on Castiel's knee. “Thanks, Cas. You have no idea how much I needed this.”

Embarrassment was...odd. It was almost like shame, but tinged with something close to pleasure. It made heat run up the back of his neck to his ears, and he suddenly found himself unwilling to look up from the soda can cradled between his hands.

Jo gave his knee a squeeze before she pulled away to cram another nacho in her mouth. “Oh! I know! It's Thursday, right?”

Castiel squinted up at her, but she was already turned away from him to rustle through the drawer of her bedside table. “That's important?”

She turned back, triumphant, brandishing a TV remote. “Thursday's my favorite day,” she explained with a wink.

The heat was spreading from his ears to his cheeks and he dropped his gaze. Jo let out a teasing laugh and tipped toward him until she could bump him with her shoulder. “The game show channel plays old Jeopardyepisodes all day on Thursdays.”

Castiel stared up at the TV mounted on the wall opposite Jo's bed. Two men and a woman were standing behind podiums, and a third man seemed to be asking them questions. Or answering them, maybe?

The woman's podium lit up. “Who is Babe Didrikson?”

The third man congratulated her on a correct answer...question...and told her to select again. “I don't understand,” Castiel murmured, shifting to get closer to Jo. “Are they answering questions or asking them?”

“It's backward,” Jo explained, mouth full of more nachos. The plate was more than half empty by now, and Castiel felt a spike of guilt when he noticed a smear of cheese on top of Jo's blanket. “The questions you get are more like statements, and you have to make your answer sound like a question.”

Castiel stared up at the TV. One of the men was giving a non-answer now. “Why is he asking what baseball is?”

“The question was about a book about baseball,” Jo gestured at the TV with one hand while she took a long drink from her root beer with the other. “I never got the whole answer-with-a-question thing either, but it's fun to try to play along. Oh, they're doing proverbs now, I bet you'd be good at that.”

“Do this 'in haste and repeat at leisure',” the host was saying.

Castiel frowned. “Marry?”

“You got it!” Jo cheered, elbowing his arm, while the host was explaining the answer. “Look, that Rick guy didn't know it.”

He studied the game again, barely noticing when Jo tried to shove a nacho into his face. “Feather by feather. The goose is plucked feather by feather.” He took the chip out of her hand and ate it solemnly as the contestant chose the next answer-question.

“In the rhyming proverb, 'what can't be' this 'must be endured'.”

“Cured!” Jo pointed at the TV. “Mom says that all the time. 'What can't be cured must be endured'. And I've got the cast to prove it.”

Almost unconsciously, Castiel glanced down at the hard lump that was Jo's broken leg. Close enough to touch...but he had no power to heal. Not anymore. “Jo, I...”

“Hey,” Jo interrupted, holding her can of root beer out toward him again. “To endurance.”

He let himself smile, tapping his own can against hers. The strength of Jo's spirit was almost magnetic, pulling him back out of his own self-doubts and despair. He'd set out to comfort her...but it seemed like he was the one being comforted.

“To endurance.”

...

(BuckSnort is an actual Idaho-only brand of root beer. I haven't tried it, I just googled it.)

(This is part of the Whumptober 2018 prompts, you can read them here)

#whumptober 2018 #castiel #jo harvelle #hurt/comfort #fluff #family

[dreamingofscully]

Grey Canyon 14/?

Rating: Current Chapter: PG, Series: up to Mature Categories: Western AU / MSR / WIP WC: 2546 / Total WC: 23,827 Updated on Mondays and Fridays.

Thank you to @ceruleanmilieu for the beta! ❤️ Tagging: @impulsive-astrophile @baronessblixen @suitablyaggrieved @sculderfan​ @today-in-fic (let me know if you want to be tagged when I post!)

all chapters in order: ao3 / tumblr

CH 1 / CH 2 / CH 3 / CH 4 / CH 5 / CH 6 / CH 7 / CH 8 / CH 9 / CH 10 / CH 11 / CH 12 / CH 13

CHAPTER 14: “Sunrise/sunset”

Grey Canyon, Colorado 1885

Nothing frustrated Mulder more than inaction. It was his biggest strength, and yet also his weakness. He would not shy away from doing what was needed, except when it came to waiting. And yet, waiting has been imposed on him in two ways. First, by the circumstances involving Dana’s brothers. He did not know if they were close, or if they had no idea where she was. He would not take the chance to investigate, to expose her, or to leave her alone for longer than an hour or two. Second, the impasse he’d placed upon himself regarding his relationship with Dana, upon furthering their intimacy. He would do what was right, it was important. But what did that look like? He didn’t know, it was only a feeling he had, deep in his gut.

His mind kept turning back to yesterday morning’s pathetic proposal. Then, to awakening next to her, the smell and feel of her body next to his as she clung to him in sleep. The way her hair shone against the backdrop of the sunrise through her window, a cloud of golden-red. When she awoke, the smile she gave him, secret and special. And the gentle kiss she’d pressed to the hand that rested on her shoulder. He would have that future: living through every sunrise with her next to him. He didn’t know why he could not let himself stay, to enjoy her entirely. To avoid her disappointed gaze when he left, over and over.

So, he brooded. Sat at the bar, chin on his fist, staring at the wall but not seeing it. He felt some solution was within his reach, just out of his grasp. The idea floated just underneath his consciousness, fuzzy and unclear.

Suddenly, a vague shape coalesced.

“Melvin!”

The barkeep sauntered over to him after pouring Walt a drink, frowning and silent.

“What was that story you told me a while back about your aunt?”

***

Early evening descended upon the Gilded Hall. The sun was well on its way to setting, the sky turning from bright blue to a more muted tone, hints of gold in the west along the ridges of the Rocky Mountains. Mulder shielded his eyes and watched from his vantage up on the roof of the hall. He paced, wiping his sweaty palms on his best trousers, checking to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything in his preparations.

After speaking with Melvin, he made quick work of his plans, invigorated by his idea. Madam had supplied him with the scarf, blue silk embroidered prettily with yellow daisies along the edges. Melvin, who was waiting inside, had washed his face and looked quite out of place in his suit, hair stuffed underneath his somewhat-cleaner black bowler hat.

The blanket he’d retrieved from Nellie, as she watched their preparations curiously. It was something she kept in her chest, a present from a former life, and she wanted Dana to have it. She handed it over, shyly remarking “Make sure to treat her right, Fox.”

He’d hoped this would do it. That she’d finally be treated right, as she deserved.

The tapping of the ladder summoned him from his reverie. He removed his hat, placing it on the blanket and cushions spread over the freshly swept roof. A couple chairs, an oil lamp for when the sun fell from the sky, and a covered dish with their dinner completed the picture.

The top of Dana’s hair poked out from the hole in the roof. Not meant to be commonly accessed, the open hatch, which Mulder discovered earlier in the afternoon, was the perfect final touch. The sunset, some stargazing, and something else that would finally allow him to explore the rest of his future with her.

“Some help, please!”

He rushed over and bent downwards, grabbing her arms and lifting her up onto the roof. She looked back down through the hatch and waved at Melvin.

“I think he got quite the show,” she said, quirking her eyebrow.

“I’m sure he’ll never forget it.”

She chucked and dusted off her blue gown where some dirt had clung to it in her climb. Then her eyes took in the view, her expression turning from amusement and curiosity to wonderment. It really was spectacular up here. Distant enough from the street to avoid the offensive smells and sounds. The plains rising up into mountains in the west, far enough away that the sun hadn’t yet disappeared behind them.

“What’s all this, then?” She turned to face him.

“A surprise. Something nice,” he said, guiding her to the blanket and chairs with a hand on her lower back.

“Well, all right then,” she said, her face flushing with pleasure and a smile peeking onto her lips.

They sat and ate, feeding each other bits of fruit and cheese and tearing off pieces of fresh bread. A few birds landed near them, and they shared their crumbs. He was happy to see her enjoyment, but as the backdrop of their dinner transformed into the painted hues of purple and red and orange, he felt his heart flutter, his hands start to sweat.

“Do you know why I prefer the sunset?” she asked, after their conversation went silent.

He shook his head, wiping his hands on his knees before taking the nearly-empty plate from her and placing it away from them.

“The stars,” she said. Her face tilted upwards at the sky, a few sparkling dots appearing in the canvas of deep blue above them. “My father would take me sailing, sometimes. Tell me stories about the constellations, the myths surrounding them. I feel as though he is here when I look upwards at night.” She lowered her gaze to him. “I don’t get much opportunity nowadays.”

“I know.”

She reached over and squeezed his hand, then got up from her chair and pulled him down next to her on the blanket. Sitting along her side and facing him, she leaned against the cushions on an elbow and looked skyward once more. Once he’d settled near her, his thumb brushing along her wrist, she began to speak again.

“You have heard the story of Andromeda?”

He nodded. “But I would hear it from you.”

“Let me show you, first,” she said, leaning close to him and pointing out a particularly bright set of stars. “You see those stars there, that form a square?”

He followed her finger, tearing his gaze from her face. “Yeah, I think so.”

“That’s Pegasus. Follow it there, upwards slightly…” She directed his gaze, and at first he could not see anything except a chaotic mess of white lights against an inky backdrop. But then it came together, and he could see the pattern as she spoke, the rest of the stars fading to insignificance.

“I see it!” he exclaimed.

She smiled, and continued, telling him of the story of how an innocent daughter was abandoned by her family, chained to a rock and left for a beast, until a stranger came along and changed her fate. As she spoke, a wistful expression on her face, he could not help but make the comparison. He wouldn’t claim to have saved her, not yet at least, but he would certainly do whatever he could against the monster that was coming.

He no longer looked skyward. Her expression softened as she told the story, eyes shining as she not only remembered the tale, but the memory of the person who told it to her. He wanted to give her that, again, give her something from which she could look back and think only of warmth, instead of regret.

Trailing his hand along her arm, folded between them, he grasped her hand.

“You’re not looking at the stars,” she said, peering at him out of the corner of her eyes.

“I am looking at what is most important,” he said, making her blush. “And I am listening.”

She touched his face, her thumb dragging along his bottom lip, eyes turned serious. “I wish you could have met him.”

“Your father.”

“He would have liked you.”

“A military man liking someone with outlandish ideas and designs for his daughter? I am doubtful.”

She laughed. “He would have seen you, as I do.”

“And what do you see?”

“A good man,” she said, leaning forwards and kissing him softly on his lips. She was very convincing.

She moved closer, leaning her head on his shoulder and continuing her search of the night sky, and within her own mind for happier times, he thought. His heart sped up, not only due to her proximity but of the question he still needed to ask her.

“Would I be Medusa, in that story, or perhaps the flying horse?” he joked.

She smiled widely at him, laughing freely. He slipped out from beside her and lit the oil lamp, the moon and stars their only illumination; they were draped in shadows and he wanted to see her. When he returned to her side, she grasped his hand within hers, pulling it to her mouth and kissing his palm.

“This… whole thing is lovely. Thank you.”

He cleared his throat, suddenly very warm despite the chill of the night air. He twisted his collar, loosening it slightly and fidgeting next to her.

“What has gotten you so nervous, Mulder? You do know that these stories are only myths, right? Or do you also believe in sea monsters?” she teased.

He bowed his head. “I admit, I, uh, have an ulterior motive to all of this…” he said, waving his hands at the setting he’d created for them.

“Well, if it’s to get into this dress, you already know where I stand, so it must be something else,” she said playfully, her head tilting at him. “Out with it.”

“So, I’ve been thinking about our situation...” he started.

“‘Situation’?” she said, raising an eyebrow at him.

He flushed, laughed nervously. “I have another story to tell, and you can thank Melvin for it, although perhaps he’d already been paid with a good view.”

Dana smiled and nodded, patting his hand.

“He’s part Irish, like yourself, also part Scot. A mix of many things I suppose. Cherokee, too, he claims, though he lacks the height for me to believe that,” he said. He clasped her hand within his, squeezing it. “His aunt Katie told him the story about how she met her husband. There’s a tradition, over there, where they choose their mates through a wall, only having seen the woman’s hand. They are bonded then, for a year and a day…”

He stared at their hands, having no doubt he would know hers.

“It started a long time ago, when a priest was not available.”

When he looked back at her, her head was bowed as she waited, quiet and still.

“Once chosen, they would fasten a scarf around their hands, and they would live together as if married, for the year and a day, or until a child came, or a priest came by.”

He brought the scarf the Madam gave him from inside his pocket and placed it next to their hands.

“It only requires a witness, and Melvin agreed--”

“Stop,” Dana interrupted, withdrawing her hand. She stood up quickly and backed away a few steps.

“If he is too offensive, perhaps the Madam would agree…?” He stood as well, taking the scarf in one hand, reaching out to her with the other.

She shook her head, and he saw the glistening of tears in her eyes. “All of it, Mulder.”

