#y: 1946

[temporarywelcome]

Devil's Night, 1946 - James Patrick March

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Many years have passed since you and March have split up, meeting again in the Hotel Cortez when you need him to do a simple task he's been procrastinating on for years... distractions happen

CW: smut, porn with WAY too much plot, fingering, angry sex, p in v, possessive!james, dom!james (kinda), sub!reader (kinda), a slap to the cooter

A/N: they're both vampires it's mentioned like twice it really doesn't matter lmao. Pretend women have some more rights in 1946. I WAS SUPPOSED TO POST THIS ON HIS BDAY BUT ALAS... life.

________

The Hotel Cortez hasn’t changed in the slightest since the last time she saw it.

It still was bustling with guests and patrons, with loud chatter at the bar and silent gossiping in the sitting area. There was a couple seated in one of the love seats, holding hands, whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears.

The sight made Y/N grimace. 

It reminded her of how things used to be. How things were between Y/N and James Patrick March, the owner of the establishment. They were practically glued at the hip, her painted black nails always gazing his skin, his hand always firmly on her lower back. Always together. In love.

That was long in the past. 

Striding towards the front desk, Y/N eyed the little receptionist up and down, “Hello, is Mr. March in tonight?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the receptionist, her name tag reading Laura, replied. “He’s currently in a meeting in his office. How may I help you?”

“I wish to see him. Now,” 

Laura raised a brow, awkwardly clearing her throat, “He’s in his meeting, ma’am, he might take some time. If you’re in a rush, you can write him a message?”

Y/N rolled her eyes in annoyance, lips curling into a sneer, “Tell him to wrap it up. His wife would like to speak to him,”

____

Within minutes, Laura was ushering her into the office of James Patrick March. 

Like Y/N expected, as soon as James was aware of her presence, he had kicked everyone out of his office, eager to see her. He was seated at his desk, a cigar between two long fingers, wearing his usual white button down, black suspenders, dress pants, and shoes combo. To accompany it was his carefully gelled hair. Y/N remembered doing it for him every morning, a little bonding experience the two of you used to have. 

“It’s been a long time, my dear,” he finally said after a moment, his usual James March smirk appearing on his annoyingly handsome face, “I was beginning to miss you,”

“Hello, James,” Y/N replied, making no move to step closer to him, “It has been a very long time,”

“You haven’t aged a bit since the last time I saw you, dearest,” he complimented, rising up from his seat, “Just as ravishing as ever,”

“How can I age, James? You took that from me,” Y/N laughed bitterly. She adjusted her large black fur coat, eyeing the room. It was practically the same as before, “It’s been twenty years, James. Possibly time to renovate,”

“You’ve always been so kind, darling,” he strode towards her, taking her hand, “Now how may I assist you?” he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss to her knuckles. 

“Take a guess,” she snatched her hand back, slipping a hand into her designer purse and pulling out a neatly piled stack of papers. She walked to his desk, and being, well, a man, James’ eyes travelled to her ass, admiring the way her tight black dess esentuated her curves. He was snapped out of his thoughts when she slammed the papers down ont the desk. “Sign the papers,”

“Excuse me?” 

She looked at him over her shoulder, “Sign the damn papers,”

“What papers? I believe I don’t know what you speak of, my love,” he placed his finished cigar in an ash tray.

“Cut the act, James,” Y/N hissed, taking a pen from his desk. She turned to face him, holding it up, “It’s been twenty years. What’s the point of doing this any more?”

“Doing what?”

“James,” she clenched her fists, “It’s been twenty years! I want a fucking divorce!”

A laugh left him, a dark chuckle, “That’s what this is about? The silly divorce? And for a second I thought you missed me,” he opened up a cabinet and grabbed a bottle of scotch and two glasses, “You came to me on this day just to harrass me? On such a special day?”

“Special day?” she scoffed, “What’s so special about it?”

“Oh, my dear,” he brought an arm around her, leaning in,” It’s Devil’s Night,” he whispered into her ear, breath tickling her skin. 

“Ugh,” she rolled her eyes, “I remember. However, I don’t give a damn. Just sign the papers and I’ll be out of your hair,” 

“But I don’t want you to go,”

“But I want to go,” she shot back.

James shook his head, taking a drag of his cigar, “You really want to end a twenty year marriage like this?”

Y/N barked out a laugh, “We were only together for a month of it,”

“Yes, till you left me,” he snapped, sudden venom in his tone, “You didn’t even say goodbye. Didn’t leave even a note. Just some blasted divorce papers.”

“So you did get them?” she mused, digging into her bag and plucking out a cigarette, bringing it to her lips.  Despite his anger, James still immediately brought his lighter to her cigarette, like he always did when they were together. She glared at him, dropping her lighter back into her purse and taking a puff, “From that letter you sent fifteen years ago, I was quite confused.”

“Ah, what did I write in that letter again?” 

“Hm,” she pretended to think, “First, I had wrote you telling you to sign the damn papers. You then wrote back saying you never got any papers. You said I would just have to meet with you to sort this out.”

“And you never did,” he pointed out the obvious, politely holding out a glass of scotch for her, which she dd not take, “So why now? Why not continue on with how things have been?” 

“Because I don’t want to!”

“Well why?” he pressed, stepping forward, “What’s so different now than fifteen years ago? Ten years ago? One year ago? What’s so different? What is so-?”

“I’m engaged!” 

There went the scotch.

It fell from his grasp immediately, the glass shattering onto the floor like little puzzle pieces, “...Excuse me?”

Y/N groaned, holding up her left hand, revealing an golden engagment ring with a modest diamond, “I’m engaged,”

James gripped her wrist, examining the ring closely, “How pathetic! You don’t even like gold, you love silver. And this diamond! It’s practically microscopic! How could you settle for a man that not only can’t tell your taste but is poor?”

She rolled her eyes, “How materialistic, James,”

“It’s true! It doesn’t even compare to to the ring I proposed to you with,” To Y/N’s surprise, James yanked up his necklace, revealing the charm that was neatly tucked under his dress shirt. Two rings, one silver with a dark trim and a comically large ruby in the middle, a diamond on either side. The other ring was more modest, still silver, with small diamonds embedded into it. Her engagement and wedding ring. 

“You… you kept the rings?”

“Of course I kept the damn rings!” he scoffed, raising his left hand now. He was still wearing his wedding ring. “Of course I kept the only remembrance I had of the wife who left me!” 

“You turned me into a damn vampire!” she shot back, shoving him angrily, “Did you expect me to be happy with you?” 

“I wanted us to spend eternity together-”

“I didn’t even know you were a vampire!” she shot back, “And you just turned me without even asking me! F-Forcing me to drink your blood, I thought it was some devilish ritual!”

“It was practically a ritual to declare our love!” 

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Yeah, I felt so loved then. I was terrified! I didn’t know what you were going to do! You… You could have been planning some sacrifice or God knows what, I-”

His lips were then on hers, his body pushing hers against the desk. She gasped, feeling the sharp sting of the hard wood hitting her back. His hands went firmly on her hips, blunt nails digging into her flesh as he kissed her hungrily, her burgundy lipstick smearing all over both of their lips. 

She should have pushed him away. She really should have. Should have pushed him away and just fucking kill him to end this nonsense once and for all, but she couldn’t. Instead, her arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him back just as feverishly. 

“You made me wait twenty years for you,” he growled, lips leaving hers to find her jaw, then her neck, kissing and sucking on the skin with need. “Twenty years without you,”

“N-Not like you missed me,” she panted, fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“How could you say such a thing? I have been patiently waiting. Have you ever seen any reports of the famous James March with a new mistress?” He tugged up her ebony dress till it was at her waist, pushing her onto the desk. He plucked the cigarette out of her shaking hand and discarded it into the ashtray. 

“Well, no-”

“Because there has not been any.” He said firmly, beginning to rub her through her lace panties. She whined out, grip on his hair tightening. “I have not touched a single other woman in twenty years while you've gone around whoring it up with all these other men who mean nothing compared to me,”

James took it upon himself to relieve her of her undergarments, his large fingers rubbing her swollen clit in tight circles, “Well? Who is he? Tell me about this bastard,”

“His n-name is William,” she choked out, hands going to his shoulders to ground herself, “He loves me very much,”

“Yeah? What does this William do for a living?” one of those long fingers slid through her wet folds and into her awaiting heat.

She bit her bottom lip, not just to stiffle her moans but to prolong her answer. “Um…”

“What does he do for a living?” James repeated, pushing in a second finger and curling them inside of her.

“Ahh! He's… A hotel owner…” She trailed off.

He stopped his movements, looking at her with wide eyes, “He's a what?”

“Hotel owner,”

His eyes darkened, “So my replacement is just some cheap copy?” he hissed, utterly offended, “For that you might of well have just stayed with me!” His fingers left her cunt, causing her to whine with need. “Shut up,” Next thing she knew, a large hand was delivering a harsh slap to her sex. 

She cried out, “James!”

“I said shut up,” he grumbled, hastily undoing his belt buckle and suspenders, pulling down the front of his pants and boxers, his leaning cock springing free. With one hand on her hip, he began to stroke himself, “Once I'm done with you, all thoughts of your cheap new fiance will be out the window.”

How the hell did they end up like this? She came here to demand for him to sign the damn divorce papers so she could marry the man she supposedly loved, yet here she was about to get her back blown out on her ex-lover’s desk.

James lined himself up with her entrance, slowly pushing in. He always started off gentle and romantic, but Y/N knew better. This was just the beginning.  “How does that feel, my love? Still thinking about that bastard William?” he said the name venomously. 

“N-No, James,” she whined out, legs wrapping around his waist as he began to thrust in and out of her, tantalizingly slow. He was teasing her, doing it on purpose. 

“Can he fill you like I can? Hit just the right spots like I do?” he continued, nipping at her earlobe, “I bet you don’t get this wet for him, bet he struggles pushing into you because he just doesn’t get you excited enough,” James smirked, both hands grabbing her waist as he sped up his pace, sliding in and out of her clenching walls with ease, “That’s never been a problem with me. You’ve always come to me with open arms… and open legs,”

“Oh, shut up, you bastard,” Y/N grumbled, nails beginning to dig into his back as he found a steady pace, hips snapping repeatedly against hers with each thrust. “We were never able to have normal sex, huh?”

“Well, you never stopped cursing me out,” he replied cheekily, hands going to her large fur coat, and sliding it off of her shoulders, “I think I got used to you berating me while I kindly pleasured you,”

“You got off on it, don’t lie,” she shot back with an eye roll, until he hit that perfect spot and she gasped, “Oh James do that again James please do that again-”

“Ah, that’s what I like to hear,” he mused, angling his hips to hit her G-spot over and over again. His hands went to the zipper of her dress, bringing it down so that the entirety of the garment was bunched up by her waist. “Much better,” he said smugly, leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. 

“Ahh!” she whined, playing with her other nipple in pleasure, “Right there right here!”

He began thrusting into her faster, a groan leaving his lips as he plunged deep into her warmth, “Look at that, darling, your cunt is taking my cock so deeply, how greedy,” he teased, admiring the way she involuntarily clenched around his thick length with each thrust, swallowing his dick. 

“Greedy for your cock only, you damn bastard,” she cried out. Couples give each other such endearing or powerful names in the bedroom, but of course that had to be her favorite for him. Bastard. Even when they were madly in love, that was what she called him. “It always filled me up so w-well,”

“Really, darling?” he grinned, reaching a hand between their bodies and gently rubbing her clit. Her eyes snapped open and she whined, lips parting into the perfect “o” shape. “Filled you so perfectly? Then why did you try to replace me, huh? With some cheap copy? Sounds like we know who the real bastard is here,” 

The combination of his dick pounding into her and his fingers expertly rubbing her clit had her seeing stars. She dug her nails into his shoulders, head falling back as she moaned out in pleasure, giving him the perfect view of her breasts bouncing every time his hips met hers, skin slapping against skin. She wasn’t hearing a word he said at this point, digging her heels into his back, ankles locked, urging him deeper into her. Knowing she was still in her blood-red high heels turned him on even more, he used to always love seeing her in heels. 