“But--”

“The answer to your question is no, and I should have been clear before,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

Mulder’s shoulders slumped. “Of course… I shouldn’t have assumed that you wanted this, that I was… the marrying type.”

“Look at me,” she said, her voice sharp.

He did, massaging the back of his neck. This wasn’t turning out how he’d envisioned, the exact opposite, in fact. Instead of a happy Dana, kissing, and… perhaps more, she stood in front of him, upset and perhaps a little angry, for a reason he could not fathom. He waited, feeling the weight of guilt already settling on his shoulders.

“I do not need a fancy ring, or a scarf, or anything else to know how I feel about you. How you feel about me,” she started. Her eyes softened slightly, but she did not approach. “If my circumstances had been any different, if I’d ended up like one of the girls here, would I be any less worthy of your love, of your commitment?”

“Of course not,” he said.

From the look on her face, he guessed she did not believe him. “I am so tired of other people thinking they know what is best for me, or, as you say it, what I deserve.”

“Dana, I… do not mean it that way." He bowed his head, unable to look at her. Not wanting to fight, to turn this into something ugly, but the right words escaped him. He found his anger starting to build as well. How could she think such a thing? Then the doubt. Have I really made her feel that way?

“Maybe so. But that is not my only reason for my refusal,” she said. “I have seen what happens, when a woman gets married. My mother, my sister, my friends at college. A wife is treated as even less of an individual. Even if she fights against it, as my sister did, it changes her."

She stepped closer, pointing her finger at his chest but not quite touching it. Her cheeks were red and her eyes blazed.

"When I marry, I will no longer be myself. I become your wife, your property, not my own person. If you cannot understand that, then we are finished speaking."

"Dana I do not want a wife, I want you." He clenched his hands into fists, twisting the delicate scarf in his grasp.

"Even if you did not mean to change me, it would happen. And I do not mean to lose myself," she said, pursing her lips, and turning away from him.

He grabbed her arm to prevent her from moving away, his anger rising. "You say I am ridiculous, that I have crazy ideas, well yours is the most absurd idea I have ever heard. Just because we are together in some official capacity does not mean that anything changes!"

Dana stared at his arm, then looked up at his face, her eyes cold and furious. She spoke harshly. "No offense, sir, but you are not a woman. You do not know what it is like--”

“Dana--”

“I am not finished. If whatever object you conjure to bind us together does not change anything then why is it so important to you? Why do you insist on it before we take things further. It means something, to you at least... and I cannot give that to you."

Wrenching her arm away from his grasp, she stalked towards the hatch in the roof and climbed down as fast as her dress would allow. She did not look back.

Mulder stood there, shocked, the delicate scarf falling from his hand onto the dusty rooftop.

#grey canyon #my fic #xf fanfic #xfiles #x-files #the x-files #txf #msr #mulder and scully #xfiles fanfic #xfiles au #historical au #western

[ellebabywrites]

The Hitman - In Exodus

Type : Oneshot (Part of The In Exodus Series) // Angst // Fluff // Smut // Cartel!au

Warnings : angst, death, cussing

Author Note : This took me far too long and had my anxieties far too high. I’m finally happy with how it turned out and hope you all enjoy it too !! Please give me some feedback because I’ve worked so hard on this chapter..

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀*⋆.*:*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆**･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ.: ⋆*･ﾟ☾

The smell of freshly baked croissants flood the streets, a sign that the Bakery is about to open and the day beginning. Shutters rise and doors open. The busting workers of Exodus bracing for the day ahead; a day of sales to kids who can barely walk straight with the amount of poison saturating their bloodstream; a day of fighting with the guy from down the road who insists that things were ‘cheaper last week’; a day of overworking for much less of a profit than it’s all worth. Living the dream.

The bakery was different though. Something about it felt like home, and everyone treated it as such. It was the only building for miles that wasn’t painted in graffiti, the only business that was doing well for itself, a little slice of goodness in the middle of all that bad.

That’s what everyone thinks anyway.

Across the street, Jongin is watching through the scope of his rifle. Watching the Baker unlock his doors and flip the closed sign to open. He scoffs. Such a poser.

Saying Jongin enjoyed his job would be pushing it; how much enjoyment can one really get from taking a life without being a psychopath? But he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t looking forward to taking out this one particular man.

He watches the Baker great the first of his customers with a toothy grin, hugging Mrs Jamison when she comes in for her regular morning pastry. If only Mrs Jamison knew all the dirty things that man had been doing with the hand she shakes so willingly.

The town’s beloved Baker wasn’t nearly as squeeky clean as he liked everyone to believe. After hours, he found himself in SUjU territory, hanging out with drug runners, dancing around the subject of Exodus till the haze of alcohol took control, divulging any and all information that might get him another drink.

Pathetic Jongin thinks, noticing how the Baker danced around his customers with such fictitious glee, as if he hadn’t sold them out a hundred times over.

Again, not to say EXO were any better, but surely there should be some sense of town loyalty right? Jongin thinks so; making this particular betrayal all the more infuriating and his death all the more inevitable.

Jongin lines up the crosshairs of his gun against the Baker’s head, having the courtesy to wait for the shop to empty. One. The corner of his lips pull into a smirk, the buildup of adrenaline flooding his veins working as his own personal high. Two. Is it sick to say he can’t wait to kill this guy? Maybe? He deserves it Jongin thinks, afterall, he did try and ruin their business for a few shots of tequila. Thr…

“Hey Joey!”

So close…

“Well this is a surprise! How’re you today darlin’?”

Usually, you would only visit Joey’s bakery at the end of the week, needing some sort of sugary treat to get through the piles of work you had to do; but today your classes were cut short and you were gagging for something with chocolate.

“Our professor had to leave early and a girl needs her goodies!” You joked, leaning against the counter.

Joey had been a staple in Exodus for your entire life, the man was everybody’s uncle, everybody’s friend, you could talk to him about anything and your weekly visits had become a huge part of your routine.

“Good job I’ve got a whole bunch for you to choose from duck,” Joey laughs at how your eyes quickly scan over the trays of baked goods like you were a starving puppy, “Ooo I know what you should pick, I need someone to try out my new brownie recipe!”

Fuck. Joey moved away from Jongin’s line of fire just enough to grab the box of brownies from behind the counter, the perfect shot ruined by a few brownies.

“Well if you made them Joey then I’m sure they’re absolutely delicious!” you coo, giggling at how easily you can make him blush.

Just as you were about to leave and the Baker to return to the firing line, a rush of people came flooding into the small shop, putting a stop to whatever chance Jongin had at completing his mission right now.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Nini groans in frustration, packing up his equipment quickly as to get away unnoticed, “he was right there, I could have had him!” It was frustrating sure, delaying his plans a few more hours before there would be another chance to take out his target; but there would be another chance and Jongin would get the job done. So while the sweet-toothed girl had momentarily saved old Joey’s life, it wouldn’t last much longer.

---

The clock read 11:57pm as you were hunched over on the living room floor, trying to finish this essay that you’d definitely not been putting off for weeks…

“Need ...sugar ...immediately..” you whine, dramatically throwing yourself across the floor to grab the box of brownies Baker Joe had gifted you earlier in the day. Mmnn, indulging yourself in the chocolatey goodness, you decide now is the perfect time for a break, only 6,000 words left to go anyway…

Completely oblivious to the ramifications those few brownies had had on the day for more than one party, you munched away the last of them, licking the crumbs from your fingertips and moaning at the euphoria a simple treat could bring.

‘Breaking news tonight : Beloved Exodus baker found dead. The 56 year old’s body was discovered an hour ago near his home, cause of death is officially named as a GSW through the neck…’

A chill runs up your spine as the news plays quietly from the television. Baker Joe was dead. Someone had killed him! You’re confused and hurt and angry all at once. Why would anyone want to hurt Joey? He was one of the only decent people in this shit-show of a city and now he was gone. Your eyes wander to the now empty box of goodies, the bakery’s logo printed on the front in swirly gold font and you feel the sudden need to cry, so you do.

---

Who did this guy think he was? An MX falcone wandering the streets of Exodus without a care in the world, stealing from the market stalls as he sauntered his way through the crowds. Minhyuk is his name. When Baekhyun had gotten word of their latest visitor, Jongin was immediately sent to take care of it. Honestly what did they think was going to happen? That they could just hang out in Exodus without consequence? That no one would be the least bit suspicious?

“You like the farmers market huh,” Jongin keeps a trained eye on Minhyuk as he moves from stall to stall. There were far too many people around for a direct hit so all he could do was watch and wait for the perfect opportunity.

“Why the fuck are you here?” He mumbled in annoyance, MX were getting far too comfortable for anyone’s liking; it was like the calm before the storm, except the storm was standing right in front of him chatting about produce with Mr Kim.

Suddenly, Minhyuk takes a sharp left, making his way out of the bustling crowd towards the alleys. He’d been made. Fuck. Following as quickly as he could, fighting his way through the sea of people, Jongin tries to keep up.

“Excuse me, I’m trying to get to…”

Minhyuk is fast, but maybe if you weren’t standing in front of him, blocking the way, Jongin would have been able to get him.

He doesn’t immediately recognise you. Your hair is tied differently and you’re wearing a different coat, but once Jongin places you as the girl from the bakery, he’s immediately on guard. Twice now you’ve gotten in the way of a hit. Could it just be a coincidence? Sure Exodus is small, you’re bound to run into the same people more than once. Baker Joe’s was a town staple and the market is always busy, but what are the chances? Jongin tries to side-step passed you, eyes scanning the crowds for Minhyuk, but you move along with him.

Holding out a map in front of him, you try again to ask for directions but Jongin doesn’t have time. He doesn’t have time to entertain the possibility that seeing you again could be anything but a coincidence, not when he’s about to lose yet another target.

“Move!”

You watch in astonishment as he pushes you out of the way before storming off. What an asshole you think; all you needed were directions, a simple no would have sufficed. Then again you’d come to expect nothing more from the people of Exodus. Sighing, you carry on your way alone, soon forgetting about the rude man you had met on the street.

---

8am lectures were the bain of your existence, but Professor Jeong’s class was always worth it.

Armed with a large cup of coffee and a stack of notes to aid you through, you made your way to an empty space near the front of the lecture hall. Biology never came easy to you, but the drive you had to succeed more than made up for it.

“Sorry I’m late guys,” Professor Jeong rushed into the busy hall, his own cup of coffee balancing on a pile of books clutched between his arms, “I got caught up with Professor Lyn, he’s such a ...fungi!”

The room fills with groans and muffled laughs at the attempt of a joke so early in the morning, but the Professor didn’t seem to mind. “Okay I’m sorry, let’s get into today. Can anyone tell me where we left off last week? Y/N?”

From the back of the room Jongin notices you.

“Oh you have to got to be kidding me..”

Once again, you happen to show up right in the middle of a job. There had to be a reason. There was no way this could be a coincidence anymore. Were you following him? Working with MX? Trying to get intel on EXO? Jongin didn’t know, but at this point he didn’t care. You were a problem.

Jeong was another star poser in Exodus. The esteemed environmental science professor, that drew students from across the country just to take his conservational bio class. The hotshot teacher who was already in the running for tenure. The slimy asshole that used his connections in the science world to help EXO’s competitors recreate their patented drug.

This was supposed to be an easy hit, wait till after class and use the pocket knife hidden in his belt to slit the professor’s throat before next period. But now, Jongin had to put those plans on hold so that he could figure out what to do about you.

---

Following you was far easier than Jongin had anticipated, thinking that he’d be kept on his toes trying to avoid getting caught, but you seemed completely oblivious to the fact that someone had been following you, watching your routines and judging them oh so harshly.

He kept his distance at first, observing from afar as you went about your daily activities. But soon enough, Jongin found himself immersed in the story that was your life. On the sidelines, a spectator, keeping mental notes of your behaviours.

Keeping space between you, Jongin follows you down the familiar street. He knows exactly where you’re going, the same place you’ve gone to for lunch every day that week. After your first class of the day you head straight to Lou’s café to grab something to eat and get some studying done. Like clockwork, the only thing to change was your order. Jongin would never admit that he’d grown to enjoy the establishment himself, but it was one of the least tedious moments of the day.

With the sky starting to darken in the cold weather, you fumble around your bag for your wallet amongst the loose scrunchies and old receipts, Jongin scoff in disbelief.

“How have you not been jumped yet?” He mumbled to himself. Before you’ve even walked through the café doors you have your money in hand, out in the open for anyone to take. Jongin had picked up on the blissful ignorance you had in regards to the danger in Exodus, instead, choosing to carry on carefree. Stupid he thinks.

Standing in line a few spots behind you, he watches as you let person after person cut in front and he just doesn’t get it. You only have an hour before the start of your next class and yet you’re willingly letting yourself be pushed back? People were clearly taking advantage of your kindness, but you were either incredibly stupid or didn’t care. When the older woman in front of you is a few dollars short, you don’t hesitate before lending her the difference, even putting back your own drink just so you could afford to help her. How could someone so generous be apart of something so evil? Then again, most of Exodus were playing that game.

Grabbing a coffee of his own, Jongin sits a table over from where you plant yourself, what had become your regular spots. Finding amusement in the way you struggle to fit both of your study books in the small space.

Now, only a short while before you needed to be back in class, you attempt to get as much work done while shoveling food down your throat as you could. Jongin thought it was hilarious, bar the tuna mayo that is. “Tuna? Really? It’s 11am jesus christ!” Maybe it was easy for him to judge you from a distance, but out of all the things he’d learnt, your love of tuna was the worst.

He watches your face scrunch and eyebrows furrow as you try and absorb the information, recognising the same study book you’ve been working on all week, the one for Professor Jeong’s class that you’d been struggling with. The pages covered almost entirely in highlighter with notes and doodles littering the margins. Cute.

You just seem so harmless. No matter how hard he tries Jongin just can’t seem to figure you out. Perhaps MX were blackmailing you? Maybe they had something that forced you to be their spy? It was the only explanation he could think of, because it just didn’t seem plausible that the girl in front of him, furiously editing her notes for the hundredth time that hour, the one with drops of mayonnaise left over on the corner of her lips, could be willingly working with the notorious MX. But you were involved somehow, of that he was sure.

---

The library is quiet, the sound of rustling papers and hushed whispers being the only source of noise. Luckily, it was busier than usual due to the wave of group projects being assigned, it made it easy for Jongin to blend in.

He watches you curiously from behind one of the bookshelves, trying to understand why you haven’t slapped the asshole beside you yet. He’d been cutting you off and putting you down every chance he could.

“I just think if we..”

“Seriously Y/N don’t strain yourself, I think we’ve got it.”

Asshole.

Even Jongin wanted to punch this guy. Being the only girl in the group, the others found it easy to dismiss everything you offered.

“Why doesn’t she say anything?” Jongin wondered, once again you were letting people walk all over you.

It’s not like you particularly enjoyed being treated that way, in fact you were daydreaming about slamming said assholes’ face into the wall at that very moment, but you couldn’t do that. This project defines your grade for the semester and you couldn’t afford that kind of taint on your record. So you bite your tongue. Act none the wiser and count the seconds before you could go home and be done with them all.

Across the library you spot Minho, the cute senior who’d been working as the student librarian for the last month or so. He’s scanning out returns at the desk, eyes glancing up occasionally, you presume to keep an eye on things . God he’s cute. When he spots you staring and then takes a look at the rather heated debate going on between your group, he decides to save you from the disarray, waving you over.

“My hero,” you tease, almost running to where Minho is.

“It was getting too painful to watch! What’s he ranting about this time?” He teases playfully, knowing all too well the constant tension in your study group.

“Ugh I don’t even know, it’s so much easier just to tune him out,”

Jongin’s teeth clench watching the exchange between you and the librarian. The childish giggling, the ‘accidental’ touches, the lingering stares. Disgusting.

“Who even is this guy?” If he didn’t know any better Jongin would think this was jealousy, but he did know better, so all of these unfamiliar feelings had to be from just how pitiful the sight was. This guy was clearly flirting with you, the blush on his cheeks and sweaty palms said as much, but from everything Jongin had learnt, you weren’t going to reciprocate. Tragic.

“Are you kidding me? Why is she twirling her hair like that!? He’s not even her type! He’s... he…” his mumbled ranting cut off by the sound of you laughing across the room. “Well if that is her type then no wonder she’s corrupt.”

He watches the pair of you for a little longer before the need to throw up eventually overtakes his need to stay, deciding he could catch you up later and spare himself the torture of sitting through whatever this was.

---

The open sign light bounces off wet concrete, illuminating your face with such a subtle glow of pink that Jongin could barely make out the streaks of tears running down your cheeks. He almost missed you sitting crouched over on the pavement, the smell of smoke being what made him stop. Why is she crying? He thought to himself, seeing you curled up in a ball, cigarette dangling from your fingertips haphazardly concerned him. Jongin didn’t have to wonder for too long though, the closer he got to you the clearer he could hear your muffled cries.

“Stupid fucking Geord,” you cuss, taking another long drag to calm your anxieties, “takes all my ideas, monopolises the entire presentation and then my contribution isn’t enough!?”

Jongin had come to know the infamous Geord all too well this last week, the pompous ass that had belittled you in the library, the snotty rich kid with mommy issues that just loved being right. Honestly the fact he hadn’t killed him yet was an accomplishment in itself; but still, seeing you clearly so upset gave Jongin a weird feeling.

You were either getting much better with your performance skills, or he was actually getting mad for you…

With each sniffle, each tear drop, Jongin felt his resolve breaking away and being replaced with a type of anger he’d never felt before. Why did he care that you were crying? Why was it affecting him so much? He didn’t know, but it took all his strength not to go find Geord and make him regret whatever he’d done.

As quickly as you put out the cigarette that was now burning short, you’re reaching for the box to light another. You only really smoked when you were feeling particularly stressed, Jongin hated it. Ironically it was the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen; painting the walls with someone’s brain was nothing compared to the strong stench of nicotine that passed your lips.

For a second Jongin lets his mind entertain the thought of approaching you, but the professional side of him reminds him who you were. This could be a trick...She’s not an idiot. Then he considers calling you out. Drawing his gun and putting an end to MX’s game once and for all, besides, he’d been observing you for a week now and he couldn’t afford for his attention to be diverted any more, he still had the good old Professor to end.

Before he gets the chance to do either however, you stand up. Taking one last drag before stomping out the flame, your hands carelessly wipe at your face in a feeble attempt at clearing the remnants of your breakdown.

“I’ll be fine, let’s just go home,” you whisper, more than familiar with putting yourself back together and wanting nothing more than a hot bath and warm bed.

---

When you first noticed that the new guy on campus was following you, you tried not to think too much of it. In all honesty, you were far too busy trying to keep on top of everything to pay much attention as to why you were being followed. Knowing the people in Exodus, you figured it was just his creepy way of flirting, or at the very worst he was planning on robbing you, not that you had much to take anyway. But as the days went by and the presence of your stalker persisted, you were growing frustrated. It’d been a stressful week and the last thing you needed was some guy watching your every move.

After getting the results back from Professor Jeong for your group presentation, you weren’t exactly in a ‘good mood’ and the looming shadow of the man trying to be inconspicuous as he followed you home, was the last straw.

"How much longer are you planning on following me?” You shout over your shoulder, not having the energy to even face him. When you get no response, you reluctantly decide to turn around to stare him down.

His chocolate coloured hair is pushed back exposing his forehead, eyes golden but harbouring so much animosity that they could have turned black, the jacket adorning his shoulders almost blending him into the dark street behind. He was handsome, strikingly so.

“Look dude it’s been a long day, can’t you just lay off the stalking for one night?”

Jongin stiffens at your words. So you did know he was there? And chose now, while you were both alone in a dark street, to confront him? God she’s stupid.

“Sorry Darling, can’t do that,” he insisted, watching how your shoulders slumped and fingers twitched at the side of your coat.

“Of course,” sighing deeply, too tired to argue, you decide to continue on towards your apartment, stalker be damned.

“Aren’t MX getting bored of this game yet?” Jognin calls. He figures if you already knew he was following you, then now would be the perfect time to put an end to it. You were alone after all.

When he sees you freeze at the sound of MX, he takes a tentative step closer, you’re still turned away from him, just a few steps ahead. “I mean, were you really the best they could do? We expected more.” The smirk on his face when you turn to him, wide eyed and lost for words, only grows at your reaction. Gotcha.

“What are you talki..”

“Come on now Darling, we both know what’s going on here.”

“I promise you we do not.” You’ve heard whispers of MX around town, while you didn’t know much, you did know that if this guy thought you were somehow apart of it, then this was a dangerous misunderstanding.

“You have a choice.” Jongin takes another step closer, “You can leave, now, and make sure MX stay out of Exodus for good,” Reaching under his jacket, he grabs the gun that’s been burning through the back of his shirt since you called out to him, “Or I can send them a message myself. Choose.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about!” You tried to keep calm, swallowing the lump forming at the back of your throat. When you spotted the gun being pulled from his coat, it was like a pin dropped and the reality of the situation finally began to sink in.

Exodus is a dangerous place. Exodus is full of dangerous people. You were standing alone with a strange man that you’d just yelled at, that had been following you for god knows how long, a gun pointed at your face and not a soul in sight that would help you.

He doesn’t flinch when you jump back, his smirk doesn’t falter when you start begging for him to listen. In Jongin’s mind, the fact you’d acknowledged his presence at all was enough to prove you were involved.

“Please, please, just listen to me, t-there’s been a mistake, I d-don’t kno…”

“Oh my god shut up!” He yelled over your desperate cries, “It’s over! Done!”

“I don’t know who you think I am, b-but my name is Y/N I grew up a few towns over with my parents, I-I study Conservation Biology at the university because when I was little I saw a film about sea turtles and now I love them.. I...” you read somewhere that telling a killer personal information about yourself would make them less likely to kill you; so, with your hands held up in surrender, you start begging, pleading, letting slip every boring and mediocre fact about yourself in hopes that the handsome stranger will let you live.

Jongin was taken aback to say the least. Never had a target begged for their life quite like  this before, but the more you rambled on and the more tears that fell down your cheeks, he couldn’t help it. He believed you.

This is a mistake... Did I mess up here? Fuck! His mind raced to find a way out of this, but his composure was breaking down with each second you plead your case. How could he have gotten things so wrong? Looking at you now; scared and shaking, there was no way you could be with MX. Jongin’s mind quickly looks back on all the time he’d been watching you, at school, at the library, with friends, home alone... Is it possible he let feelings cloud his judgment? No… Jongin didn’t have feelings.

Bang.

In a split second the air was slashed with bullets, plastering the wall behind you with open wounds. Your body drops to the floor, hands covering your ears like a scared child at a fireworks display, your screams piercing through the air.

Jongin doesn’t even think about it before he’s at your side. He fires back some warning shots, just enough to cover the pair of you so he could pull you out of there, but you were frozen in place.

“C’mon we need to get out of here! I can’t get a clear shot!”

Jongin hoisted your trembling body into his arms, waiting for a gap in the bullet wave before rushing out of the street. Weaving between the crumbling buildings, waiting in the shadows for a free moment to sprint out of there to a nearby underpass. It was sheltered and open, meaning Jongin could keep a solid eye on the surroundings while still keeping you safe while he let himself freak out a little.

As soon as he puts you on the ground you melt into the concrete, hugging your knees to your chest and crying into them silently. It’s all too much. How did this happen? Yesterday you were failing Bio and trying to avoid the creeper puppy boy that’d been following you. Now…. you were pretty sure you were going to die tonight.

“Fuck...fuck..fuck, fuck, FUCK!” Jongin paces back and forth, using the barrel of his gun to scratch away the headache slowly spreading across his temples. How could he have messed up this badly? He’s the best… at least... he was the best.

With every footstep he takes you flinch a little, hyper aware of the gun swinging from his hand, fingertip dancing along the trigger. You still don’t know who he is or why you’re there but you’ve seen enough to know to keep quiet. So you stay sitting on the ground, letting the tears melt into the fabric of your jeans, watching the state of panic escalate in the man in front of you while your own turned into something akin to resentment.

After almost half an hour of silently waiting for some sort of direction, you’ve had enough. Eventually Jongin had stopped pacing, choosing to lean up against the wall with head in hands, instead. In your mind, you have nothing to do with this. There is nothing connecting you to whatever chaos was happening here. You had no reason to wait around to get shot.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?!” He shouts, annoyance bubbling beneath his skin.

“Home.”

“You can’t!” Pushing himself off the wall, Jongin reaches for your arm in an attempt to keep you still. You try to shake him off but his grip is too strong.

“I DIDN’T ASK FOR ANY OF THIS!” You’re screaming at him now. Tears no longer from fear, but anger. You feel trapped in whatever this was and it wasn’t fair, you just want to go home.

“Yeah well tough shit Darling, because unfortunately you’re my responsibility now and it’s my job to make sure you don’t get yourself killed!”

“I can take care of myself! I’ve been doing it long enough!” He rolls his eyes at your response, growing tired of trying to be the good guy for once. “Let me go! I’ll be just fine! Like always!”

Finally loosening the grip on your arm, Jongin let’s you storm off. Waiting, only out of spite, for you to be out of ear shot before cussing out loud at himself.

---

Somehow you managed to drag yourself to class. The events of last night still burning fresh at the back of your mind, but you were desperate enough for a distraction that even Professor Jeong’s morning class was worth that extra effort.