“Damn you, you bastard, I’m going to cum!” she gasped, biting her bottom lip, “Damn you, damn you,”

James laughed, leaning his head down to bite her pulse point roughly, “You’re gonna cum all over your ex-lover’s cock, my queen? Cum all over my cock and make a mess of yourself? Do it, I dare you,” he lifted his head to survey her facial expressions as he continuously snapped his hips forward, drilling into her in abandon. He then reached out, his large hand going around her throat, and he didn’t even have to squeeze, she was cumming. 

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” Y/N squealed, cunt clenching around him one last time before he felt her thick fluids coat his length. 

“That’s it, my love, cum all over my cock, it’s my turn now, gonna fill you up, make you mine again,” he buried himself inside of her as he came, painting her walls white. Hips sputtering, he came to a halt, arms going around her waist, “All mine, no one else can have you but me,” he nuzzled her nose with his own, waiting for some movement. Signs of life. 

And then her gorgeous eyes opened, looking up at him tiredly, “I came here for a divorce,”

“Damn that divorce,”

“Damn that divorce,” she repeated, leaning her head on his shoulder. 

“Dramatic girl, leaving me all by my lonesome for twenty years just to come back to me,” 

Y/N hummed in response, closing her eyes, “Take that as punishment,”

James let out a soft chuckle, stroking her soft hair, “Have I been punished enough?”

“I suppose,” she pulled away from his neck to look him in the eyes, “Happy birthday, James,”

_____

how tf does one write dominate men sorry I usually like subs

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (V)

Chapter 5 : ‘But here comes the lyrebird passing through the sky’

Hi, everyone!!! Here we go with the fifth chapter! Introducing new characters, and spending some time at Trinity for this one…

Also, chose a French poem for this one because it fit the theme very well, but I couldn’t find a decent translation, so I translated the poem myself… it isn’t particularly good, sorry about that, but it’s not worse than the other translations I’ve found, sadly…

I hope you like this new chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2110

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Writing Page

Two and two four Four and four eight Eight and eight make sixteen…

Repeat! Says the teacher

Two and two four Four and four eight Eight and eight make sixteen…

But here comes the lyrebird Passing through the sky The child sees it The child hears it The child calls it

Save me Play with me Bird!

So the bird descends And plays with the child

Two and two four…

Repeat! Says the teacher

And the child plays And the bird plays with him…

Four and four eight Eight and eight make sixteen And sixteen and sixteen what do they make? They don’t make anything sixteen and sixteen And especially not thirty-two Anyway And they go away.

And the child has hidden the bird Inside his desk And all the children Hear its song And all the children Hear the music

And eight and eight leave as well And four and four and two and two In turn go away And one and one don’t linger once nor twice One by one they leave too

And the lyrebird plays And the child sings And the teacher cries :

When you are done fooling around!

But all the other children Listen to the music And the walls of the classroom Peacefully crumble.

And the windows turn back into sand The ink turns back into water The desks turn back into trees The chalk turns back into a cliff The quill turns back into a bird.

Jacques Prévert, Paroles, 1946 – original title : “Page d’écriture”

September was grey and rainy, or rather, it withheld the doom of a storm within its dark clouds. The ground was drenched, making the curb darker than usual, the earth smelling sweet and rich with water and life, the leaves glistening in darker shades of green. As Saoirse finally entered the grounds of Trinity College, her steps echoed louder than usual on the glistening pavement.

Finally. Finally, Saoirse was a college student, independent and entering adulthood. That was how she felt, anyway. Even though she still lived with her parents on the outskirts of Dublin, was still a student… at 18 she felt like entering university was the beginning of womanhood, of adulthood, and she was excited about it. Excited, and terrified.

If she knew a few people on the campus, she was the only one studying English, and the loneliness that came with the new experience of university was adding to her anxiety. She looked around, a little lost but trying to look like she knew where she was going. She was trying to reach her first meeting, this first day being dedicated to integration, an introduction to the life on campus and a quick presentation of the classes they would follow this year. The classes themselves were only starting the following week. This orientation week was focused on the ways of university, on clubs and other useful information for students.

But Saoirse had been on campus for less than ten minutes and she was already feeling overwhelmed, with the small white tents along the lawns that presented clubs for students to join in, with the crowd and its loud chatter pulling her attention in all directions…

All of a sudden, there was another undergraduate student staring down at her, an amused smile on her lips.

“You look lost! Want some help?”

She was wearing a badge from a theatre club, a tired look on her face and an hyper-active glimmer in the eyes that revealed she drank too much caffeine.

“Erm… I’m fine, I just…”

“That’s alright! It’s your first day, you’re allowed to be lost. Let me help! Where is it you’re going?”

“Erm… the English department…”

“Ha, no worries, I’ve got you! I’m an English major too! Come on!”

Before Saoirse could speak another word, this stranger had turned on her heels and was making a bee-line through the crowd. Saoirse followed her the best she could, bumping into students and apologising profusely in the process, until they had reached a second yard that was much calmer. She hurried after her guide, almost running to catch up with her.

“There is the library,” the stranger said, pointing at a large building, a sculpted globe decorating the space before its door. “Note where it is, you’ll spend most of your time there while studying here. And no matter what you do, avoid the tourist attraction around the Book of Kells. Busiest place on campus, and some real chaos over there. This side isn’t as fancy, it’s more concrete and metallic shelves than beautiful wood and carvings, but it’s quiet and withholds all the information you’ll need for your classes. We often see some of our teachers hanging around there too. Who is it you’re gonna have this year?”

“Erm… I’m not quite sure…”

“You should have your schedule during the week. If you can, avoid Mahon and Patterson. They’re not bad teachers, but they are terrible human beings. Proper gobshites the two of them. I heard H-B is teaching about Yeats this year; if you can, take this class, and avoid Mahon’s lecture about science-fiction. Trust me. On paper, it sounds that poetry is harder and more boring, but Mahon is going to reap you apart, when H-B is probably the sweetest teacher at Trinity.”

“H-B?” Saoirse asked, trying to keep up with both the fast pace of her guide and her precious information that she delivered at a relentless speed.

“Hozier-Byrne. Everybody calls him H-B around here, name’s too long. Or just Hozier. Anyway, he’s a sweetheart. He’ll actually care about whether or not you pass his class. Also, he’s got the prettiest mug on campus, so it doesn’t hurt to see him once or twice a week,” she laughed, throwing her head back like a child.

The two girls kept on chatting while they were waiting in the corridor for the meeting to start, and Saoirse tried to get as much information in as she could.

Before leaving, her guide had one last advice.

“Come to the S2S mentoring program this afternoon. I’m part of the mentors, we’ll give you a full tour and help you register for your classes. Also, we’ll help you to find your tutor among the academic staff, to get into a club or society… stuff like that. Oh, the name’s Gabi, by the way! I’m one of the mentors for the English department, so if you want, you can come and find me at the meeting.”

“Thank you so much,” grinned Saoirse.

“Hey, no worries! I used to be a lost freshwoman too, back in the days! You should go in for the boring meeting, General Session… Tomorrow’s meeting about your classes will be more interesting.”

With one last thank you, Saoirse finally entered the room, found a seat, remained silent, not daring to speak with the students around her.

She looked at the blackboard, the desk and chair and microphone for the absent professor.

Fucking hell, she was starting university…

Saoirse listened to Gabi’s advice, looked for the S2S Mentoring meeting, scheduled for 2:30 pm. It was easy to spot the exuberant student, as she laughed with her friends, and she greeted Saoirse with a grin. She followed Gabi’s group for the full tour of the campus, along with a small group of freshmen. She chatted with a couple of them, especially Donal, whose colourful nails and vibrant make-up matched his buoyant personality. They then settled in a large classroom, scattered into small groups and each mentor helped their students with registering for their classes, gave them advices and a little bit of gossip.

Gabi helped Saoirse log into the orientation website and access the right page for her to register to her classes.

“You can change the classes you’ve selected up to the 23rd,” explained Gabi, “and after tomorrow’s meeting with your tutor and the presentation organised by the department, you’ll have a clearer view of what to choose. But you can still take a look now. Also, pay attention to the schedule. You can’t select classes that are happening at the same time. You can select a few classes now already if you want, just to be sure you’ll have a spot.”

Saoirse nodded, went through the list of classes.

On the schedule, the classes about Yeats’s poetry and science-fiction were clashing. She hurried to select the class about poetry, following her mentor’s advice.

She also selected a class about modernism taught by the same Hozier-Byrne, trusting Gabi that it was worth skipping a class about Shakespeare, not that she held much regret about avoiding that class, to be fair. She registered for a class about ‘the use of gender-normative language and patriarchal norms in modern literature’, excited about this class already.

“Erm… sorry…”

She turned towards the student by her side.

“Can you show me how to get into the schedule? I didn’t understand where I should click…”

He looked a little lost, a little overwhelmed, like most people in the room, and certainly as she felt herself. Dark hair, brown eyes. An attempt at a stubble colouring parts of his cheeks.

“Sure!”

She showed him how to log into the schedule, he thanked her, a little shy.

“I’m Sean, by the way.”

She grinned.

“Saoirse.”

He seemed nice, they kept chatting for the rest of the day. She hoped they would have classes in common…

Y/N Y/L/N.

Saoirse read and re-read the name of her tutor. There was a small group of students in the classroom, ready to meet the member of the academic staff who would be in charge of their well-being for the year. Sean was part of the group too, and they sat together on the third row. Donall was there too, he joined them as soon as he spotted Saoirse.

Y/L/N. Saoirse had recognised the name immediately, belonging to the teacher in charge of what seemed to be a very feminist class.

And indeed, when you entered the room, looking tired but benevolent, Saoirse liked you immediately. There was something in the way you spoke that was gentle, patient, that sounded like you actually cared, that you were happy to meet your students, too.

You gave your students some extra-information about their classes, gave them advices depending on the majors they wanted to select for the rest of their degree. You helped them register, you answered their questions. The meeting took longer than expected, but you didn’t seem to mind.

You smiled when you noticed Saoirse had already selected your class.

“Looks like we’ll see each other every week for a couple of months!” you smiled at her and Saoirse was even more excited about your class now.

“Yeah… the class seems very interesting.”

“I’ll do my best to make my babbling interesting, indeed,” you joked, before moving to Sean’s computer to check that he was managing.

And Saoirse had such a good feeling about this year. Things would turn out great, she was certain of it.

You let yourself fall into your office chair, letting out a tired groan. You heard Andrew’s chuckle, but chose not to acknowledge it. His meeting with the students had been a little briefer, he was already in the office when you had come in.

“You’re alright?” he asked, checking on you with an amused smile still tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Exhausted.”

“It was to be expected…”

“Aren’t you exhausted too?”

“I’m on my fifth coffee of the day.”

You laughed at that.

“Hmm… looks like professors are as addicted to coffee as students.”

“It’s standard sleep-deprived diet.”

You looked over at him, and you exchanged a smile.

You weren’t friends, per say. Your break-up had made you more distant, and Andrew’s reaction to his own heartbreak had been to close in on himself. But you still got along, even though you weren’t close. A shame, you kind of regretted that. You could have been closer already, if it weren’t for your pain. Still, you chatted, and he helped you get used to Trinity, and you discussed your classes and his. You simply weren’t more than colleagues, and for now, it was fine. You couldn’t handle getting your heart broken and finding friendship at the same time. Your life was too messy for that. It was easier to build professional boundaries, and Andrew seemed to be in silent agreement. You hadn’t discussed much about your two separations, both preferring for that part of your lives to remain private, and outside the walls of Trinity.

The Heartbreak Department. You had joked about renaming your shared office that way, and Andrew had had no choice but to agree, it was quite on point. Perhaps it was this office, indeed. Maybe it was bringing bad luck, to both of you, when it came to love…

“I can’t wait for the weekend,” Andrew heaved a sigh, rubbing at his eyes before he would readjust his glasses.

“My weekend will be busy, though…”

Indeed, you had agreed to attend a party that Frank was hosting on Saturday night. He said that he had a big announcement to make, and you wondered what he meant by that. Also, his new girlfriend would be there. You hadn’t asked her name, weren’t interested in knowing anything about her, but you wanted to meet her, to see who had stolen your life away. Because that was what you had lost when Frank had left. It wasn’t just a break-up, it wasn’t a simple heartbreak… you had lost a wedding, a life you had planned and thought you would get to live. If you could have forgiven the pain of getting your heart broken, you couldn’t forgive the life that you felt had been stolen from you.

So, you were curious. Also, you were desperate, addicted, and wanted to see Frank, no matter why, where, or when…

“Mine is busy too, but orientation week is a lot.”

“It is, indeed.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, your head thrown back towards the ceiling.

You pictured Frank’s face against your eyelids, and couldn’t imagine that it had been over a month already that he had shattered your whole world…

[ishipallthings]

Cap Iron Man Rec Week 2024 (Tues)

Time Travel Tuesday - July 23rd for @cap-ironman Rec Week

Time-y whimey shenanigans!

Remember to show some love for your hard-working creators!

finding my way back to you by Anonymous (MCU)

Ten minutes after a botched attempt at proposing to Tony, Steve is thrown back in time.

More Than Gravity by JenTheSweetie @jenthesweetie (MCU)

“Aw, time travel, no.” On Christmas Eve, Tony came unstuck in time.

Marty McFly Never Had to Deal with This by sweatervest (MCU)

Tony's latest project goes less "renewable energy" and more "slightly explosive time machine," and Howard Stark arrives from 1946. Why, Steve would like to know, are time and space going to such lengths to cockblock him?

feelings that never left by hollyandvice (MCU)

The last thing Tony expects while working on the time machine for the so-called Time Heist is to be confronted with the very man he thought he'd made his peace with. Guess some wounds run deeper than we think.

Atomic Clock by imparfait (MCU, EG)

It’s ten am on a Tuesday in May when Tony Stark appears in Clint Barton’s barn. Clint trips over him while looking for a toolbox and swears, then swears again, then thinks I need to call Nat, which makes a half-sob punch out of his throat.

A Time to Be Alive by babesrgrs (MCU, EG)

The mission to get the Mind Stone and the Tesseract from 2012 goes a bit differently AKA the slightly snarky but sexy Endgame scene that didn't make the final cut.

Lover Come Hold Me by RurouniHime @thegertie (MCU, EG)

One by one, the stones must go back.

hunters seeking solid ground by laramara @commandersteverogers (MCU, EG)

In the wake of the battle with Thanos, Steve feels unmoored in a way he hasn’t since before he ate shawarma with a group of virtual strangers and thought maybe, maybe he could one day find a place here. Steve returns the stones, and has a few unexpected interactions and makes some decisions along the way.

Mobius Strip by dirigibleplumbing @dirigibleplumbing (MCU, EG)

Steve sets off to return the Infinity Stones. It ends up not being quite as straightforward as he'd imagined.

The Five Stages of a Time Loop by AirlocksandAviaries @airlocksandaviaries (MCU, EG)

Tony Stark looks Thanos in the eye. He raises his gauntlet in defiance and states his iconic phrase. He snaps, expecting death. But death doesn't come. Instead, he's back in his basement, completed time travel model in front of him. He builds the time machine. He snaps again. Again, and again, and again. Tony can't for the life of him seem to change the outcome of this story. What does change, though, is his feelings around it.

That Time Back Then by navaan @navaan (616)

An accident sends Steve and Carol back in time and watching Steve and Iron Man interact gives Steve a new perspective on how blind both of them were all those years ago.

Beside You In Time by Kiyaar @kiyaar (616)

The world is ending: Tony is evil, Steve is old. So there's nothing to stop him from making the (terrible) decision to travel back in time in a last-ditch effort to spare them both: by killing Tony's past self to spare them both from ending up where they've ended up. The Universe has other plans. An honest-to-god fix-it for Superior Iron Man, Hickman's entire run, and pretty much everything since Tony decided it was a good idea to take Extremis way back in 2005.

Mind over Matter by Missy_dee811 @laexploradoraaa (616)

For a brief moment in time, Steve had the power of the universe in his grasp, and he squandered it. The Infinity Gems, with the exception of one, ceased to exist. The Illuminati's last attempt at circumventing the laws of the universe and stopping the incursions before they targeted Earth-616 were eliminated when the precious stones shattered. But that wasn't the only thing that was broken that day. His faith in himself never recovered.

Hope you guys enjoy the recs, and stay tuned! Please mind the tags before reading. Check out my tag for previous years’ rec lists :)

[fatehbaz]

In 1946, Argentina introduced twenty beavers (Castor canadensis) to Tierra del Fuego (TdF) to promote the fur industry in a land deemed empty and sterile.

Beavers were brought from Canada by Tom Lamb, [...] known as Mr. North for having expanded the national frontier [...]. In the 1980s, local scientists [...] found that beavers were the main disturbers of sub-Antarctic forests. The fur industry had never been implemented in TdF and [...] beavers had expanded, crossed to Chile, and occupied most of the river streams. The Beavercene resulted in apocalyptic landscapes [...]: modified rivers, flooded lands, and dead native trees that, unlike the Canadian ones, are not resilient to flooding. [...]

At the end of the nineteenth century the state donated lands to Europeans who, in building their farms, also displaced and assassinated the indigenous inhabitants of TdF. With the settlers, livestock and plants also invaded the region, an “ecological imperialism” that displaced native populations. In doing this, eugenic and racializing knowledges mediated the human and nonhuman population politics of TdF.

---

In the 1940s, the Argentinian State nationalized these settlers’ capitals by redistributing their lands. [...] In 1946, the president of the rural association in TdF opened the yearly livestock [conference]: We, settlers and farmers of TdF have lived the evolution of this territory from the times of an absent State. [...] [T]hey allied with their introduced animals, like the Patagonian sheep or the Fuegian beaver. At a time when, after the two world wars, the category of race had become [somewhat] scientifically delegitimized, the enhancement and industrialization of animals enabled the continuation of racializing politics.

In 1946, during the same livestock ceremony in TdF, the military government claimed:

This ceremony represents the patria; it spreads the purification of our races … It is our desire to produce an even more purified and refined race to, directly, achieve the aggrandizement of Argentina.

---

The increasing entanglement between animal breeding and the nation helped to continue the underlying Darwinist logic embedded in population politics. Previous explicit desires to whiten the Argentinian race started to be actualized in other terms. [...]

Settlers had not only legitimated their belonging to TdF by othering the indigenous [people], [...] but also through the idea that indigenous communities had gone extinct after genocide and disease. At that time, the “myth of extinction” helped in the construction of a uniform nation based on erasing difference, as a geography textbook for school students, Historia y Geografía Argentinas, explained in 1952: If in 1852 there were 900,000 inhabitants divided in 90,000 whites, 585,000 mestizos, 90,000 [Indigenous people] and 135,000 [...] Black, a century later there was a 90% of white population out of 18,000,000 inhabitants. (357) [...] [S]tate statistics contributed to the erasure of non-white peoples through the magic of numbers: it is not that they had disappeared, but that they had been statistically exceeded [...]. However, repressed communities never fully disappear.

---

Text by: Mara Dicenta. "The Beavercene: Eradication and Settler-Colonialism in Tierra del Fuego". Environment & Society Portal, Arcadia (Spring 2020), no. 1. Rachel Carson Center for Environment and Society. [Image by Mara Dicenta, included in original article. Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

[longliveblackness]

Stephen Bantu Biko

Stephen Biko was born in 1946, in King William's Town in the Eastern Cape, South Africa. As a medical student at the University of Natal, he was involved with the National Union of South African Students (NUSAS) and went on to found the South African Students' Association (SASO).

At a time when the African National Congress and Pan-Africanist Congress were banned by the government, SASO filled the political vacuum by evolving into the Black Consciousness Movement.

In 1972 Biko was expelled from the university, and the following year he was banned by the authorities. Despite this, he played a key role in organizing the protests that culminated in the Soweto Uprising of 1976.

He helped to unite over 70 black consciousness groups which helped to develop the Black Consciousness Movement and help advance the liberation struggle, building a vanguard party.

He was banned between 1975 and 1977 and caught, arrested and in police detention September 12, 1977 after being beaten mercilessly, he slipped into a coma to his death.

Although Biko never lived to write his memoirs, he left behind some revealing documents. African Lives includes a portion of an interview Biko gave to an American businessman a few months before he was detained and beaten to death.

He was assassinated because he represented power of African unity and the black consciousness and courage of the people. Long live the life, consciousness, courage, contributions and legacy of Stephen Bantu Biko. May his spirit live and manifest in future generations.

•••

Stephen Bantu Biko

Stephen Biko nació en 1946 en la ciudad del Rey William en la Provincia del Cabo, Sudáfrica. Cómo estudiante de medicina en la Universidad de Natal, estuvo involucrado con la Unión Nacional de Estudiantes Sudafricanos (NUSAS) y luego fundó la Organización de Estudiantes Sudafricanos (SASO).

En un tiempo en el cual el Congreso Nacional Africano y el Congreso Pan-Africanista fueron prohibidos por el gobierno, SASO llenó la aspiradora política al evolucionar y convertirse en el Movimiento de Conciencia Negra.

En 1972, Biko fue expulsado de la universidad y al año siguiente fue exiliado por las autoridades. A pesar de esto, él jugó un rol importante en organizar las protestas que llevaron a la Rebelión de Soweto de 1976.

Ayudó a unir alrededor de setenta grupos de conciencia negra, lo cual ayudó a desarrollar el Movimiento de Conciencia Negra y ayudó con los avances para la lucha por la liberación, así creando un partido vanguardista.

Fue exiliado desde el año 1975 hasta 1977 y el 12 de septiembre de 1977, fue arrestando y puesto bajo detención policial. Luego de haber sido atacado sin piedad alguna, cayó en coma y falleció.

Aunque Biko nunca vivió lo suficiente para escribir su autobiografía, dejó unos documentos muy reveladores. Vidas Africanas incluye una porción de una entrevista que Biko le dio a un empresario estadounidense unos meses antes de que fuese detenido y golpeado hasta morir.

Fue asesinado porque él representaba el poder de la unidad africana, la conciencia negra y la valentía del pueblo. Larga vida a la vida, al conocimiento, a la valentía, contribuciones y legado de Stephen Bantu Biko. Que su espíritu viva y se manifieste en futuras generaciones.

[yesornopolls]

do you identify with/relate to your respective generation category? (gen z, millennial, gen x, etc)

Baby Boom Generation Born 1946–1964 Generation X Born 1965–1980 Millennial Generation or Generation Y Born 1981–1996 Generation Z or iGen Born 1997–2010 Generation Alpha Born 2010-2024

[las-microfisuras]

“¿Por qué empecé a hacer cine? No lo sé. ¿Por qué sigo? ¿Prefieres que haga calceta para mis nietos? ¡Pues también lo hago! Yo solo sabía ver, mirar… no fui a la escuela de cine, ni fui asistente ni vi películas. En realidad solo vi cuatro hasta los 25 años”. ¿Cuáles? “La primera fue Blancanieves y los siete enanitos (1937) de Walt Disney, a los 8 años. Luego, como me gustaba mucho el poeta Jacques Prévert, vi ‘El muelle de las brumas’ y ‘Los niños del paraíso’ (dirigidas por Marcel Carné en 1938 y 1945, respectivamente). La otra fue El idiota (Georges Lampin, 1946) porque en aquella época estaba haciendo fotos del rodaje. En mi primera película –La pointe courte (1954)– el montaje lo hizo de manera desinteresada Alain Resnais. Él me decía que el film le recordaba a La terra trema de Luchino Visconti (1948), y yo le dije: ‘¿Quién es Visconti?’. No conocía a Antonioni, Bergman, Dreyer… nunca había oído hablar de ellos. Si yo hubiese visto las películas de esos directores, probablemente no habría tenido el coraje de hacer cine. Fue la inconsciencia la que me movió”.

Agnés Varda. Entrevista con David Saavedra, para revista Rockdelux, 2006 

[mexicoantiguo]

Imagen de la fachada y atrio del Templo de San Hipólito en México D.F.

Ca. 1907

Este templo es emblemático, dedicado a San Judas Tadeo, santo popularmente venerado por muchos fieles. Fue construida en el siglo XVI, en el sitio donde tuvo lugar la Batalla de la Noche Triste durante la conquista de México. Además de su relevancia religiosa, es un lugar de gran valor histórico.