Barely able to keep your eyes open with the little sleep you were actually able to get, it takes you a moment to recognise the familiar body that plants themselves in the desk next to yours.

Jongin doesn’t look at you. Maybe it’s pride, maybe it’s nerves, but he keeps his eyes trained on the professor’s desk up front, waiting for his cover to be inevitably blown all for the sake of keeping you safe.

“Good morning class!” The professor’s abrupt entrance pulls your shocked and frustrated gaze from burning holes in the side of Jongin’s neck. His tan skin glowing under the plain white tee he’s wearing, hair falling into his eyes softly, contradicting the hard image he’d worn the night before. Does he have his gun with him? You wonder, letting your eyes wander to the waistband of his jeans, remembering how he’d pulled the weapon from them the night before. Stop! You hope he doesn’t realise you’ve been blankly staring at his crotch, mind racing with questions, you don’t even know his name.

“Today we’re picking up the remaining presentati…” When the admirable Professor meets eyes with Jongin, smirking from his seat beside you knowingly, he loses all train of thought.

It’s a feeling Jongin had missed. When a mark knows they’re done for, that he’s coming for them. When their eyes double in size. When fear pales their skin. When they lose all hope of fucking over EXO and getting away with it.

“T-today..um…” You can see the Professor eyeing your seat partner nervously, stuttering over his words. You’d never seen Jeong like this before, he looked terrified, and after last night it didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

Jongin shifts in his seat, enjoying the effect his presence has on the esteemed scholar. While Jeong tries to regain some semblance of decorum, Jongin wraps one of his arms around your shoulders and squeezes tightly, keeping eye contact with the professor, claiming you.

“What are you doing?” keeping your voice low as to not draw anymore attention to you both, you try to push Jongin’s arm away from you, only for him to put it right back.

“My job. Now be quiet.” He hisses, hiding the harshness of his voice behind a sickly sweet smile.

Professor Jeong spends the entire lecture avoiding your side of the room, refusing to make eye contact, completely ignoring you. You try not to take it personally of course, it’s definitely not because of something you did, that you know for sure; but for once you actually know the answers to some of these questions and want to participate.

“I told you, I can take care of myself!” you grumbled, again trying to physically get Jongin away from you, but he just smirks. Like he was enjoying it. Like this was all just some big game and not the life threatening situation he’d made it out to be the night before.

And you would probably believe that were true, if it wasn’t for his nails digging so sharply into your shoulder.

By the time class finishes you want to run a million miles away. The pressure of Jongin’s arm around your neck you’re sure will leave you aching for days; but as long as he’s far away from you, you can deal with it. You all but sprint out of the lecture hall, forgetting all about your next class and heading straight home; taking a back street you hope he hadn’t seen you use before.

“What the hell is this?” You mumble to yourself, pushing down the fear as far as you can in hopes the empty space will leave room for answers. You’re so caught up in your head, trying to figure out what you did to deserve this, you don’t even realise that Jongin’s been on your tail the whole time, watching you freak out and creep around like the amateur he now knows you are. It’s not until he steps into your building’s elevator with you that you realize he’s there.

“Jesus! Fuck, can’t you leave me alone!” He was exhausting; flattering when you thought it was a puppy crush, less so now you know he wanted to kill you.

“I can’t,” Jongin leans against the side of the elevator, growing tired of the chase.

“Why?! You’re the only one stalking me here!”

“Oh Darling, you have no idea.”

“Then explain! Because I’m tired of this! I have work to do, classes to study for, and I can’t when you’re scaring my teachers and dragging me through shoot outs!!”

Jongin understands why you’re annoyed. He gets it, he messed up and now you’re in danger. But to admit that outloud… to admit that to you… he’d rather not.

He doesn’t give you an answer, finding his reflection in the steel doors far more interesting, chewing the inside of his cheek and fixing his jacket over and over.

When you finally reach your floor, it becomes a race of wills to get to your apartment. Jongin trying to force his way in; you trying to lock him out. You sprint for the door, key in hand; almost managing to slam it shut in his face before Jongin’s hand pushes it back open, forcing himself through the small gap and locking you both inside.

In a second he’s slamming your back against the door with his hand covering your mouth, keeping you in place with the weight of his body, trying to work up the nerve to finally tell you the truth.

“I’m not going to hurt you, but you need to listen to me just for one fucking second… My name is Jongin, okay?” he asks, face dangerously close to your own. You manage a weak nod under his hold, terrified but needing answers.

“I made a mistake. I...I thought you were working with MX,”

Your eyes widen at the second mentioning of the infamous gang, more confused than ever as to why he thought you would ever be involved with them. He didn’t even know you.

“There’s rumours they’re coming for EXO territory..”

He’s with EXO. The realisation floods through your body like a lightning strike, frying your nerves, limbs locked in place while the rest of your body falls limp into his arms. EXO. The kings of this city. The reason shops close early and children aren’t allowed out after 9. The  doctors responsible for prescribing the death, the destruction, of a city once so healthy and vibrant. Monsters, as far as you’re concerned.

“They must have seen me tailing you and after last night, I think you’re a target.” Jongin watches as your eyes well up with tears, red and swollen as you choke back the sobs you so obviously want to release. It doesn’t affect him… it doesn’t make him angry… he doesn’t want to wrap you in a hug and take it all back… right?

“So as much as you don’t like it, I’m here. I messed up so I need to fix it, because this isn’t a game and this isn’t a joke. If they think you’re with us they will kill you. Milk carton kids, where are they now, 27 club dead.”

You wish he was a better actor. That he could hide the shame, guilt, pain he feels for putting you in this position better. That the cold exterior he wears so well didn’t have quite as many cracks, because then maybe you could tell yourself that everything was going to be okay. But if Jongin looks scared, then you’re absolutely terrified.

Blinded by the fear, your body reacts before your mind can catch up. Fists pounding into his chest weakly as the sound of your sobs rip into his heart. You’re in hysterics, screaming at him for an answer to questions still lodged at the back of your throat. Jongin doesn’t break down with you, as much as his body tries. Instead he just grabs your wrists, stopping their assault and pinning them into his embrace. His hold the only thing keeping you standing as you finally let the last walls crumble, letting out every tear, every scream, every desperate cry for it all to be some twisted dream.

Jongin doesn’t know how you both ended up on the floor, your head buried between your knees as his hand finds itself brushing through your hair. Somehow you manage to calm yourself down, letting the sobs turn to whimpers and cries to sniffles. Finally numb after the dust settles in your mind, you force yourself to look back up at Jongin. He looks how you feel, just doing a better job at hiding it; you don’t miss the concern that washes over his face and maybe that’s why you decide to let him stay. If he was so determined to fix what he’d done, you weren’t going to stop him. At least not tonight.

“I need to sleep,” you say weakly, standing on shaky legs but brushing off Jongin’s worried hands when he tries to help, “you can stay on the couch.”

---

Tiptoeing across the living room, shoelaces dangling from your teeth while your hands clutch onto your books; you’re desperately trying not to wake a sleeping Jongin. His sprawled out body half falling from the couch, you admit he looks a lot cuter when he’s sleeping.

Before you can stop it, one of your shoes drops from between your teeth, making Jongin jump up at the sound.

“What are you doing?” he mumbled, rubbing the fatigue from his face, stretching back into his familiar hard persona.

“Uhh, going for breakfast?”

“Did you not hear me last night!” It didn’t sound like a question. His voice raising ever so slightly in frustration as he stands to tower over you. Failing miserably at being as intimidating as usual, with his hair a mess and cheeks puffy.

“I heard you,” you say, pushing your feet into the fallen shoes before giving him a chance to stop you, “I’m just not going to hide away like a victim when this is your mess.” He stiffens at your words, ignoring the cut they etch into his heart, instead focusing on your relentless stubbornness in such a risky situation.

“If they catch you out alone they won’t miss another shot!” Jongin clenches his jaw when you roll your eyes at his remark, unsure of what he can do to change your mind.

“Look if you’re so worried, you’re more than welcome to join me,” you offer, determination radiating off of your face in such a way that Jongin finds himself unable to argue.

---

For the next few days Jongin stays by your side, sleeping on your couch, going to breakfasts, your classes, all to make sure you were safe.

He walks the familiar routes around town with you, not from a few paces back this time, but shoulder to shoulder. Sitting beside you in Professor Jeong’s early morning classes, Jongin was having far too much fun watching the colour drain from his face each time he showed up to one of your lectures to kill him just yet.

Everything became a threat to your safety. As far as Jongin was concerned, your life was in danger and MX could strike at any moment…. Even if it had been quiet since the shooting… it was better to be safe. That’s what Jongin told himself everytime he stayed a little longer.

“Hey Y/N!” Minho waved at you from across the library, he was reshelving returns when he spotted you studying at your usual table.

Jongin felt his ears burn red at the sight. Jaw clenching when he sees the boy walk over. Eyes narrow in judgment when you return his warm smile.

“Hey Minho, how are you?” It’d been a few days since you’d last had the chance to talk with Minho, him still as handsome as ever, but your heart not jumping quite so high at the interaction.

“I’m good, are you? I’ve missed seeing you around lately..” Minho let’s his words fade noticing the glare he was getting from the man sat beside you. “Oh I’m sorry, I’m Minho, Y/N’s friend!”

Jongin glances at Minho’s outstretched hand between them, choosing to throw his own over your shoulder rather than shake it.

“I’m Kai, Y/N’s boyfriend.” He smirks at the shocked expression that Minho wears, ignoring your startled one in favour of silently challenging the boy to leave.

“Oh...oh uh… Nice to meet you, I’ll see you guys around..”

Jongin keeps you close till he’s sure Minho has gone, only loosening his grip when he feels you nudge him gently.

“What the fuck was that, Kai?” You’re more amused than angry, but you’d never let him know that, enjoying seeing the varied emotions you can bring out of him now, when  he was supposed to be a stone cold killer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” feigning innocence, Jongin tries to go back to reading the book he’d randomly grabbed from the pile in front of you both.

You scoff at his reaction, or lack thereof, staring at him quizzically till he finally gave in.

“That guy is sketchy! I’m here to protect you right?  So I’m protecting you. Good?”

“Minho is not sketchy,” you giggle and Jongin can’t help but smile at the sound, “and who is Kai?”

“It’s what my friends call me!”

---

“Hey!” Jongin had appeared out of nowhere, pulling the cigarette from between your lips and stomping it out. With Geord goading you relentlessly for the last hour of class, you were desperate for a smoke. You would argue that those little white sticks of bliss were the only thing keeping you from ripping his throat out.

“It’s disgusting,” he says, leaning down to your height so he could look you in the eye, “why do you do this?”

With a deep sigh, you stuff the near empty packet of unlit cigarettes back into your coat  pocket, storming away in frustration, knowing he’d follow you.

“Wait, I’m serious!”

“I like them!” you shout back, thankful the streets were empty so you could argue in peace.

“They’re bad for you you know!” he teases, laughing when you throw your middle finger up behind you.

“My cigarettes are better for me than you are!” Teasing back, you finally turn to face him, a cheeky smile on your face.

---

“We got him.”

While making dinner for the pair of you, Jongin’s phone buzzes on the counter, a string of messages coming in from someone called Minseok. You tried not to be nosey, sitting on the counter beside him while he cooked, but he didn’t even glance at it.

“Wasn’t MX. Some small town nobody trying to prove himself.”

“Jongin”

“Call me when you get this”

“Boss wants you back asap”

The thought of Jongin leaving had never even crossed your mind till then. It hadn’t been that long at all, but it felt like an eternity since he’d first come into your life. Maybe it was selfish to want him to stay.

Jongin had recently started to open up to you more about his work with EXO. He was their protector, he kept them safe. You didn’t see him as this dangerous monster anymore, he was just Jongin, Kai, the one who took care of things. Just like he’d been taking care of you all this time.

You knew deep down that when he left you’d probably never see him again; if what EXO suspects is true and MX really were making their way into Exodus, then there was a storm coming and Jongin would be right in the middle of it. He wouldn’t risk getting you anymore tangled in EXO’s mess.

“Here, try this,” Jongin held a spoon up to your mouth expectantly; pretending he didn’t see Minseok’s messages, pretending you didn’t see them either, holding on to this reality for just a little longer.

---

“We need you back Jongin,”

After ignoring Minseok’s messages a few days ago, Jongin couldn’t ignore another call from the boss.

“Jun I have to pr..”

“No you don’t! We took care of the shooter, the girl will be fine! EXO needs you, I need you!”

He doesn’t want to leave. Jongin doesn’t know what it is that makes him want to stay near you, keep you safe, go to breakfasts at Lou’s - but the thought of leaving it all behind makes his heart twist and turn in unimaginable ways.