La segunda torre fue construida en el siglo XX, específicamente en 1946, como parte de una ampliación y remodelación del templo.

[sagesolsticewrites]

Heat Wave

It’s the hottest summer Iowa’s had in a while. Your husband wears shorts. It gets even hotter.

Shoutout to Winnie (@winniemaywebber) for making yet another incredible playlist for this fic!

Warnings: mature content (dom/sub dynamics (sub!Harry, dom!Mrs.Crosby (you’re Jean, bc of course who else would you be?)), thigh riding, thigh biting 👀, teasing, praise kink, orgasm denial, this whole thing is roleplay “punishing” Harry for sleeping with Sandra), swearing, mentions of cheating (but not really bc there was a war on come on y’all; Mrs. Crosby in this fic has canonically forgiven him for it, this is just a way for them to have some fun), definitely some historical inaccuracies in here, and ofc including a whole separate warning for Anthony Boyle’s thighs <3 (this is an 18+ fic!! minors begone!!)

Word count: 1.5k

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Masterlist

It was June 1946, and it was the hottest summer in Iowa since the war had started.

You and Harry had opened all the windows in the house, hoping to let in some semblance of a breeze, but the air remained stagnant and stifling. You had resorted to foregoing a dress entirely, wearing the thinnest slip you had and simply praying that no one came to call on the two of you in your little house in the middle of nowhere, while your Bing had stripped down to just a pair of shorts and his undershirt, the glass of iced tea in his hand dripping condensation onto his bare thigh.

You can’t help but track the drop as it follows a path down the inside of your husband’s thigh to seep into the fabric of the worn armchair he’s currently collapsed in with his legs spread wide; the heat outside matching the building heat in your core as you take in his underdressed state.

He catches you staring with a knowing glint in his eye, setting his drink aside on the coffee table.

“Something I can help you with, Mrs. Crosby?”

Normally you would play coy, but something about the oppressive heat and the way your husband is sprawled out in that chair makes you want to try a different tactic.

“As a matter of fact there is, my darling Bing,” you purr, slinking over to his chair.

He eagerly leans up for a kiss, but you swerve, brushing gentle kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, his jaw… everywhere but his lips, where he really wants you.

Understanding dawns on his face, and his eyes fill with heat as he realizes it’s going to be one of those days.

“Honey, please,” he whines softly, a gasp escaping him as you trace up the inside of his thigh with one neatly manicured nail.

His hips buck up towards your hand, but you pull away quickly.

“Uh-uh,” you scold softly, tilting his chin up with two fingers so his eyes meet yours, “Not yet, sweetheart.”

He nods obediently, pretty brown eyes wholly enraptured by you.

“Good boy,” you murmur, brushing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before moving to kneel between his legs.

A soft whimper escapes your husband at the molten look you shoot him as you brush featherlight kisses up the inside of each of his thighs, his hands clenching around the armrests as he resists the urge to forcibly put you where he wants you.

You hear his breath catch as your mouth reaches the spot where his thigh and hip meet, still covered by his shorts, followed shortly by a desperate whine as your lips trace the same path back down his leg.

“No, sweetheart,” you murmur, punctuating it with a nip to the flesh of his thigh, “You were very bad when you were gone, remember?”

Your nails grazing lightly down his other thigh prompts a soft, gasping “Yes, yes, I remember.”

You reward him with a soft kiss to where your teeth just were, continuing.

“So, you don’t get to cum until I’ve decided you’ve made it up to me, ‘kay honey?”

He nods.

“Need your words, sweetheart.” You prod gently.

“I understand,” he breathes, desperation coloring his voice.

“Good boy,” you praise, and you descend.

You gently dig your teeth into the flesh of his thigh once more, nibbling and sucking a path along both of his thighs, peppering in gentle kisses as you go.

Your toes curl, wetness pooling between your legs at the soft whimpers, moans, and gasps that your husband is making above you.

Satisfied with the series of pretty purple marks decorating his flesh, you scatter several soft kisses across his skin before you stand, letting your slip hit the floor.

Bing swears softly as he takes in the sight of you, one hand creeping towards the prominent bulge at the apex of his thighs.

You raise a stern eyebrow, leaning over to tap his hand once.

“No touching,” you scold softly as he jerks his hand back to grip the armrest, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“‘M sorry, honey, I just… you’re so pretty…”

“Being sweet to me won’t make me go easier on you, my love,” you murmur, though part of you melts at the compliment.

Your husband lets out a soft groan of “oh, Christ,” as you shed your panties and move to straddle his leg, slowly sinking down onto his broad quadricep.

You pull his face towards you, two fingers under his chin, to breathe against his lips.

“Remember,” you say, taking in his pretty eyes, pupils blown wide as you slowly rock back and forth on his leg, “You don’t get to cum until I say so.”

He nods frantically, a strangled “Yes” his only response as you begin to grind against him in earnest.

You can’t quite bring yourself to stifle your moans at the feeling of your core gliding along Harry’s bare thigh, and your husband’s already darkened eyes turn almost black at the sound.

“F-fuck, honey, you feel so good,” you gasp against his lips, praise tumbling from your lips as tension builds just below your belly, “Being so good for me, letting me use you like this—”

Your husband lets out a strangled moan, knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping the chair.

“Honey… Honey, please let me cum,” he whines after several minutes of your agonizing teasing, his breath hot on your mouth, “Haven’t I been good? I don’t—” he cuts off with a pleading groan as your nails rake down his back, your pace increasing.

“Fuck, I don’t know if I can last much longer, honey, please.” 

One of your hands comes up to grip his hair at the roots, dark curls deliciously soft under your fingers. You murmur against his lips as he lets out a soft hiss, “Make me cum first, baby, and then I might let you.”

 He moans into your mouth, flexing his thigh against you and causing you to gasp at the new angle.

“Oh, Christ, just like that, honey,” you groan, grinding desperately against him, a stuttering moan escaping you as you stammer “I’m— ‘m gonna—”

You muffle your cry in his neck as you reach your peak, grinding slowly against him as you ride out your climax.

Harry whimpers in your ear as your leg brushes his bulge.

“Sweetheart— please, can I—?”

“Yes, honey,” you say, pulling him into you for a heated, open-mouthed kiss as your hand dives into his shorts to wrap around his length, “Did so, so good for me, you can let go now, baby”

It only takes a few pumps, your hand slick with the precum leaking from his tip, before he’s spilling into your hand with a cry.

The two of you catch your breath, foreheads pressed together.

“Wow, sweetheart,” Harry says, huffing out a laugh.

You giggle, pulling him in for a kiss that you can’t help smiling into.

“It wasn’t too much, right?” You ask, pulling away to scan his face for any hint of unease.

“Not at all, honey,” your husband assures you with a sweet kiss to your forehead, reaching to pass you a rag sitting on the table so you can clean your hand off.

You stand, sliding your slip back on before settling in next to him, one arm wrapping around your shoulders and tucking you in close.

“So,” Harry says, a cheeky grin lighting up his face, “Have I made up for it yet, my love?”

You pretend to think for a moment, a smirk on your face as you reply.

“For now, honey. For now.”

A quiet moment passes, and you turn to press your lips to his shoulder in a gentle kiss.

“You know I’m not really upset about what happened when you were gone,” you say softly, fingers tangling with his, “right, honey? I know things were tough, things were… unspeakably bad, and you were doing what you had to do to stay sane so you could get through it and come back to me.”

Your husband lets out a soft sigh, squeezing your fingers with a smile at the reassurance that’s become routine after moments like these.

“I know, sweetheart. I—” His voice goes soft, gratitude seeping into every word as he traces your jaw with his fingertips, eyes tracing over your features as if he still can’t believe you’re real, “I thought about you every day when I was over there. I missed you so, so much.”

You lean into his touch. In the months he’s been home, you still haven’t been able to get enough of him being here, being able to touch you, and you in turn being able to touch him. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too, angel.”

[noticiasarquelogicasjaponesas]

Chapter 2: Pre-Jomon Japan Welcome, Japanese archaeologists, to a new archaeological installment. Having said that, make yourself comfortable and let's begin. - In the previous publication we made a short description, commenting on where the Kasuke neighborhood of the city of Midori is located, Gunma prefecture in the northern region of Kantō, we also commented on when the Upper Paleolithic dates back to 35,000 / 25,000 BC. Currently the Iwajuku III culture is 40,000 and possibly even older, only future research will shed more light on this culture and the Japanese passage, its discoverer was Tadahiro Aizawa, during the 1946 showa era of post-war Japan, excavation has continued until our present that corresponds to the Heisei era. - I hope you liked it and see you in future posts, have a good week. 第2章: 縄文以前の日本 日本の考古学者の皆さん、新しい考古学へようこそ。そうは言っても、気を楽にして始めましょう。 - 前回の出版物では、関東北部の群馬県みどり市の嘉助地区がどこにあるかについて簡単な説明を行い、上部旧石器時代がいつ紀元前 35,000 年 / 25,000 年に遡るかについてもコメントしました。現在、岩宿Ⅲ文化は 40,000 個あり、おそらくさらに古いものである可能性があります。この文化と日本語の歴史にさらに光を当てるのは将来の研究だけです。その発見者は相沢忠宏で、戦後日本の 1946 年の昭和時代に、発掘は現在まで続けられています。それは平成に相当します。 - 気に入っていただければ幸いです。今後の投稿でお会いしましょう。良い一週間をお過ごしください。 - Capítulo 2: El japón pre-Jomon  Sean bienvenidos, japonistasarqueologos, a una nueva entrega, arqueológica, una vez dicho esto pónganse cómodos que empezamos.  - En la publicación anterior hicimos una pequeña descripción, comentando donde se localiza el barrio de Kasuke de la ciudad de Midori, prefectura de Gunma en la región norte de Kantō, también comentamos de cuando data paleolítico superior 35.000 / 25000 a.c. Actualmente la cultura Iwajuku III y es de 40.000 e incluso más antigua posiblemente, únicamente futuras investigaciones arrojará más luz sobre esta cultura y el pasadizo japonés, su descubridor fue Tadahiro Aizawa, durante la era showa 1946 del Japón de la posguerra, se ha seguido excavando hasta nuestro presente que corresponde a la era Heisei.  -  Espero que os haya gustado y nos vemos en próximas publicaciones que pasen una buena semana.

[temporarywelcome]

Fic Schedule Update...

omg I had a few requests come in thank you yall so here is my revised fic schedule as of now:

-Kai Anderson x Reader

For a few years of Kai's childhood, he had Y/N, his protector. She always taught him one thing: Men are scum. But he could be the exception. Fifteen years later, she gets him at his most vulnerable place after the death of his parents, using that to her advantage for her own political agenda. (pretty much extreme blue-pilled Kai)

-James Patrick March x Reader

Part two of "Devil's Night: 1946". Reader's fiance comes searching for her, so James shows him who she really chooses.

-Spencer Reid x Reader

Rossi hosts a party, having to invite Spencer's klepto gf. He doesn't trust her one bit.

-James Patrick March x Reader

Prequel to "Devil's Night: 1946". During intimacy, James suggests trying blood play, tricking reader to drink a sufficient amount of blood to change her into a vampire.

-Spencer Reid x Reader

-Reader is a lawyer who has to work with the BAU for a few cases. She and Spencer don't get along at first but eventually become friends and start to pine for each other. Reader attempts to ask him out but he misunderstands and embarrasses her. After avoiding him, Spencer confronts her demanding answers.

Kit Walker x Reader (PLATONIC)

-Emphasis on PLATONIC. Reader is a nun at Briarcliff that Kit becomes friends with. Shit happens, and she's framed for something she didn't do, about to be relieved of her duties at both the asylum and convent. Kit immediately takes the blame for her. Also if you sexualize nuns, priests, or any religious figure of any religion I don't like you.

The X-Factor Ch.4 (Peter Maximoff x Reader)

Peter Maximoff smut

I get it yall horny af for him me too

______

Hopefully they'll all be out by the end of next week.

[imaginedreamwrite]

“I’m telling you Steve, this is the perfect place!” Bucky’s arm was a slung around Steve’s neck, his directional pull steering the two.