His whole life had been about EXO. They’re his friends, his family, and he would never abandon them. But somehow he’s made a new home with you, in his heart at least. You feel like home. Sitting on your living room floor watching Blue Planet feels like home. Falling asleep on your shoulder in the middle of your lectures feels like home. EXO have been his entire identity for so long, but now there’s this other life, another door, and Jongin was finding hard to resist stepping through.

“Be back today. We have work to do.”

After Junmyeon’s orders, the frustration coursed through Jongin’s body with such force he hadn’t even realised he’d thrown the phone till you were beside him, asking what was wrong.

“I...I have to leave.” He couldn’t look you in the eye. He didn’t want to see the betrayal, the disappointment, the pain reflected in them. “It’s my fault you’re in danger and now I have to leave you…”

He doesn’t know that you know.

“I..I’ll be okay Nini.. I can look after myself remember?” Your voice is weak but you do your best to convince him; as much as you want him to stay you know that’s not an option, and you know he knows it too because he can barely look at you right now.

“Y/N… I don’t want to leave..”

It broke your heart but there was no other choice. You had to let him go. The boy you’d tried so hard to avoid just a few weeks ago, you now didn’t want to see go.

“I know..” You cup the side of his face, forcing him to look at you as you spoke, “but they need you Nini...” It was hard to keep how you were really feeling hidden, especially when he looked like he was about to break, “You’re the best Nini, they deserve the best.”

He knew you were right. He needed to be there for EXO, his family. Things in Exodus were about to get a lot messier and the fallout would be astronomical, if he wasn’t there to do his part there’s no telling what could happen, then you really would be in danger.

Leaning into your touch, Jongin grips onto your hips like it was the first time not the last, pulling you flush against his body. Memorizing the shape of your hips, touch of your skin, smell of your shampoo. Locking you inside his heart. Melding the memory of you into his soul so that this wouldn’t be the last time. He would forever be with you and you would always be there for him, long after he’s gone.

Looking at you would be too much, he might not be able to force himself away if he saw your eyes. Saying goodbye felt too final, like the end of something that never really was. Instead Jongin buried your head into his shaking chest, placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, pretending he can’t feel your tears soaking through his shirt, before turning away and walking out of your life forever.

#in exodus #the hitman #in exodus the hitman #exo #exo au #exo imagine #exo fanfic #exo fic #exo reation #exo scenario #kim jongin #jongin scenarios #jongin reaction #jongin imagine #jongin fic #jongin au #exo kai #exo jongin au #exo kai au

[lydias--stiles]

(for the director's cut thing) ⭐ "Limerence" and "Afoot and lighthearted, I take to the open road" please!!! Those are my favorite AnnE fanfics of yours and I'd love to hear more about them.

ahh, i was hoping someone would ask me these!

Limerence

so i wrote this after coming of the awae s1 train that i was on. I don’t exactly remember what the seed was for this story, but i knew i wanted to try something new aside from little in canon fics so i decided to go with an AU. I wondered how they’d dress and behave, how they’d do in a modern time. Then, I had a dream about Gilbert taking pictures of her and the storyline was set. 

Afterwards I began looking for a title. I was fooling around with the words “first love”, but i found it too cliche, so then i found the word “limerence” in like a buzzfeed article, and suddenly i had the name for the story AND Gil’s project. 

A lot of the pictures that Gilbert takes are inspired by pictures i saw on weheartit, like this one, this one and this one . 

I loved John in season one, which is why I gave him and Anne an amicable relationship.

Lines I loved to write: Were they? Sometimes she felt like they were, silences being comfortable and atmosphere enjoyable. They worked well together. When Gilbert asked her to turn her head a certain direction, she knew the hundred other implications that were hidden in that single command as well. He held her company during her painting session, and even pointed out to her when her hair almost got stuck in the paint.

She supposed he had nice hair, and pretty eyes, but that was honestly it.She convinced herself that after the project, it would go back to the way it was before and those stupid, little thoughts about kissing the boy next to her will evaporate. based on me having a crush haha

Gilbert rolled his eyes, ‘The principal will love it. Probably even call the news to tell them how devoted we are.’  based on my high school principal

t was autumn when I got adopted, when I still had an alter ego to escape to when life became too much. Princess Cordelia. She was magical and pretty and perfect. She embodied everything I wanted to be. When I watched Anne With An E, I realised that her daydreaming and things like “Cordelia” is for her a way to cope with the life she lived in that horrible orphanage and other homes. Sometimes we forget she worked for an abusive household, but it’s part of who she is. Kids with trauma often resort to daydreaming as their form of escapism, and i wanted to keep that in this fic as well as use it for her art installation. 

the second chapter, kind of like a “where are they now” came to me on a city trip in Riga past midnight and i began crying IN BED. The next day we were on a plane back home and i wrote it in the notes of my phone in one go. immediately uploaded it afterwards. i just wanted to portray how they would interact in a relationship in modern times with the addition of technology. 

Afoot and Lighthearted I take to The Open Road

I started writing this in february of 2018 on roadtrip with my dad after wondering what Gilbert would actually do now that he’s gone. i began to wonder what the consequences were of losing his last family member, his father. i began to wonder how i’d feel if i lost someone at such a young age. after a few pages, i realised i wanted to make a psycho-analysis of Gilbert in the aftermath of John’s death with shirbert sprinkled throughout. In the later chapters it’s defnintely a heavier theme, but it always comes back to how Gilbert feels. Anger, sadness, despair, loneliness, envy. When I saw how big it had gotten on such short notice (because there were literally 20 fics lol), i began to very carefully plan out every chapter and how that would pan out in the ones after that. it was the first fic i legitimately outlined. while writing and posting, i got some heartfelt messages about how my fic helped them cope with their own problems and even come to terms with them. it’s the best feeling ever to receive those messages and why i began posting on ao3 in the first place. aalitttor has a special place in my heart. 

I chose the title because that’s what Gilbert reads to his father in the last scene of them together. It’s from Walt Whitman and, I read the story, really symbolises what Gilbert went through afterwards. The perils and all that. 

My favourite part was one I struggled to write since it was bothering myself how I didn’t have an answer to it. 

‘Gilbert,’ she said after a moment of blissful silence. One eye opened, seeing her watching him expectantly. He murmured a “yeah”.‘When you left, did you find what you were looking for?’

The other eye opened. ‘What do you mean?’Anne’s gaze fell away from his face, fixating on the brown crumbs on her apron. She waited another minute, the rusting wind that shook the corn and strands of her hair taking the space instead. Gilbert wiped the sweat of his brow.  

‘You left, because you wanted to see this… colossal, sweeping world first. But I can only assume there’s a bigger reason behind it, no?’ She peered at him through her straw hat, awaiting his response.Gilbert could laugh. He has been trying to figure that out throughout his whole journey of going and coming back. Was it to find himself? Or pieces of his father? Or to just get away from everyone that reminded him of everything he knew? He still hated being at home. It was cold there, even with the stove on. Every time he entered the school building, his first instinct was to turn around and run back to Ireland. They all treated him like a stranger in the night, as if the boy he used to be was nothing but a mirage and the boy he now was a scam. He was a crook with a long scar on his stomach and people didn’t like that. Why did he leave to only come back to a place that only brought him pain? Every night he pondered on the thought, wondering if he hadn’t made a mistake. He had been impulsive, emotional – everything that wasn’t rational – that night in Ireland. The burly man with the protruding belly should’ve just told him to go back to bed.

‘I left because I was mad at the world,’ Gilbert said, his lips moving before his thoughts could catch up. He himself was surprised by the answer. ‘I’m still mad,’ he confessed, his eyes finding hers, ‘but I’m trying to forgive, I guess.’

Being mad, in my opinion, is one of the most emotional feelings you can have. It’s ugly and vulgar. Madness can mean so many different things as well. Through writing the story, I felt like I figured out how to see Gilbert as the person he became and was. 

Another thing I loved to write is his panic attack scene in the sixth chapter. I looked up what a panic attack entailed and i tried to wrote it as best as i could. luckily it was well received :). I play with silence and noise in that scene, which was cool to do. 

The funniest thing I wrote (imo) was:  ‘How dare you talk to Diana like that? The only doormat is this place is you! You’re an opinion-less plant that can’t spell!’, Anne glared at him, bravely stepping closer.

The epilogue wasn’t supposed to be there, but at least ten people asked to know how Anne would react to the letters, so i quickly wrote one anyway, haha. I’m actually writing a sequel to this, based on what we know of season three!

I hope this pleased your hunger to know more!

#kyloreigns #anne with an e #awae #shirbert #fanfiction #ao3 #ask ophelia #directors cut

[fauvester]

more modern au... the spirit moved me.....

This state ball really brought him back to the mid-recession crisis.  There wasn’t anything like 1990 Chateau de Mere and political company in the East Parlor to turn his thoughts to the good old days, or the end of the bad old days, maybe, when he got to watch Van Buren’s economy tilt and rip itself apart like a badly balanced centrifuge.  There were remnants of it all over the place if you had a keen eye for evaluating antiques, and he most certainly did.

Biddle blinked quickly in the dry air and looked over Maggie Bayard’s shoulder across the East Parlor entrance to where he last saw Thomas, circulating around with some of the First Husband’s old comrades.  It was awfully funny, in an awful way, that they were letting the nullies into the White House after everything they’d done.  John Calhoun got a grudging pass because he’d caught himself the leader of the free world, but that far and no further, by Biddle’s personal moral estimation.

Maggie looked back at him, her highball glass of seltzer hanging loosely from her fingers.  “He had a teaching job back in Philadelphia, didn’t he?”

“Ah, you have a good memory, don’t you. Penn State.  He’s on leave right now – I hope they let him stay off for another semester so he can stay down here. I guess I’ve gotten sort of fond of him. It’s very strange.”

“Husbands are like that, right? They just show up one day and hang around and you can’t get rid of them.”

“I know, who gives them the right.”  They smiled. He took another sip of wine. Thomas was still out of sight, probably in the next room somewhere, where the muted music from the string quartet rolled out from.  It was hardly an event that could be called a gala – he still remembered the parties of the Adams years, and even a few of the early Jackson affairs – but there were still enough people to lose someone in.  He licked his lips.  “So, who’d you think he’s going to pick for AG?”

“Oh, Stephens, definitely,” Maggie said quickly.

“Really!”

“That’s who he’s going to pick, at least.  I don’t think he’ll accept. Between you and me, he’s a real brass-tacks lifer.  It’ll be hard to get him out of the House.”

“Stephens, that’s the wiry little one with the overbite? Southern?”

“Georgia.”  She drank.  “An Old Fashioned Whig.  Seersucker, confederate flags.  He’s been in the House for, I think, two sessions?  Needs some southerners in the administration, you know. Not even Mr. John can hide the fact that his cabinet’s too top-heavy.”

Biddle got the sense that Maggie had had this conversation many times before, but didn’t mind having it again.  He’d had just gotten to DC that week to take his perfectly lovely new seat as the Secretary of the Treasury and had presently made up his mind to have as little to do with politics otherwise as possible, but the atmosphere made it hard to avoid it.  Clay had taken office a month ago and Van Buren’s attorney general had retired shortly thereafter.  Apparently he’d needed no strong urging – or if he did, the blackmail was handled masterfully.  He suspected Corwin and Hayne. The two of them working together, well!

“He’s got the great gift of post-nuptual goodwill from the media, I think he can stuff his cabinet with whatever he wants.  Stephens, I’m sure he’ll find a way to corner him into accepting.  He’s good at cowing people with his superior… his..?”

“Who’s what?”  Hayne interrupted, coming up behind the two of them to interrupt merrily.  He was smiling boyishly and holding a salmon roulette in each hand.

“President Clay’s je ne sais qouis,” Biddle said, smiling back at him and rolling his wine glass in his hand.

“Is he all we ever talk about here?  My god! Get some new material, darlings.”

“We’re in his house,” Maggie added. “Eating his canapés.”

Hayne wrinkled his nose in that charming little moue and ate them both in one go.

“Besides, compared to him, and you, Nick, we don’t lead very interesting lives,” she chuckled.  “Empty nester here.”

“Speak for yourself.  Besides, award-winning White House Press Secretary there,” Biddle added, and she smiled.  At least some of them were still in the honeymoon phase of it all.  He almost envied them their enjoyment of it. Some cruel new part of him hated them for it, too.

“Stop it, Nick, I have a husband to go back to,”

“Oh, he was asking where you were, by the way, your husband,” Hayne said, covering his mouth as he chewed.  “Something about the German Minister?  He’s in the State room last time I saw him.”

“Oh!  Thanks, Roby. I’m going to go find him.  Nice chatting with you,” She said as she brushed Hayne’s black-tie-tuxedo shoulder and gave Biddle a friendly nod.