“You bought a house, Buck? You’re not even—” Steve’s minor protest had fallen short when the two stepped into a concrete sidewalk in front of a white picket fenced house.

There was a brickwork chimney still dusted with coal and ash that needed to be cleaned, a porch that wrapped halfway around the back of the house with a covering that led to a back garden. There was an enclosed front porch that had a swing off to the left, and a screen that was off hilted.

The fence around the front of the property needed a fresh coat of paint and a few minor repairs. It was a nice home, beautiful really and full of character, and Steve wished to see inside however it was the sign hanging off the gate that he was distracted by.

“This is gonna be my home, Stevie. Y/N and I…” Bucky had inhaled softly, he had smiled wide and raised his hands like trying to frame a picture. “…this is our house.”

“Bucky Barnes & Y/N Barnes,” Steve read the hand painted sign, the uneven and scuffed edges just adding more character to this whole place, “you bought her a house?”

“Its 1938, Steve. Its time to settle down and plan for the future.” Bucky had tugged on Steve’s coat, leading him through the gate in the fence toward the front garden. “Y/N is gonna be my wife and a mother…”

A pant of envy hit Steve. Jealousy and envy as he thought of Bucky getting everything he only wished he could have.

Steve wanted a wife, Steve wanted a house and a family.

Steve wanted to be able to live without ailments that kept him down.

“I’m happy for you, Bucky.” Steve swallowed his true feelings, he pushed it as deep inside himself as he could in favour of showing a good face.

He couldn’t let Bucky know how he felt.

“Come on, punk. Let’s go see it inside.” Bucky grinned and tugged Steve behind him, up the front steps to the front door.

Bucky had plans, he was going to settle down and get married. He was going to have a family in this cute little house.

Bucky had plans, he had a future.

And yet it was Steve who stood on the steps of that same house in 1946 with a handful of flowers and anguish on his shoulders.

“I wish I could’ve done more.” Steve’s empathy was expressed through his shaking hands and trembling voice. “I tried, Y/N. I tried to save him.”

And as you stepped aside to let him inside, Steve felt just as broken as he had before he got the serum. He was just as weak, just as broken.

“Let me make tea. You sit.” Steve helped you back into the living room while he offered to serve you.

It was the only promise he made to Bucky that he could complete.

[eddy25960]

Obra: NIÑO REMENDANDO SU CAMISA.

Artista: ALFRED SMIT(1853-1946).

Fue un acuarelista, pintor al óleo y artista de género [británico](https://www.tuttartpitturasculturapoesiamusica.com/2014/08/British-Artists.html) que a menudo realizó imágenes de interiores de cabañas que mostraban la vida doméstica y figuras en los interiores de las cabañas de una manera romántica hacia fines del siglo XIX.

Era hijo de un grabador de acero y pasó parte de sus primeros años educándose en Francia.

El artista también estudió en la Escuela de Arte Slade, ganando medallas de oro y plata.

Se convirtió en uno de los acuarelistas técnicamente más consumados del final del período victoriano.

[yoestuveaquiunavezfrases21]

1946 - Siempre me siento feliz, ¿sabes por qué? Porque no espero nada de nadie, esperar siempre duele. Los problemas no son eternos, siempre tienen solución, lo único que no se resuelve es la muerte. La vida es corta, por eso ámala, se feliz y siempre sonríe, solo vive intensamente para ti.”

(William Shakespeare)

[billboard-hotties-tourney]

Graham Nash (1942-) The Hollies - rhythm guitar and backing vocals; CSN(Y) - guitar and vocals Songs: "Our House," "Marrakesh Express" Propaganda: "Great fucking hair"

Gram Parsons (1946-1973) The Byrds - rhythm guitar and piano; The Flying Burrito Brothers - vocals and guitar Songs: "Christine's Tune," "Wild Horses" Propaganda: none

[kaepop-trash]

Notorious: Act IV

Rated: 18+ ONLY, Smut, Neo-Noir, Femme Fatale, Undercover Agent, Criminal, Exes to "Lovers", Mutual Pining, Cat and Mouse dynamics but make it hurt.

Pairing: JaehyunxReaderxJohnny

Summary: Inspired by Notorious (1946), Ever since your father went to jail for an illegal arms trade, a lot had changed in your life. Your present was about living with a tarnished reputation, the only redemption being a strange man who you agreed to help get to the root of the same trade that ruined your family. Still, just as you were adjusting to that very man, your past came back to haunt you. The only part of your past that had ever been happy till it wasn't, a part you could leave behind but never forget. But if Johnny was your past and Jaehyun your present, what would your future be?

Chapter Summary: Johnny asks (Y/N) for a precious favour. Jaehyun is against it and she isn't too keen on it either. What do you do when your worst fears come true?

Warnings: Smut; Fingering, Penetration, unprotected sex; Strong themes of alchoholism, emotional abuse, emotional manipulation, gaslighting. THIS IS NOT MEANT TO BE ASPIRATIONAL.

Word Count: 9.7k

(A/N): This took me a very long time because it was very heavy to write. Without getting too much into it, I just hope everyone can forgive me for being so inconsistent.

Act I | Act II | Act III

Taglist: @commentgirl @sadgirlroo @nak4m8to @babyksworld @milkyway-vxm @hwangfulok-blog

Johnny took her hand in his under the table, an old habit that she had just learned to live with by now. The immobility the gesture gave, made it hard to open the menu so she just leaned over to the side to peer into his.

(Y/N) could see his lips tug from the corner of her eye at the gesture as he brushed a kiss against her temple. When she turned, he gave her a pursed smile, eyes glimmering with the light that had slowly started returning in the past month. The same glimmer that made her fall in love with him once upon a time.

“You should get the shrimp pasta, they make it really well here.” His voice was soft. She had to look away to ignore the thumping in her chest, giving him a nod. He was happier lately, more than perhaps she could recall. The only time she could remember him being happier was the day he got on one knee in front of her.

(Y/N) pulled herself out of her thoughts with a harsh tug, “Sure, that sounds good.” She shrugged. “I’ll have that and a glass of rosé.”

“You’re not drinking.” He stated with a brisk finality.

“Why not?” She turned to give him a frown. “I want a glass of rosé.”

“You don’t need it though, sweetheart.” He lifted her hand, giving it a kiss. “It’s just a glass of wine.”

“Exactly.” She pulled her hand out of his, “It’s just a glass of wine that I want to pair my food with.

Johnny sighed, “I’m just looking out for you.”

“I appreciate it.” She spoke, clearly not meaning it. “I’m still getting myself what I want.

“(Y/N).” His voice was an impatient warning that he tried to soften with a sigh.

“Stop speaking.” She didn’t soften the warning in her tone. “You can’t make decisions for me.”

“Why are you being like this?” Johnny frowned, “I’ve noticed that you drink too much and I’m just concerned. Why are you making me sound like a villain?” He sounded hurt, brows furrowing.

She stared at him for a moment, feeling whiplash from how rapidly he made her feel nineteen years old again. She had to look away to curb her anger. She reminded herself that she wasn’t nineteen anymore and took a deep breath instead of just spitting her anger out at him. She was not going to make it easier for him.

“I’m not trying to make you sound like a villain. That was not my intention, I apologise if it sounded like that.” She surrendered, looking away and catching a waiter’s eye.

Johnny looked extremely confused from her admittance, forehead creasing for a second before he sighed and gave her a tight lip smile. Johnny had been ready for a fight. One where he could emerge as the martyr, as was his habit. And she was not going to make it easy.

“I just want what’s best for you.” He reasoned.

“I know. I’m sorry.” She hummed, looking up just as the waiter approached. When it looked like Johnny was going to reach for her hand, she busied it by reaching for her glass of water. Johnny didn’t say anything, neither did he make any further attempt to touch her. When the waiter asked if they wanted something to drink with their food, she said no.

“They have a raspberry pudding on the menu.” Johnny spoke for the first time once their plates were empty. "Should we order some?" He asked, speaking like he was walking on eggshells.

"Sure." She spoke, giving him a compliant nod. Johnny flexed his jaw, turning away from her to call a waiter. His forehead creased with clear markings of irritation. The audacity of it offended her, but she willed herself to keep her mouth shut and they finished their dinner in silence.

They made it back to his house like that, Johnny following behind her as they ascended the stairs that led to the living room.

"Why are you angry at me when I was just looking out for you?" He spoke just as she turned to go upstairs to the bedroom.

"Who said I'm angry?" She resisted the urge to frown.

"You are angry." He huffed.

She turned to him with eyes void of any emotion at all. "No I'm not.” She lied. “You just want me to be angry because then you can tell me how you were looking out for me and how I'm not justified in my anger."

Johnny looked a little caught off guard by the assessment, yet recovering in a beat. "I was looking out for you."

Sharp anger rose to her head from the repeated sentence. Like if he said it enough times, she'd somehow believe him. Or he’d believe himself.

"I know. And I am not angry. I said I'm sorry to you then. So why are we having this conversation?” She furrowed her brows, feigning confusion.

“I know you. I especially know your anger.” He injected.

“Was deciding what I'll consume not enough? Now you want to decide how I'm feeling?" The words slipped off her lips with increasing hostility, realising too late when Johnny's frown unfurled. He had trapped her.

"I thought you weren't angry." He took a step closer towards her.

"I'm not." She turned away from him, feeling like a child caught in a lie.

"I wasn't trying to control you.” He took a step on the stairs, coming around her to meet her gaze— and to tower over her. “I was just doing what someone who cares would." He tried to reason, tone still infuriatingly chastising.

"I didn't say you were controlling me." She said without bite, not looking up at him, adamant to not give him anything to use against her again. She knew how he fought, always ready to make himself the victim so she was left to be the perpetrator.

"In only so many words." He came closer, putting a hand over the one she had on the railing. "I just don't see why you drink all the time. You almost finished the whiskey I keep in the office." His tone changed and she tried to move away from the concern.

"I'll buy you more." She tried to go around him, stopping when he squeezed her hand to curb her ascend.

"You know that's not what this is about." His voice edged on a sense of betrayal. "I know things haven't been easy for you. Nobody knows that more than me. But this isn't the answer. Sometimes we need to face things instead of hiding behind temporary solutions."

She gripped her own jaw this time, tight me enough that her cheekbones ached.

"You're assuming too much." Her voice was low, a dangerous line where any louder would make the rolling fury in her erupt. "I'm not hiding." She turned to look at him, "I'm sorry my drinking concerns you. But I don't do it as a crutch." She defended herself, neither of them believing her words entirely.

Johnny looked like he was going to say something but he let go, leaning closer to kiss her brow instead.

"Let's not be like this. I don't want us to fight over every little thing like we used to." He mumbled against her, pulling away to give her a smile and pulling her hand away from the railing into his.

She didn't protest, giving him a nod that they both knew was half hearted.

That night (Y/N) went home. Johnny didn't say anything when she asked to be dropped to the apartment, he knew why. She always took time to be by herself when she was angry. He always told himself that it wasn't to be away from him, but to see the arguments with a much needed distance. He always told himself that she did exactly what he did. And he accepted it because out of all the times she left, it was only once when she didn't come back. He knew this time wouldn’t be the second.

A few days later he asked to meet her at a cafe on Copacabana. Without considering it a choice, she went.

"I'm getting an award." Johnny spoke first, taking the time to drink his coffee before doing so.

Her lips parted to silence, unsure about how to react. "For what?" She asked, swallowing after.

Johnny failed to bite down the smile at the corner of his lips, "Some business award. The company made good profits last year."

"That's great, Johnny. I’m so proud of you." She gave him a smile, weak despite her conscious effort.

"I want you to come with me." He added, stumbling over the words.

"Where would we go?" She questioned with a lighter tone. Johnny didn't respond immediately, instead avoiding her gaze and fidgeting with the handle of his small espresso cup. Realisation dawned on her, squeezing her lungs painfully. "No. I can't." She wanted to sound firm but her words came out a plea.

"It'll just be for three days. It'll be over before you know it. Just an evening of meeting a few strangers." He added with a soft look in his eyes.

"Johnny, I–" she tried to reason, to explain to him how he was asking the impossible of her. "Everybody will talk. Home is–" her words failed her again.

"I know." He reached across the table, grabbing her hand. "But I'll be right there with you. It's an important day for me, (Y/N). It's an important day for the business. So many of my father's family fought tooth and nail to break the company apart. They said I could never take on my father's mantle." His fingers squeezed her palm. Unintentionally, she noted.

"This award." His jaw flexed, "It's a product of every effort I put, everything I've sacrificed. It's proof that all of it was worth something in the end." His eyes clouded with some far away storm, mirroring the encroaching clouds above them. “For them, at least.”

He snapped out of it at the moment, looking at her with a soft smile, "Everybody else there will be an enemy or a stranger. I want you to be there. You're all I have."

His words made the pressure on her lungs shift to the cavity of her heart, pressing down with a punishing weight. There was nothing to say to such a heartfelt plea. It didn't matter that going back home was something that would bring her nothing good, not when the alternate was so heartbreaking.

She could picture Johnny standing there, receiving some mass produced trophy while apathetic and vindictive people all watched and clapped. 

It also seemed to make her see how lonely he must have been all these years. All his achievements, small and big, as well as his failures passing by without a person to pat his back or lend their shoulder. 

"Alright. I'll come." The way the simple gesture made his entire face light up did not make her feel good. These days she was found guilt becoming a chronic pain— one that bothered constantly but had bouts of intensity.

The Two Faces of Concern

“You can’t go.” He got off the sofa in a fury. “We don’t know what kind of people he associates with. We don’t know what could go wrong.” His brows fluffed up in fury, knitting together impossibly tight.

“I don’t have a choice.” She looked to the floor, confused and angered by his demeanor. “What am I supposed to say when he asks me to go with him for something so important?”

“You say you’ll think about it.” He added with an incredulous fury. “Then you come to me! And I we come up with an excuse for you.” His voice rose higher.

“That’s not going to work.” She needed to pause. After so many years, such constant bouts of anger felt unsettling to her. “You don’t know him. That’s why I’m here. Your boss gave me a task. To keep him close and to keep an ear out. I am doing exactly what I was told to do.”

“You can’t do anything if you’re dead!” He pointed his hand at her, his gesture and tone bordering on accusatory. He paused, taking a step back and swallowing. Jaehyun cursed under his breath, a hand coming to his waist while the other rubbed his face.

He walked a few steps around the room, trying to calm down it seemed, before coming back to her. This time he kneeled in front of her, taking her hands in his. “Listen to me.” He urged. “Look at me, (Y/N).” He practically pleaded. The desperation in his tone was the only reason she turned to face him. “I know that you think you’re safe. I know you believe you know this man because you knew him once. But you don’t know what he’s capable of. What he’s already done.” He sighed, no doubt understanding the stubborn refusal in her.

Jaehyun’s head dropped, looking defeated. “If something happened to you. I would never forgive myself.” He put a hand on her thigh. The way she turned to glare at it made him recoil. “You’re my responsibility.” He spoke after swallowing the hurt from her gesture. “I’m the sole reason you agreed to do this.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She interjected. She thought the blow would make her feel good about herself. But seeing his face drop only tugged at her now sore chest.

“Why did you agree to go?” He asked, his eyes turning into frigid slits.

“I didn’t think I had a choice.” She repeated herself, each word uttered with a pause to emphasize.

“You always have a choice.” He threw his reciprocating blow with a featherlight tone. Her lips parted from offense, ready to defend herself. But he clarified, “I’ve been watching you. I’ve seen how you change around him.” His accusations cut through her like knives.

“And what change is that, pray tell?” She questioned.

“Your edges soften around him. You let him sway you with his words. You believe his lies despite yourself.” He assessed clinically, like a man whose job it is to read people.

“I feel sorry for him!” Hot tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, “Surely you can at least try to understand how it must feel. And I'm always tiptoeing around him because your boss wants me to keep him happy!" She deflected the accusation, distantly wondering why she was getting so defensive.

“He’s devoted to you.” Jaehyun simply stated, looking away from her with a grimace.

"I know." She spoke around the lump forming in her throat at her own confession. "Which is why your caution is out of line."

"The more the devotion, the more betrayal he will feel eventually, (Y/N). Remember that when you're in a different country with him, out of my reach. When I can't save you if something happens." He cautioned still.

Maybe his words made her feel like a child, something she hated feeling, because her next words were self-admittedly out of line.

"I'm out of your reach every time I'm in his bed too, Jaehyun." The words were no louder than a pin dropping. “He could choked me to death while inside me and you wouldn’t know.”

Jaehyun got up in a huff that left a gust of air in it's wake. He turned away from her swiftly as she tried to push down the part of her that wanted to take the words back.

"When are you leaving?" He questioned, adjusting his clothes and distracting himself.

"Day after." She answered dispassionately.

"The least you can do is keep me updated on your whereabouts. The captain will need a report on it." He was already ready to walk away.

"Sure." Her response was the final task he had, taking long strides and shutting his bedroom door with a loud thud.

She sighed, the solitude allowing her to finally drop each pretense she had to keep up just to survive each day. 

Tears were almost commonplace on her lashes now. Angry tears, frustrated tears, heartbroken tears and tears of defeat. But each fresh bout always left her feeling betrayed by her own body.

Home

Coming home was odd. Even from the moment she landed, the airport was very familiar to her. Johnny didn't point out how silent she was ever since they landed. In fact, he seemed deep in his own thoughts while both of them watched the familiar streets pass by.

(Y/N) was so engrossed in her thoughts that it took her a while to realise that that the streets they passed were a little too familiar. When they stopped in front of a building she would recognise anywhere, her heart dropped into her stomach. When she turned to look at Johnny, his smile was a small one. The gleam in his eyes though was unmistakable.

“How?” She questioned, voice barely above a whisper.

“Let’s go home first, I’ll tell you upstairs.” He told her, reaching over to take her hand in his. To go Home.

Walking into her old apartment was like being transported back in time. Everything was as she remembered, including the little trinkets of decoration scattered around the space. The teal vase on the table in front of the foyer, the dark green couch, even the white curtains were all things she had bought herself once upon a time. (Y/N) was speechless.

“When I heard they were auctioning your father’s estate after the trial, I tried not to give it mind.” Johnny spoke after closing the door behind him. “But I ended up looking up the catalogue.” She could hear him come closer, her eyes still busy scanning her old apartment. “When I saw that this apartment was on the list. I couldn’t help myself.” He stopped a few steps behind her.

“How?” Her voice gave away her surprise, “How did you pay for it? Your father was still–” She stopped, unsure of whether that was a line she could tow.

“He didn’t even know about it.” He stated with a razor thin edge to his voice. “I broke my trust fund and managed to buy the place with everything intact.” He continued, sounding so utterly dismissive about it.

“Johnny.” She finally turned to face him, all the building emotions bubbling up her throat. 

“This was my home too.” His hands remained in his pocket, eyes on the floor. “In my entire life, this was the place I was the happiest. I wasn’t ready to let that go. Especially when it was one of the rare things I had the power to keep.”

She could understand his feelings even if the gesture overwhelmed her. She remained silent for a moment longer, just looking him over till Johnny shifted under the prolonged scrutiny.

“You’re making me nervous.” His forehead creased. The chuckle that left him was dry.

Good. She thought, now he knew how she felt around him all those years ago.

“Say something.” He added with a smaller voice. "Please."

She took two steps till he was in arm’s reach, clutching at his t-shirt to pull him the rest of the way. Their lips met in a clumsy crash, teeth clashing into teeth. Johnny’s arms snaked around her waist to control the pace.

There was no haste in their movements anymore. Johnny had nothing to prove this time, and she had nowhere to hide. It was a slow kiss that only existed to exist. Like walking around your house in the dark because you know every turn like the back of your hand.

When his hips pressed against hers, she stumbled back with confidence. Letting instinct take over, they moved towards the destination known to them instinctually. She didn’t even realise where she was stumbling to till her back pressed against the piano.

His hands dragged down her back, and she leapt without being told, arms resting on his neck. Gingerly, he sat her down on the polished black surface.

“This is still my favourite place to fuck you.” He whispered against her mouth, peppering kisses over her face as he stroked her dress higher up her thighs.

“Me too.” She answered, tugging his belt off with a quick tug.

“I have waited.” He spoke between his increasingly heavy kisses, “I’ve laboured.” He nipped against her shoulders, “I even prayed.” His tongue swirled over the vein on her neck, bringing short gasps from her. “And I would have done more.” He dragged his teeth over her skin, making the hairs on the back of her neck rise. “I would drag down heaven to earth, if it meant I could have you back here. That’s why I couldn’t let this place go. Because I will never let you go.” 

His words left her light-headed, unable to breathe. After tugging his pants below his waist, she sighed with relief when he pulled it off the rest of the way himself. Her hands reached the hem of his shirt just as his index tapped her thigh, a silent request to lift her hips off the piano. The remainder of their clothes hit the floor together, lips crashing together shortly after the interruption.

“Sometimes I think I’ve finally gone crazy. That I wished for you so bad that I created an illusion just to survive.” His laboured breath fanned her neck.

“I told you.” The strain of her breath matched his, “If this was a dream it would be easier.” His fingers brushed over her naked heat, slipping into her slowly.

“No.” He said as her eyes fluttered shut, “I wouldn’t be, (Y/N). I love all of you. Even my illusions would be of who you are, not who you can be.”

“Including the difficult parts?” Her jaw dropped when he began scissoring his fingers.

“Especially those. But you already know that.” He kept up his ministrations till Johnny was satisfied that he’s stretched her out well. "I know you feel the same." There was a fragile hope in his voice.

“I can’t love what I don’t know.” Her heart began hammering, and it had nothing to do with how he brushed over her G-spot. She willed her eyes to look into his, “Tell me your worst.” She requested, eyes meek but voice resolute. Her form faltered when he began to enter her without warning, easing himself in a few inches at a time. “You already know all of mine.” She lied.

“I will. One of these days.” He promised, both of them groaning when he filled her up completely.

She knew his words were a lie. Johnny would never tell her the truth. It wasn't because he didn’t want to, she knew that he craved understanding more than anything else. His claims of seeing her so absolutely came with the desire to want to be seen with the same transparency. But he’d hold the secret to himself because he knew her. 

He knew that she would struggle to accept the reality of who he was. Two months ago, he would have been right. These days she felt like this charade was marking itself on her skin.

“Johnny.” She moaned when she felt her gut tie into a knot. “Don’t stop.” She pawed at his chest, unsure whether she wanted to pull him closer or push him away.

“Never.” He promised again, leaving a trail of gentle kisses all over her face as he increased his pace. He watched her intently as her face scrunched up, her jaw going slack as she came crashing down.

She wasn’t sure when he came, but when he pulled out, she felt the warmth ooze out of her. Exhausted from the long trip and everything that followed, her thoughts lost the ability to linger, and she simply leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder, surrendering her weight soon after. He picked her up with ease, lifted her legs to wrap around his waist and guided them to the bedroom that was once hers— that they once shared during a time when the future felt a lot more certain. 

She fell asleep in his arms and, for the first time in years, it felt right. She blamed her old apartment and her sleep-addled brain for it. With your eyes closed, it was hard to remember when in time she was.

The next two days were spent locked away. The days were passed between the sheets, caught between the memories of a once-perfect life. 

Johnny was lighter here. His eyes were brighter and he was less burdened by his own notions. It felt closest to the Johnny she was once crazy about from afar. It was the Johnny she went to watch at basketball matches in school and then at his University when he graduated before her. She didn't even like basketball.

He even resorted to his old sense of humour. One she had almost not noticed the lack of. Despite all signs pointing to otherwise, (Y/N) always knew Johnny for his intensity. To see him like that all the time now had begun to feel natural to her.

So it surprised her when she seemed to easily match his quips with her own. He was surprised too, she could tell with a dizzying sense of glee. For the first time, their relationship seemed to be on equal footing. Even if the relationship itself was a sham.

"Have you decided what you want to wear to the ceremony?" Johnny questioned over breakfast on the third day. 

She shook her head at her omlette, "I figured you'll pick." She shrugged.

Johnny looked pleased when she met his eyes, trying to hide it like he was caught. "I wasn't sure if you wanted me to." He stated as he reached for his juice.

"Why not?" She frowned, "You always pick outfits for these things."

"That's exactly why I wasn't sure."