“I’ll be seeing you soon,” he responded gamely as she left.  The two of them watched her shoulder through the crowd with the soft but stern direction of someone used to wrangling junior reporters for a living.

“You scared her off.”

“I’ve seen enough of her for right now,” Hayne responded, rubbing his fingers clean of crumbs.  “You know, you don’t just marry a person, you marry their family, and also their admin team, I swear to god.  We’ve been butting shoulders with Clay’s folks for weeks.”

“Trouble in paradise.  Young lovers...”

“Oh, /they’re/ fine.  Biting each other’s heads off all the time.  Sweet enough to give you cavities, ugh.” Hayne’s tone was tired but light.

“Where are they now?”

“Front parlor. Clay’s entertaining the Chinese ambassador with magic tricks.”

“Oh.”  Biddle shuddered.

Hayne reached over and took his mostly-empty wine glass and finished it off, placing it back in Biddle’s hand.  “Tastes like wine!”  He exclaimed brightly.

“I despair of you, Roby.  That was a good vintage.”

“Go get some more, hon, we’ve got plenty.”

“I might collect Mr. Cadwalader and head home, actually.  We spent all day unpacking and I think I’m ready to hibernate.”

“Hah!  Like you were doing any lifting.”  Hayne responded, giving Biddle a once-over.  Biddle sighed imperiously.  Since he had the disposable income to hire movers he didn’t see anything wrong with doing so. Stimulating the economy.  Besides, sorting through his books and paperwork /had/ been hard work, even though there wasn’t much actual legwork involved.

“Thomas couldn’t do much of that. His arm, of course, so I did most of the cleaning after the movers left.  John - my brother John - and his kids are coming over this weekend to finish unpacking.”

“Housewarming party?”

“Naturally. If you’re nice to me, I’ll even invite you.”

“That’s a steep price. We’ll have to see.”

Biddle spotted a familiar flash of sandy grey hair across the room and took Roby’s elbow.  Ooh, cashmere blend.  “I’m off.  Come over on Sunday dinner if Mr. and Mr. President don’t keep you, Thomas’s cooking.”

“He agreed to do Sunday dinner?”

“He will when I ask him,” Biddle responded, nodding across the room to his husband.  “Bring your Thomas too and we’ll make a night of it.”

“Oh, alright.  Send me an Outlook invite so I don’t forget.”

Roby waved his fingertips at him as he left.  A few years ago he would have stayed for the whole party, luxuriated in the glamour of good company and food, but now?  He looked up and around as he made his way to the other side of the parlor, to the wallpaper that was yellowed at the baseboard, the upholstery that was fading at the center, the whole subdued aura of the assembly, he felt a sick pain in the back of his throat.  The lingering taste of wine, sour, on his palette.   Four years, a whole incumbency, in the ignominious position of the most hated man in America.

I would take a thousand dinners with then-president Martin Van Buren, desperation leaking out from behind his polite façade, asking for help, to wash the taste form his mouth.  Nothing could make up for those years he lost, he thought, suddenly fierce and angry at a world that was trying to buy him off with a quiet comeback story.  He didn’t want vindication; he wanted nothing to have happened in the first place.

He met Thomas’ eyes as he brushed through two other cabinet ministers.  He didn’t smile, he rarely did, but he gave Biddle a slow catlike blink.  I know, he was saying.  Me too.

He didn’t have to say anything, just looped his arm under Thomas’ good one and patted the crook of his elbow with a thin, ‘well, that’s it then,’ smile.  Thomas looked up and out, past the stairwell where the sound of raucous conversation suggested the President was holding court, and then scanning over the crowd back to his husband with a nod of finality.  That’s it, then.  He squeezed Biddle’s hand against his side.

Together for a second, divorced from the warmth and excitement around them, and with the bittersweet air of pallbearers, the two left. 

#modern au #dabs #G1 fauve is back with some nicholas biddle content

[prettywordsyouleft]

The Sex Contract [M] - Chapter 15

Genre: friends to lovers au / friends with benefits / mature content / romance / angst

Characters: Shim Changmin x Kaia Ashton (OC)

A/N: Due to the overwhelming request I have followed your encouragement to bring back one of my older stories. This was back in a time where OCs were everything and writing one chapter in each main’s point of view was the trend. I hope that even though I have edited this drastically, that you can appreciate this story comes from my older style of writing. I definitely still read this often and find it enjoyable so I hope you will too.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 - FINAL

Chapter 15 – Changmin’s POV.

They had been in Japan a week now and Changmin was feeling the stress of working hard on promotions. He was thankful though, this time around he had Kaia there to help pick him back up. They didn’t do much together as the opportunity of alone time was rare. And because Kaia was in the spare room during the stay, Changmin wasn’t able to take advantage of what little time he did have free to enjoy the company of his good friend physically. He was starting to learn though that he was satisfied just seeing her smile over the little things during the day, and Changmin wasn’t missing out on anything like he would have if she were back home. It was nice to have her around whilst he was working so hard.

But Changmin had to admit the more time he spent with Kaori Kimura, the more irritated he became. Her existence in his life was starting to affect him, and the extra effort Changmin was putting in was taking its toll. Management was thrilled however, and had scheduled a night off for both Yunho and Changmin. There was a catch however, he was stuck taking the Ice Queen out on their first official date. Just the idea of spending time alone with her in an awkward environment was enough to make him want to walk across a bed of nails or something equally unpleasant. Changmin was also silently annoyed that Yunho would reap the benefits of a free night for his hard work.

“Oh hello, you’re back already?” Kaia asked as Changmin and Yunho came back into the apartment after their last appointment for the day, smiling brightly. She had gotten a headache earlier in the afternoon and it was interesting to watch their manager dote over her, calling for someone to take her back to the dorm immediately to rest. Changmin realised Kaia had made quite the impression on their small team, considering she was getting along with everyone well. She was no longer seen as someone on the outside but a welcomed member of staff.

“Mm, something smells really good!” Yunho said and Kaia nodded brightly.

“I hope you don’t mind I thought I’d make a meal you could both reheat later since I wasn’t expecting you till much later. I’m not very good at making Korean dishes though so it’s just crumbed chicken, roast potato and salad.”

“Sounds more than good, how long till its ready Kai?”

She smacked Changmin’s hand away from the baby tomatoes she had out beside her array of salad ingredients. “Fifteen minutes. So go wash up and I’ll finish the salad.”

“And I’ll set the table,” Yunho announced, grabbing cutlery and plates from their places and going over to our small table to put everything out.

The men then headed to the bathroom, both sharing the basin to wash the remains of the make-up off their faces. Changmin glanced at Yunho, blowing the water droplets away from his lips and then turned to his friend. “You know I have to go on a date with the Witch tonight, right?”

“I do.”

“And you get to stay home.”

Yunho side-glanced at Changmin and tried not to smile. “Are you implying I’m getting a free ride?”

“Yes I am,” he answered simply and Yunho chuckled.

“You don’t have to go on the date.”

“If I don’t want to get a major scolding from management, I do and you know this.”

“What about Kaia?” Yunho nodded towards the direction of the kitchen.

“What about her?”

“You could take her out tonight instead.”

“Why would I do that when I have to go meet that vulgar woman for a late night supper after her schedule?” Changmin didn’t get where he was going with this.

“So have some time with Kaia before you go and make it easier to go out on the date then? Stop complaining about things that are totally in your power. Management scolded you for bringing Kaia along but you’re still alive. If you truly don’t want to date Kaori, make it so you can’t date her or stop complaining.”

“Woah, you’re really unsupportive right now,” he claimed and Yunho nodded once. “Why?”

“I swear, I’m surrounded by idiots,” he murmured and walked off, exclaiming loudly over dinner being cooked a moment later.

Yunho had unsettled Changmin with his cryptic message, and so in the two hours he had spare, Changmin called Kaia into his room and they hung out. At first, they just caught up on what they had missed in each other’s day, Kaia getting comfortable and laying down beside him on the bed. Changmin had been playing with her hair, thinking over what Yunho was suggesting about making tonight any easier. Finally, Changmin realised what he must have meant, a smile crossing his lips.

“What?”

“I’ve missed you.”

“It was only an afternoon Min,” she replied, not following his thought.

“I mean I miss you.” He rolled to face her and Kaia’s eyes finally showed recognition. She leant in to kiss his lips and Changmin pressed mine against hers firmly, his hands roaming towards the hem of her shirt. Running his fingertips over her stomach, Changmin felt her muscles tighten in anticipation. He moved up her body towards her breasts and reached around to undo her bra, pulling his hands out and removing her upper clothing in one action. After taking his own top off, Changmin continued to explore and moan at Kaia’s touch, the forceful nature he had begun with simmering down and becoming more lingering. He had yet to remove her pants though Changmin was enjoying licking a path down to them, Kaia’s breathing getting heavier. He worked on them slowly, much to her impatience, and once they were off Changmin kissed a path between her thighs and up to her womanhood.

He hesitated above it, and changed my mind, taking off his own pants and reaching for protection. By now Kaia was writhing underneath him, her arms slipping around his waist to pull him closer. As Changmin entered her, she moaned in pleasure and so many feelings overwhelmed him in that moment. He had missed the intimacy, and he wanted to prolong it as much as he could. Kaia hadn’t thrown her head back like she usually did, instead her eyes connected with Changmin’s, holding his gaze lustfully. It was a sensual experience, and he had to admit that he liked the change. We were taking the time to please one another in a different manner, and Changmin already felt satisfaction from the intercourse.

Wrapping her legs around him to get closer, Kaia kissed Changmin’s shoulder and neck, causing his balance above her to collapse. It was the closest they had been against each other in a while, and he could hear that her intricate breathing pattern was a beat behind his, their bodies perspiring with the heat. It felt like an electric current was surging through his veins as Kaia continued to hold his gaze, intensifying the entire experience. Changmin never wanted it to end but the familiar clenching in his stomach arrived and he groaned in frustration, wishing his euphoria to go away. He wasn’t ready to end this yet.

“Changmin,” she breathed and he focused back on her face, her hand coming up to capture his jawline. He nuzzled into it and she smiled, her eyes finally closing and let out a moan to indicate that she had reached ecstasy. A warm feeling encased his nether region and it was enough to make him join Kaia in her heightened moment, their moans subsiding along with their rocking. Finally, they became still, though they didn’t part. Changmin looked at Kaia who had an indescribable expression upon her face.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, wishing yet again that he could read her mind. Kaia just shook her head and smiled.

“Nothing, nothing at all.”

“Well, I better move and shower.”

She frowned. “Why? This is comfortable. We could stay like this all night.”

“I wish we could, but I have to go out tonight.” He sighed heavily.

“I thought you had the night off? That’s what Yunho told me.”

“He does,” Changmin said bitterly and untangled the girl from around him. “I, however, have a date. Which I was really not looking forward to before, but you always have a calming effect on me.”

“With uh, Kaori?” she mumbled and he nodded. “How come you didn’t tell me until now?”

“I didn’t want to think about it if I’m honest. I wanted a good night or at least a few hours with you before I had to resign myself to the Witch.”

“Oh,” she simply replied and Changmin looked at her, Kaia’s expression becoming more complex to understand.

He didn’t move apart from hooking a finger under her chin so she’d look at him. “I really wish to be able to read every thought that runs through your head, Kai. I believe you’d be the most intriguing book to read.”

“Right,” she said and tried to smile. “Didn’t you say you needed to shower? I just remembered that I was halfway through writing my notes up before I started dinner, so I hope you have a good time with Kaori as much as you can, Min. I’m going to have an early night too, my headache is still lingering.”

“You okay?”

She nodded and smiled brightly. “I will be once I’ve had some meds and get stuck into work. Can’t be the slacker in this household!”

Kaia then got up and dressed, waving goodbye before departing the room. Changmin stared after her, still unable to decipher anything. He continued to think over it during the entire process of getting ready for his time with Kaori, and even in the car ride over to the Italian Restaurant he was expected at.

He left the concerns at the door with his jacket, however and followed the Maître de to the table reserved for him. He felt eyes upon him, realising that Kaori must have already been there with all the hurried whispers that failed to completely reach his ears.

She sat in the middle of the dining room, in view of everyone, smiling warmly at Changmin’s approach. He could tell it was going to be a hard night of acting, under the eyes of so many. It would be front line news tomorrow morning and this pretend relationship would be propelled towards all of his fans in an outlandish manner so unlike his usual self. He hoped the fans would be smart enough to realise he wasn’t like this, instead of reading it for what it looked like.

“Hello Changmin, it’s so nice of you to join me here.”

Changmin thanked the Maître de and then looked about them. “You truly love to make a spectacle, Kaori.”

“Oh, this?” She gestured airily and then graciously smiled. “Is it too public for you?”

“No, it’s a perfect way to air such an outrageous relationship, don’t you think?” Changmin glanced at the woman, hoping to throw an equally charming smile back at her.