She felt ambushed by the remark, not sure why he sounded so aggrieved. Not wanting to ruin a good week they had been having, she acted like she didn't notice.

"One less thing to worry about." She tried to keep her her tone light, brushing it off with a shrug.

She ended up joining him on a quick errand run in the afternoon. He promised to quickly drop something off at the office before taking her to buy something. Having nothing better to do, she agreed.

When she walked into Johnny's office, she was aware that people watched as they walked by. Despite only coming into the building a handful of times her entire life, it was understandable that they knew who she was. The lingering whispers told her that they probably knew what she had once done too, or what her father did. It was like the moment she left the safety of seclusion, she was reminded once again how stifling this world could be.

(Y/N) stood in the changing room, running her hands over the fitted bust of the dress on her. She tried to picture herself, standing beside Johnny on an occasion where he was the guest of honour. All eyes on him, and as a consequence on her. Her hand turned over, knuckles digging into the beading on the corset. Did she look like she deserved to stand beside a man like that?

The last thought soured in her mind the very next second, a burdensome idea that pulled out the rotting creature inside her— the creature of habit. She walked out to look for the attendant to unzip her, only to find that Johnny had returned from browsing the shop. He looked up when he heard the curtains draw open, his attention seizing immediately.

"You look beautiful." He told her, eyes dragging over her entire form before coming back to her eyes and making her cheeks heat up.

"I don't like it too much." She looked away from him, busying herself with scanning the rack of clothes she had picked for fun. All in an attempt to avoid second guessing herself in the face of his compliment.

"I picked something for you." She didn't know when he had moved so close, gasping when his breath hit the back of her neck.

Her fingers stilled on a dress she thought would flatter her, a dress she could actually like. "Show me." She asked softly.

She ended up picking the dress Johnny picked. Looking in the mirror, it felt like the dress that most suited the intention she was going for. Most importantly, Johnny looked happy when they left the boutique.

He was still grinning when they got into the car. He turned to her with the kind of sparkle in his eyes that still never failed to make her heart skip a small beat. She blamed this on the fact that those sparkles were now rare.

“I just have one last thing to do and then we can go home. Do you want to get dinner before that or do you want to eat at home?” He reached over to take her hand in his.

“Let’s just eat out. I don’t want you to go back and cook, that’s too exhausting.”

“I don’t mind.” He shrugged.

“Yeah but I do.” She laughed, “I want you to myself after we get home.” She looked away from him with a coy smile. Laughing when Johnny leaned closer as she predicted.

“You know how to convince a man, (Y/N).” He teased her.

“I know how to convince you.” Her eyes rolled back as his lips pressed against her neck, lips parting when he hummed.

“Of course you do. I am a lucky man, after all." He placed a kiss on her neck, lingering long enough to elicit a reaction from her.

The driver stopped, silently signalling their arrival. (Y/N) looked out the window, confused about what she saw. 

“A jewellery store? Should I be worried?” She only partially joked, swallowing her folly when he gave her a half-hearted smile in response.

"Rin is getting married next month. I wanted to get her something nice." 

“Oh,” was all she could manage in response. "But she's so young." She mumbled, picturing the small girl that followed Johnny around.

He laughed, his cheeks stretching into the whiskers she hadn’t seen in years till that moment. "She's younger than us for sure." He reached out, taking her hands into hers. "But old enough to start her own family, I guess." He squeezed her knuckles once before giving a tug. "Let's go?"

"Oh, I-" She looked out of the window beside her, "What will I do?" She said awkwardly.

"Give your fashionable opinion on what to get." He shrugged avoiding her gaze, opening the door on his side to the curb.

(Y/N) felt confused by the change in his demeanour but nodded with a smile, following him out of the vehicle. Johnny took her hand in his, squeezing it once again.

“You look so beautiful today.” He gave her a tight lipped smile, not really looking at her before saying it. 

Her brows knit together, wondering why he was acting strange. The question was bubbling up to her lips as they walked into the store. And then a sound made her turn to look.

“Johnny!” Rin squealed with a wide grin. The next moment her eyes fell on (Y/N). Her smile flipped instantly, gaze steeling over. Johnny squeezed her hand again.

“Have you picked anything yet?” He asked back, trying to hide the strain in his voice with a breezy laugh.

Rin didn’t speak, she didn’t move. All she did was stare at (Y/N), eyes full of suspicion and disgust. (Y/N) pictured the Rin she remembered, with the wide and kind smile that both her and Johnny got from their mothers.

(Y/N) wished the ground would swallow her, or a strong wind would sweep her away.

“What is she doing here?” Another voice chimed in, Rin’s mother. (Y/N) squeezed Johnny’s hand, he didn’t reciprocate.

Rin’s eyes caught the moment, falling to their joined palms. “They’re back together.” She said in tandem with her realisation, turning back to face her mother. A silent conversation passed between them where (Y/N) only caught the look on the mother’s face. More distrust, even more disgust. 

Johnny’s aunt never liked (Y/N). Her family was a newcomer in their circle, moving into town after her grandfather sold their ancestral property to his government. (Y/N)’s family was older than theirs, and they were richer than Rin’s father. 

(Y/N) and her father were born in this city. But to Rin’s mother and those like her, (Y/N) was always going to be just one thing. A foreigner.

“Yes we are.” Johnny spoke up after several moments, his voice small. He tugged at her hand lightly, making her realise that (Y/N) had shifted to hide behind him. “You know how much Rin loved to dress up in (Y/N)’s clothes. That’s why she wanted to help pick my gift.”

(Y/N)’s ears rang so loud that she didn’t hear their response or what Johnny said in return. She slipped out of the present moment, wrapping herself in her mind and hiding in its comfort. Rin used to love dressing up in (Y/N)’s clothes because she was a teenager whose parents dressed her like a toddler. Rin used to look upto (Y/N) because she was her favourite cousin’s favourite person. And now she was the one who ruined her favourite cousin’s soul.

A hot shiver racked up her chest that felt like a sob and (Y/N) crushed it between her newly manicured nails. Johnny tugged her forward and she followed without resistance, not even thinking of the action. Unlike them, she would not be allowed to show her own betrayal so blatantly.

“What do you think about this?” Johnny’s voice snapped her back to reality, bringing her focus to his hands. He held a necklace littered with diamonds, sparkling so hard that she had to squint.

“Feels too much.” She spoke before she could think. When Rin’s mother shot her a look, (Y/N) bit her tongue.

“I think we should get something smaller.” Rin chimed in, tone clipped.

“No that isn’t what I meant.” (Y/N) tried to say, but Johnny frowned and she realised that her thoughtless words had done something to offend them all. So she just exhaled, “I think Rin’s opinion is what should matter, Johnny. She should pick.” She squeezed Johnny’s arm and gave the women the best smile she could manage.

(Y/N) took a step back, deciding that was the best course of action. This wasn’t her world anymore, she tried to remind herself. What these people thought about her didn’t matter anymore.

That is what she repeated to herself over and over as she found a chair to sit on, trying her best to stay out of anybody’s way. Away was where she had intended to stay till Johnny was done. After the rush of immediate injustice subsided, she wondered if she was being unfair. Rin was Johnny's cousin in name. In practice, she was the closest thing he had to a little sister. They grew up side by side and he had always adored her. When his mother died, Rin lost her aunt as well. They shared that loss.

Rin was family and she loved her brother. (Y/N) just wished that Johnny didn’t bring her here. No matter his intention, he must have known that this would be uncomfortable for everyone. (Y/N) took a deep breath, tearing her gaze away from the happy smiles the three shared. She reminded herself again that this wasn’t her world anymore.

In an effort to distract herself, (Y/N) scanned through the pieces of jewellery in the glass cases around her. She got up to look around, browsing to picture what the owner of each piece would be like. 

She saw a blue sapphire tiara that would belong to an oil heiress, a 25 carat topaz cocktail ring that looked like it was bought by a widow who inherited a barony, and a macau brooch that looked like it belonged to the mistress of a dictator. Each piece stood out with an inherent personality and she was almost lost in their worlds during her brief lingering study.

She stopped in front of a bracelet of ruby. The individual stoned were laid in so seamlessly that it looked like one dazzling sheet of the vibrant stone. Only on close inspection could you see the hexagon cut stones with an occasional deep green emerald and clear diamond tucked in between the sea of red. The bracelet looked like it was seeped in blood because of the deep hue of the rubies. (Y/N) concluded that this would belong to someone who had blood on their hands, the sparkling diamonds distracting from the ocean of red.

“Do you like it?” Johnny spoke and she jumped. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she had been sneaked up upon. Jaehyun would be pissed if he saw how badly she had let her guard down today.

“Not at all.” She said, turning away from the display to turn to him.

“It’s exactly your taste.” Johnny countered, brows furrowing in that signature confusing way. Where one couldn’t tell if he was concerned or furious.

“I wasn’t aware that you knew my tastes better than me.” She dismissed his words, walking away to find more temporary lives to live between shiny stones.

“Of course I do. It is the buyers burden to pick the right gift.” He smirked.

“You don’t need to buy anything so don’t burden yourself.” She shrugged.

“It would look beautiful on you. It looks like it was made for you.” He insisted, “Let me get it. I want to see you wear it.” He raised his hand to call for an attendant. She grabbed his wrist immediately but the action did exactly what she feared. Along with the attendant, Rin and her mother turned to them.

“Could you please show me this set?” Johnny asked.

“Set? Johnny wh-” She tugged at his sleeve but he clicked his tongue. “Please, you’re here to buy your sister a wedding present. Don’t do this, it looks bad. What will they think, Johnny? They already hate me.” She whispered and hissed but he was undeterred.

“They don’t hate you. They just think they still have to pick sides.” He said with excruciating naivety. “Besides, it’s my money. I will do what I want with it.”

The attendant walked up to the case and she had no choice but to let it go.

“A beautiful choice, Sir. They say a high quality ruby is rarer than a diamond. Each stone is individually sourced from around the world to have the same pigeon’s blood hue.” He spoke to them while being loud enough to be heard by Rin, assuming she was the one he had to convince.

“Rubies don’t really suit Rin.” Her mother laughed from across the room. “Plus I don’t think red would be appropriate for the wedding.”

“It’s for (Y/N). Johnny said without turning to them. But (Y/N) was looking and she saw the women’s face. If she believed that Ruby wasn’t an appropriate choice before, she now wanted it nonetheless.

“Look.” Johnny whispered close to her ear, “It’s perfect.” He was loud enough for just them.

(Y/N) turned at his words, failing to catch her gasp in her throat. It truly was a beautiful set. The bracelet, as beautiful as it was, seemed to be a puzzle piece of a larger masterpiece. The necklace was a mofit of ruby flowers with only a few of them having equally splendid emerald leaves. The earrings too were beautifully set scarlet rubies with joints of diamonds. The whole set that diamonds on the joints but it did truly fill like an afterthought, a blank canvas to highlight the rubies the same way the emeralds conntrasted them. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and she hated the fact. She hated that she wanted it despite herself.

“I love it.” Her voice wavered. It was the truth but she wanted him to think it was a lie. She wanted him to think she didn’t want it, but also hoped that he knew how much she appreciated it. Her head hurt.

“Wear it for me when we go home. Just this.” He had the gall to ask.

She decided it best to respond to him in fear of what she’d let slip. Hopefully, Johnny would get the hint.

She stayed by Johnny’s side till Rin had successfully picked her choice. They didn’t acknowledge each other but Johnny slipped his arm around her waist. If Johnny thought that a few stones would make her forget what he did today, he truly must have started believing that she was a figment of his imagination.

The necklace Rin had picked for herself was beautiful, a string of dazzling transparent diamonds with the occasional pink stone that made it look whimsical. But (Y/N) couldn’t help but notice how Rin’s mother kept eyeing the closed lid on the ruby set.

“If the box is that beautiful, the thing itself must be a treat.” She commented.

“It is.” Johnny grinned, opening the box to show it. 

Both of their lips pursed on seeing the set. (Y/N) bit her lip harshly, only feeling the storm inside her growing. Rin looked away with a shake of her head, turning back to her own gift with a gentle smile.

“Johnny you should come for my party! It’s in an hour anyway.” Rin beamed, clearly happy.

“Sure.” Johnny shrugged, “We would love to come.” 

All three women turned to Johnny but he looked like he did not notice. (Y/N) bit her tongue, hoping that his aunt would chime in again. But she did not.

“Sure.” Rin spoke after the excruciating silence, “See you there.”

“She doesn’t even want me there!” (Y/N) tried to explain, struggling to keep her voice levelled lest he accuse her of overreacting.

“If she didn’t, why would she ask you to come, (Y/N)?” Johnny spoke to his laptop, having it on his lap since they got back into the car with the excuse of pending work. In truth he was doing his best to avoid her justified fury.

“She didn’t! You made us a package deal.” She huffed, fist clenching in her lap, creasing her dress.

“We are a package deal.” Johnny looked up at her, frowning. “That’s what it means to be in a relationship, does it not?”

Her first clenched tighter, “That isn’t the point, but you don’t care so why bother?” She was so livid that a defeated laugh slipped past her lips. “Just go without me. No one will want me there, this is unnecessary.”

“They will suck it up then. You are my girlfriend, if someone has a problem with that then they will have to tell us both to leave.”

“I don’t want to go either, Johnny.” She took both his hands into hers, trying to make him look at her. She pleaded with him now, desperate to be released from this. “You will make this uncomfortable for everyone, including Rin.” She tried to use his precious cousin to make her point.

To her relief, it looked like he was considering it for a moment, grinding his teeth together as his eyes remained still on her.

“I’ve already said we’re going. We can’t cancel.” He stated plainly, taking his hands out of hers.

She laughed again, the same furious laugh of utter disbelief and even more betrayal. She was the fool to believe his claims of having changed.

Sins of the Past

The party was worse than she imagined. (Y/N) told herself she had tried. She had tried to smile and she had tried to ignore the looks and whispers. She even tried to ignore that her cousin, Isabella was there; ignore when she brought up specific moments that were an attempt to embarrass her.

She ignored it all because these people were Johnny’s family and friends and she owed him this much. So she tried to keep herself scarce and waited for the moment it would be appropriate to ask him to leave. She had also decided to just not bring today up after it was over. There was no point anyway.

This is how she had lulled herself in her own mind, monitoring the windows for the sunset.

“(Y/N) you haven’t said a word all evening.” A voice chimed up, one of Johnny’s friends from university.

(Y/N) turned, ready with her excuse of being tired.

“That’s her seventh glass, after all.” Her cousin chimed in, biting her lip like she somehow hadn’t been waiting all evening to bring it up.

(Y/N) felt her resolve snap, “I’ve just never been the type to invite myself to conversations I’m not a part of.” Only as she reached halfway through her sentence did sense catch on.

“And yet you’re here.” Her cousin scoffed, ignoring the shove the person beside her gave her.

She let the words crash over her, trying her best to brush it off. Yet, despite those words, it was a silence that rang louder. Johnny’s silence.

“At least I was invited out of love and not obligation.” She shot back, letting her day’s indignation ferment into the venom that dripped from her tongue.

“Ironic because that love is also an obligation. You would know if you had the capacity for either.”

“How would you know what love is?” She asked, genuinely curious.

Her cousin laughed, “Truly, I would never understand your idea of love. At least you got a pretty necklace out of it though.” She raised her glass to (Y/N), “My mother did always say that you were as oppurtunistic as your mother.”

“Don’t talk about my mother. You don’t want me to speak.” (Y/N)’s voice came out so low that she surprised herself. Her whole body shook from the impossible weight of her anger.

More silence. This time she turned to Johnny. A part of her hoped that if he wouldn’t defend her, then he would at least walk out. But Johnny only sat in the sofa across the room, eyes on the floor and furrowed in it’s signature unreadable way.

(Y/N) turned back to the bar she was sitting against, reaching over to pull the closest bottle towards her. “Eight is my lucky number.” She said loud enough for both Johnny and her cousin to hear. Once full to her heart’s content, she picked up her glass along with the leftover pieces of her dignity and held both tightly in her fist. Before she could tilt her glass to her lips, a hand landed on hers.

“No more, (Y/N).” Johnny warned, voice wavering with anger. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“What are you angry about?” She asked, laughing again as she said the words out loud, finding the situation ridiculous. Still she realised that she said it louder than intended, probably sounding like the drunk she was painted to be.

“Just put the glass down, (Y/N).” He told her, despite having a death grip on her wrist that controlled all her movement.

“You’re causing a scene, Johnny.” She said the words that Johnny has used on her cyclically before.

“Get up.” He wasn’t asking. She listened because she didn’t want to drag on the public spectacle. As Johnny dragged her across the room, she couldn’t help glance at her cousin. Her eyes were on Johnny’s hand on her arm and (Y/N) bottled the small victory up.

“Let me go.” She said when she realised that he wasn’t walking towards the door, “I just want to go home.”

“First we need to apologise to Rin.” He spoke with his jaw set tight, like she was to be blamed. She couldn’t even tell if she was, not with everyone staring at her the way they did. She hated this place with every fibre of her being. 

Johnny stopped in front of Rin, letting out a trembling sigh that held back all of his anger. “I’m sorry for all of this.” Johnny said so sincerely that (Y/N) wanted to scream. He was apologising on her behalf and she had nothing to be apologetic for.

“I don’t understand why you try so hard with her?” Rin spoke like (Y/N) wasn’t standing right in front of her. “She ruined you from the inside out and you just fell for the same lies again. The only thing that’s changed since the last time is that she can’t fall back on her father. Or his money.” Rin hissed, the words dragging down (Y/N)’s back like nails on a chalkboard.

As calmly as she could, (Y/N) pulled her arm out of Johnny’s. She knew that leaving wasn’t going to help because Johnny would follow her and blame her for it. So instead she turned to the open balcony behind Rin, walking in and closing the door behind her.

She stood there, the wind whistling in her ear like it was wincing at her circumstance. She had given up trying to wipe her tears away because it only made her skin sting. She stood there and told herself that, if nothing else, she was at least sure she had made the right decision all those years ago.

"Come back inside." His order announced his arrival after a very long time. (Y/N) wiped her eyes, lowering her chin so her hair would hide her face. She didn't dignify the words with an answer, continuing to look out at the city below her.

"(Y/N)." He warned, "Everybody will wonder where you are."

"No they won't." Her jaw slid over the other, teeth grinding down. "They know why I am not inside. So just go back to your party, Johnny. Otherwise they'll wonder where you are."

He sighed, a sound of rustling following that was clearly him running his hands through his hair. "Look I'm sure she didn't mean to sound so–"

"Hostile?" She turned, tongue and gaze both sharp as a knife. "What else did she intend to sound like when she called me an opportunistic slut? A fucking gold digger?"

"She didn't say that." He put his hands into his pockets.

(Y/N) gave him an incredulous face, his dismissal stinging more than anything anybody inside was capable of.

"Go inside, John. I don't want to fight with you right now. They'll blame me for your bad mood."

"God damn it!" Johnny kicked something, the sound of shattering following after. She turned with wide eyes to see a flower pot lying in pieces on the floor on a pile of soil. "I just wanted one good day. Just a relaxed day where I can spend time with what remains of my family and the woman I love. Why are you doing this?"

"I am not." She looked up at him, words interrupted by a belligerent breath. "What have I done?" She asked, confused and hurt. "My cousin said so many things. I just listened. You said nothing in my defense and I still just stood there, I took it all. Even when Rin said those things. I just stood there. What else do you want me to do?"

"Just come inside."

"I don't want to! Why do I have to go back? So they can whisper as I walk by again? So they can pat themselves on the back after they confirm that I have no shame? No sense of self respect?” She took a step closer as Johnny stumbled back, “You told me to come back to this city with you. You promised me that it would just be the award. You broke that promise. Then you told me to help you buy something for your cousin I agreed. You didn't tell me they would be there too. You sabotaged me and I stayed silent. You said yes to this and I did not protest. Your cousin said whatever she wished. You did not defend me and I still did not so much as make a sound. You failed me and you didn’t bother protecting me, the women you love. What more do you want from me?” She questioned, tears blurring her vision. 

She furiously wiped at her face, the back of her hand dragging the skin till her face felt raw again.

“You’re hurting yourself.” He said gently. It grated her more than anything so far. What good was his concern now?

"Why didn't you defend me?" She cut him off. "You keep talking about what this means to you." She pointed between them. "So what? You will drag down heaven to earth for me but you can't stand up for me?" She pointed out what he said to her.

Johnny furrowed his brows, "What was I supposed to say?"

"You were supposed to tell her to shut up! You were supposed to remind her that I am the person who you claim to love. You were supposed to say that you wanted me back. The least you could have done was said you wanted me here, Johnny. You should have said something.” She groaned, turning away from him. The reiteration of the betrayal brought a fresh assault of tears. She felt so weak and vulnerable begging in front of him. And Johnny looked bemused.

"So what?” Johnny said calmly,” You don't want to be together?" 

“Don't twist my words.” She warned him.

"Twist?" Johnny's brows creased, "It's what you just said!" He shoved his hand in the space between them, raising his voice.

"You’re shouting. Don't start a fight." She stepped back from him, feeling like she was being cornered into this confrontation.

"I'm not the one trying to start a fight." He countered.

"All I did was step out of a room where I am not wanted. To let out the tears I could not inside. I didn’t leave because I know you want to meet your friends and family, so I am here and I just want to be left along."

"You left because it shows everyone inside how wrapped around your finger I am. Because you know I would follow you in here immediately." Johnny crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at her over his nose.

"Excuse me?” She said so loudly that a pigeon on the balcony across rushed to take flight. "First your cousin assumes she knows what I'm thinking, now you do the same. Does manipulation run in the family?"

"I don't understand how you can be so mad when she's right.” Johnny’s voice turned cold, his eyes cruel, “They're all justified, you know? You did do the things she said. You did ruin me from inside out."

"Then why are we here?" She screamed, her resolve slipping. She grabbed it before it disappeared completely, bringing her voice back down. "If your family are still angry about what happened, if you’re angry, then what are we doing? And before you say anything." She raised her hand to stop him from interrupting. "You are allowed to be as angry as you want. I hurt you so much and I understand that you can’t just forget that. I deserve your anger. What I don’t deserve is you treating me like this. And you don’t deserve to be with someone who makes you so miserable. If you're this angry then you simply cannot love me.”

"Now you're the one reading my mind." He spoke, immediately recoiling into his indignation.

“Don’t deflect!” She snapped. “You're lying to yourself if you think you do. Because that amount of hostility borders on disgust. You hate me so much that you will stand aside while someone insults me like that. For something you did, Johnny!" Her eyes welled up again and she had to turn away.

(Y/N) hated that after a certain threshold, her anger always gave way to tears. She hated it because, on more than one occasion, Johnny had accused her of using her tears to win arguments. She hated the accusation because she had never intended to win any arguments with him, she knew it was impossible. All she wanted was to explain her side of it.

“What did I do?” Johnny frowned, taking a step closer to invade her personal space.

“Why didn’t you tell them that you got the jewllery yourself? Did I ask you for it? Why didn’t you tell them that I told you I didn’t want it? Why didn’t you tell them what you told me?” She shoved him away, discomfitted by being this close to his overbearing presence. Johnny had the dreadful habit of towering close to her during arguments.

After a long moment of saying nothing, of just staring her down, Johnny sighed. “I just don’t want us to fight.” He came closer to her in an attempt to touch her.

His words made her see red in a way that felt dangerous. She shoved him again, harder than she expected. He must not have expected it either, because surprise filled his eyes as he lost his balance. There was an unmistakable sound of flower pots shattering, but (Y/N) was already shoving the balcony door open. She froze, turning to look back at him.

"Are you hurt?" She stepped towards him. But Johnny stood up immediately and walked around her, talking quick strides towards the door without once looking back.

She burned from head to toe, a mix of anger and mortification. He left before her, leaving her to walk out by herself. With a hesitant gait, she walked across the now crowded foyer. They all looked away, pretending they hadn’t witnessed the quarrel from the other side of the glass doors. But the side glances confirmed her suspicions. They blamed her. They saw her outburst, and saw her push him to the ground. What they didn’t hear was the actual words. But she doubted that would make a difference.