She laughed. “Outrageous? Don’t worry Changmin, I’m sure you will fall hopelessly in love with me and realise that I did this more than for the benefit of our careers.”

He laughed back as they clunk the champagne glasses together before he gulped his down. Changmin couldn’t help but be intrigued by just how far this ruthless woman would go to achieve whatever her mind was already set on.

_________________

Part 16

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#shim changmin #changmin #tvxq #tvxq imagines #tvxq scenarios #tvxq fiction #tvxq romance #tvxq smut #changmin imagines #changmin scenarios #changmin fiction #changmin smut #changmin romance #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fiction #kpop smut #kpop romance #pwyl; the sex contract #prettywordsyouleft writes

[regrettablewritings]

How You Met AU: Steve Rogers

Lifted from this ship meme

The fairgrounds are crowded even as the evening sets in, with children running about and grown men bellowing with drunken laughter and women chatting excitedly with their friends and couples strolling about, arm in arm. You rubbed the nickel between your fingers until it almost felt hot in your hand. It was your last coin, and you wanted to be sure that it would be rightfully spent. Preferably at the booth where you could shoot tin ducks on a conveyor belt and win a teddy bear with a blue ribbon collaring its neck. You already knew what you were going to name it (Fuzzworth) and where it was going to go (on your bed where you would cuddle its adorable self to sleep). The only problem now was making sure there would even be a Fuzzworth to take home. But with the chides coming from a particularly rowdy bunch of boys, you were questioning if you would even have the ability to do so. “Careful – the kickback might huck ya in the mouth!” “You sure you can lift that there? Might break a bone, there, chicken boy.” “You shoot like a girl.” That caught your attention. You couldn’t stop yourself from whipping your head into the direction of the jeering. There, you saw the riffraff: Several young men, all with annoyingly smug grins, standing further down the booth’s counter. For a moment, you weren’t sure to whom they were speaking – the actual target of the taunts was almost hidden amongst the small group of boys. He, himself, was quite small. Scrawny. Sickly, even, given how his lanky limbs trembled as he lifted the pellet gun in his hands (much to the delight of his mockers). Or perhaps it was the nerves causing him to commit the trembling. 

You felt sorry for him. Sorry and angry. But perhaps more angry than anything, considering how you didn’t realize what you were doing until you stormed over, gently nudging the young man away but not before gingerly acquiring the pellet gun from him. “Oh, is your girlfriend gonna do it for ya?” one of the jeerers questioned. One of his buddies jokingly nudged him in the arm. “She’s probably waiting on him so they can go home and do one another’s ha-” Ding! The laughter went silent as they watched one of the moving tin ducks go down. You eased your finger of the trigger and readied yourself for your next target. Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! One by one, the duck-shaped targets fell flat as you released BB after BB – all with perfect precision. The boys stopped smiling completely; some mouths even went slack. The sickly one was one of them, only he wasn’t watching the ducks going down: He was watching you. You made no reply or attention to the boys behind you, however, as you placed the rifle down on the counter and turned to the gangly one at your side. You tired not to be put off by how short he was and calmly asked him, “Which do you want?” He blinked, realizing that you had been referring to the prizes. “Y-you can choose,” he muttered, cheeks beginning to redden. It was in your excitement of acquiring Fuzzworth that you almost forgot to realize exactly what you had done. Did you perhaps embarrass him further? Technically it wasn’t your job to make him feel better, but then it also wasn’t your job to barge on over just to prove a point to some snobbish assholes whom you were probably never going to see again.

You tried your damndest to appear calm and collect as your walked away, only to shove your burning face into Fuzzworth’s head as you quickly strolled behind a tent where none of the young men could see you. You messed up, and while you hadn’t necessarily done so in a big way, you couldn’t help but worry about the stick-thin crumb of a lad you’d left there. What you’d done hadn’t necessarily proved anything except perhaps give the boys all the more reason to bully him. You bit your lip and squeezed Fuzzworth closer to your chest.

What were they going to do? More names? Punch him? Kick him? Oh, God, what if they –

“E-excuse me, Miss?”

You jolted, startled at the sound of a quiet but warm voice that came from beside you. The owner – that itty bitty boy – jumped back in response.

“Jesus!” you hollered, clutching your chest. “Do you always scare girls like that?! Or are you just that lightfooted!?”

The young man chuckled sheepishly.

“If you don’t mind me saying so, it might’ve been that you were too caught up in your thoughts …” He nodded at your newly acquired toy. “I suppose it’s easy to with something that soft.”

Your cheeks burned, realizing the scope of the situation.

“I’m sorry for embarrassing you,” you blurted. “I really am! I just – They were –” You stumbled over your words, making your face pained with heat at the sound of every syllable that tumbled out of your mouth.

“No, no, it’s okay,” the young man chuckled. “In fact, more than okay: You startled them so much, they got all slack-jawed and quiet. But … Well, the fact that a young lady got something that made her happy is also a plus in my humble opinion.” In the dim lighting, you could see his cheeks beginning to pinken. His eyes were cast to the ground, though he still tried to hold a small smile.

“Really, even if they come after me tomorrow, I’m just glad I had a chance to get away from them.”

“Really? But don’t you want them to stop completely?”

“Well, yes, of course, but I can’t have others coming to my rescue all the time. After some point, I have to stand up for myself. Not! That … I’m not … thankful …” The rouge in his gaunt cheeks deepened. “… Lemme make it up to you,” you found yourself saying. His eyes returned back to you, widening. “Beg your pardon?” “Lemme make it up to you,” you repeated. “It doesn’t seem fair to me that I got this bear and all you got was a single moment’s peace. I still got a nickel left; that ought to be enough for a lemonade.” The young man dug the tip of his shoe into the dirt. “I … That sounds lovely, Miss, but I’m afraid that I can’t take that offer. I didn’t deserve it. Besides, it doesn’t seem right to me that you have to pay for something – ” “I insist!” You bit your lip upon realizing that you might have been pressuring too hard. “I – I mean, it would give me a peace of mind to know that you got something enjoyable out of this … Please?” You noticed the young man’s pink cheeks go positively red. “Steve Rogers,” he blurted, offering you his hand. You blinked. “My name is Steve Rogers. Ma’am. I just thought you ought to know so that you weren’t offering to treat some stranger to a lemonade.” You looked at his hand. It was skinny and weak-looking, just like the rest of him. But as you took it into yours, it was surprisingly soft and warm. You grinned, “(Y/N) (L/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you, Steve.” The smile was returned. “Now …” You turned around, your hand still encasing his, “Let’s go get you that lemonade!” Aside from some flustered stammering in response to your handholding, Steve made no objections to you leading him away. (Not that he could hold his ground well enough, given his lack of strength.) In the end, he was glad he gave in to your offer: Lemonade had never tasted sweeter to him, and it was only as he went home that night that he realized it had nothing to do with the recipe.

#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #captain america imagine #captain america imagines #regrettablewritings

[actuallylorelaigilmore]

You’re The Eighth Wonder

Jean x Alice + hesitant kiss, for @a-tardis-at-downton. This, um, got completely out of hand? But I hope it brightens your week!

Jean x Alice bakery AU, 3600 words, The Doctor Blake Mysteries. Also on AO3.

“A blueberry cake?” Alice had never heard of such a thing, but it was a fascinating color.

“Yes.” Jean turned back to Alice, flashing a quick grin. “Shall we start with that one?”

“It’s very...blue.”

“It’s delicious.” She must have noticed Alice’s hesitation; her voice gentled. “Trust me.”

Alice stood several feet back from the counter, fingers laced together as she stared at the glass display case.

After a few moments, a willowy brunette came through the archway behind the register, aiming a sunny smile in her direction. “Welcome to Jean’s. What can I get for you?”

“I--” Alice paused, and had to take a moment to collect herself. The woman in the cheerful blue apron--the proprietor?--was stunningly beautiful, and looked as happy as Alice was glum. It wouldn’t do to fall to pieces in public, in front of a stranger, no less. 

She swallowed hard, and tried again. “I’ve come for cake.”

“Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place. I make all the cakes myself.”

Alice was right; this was the shopkeeper. Jean, she thought. It made her focus back on the desserts between them, looking more critically now. Those delicate, lacy decorations on the cupcakes had been crafted by her hands. The bright sugar cookies lined up in careful rows had been frosted in colors she chose.

Even the decor of the shop, light and bright and charmingly feminine, gave Alice clues about who she was. Jean, the baker and chocolatier and businesswoman standing before her...was staring, a crease at the center of her forehead emphasizing her concern.

“Do you know what you want?”

You, came the unbidden and not entirely welcome thought in response. Alice fought the urge to blush,

“Not really,” she admitted, risking a glance at Jean before returning her attention to the cake slices before her. 

“Well, what’s your favorite flavor?”

“I can’t say that I have one. I know, that’s unusual,” Alice rushed to add. “But I don’t eat a lot of sweets...I’m not entirely sure what I like.”

“Ah.” If this seemed strange to her, Jean didn’t show it. Briskly, she left her spot behind the counter, moving to Alice’s side and nudging her closer to the case with a gentle hand on her back. 

“I think samples are in order, then.” She pointed to the first row of single slices, angled for maximum effect behind the glass. 

Alice tried not to think about how pretty her hands were, and failed miserably. Jean had artist’s hands, long slender fingers with slight calluses from her work. It was far too easy to imagine them trailing along her jawline or tangling in her hair.

Her imagination was going to be the death of her, Alice thought. But there would be plenty of time for giving herself a good lecture after her business was concluded.

“Starting on the left, we have a double chocolate, then lemon. Angel’s food,” Jean continued, gesturing as she went, unaware that Alice was watching her more than the desserts. “Then red velvet, and finally a seasonal fruit variety. Right now, it’s blueberry.”

“A blueberry cake?” Alice had never heard of such a thing, but it was a fascinating color. 

“Yes.” Jean turned back to Alice, flashing a quick grin. “Shall we start with that one?”

“It’s very...blue.”

“It’s delicious.” She must have noticed Alice’s hesitation; her voice gentled. “Trust me.”

Pinned in place by Jean’s kind blue eyes, Alice nodded. Satisfied, Jean went back around to her side of the counter and crouched down to retrieve a tiny triangle of the blueberry cake.

It was so cute and precise in its angles that Alice almost didn’t feel right eating it. But Jean was watching her with an expectant smile, and after all, dessert was made to be eaten, wasn’t it?

She popped the cake between her lips, closing her eyes to better savor the soft treat. Somehow, it tasted not just like berries...it actually tasted blue.

It was as if Jean had managed to capture the essence of a color and transform it into a flavor she could bake into a cake. What a marvelous talent that was, Alice decided, humming a little in approval.

When she opened her eyes again, Jean was still smiling, proudly now. “You liked it,” she declared. 

“Yes.” Alice touched her fingertips to the corner of her mouth, trying to check subtly for crumbs. “Very much,” she added. She offered Jean a smile of her own, one that only wobbled a little. 

“Well. Normally, I would say we should go with that one, then. But it just won’t do, to have you only try one flavor when you haven’t got much experience with sweets. What else catches your eye?”

Taking Jean’s question seriously, Alice perused the cake shelves for several long, silent minutes. Then she nodded to herself decisively. 

“That one there,” she told Jean, pointing to a marbled slice that mixed yellow cake with a chocolate variety so dark it was nearly black.

“Oh, the espresso. Good choice.” Jean beamed at her. “That’s my favorite.”

“Really?” 

“Yes, really.” Jean ran a hand over her curly hair, sounding a little sheepish. “I’m a big fan of coffee. In everything.”

“Hmm.” Alice filed that away and pointed to her second choice. “I’d also like to try that one, if I may.”

“Of course.” Jean gestured at the empty shop around them. “You are currently my very best customer.”

“I haven’t bought anything yet,” Alice pointed out.

“Still.” Jean reached down for a sample of the espresso marble cake, and then one of the red velvet. “This one is good too,” she told Alice as she set them on the counter. “Though it’s a bit intense for my taste. Not in flavor,” she explained, “but in color. It’s so very red.”

“I like red,” Alice replied, taking that sample first. “Not as much as green--green is my favorite color--but I don’t think anyone makes a green cake, and red is such a strong hue. Memorable.”

She stopped herself when she caught the bemused look on Jean’s face. “Sorry, I ramble when I’m nervous.”

“Why would you be nervous tasting cake? I hope I haven’t done anything--”

“No, no.” Alice waved her concern away. “It’s nothing you’ve done.”

“Well, then what...that is, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Jean was so sincere in her interest; normally Alice would loathe the very idea of telling her secrets to another person, especially one she had just met. But there was something about this woman, more than the captivating way her eyes glittered and her smile shone--something that made Alice feel like she could trust her.

“It took all my nerve to come here,” Alice explained. “It’s...it’s my birthday. And I’m new to the city, and wasn’t planning on celebrating at all, because it just felt rather pathetic, the idea of celebrating alone. But I was sitting at home, in that dreadfully quiet apartment, and I decided that I deserved to be grateful for another year, even a lonely one.

“Picking out my own cake meant facing just how isolated I’ve been lately, and admitting that the days just keep on passing by.” Alice sniffed. “It feels a bit like life is passing me by. So it wasn’t easy, deciding to come...but I’m glad I did.” She smiled shyly at Jean.

“I’m glad you did, too. Happy birthday--” Jean’s pause was comical. “What’s your name?”

“Oh. I’m Alice. Alice Harvey.” She held out her hand across the counter, biting her bottom lip when Jean took it and held on.

“I hope you have a lovely day, Alice. With cake!” Jean lifted the espresso sample and handed it to her. “This one, now.”

“Yes.” She popped the aromatic slice in her mouth, letting it settle and dissolve on her tongue, trying to savor it. This was Jean’s favorite, she remembered, Jean who was regarding her with those warm, soft eyes. 

It would mortify her that night when she was trying to sleep and her traitorous brain forced her to relive the experience again and again, but she actually moaned. Quietly, and just a little, but the espresso cake was so rich, and sharp, and...decadent. 

Alice had allowed very little indulgence in her life thus far, preferring to focus on goals and work and pushing herself ever harder. 

Going out in search of a birthday treat was a brave act, yes, but also an attempt to open herself up to new experiences. To pure enjoyment. 

And she found it, in a cute little cake shop--and in Jean’s company.

“That’s the one,” Jean murmured after a moment, a queer expression on her face. As soon as Alice caught it, it was gone, replaced by the same sunny smile Jean had first greeted her with. “So, it seems you have good taste.”

“Yes, I’d like this one. Just a large slice,” Alice decided. “I won’t be able to eat a whole cake.”

“Coming right up.” Jean busied herself with carefully tucking the slice of cake in a small box branded with her store logo, and Alice wandered down the display case while she waited, enjoying the rows of handcrafted chocolates and the cheerful macaroons. 

The bell above the door rang as it opened, startling Alice after such a long stretch of quiet. A petite redhead breezed past her and greeted Jean on her way to the back room.

“That’s my assistant,” Jean said, handing her the box. “Mattie, love? Can you help Alice here pick out a chocolate or two to take home while I pop out for a minute?”

“Oh,” Alice protested, “I didn’t come for chocolates.”

“I know.” Jean winked before turning to Mattie as she reentered the room. “It’s on the house, for her birthday.”

“Well, a very happy birthday to you,” Mattie said, tapping her fingers lightly on the glass of the display. “What’s your pleasure?”

“She’s going to need a minute.” Jean grabbed her purse and offered Alice a smile on her way out the door. “I’ll be right back. Find something sweet--I insist.”

With a second chiming of the bell, Jean was gone. Alice stared after her helplessly, not sure how she had come for cake and ended up picking out candy. “I haven’t even paid for my cake yet,” she told Mattie.

“And you’re not going to,” the girl told her firmly. “If Jean had wanted that, she would have said so. I suspect this is meant to be a birthday gift of sorts. There’s no point in arguing,” she added. “She won’t take no for a answer, not when she’s trying to do something nice. You’d best accept the gesture.”

“All right...” What a strange place this was, Alice couldn’t help thinking. How could the store survive if the owner made a habit of just giving items away?

At Mattie’s insistence, she examined the chocolate section, finally deciding to try a caramel and a toffee. They were wrapped in wax paper and tucked into a bag along with her cake box, leaving Alice with no further business, and nothing to do but reluctantly exit.

She had been hoping Jean would return in time; she wanted the chance to thank her properly for the kindness. Her birthday felt a little less daunting, with a bag of treats to look forward to and a welcoming new neighbor. 

A lovely new neighbor, graced with chestnut curls and a tempting, rose-shaded mouth.

Alice had never been overly fond of sugar, preferring to save it for special occasions...but she was already trying to come up with a reason to return again, soon.

It must have been fate, which Alice had stubbornly refused to believe in until now, that had convinced her to check out the nearest bakery--that had brought her to this particular shop on this particular day.

Because when she stepped out of the store into the sunlight, blinking hard against the glare, she nearly walked right into Jean, who was standing just outside. 

Holding flowers.

“Happy birthday, Alice,” Jean murmured, pressing a friendly kiss to her cheek and handing her the bouquet. “I do hope you have a wonderful day.”

Astonished, Alice could do nothing but stare. At the bright red blossoms, then at Jean, then back to the flowers. 

“Thank you...but why? Why all of this, for me?”

“No one should have to be sad on their birthday.” Jean arched an eyebrow. “Especially not you.”

“I--I truly don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Jean patted her arm, moving past her to the shop door. “Enjoy your cake.” 

“I will. Thank you, again.”

Alice walked home in a daze, grateful that finding her way around the neighborhood still required her full attention. Navigating the winding streets kept her from overthinking the way Jean had smiled her farewell, or how gently she had kissed Alice’s face, so familiar for a near-stranger. So sweet.

It was the best birthday Alice had had in years, and it wasn’t done surprising her. When she got home and put the flowers in water, she realized Jean had attached a card. 

“Thanks for stopping in” was written in blue ink, followed by Jean’s signature--her last name was Beazley--and a series of numbers that made Alice’s pulse leap.

Jean had signed off with her phone number, which Alice might have agonized over for days, wondering if perhaps it was the store phone to encourage repeat business.

But just to the right of the number, Jean had drawn a tiny blue heart.

So Alice ate her birthday cake that night and tried the chocolates and couldn’t stop smiling until she fell asleep.

The next morning, she called and asked Jean out for coffee.

****

“I’m so glad you called,” Jean said as she sipped her latte. “I wasn’t sure...you know, it can be hard to meet people.”

“It can,” Alice agreed from behind her oversized mug of dark roast. “And I never would have guessed that you...” She wasn’t sure how to finish that thought, but Jean only smiled.

“That I what, liked you? Is it that hard to believe?”

“No. I mean, yes. But only because you--well, you’re you.” Alice waved vaguely toward her, making Jean laugh.

She had a beautiful laugh. Alice vowed right then to do whatever she could to coax a laugh from Jean more often.

“I’m really not that special,” Jean protested. “Not like you, with your striking features and your brilliant career.”

She was caught on ‘striking features’ long enough that she almost missed the rest. “Wait, what about my career?”

Jean flushed a little. “I looked you up. I read about your work. I’m sorry, I was just so curious.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. I guess I didn’t realize I was notable. You read about me,” Alice mused, lifting her coffee again.

“Yes, and it’s fascinating, what you do. I mean, you could really find a cure for cancer, they’re saying, or for autoimmune diseases. That’s the sort of work that changes the world. I just bake.”

Alice frowned. “You make the world better a little bit every day with your shop.”

“Oh, you don’t have say that. I’m comfortable with my modest life.”

“No, Jean, I mean it.” Alice reached for her hand across the table. “Your desserts are so good, and your bakery is so friendly--we need more of that in the world. It brightens lives.”

“Well.” Jean squeezed her hand, flattered. “Thank you.”

“You brightened my life,” Alice finished quietly, meeting Jean’s eyes with her cautious ones. “Just by being you.”

“I felt the same way, the moment you walked into the bakery,” Jean admitted. “You looked so lost, I just wanted to give you a good cuddle...and get you to tell me all your secrets.”

She chuckled at the way Alice faux-glared at her. “What can I say, I’m nosy.”

“You’re delightful.” 

“And we’re quite the mutual admiration society.” Jean glanced at her watch. “Say, what are your plans this afternoon?”

“It’s my day off; I don’t have any. Just this.”

“After coffee, how about I walk you home? I’d love to see your part of the neighborhood.”

“That sounds nice.” 

Halfway back to the apartment, Jean slid her hand into Alice’s, continuing to walk beside her as though nothing had happened, as though Alice’s entire world hadn’t just tilted on its axis.

“So, other than feeling isolated,” Jean asked as they strolled, “do you like it here so far?”

“Well,” Alice said, considering her words carefully, “it’s not entirely fair to ask me that now.”

“Why not?”

“Because right at this exact moment, I can’t remember what it’s like to be unhappy.” Alice grinned at her, the smile transforming the contours of her face.

Jean swung their joined hands a little, inwardly agreeing. She loved her business, and Mattie was one of her closest friends in addition to being a trusted employee, but there was a certain something that she had felt was lacking for some time.

With her fingers laced through Alice’s, their hands fitting together like matching pieces of the same puzzle, Jean was starting to think that maybe what had been missing all along was Alice Harvey.

“Here we are,” Alice told her as they approached her apartment building. Reluctantly, she pulled back, feeling the warmth of Jean’s palm against her own even after they were parted.

“I would invite you in, but I’ve been awfully busy with work lately,” Alice apologized. “It’s a complete disaster in there, really.”

“Oh, that’s quite all right. I have to be getting back to the bakery anyhow.” Jean tucked her hands in her pockets while Alice got out her housekeys.

Then she froze, as Alice turned back, keys in hand. Maybe she’d changed her mind, Jean thought. She really did need to get back to her shop, but if Alice asked her in...well, she wouldn’t pass up the chance to see her at home.

Jean had so resigned herself to her quiet, single life that meeting Alice was a wonderful surprise. And confirmation that Alice was interested in her in return was a gift. 

But their date was a shock to her system, fireworks and a summer storm and a triple espresso all rolled into one. Because it was Alice who walked over to her instead of saying goodbye.

It was Alice who moved in close, so close that Jean could see flecks of grey around her irises, while Jean stayed motionless and forgot to breathe.

Their first kiss was feather-light, tentative, as Alice brushed her mouth over Jean’s with the slightest hesitation. After all, they hadn’t known each other long at all--she wouldn’t have blamed Jean if she had jerked back and explained she wasn’t ready. 

And it wasn’t even like her, not one bit, to make such a bold move. But Alice found it harder to hold back, to think of anything else, when Jean was right there, so soft and warm and sweet, walking close and taking her hand and smiling, smiling until Alice felt like she would burst from wanting to kiss her.

Their hesitant meeting of lips stretched out and heated, both of them forgetting they were standing on a public sidewalk in the middle of the day. 

All Jean could think was, God, Alice was angular and tall and by every measurement a little unusual, but she wanted to stay wrapped up in her for the rest of her life. Just here, like this, for eternity.

Alice just kept silently repeating Jean like a mantra...or like a prayer. Her name was a whisper in the back of Alice’s mind, and somehow, she was certain that long after she forgot all the facts she had studied, even after she forgot her own name--she would remember Jean Beazley.

Emboldened by the way Jean’s hands had left her pockets to tug her closer, Alice traced her tongue over Jean’s lips, sighing happily when they parted. 

Jean’s tongue stroked hers, and this woman she realized she could very easily love glided her fingertips up Alice’s back until she shivered. 

With Jean’s hands roaming higher, trailing heat along the curve of her neck and tugging a little on the ends of her short hair, it took all of Alice’s willpower to lean back, resting her forehead gently against Jean’s and taking a deep, shuddering breath.

“Wow,” Jean whispered, her words catching on the breeze that fluttered between them.

“Yes,” Alice agreed, smiling at Jean from under her eyelashes. Yes, I really like you, she added in her head. Yes, I hope we can do this again. Yes...I think I might follow you anywhere, if you asked me.

Out loud, she said instead, “You should go bake.”

“I should.” Jean nodded, then sent Alice a teasing smile. “You’re not sick of me already, I hope.”

“No. Not at all. But you have to go do the baking,” she said with great solemnity. “Because if there’s no cake, I won’t have an excuse to come by again tomorrow.”

Jean laughed, her eyes sparkling in the summer sun. “Fine, then. I’m going to go bake--a lot.” 

She was careful to hold herself back as she kissed Alice goodbye, knowing now how easy it was to sink into her and willingly drown. 

Back at home, Alice cozied up with her favorite book, spending the rest of her day off in a world of familiar intrigue and danger. When she fell asleep, she dreamed of Jean.

Jean sang her way through work, while Mattie smiled and teased her about having a secret affair. She put together a new cake batter, made with honey and raspberries and dark chocolate. 

She dubbed it the Harvey Cake, and set two slices aside for the morning.

#the doctor blake mysteries #also i've had a totally different #jean x alice #tdbm #fic in the works for like a week now #this was not supposed to be my first for the ship? but hey what can you do #i regret nothing #jean x alice fic #bakery au #tdbm fic #jean x alice fanfic #tdbm fanfic #the doctor blake mysteries fic #the doctor blake mysteries fanfic #i am obsessed with this song it's so shippy #this endless fluff brought to you by fall out boy's church #a-tardis-at-downton #my fic