#THEN BOOM. he shows up at your back door with his wife and three incredibly sickly kittens

[an1malcannibal]

Rewriting pinestars choice where he decides you know WHAT I’m taking my wife and children with me. Leopardfoot gets the cushy life she deserves, and mistkit and nightkit live because they get proper medical attention at a young age, and tigerstar becomes a kittypet that may or may not still turn evil. I just think that pinestar not taking his family w him is a plot hole I feel like he would have taken them considering he knew the stars had cursed tiger to damnation. Leopardfoots age is very unfortunate I’m going to chock most of that up to bad writing and the warriors teams blatant insidious misogyny instead of pinestar being a predator. Leopardfoot is still a very young warrior but she’s a warrior before she catches pinestars eye. The babies are born and they are small and weak and sick, pinestar has no idea what to do. Doestar visits him and insists he kill his son. He sees goosefeather watching his kits in the medicine den with hatred. He cannot live here anymore. So he bursts in a tells his wife to take the kits and come with him, they’re going somewhere. They arrive to twolegplace and Leopardfoot is like “YO hey what the fuck why the fuck are we here” and pinestar is like haven’t you seen??? Haven’t you noticed the hatred???? The violence??? They are so sick. The stars we’ve followed our entire lives want me to murder our child we must escape to safety. Leopardfoot is like Oh shit. Okay then. And jake shuttles them to safety. As Leopardfoot is taken in with the kittens, this is where pinestar goes back to make an announcement to his clan that he’s leaving and he’s already taken the wife and kids so BYYYYYYEEEE. Kittypet lavish living forever after the end.

[letarasstuff]

Normal People don't know their IQ

(A/N): Inspired by me, who recently discovered normal people don’t know their IQ, while I was tested two or three times already...

Summary: A certain someone is the only way to get the UnSub. But there’s also something different that makes her special.

Warnings: Angst (fluffy end, I swear), language, mentions of rape and torture, mention of dead people, the usual CM stuff I guess Wordcount: 2.0k

✨Masterlist✨ _________________________________________

“Garcia, I need you to look into high school teachers, who are suspended or fired for inappropriate behavior towards students and live in the area of the kidnappings”, Hotch orders in a stern voice. But you can’t blame him, after all there are currently six dead teenage girls and one missing. One can only hope and work as fast as possible to get her back to her parents alive.

The team is working a case in Sacramento, California. Teenage girls get abducted on their way home from school, are held for exactly a week and are killed by a simple cut to their throat. The torture they have to endure beforehand isn’t as simple. The last two also show signs of rape.

The dumbing sites are different parks all over the city. The placing happens overnight only to have the girls found the next morning by a clueless jogger or stroller.

“Let’s go over the profile again, I feel like we are missing something”, Rossi commands. His gut feeling tells him only that much, he just has to find out what it is.

“It’s a white male in his mid thirties to late forties. He blends in, so he has to be or has been a teacher. Someone who looks like they belong into a school isn’t suspicious”, Spencer counts the facts.

“The victims all look similar, probably resembling an ex-wife or girlfriend”, Morgan adds. Before he can get into the depth of the torture a phone rings.

“My lovely crime fighters, I got an address. Charles Collins. philosophy and history. Got suspended for suggestive talk towards his female students. He is also said to stare at them and certain body parts for way too long and way too obvious. Gross. Annnd that- wait”

“What is it, Garcia?” Hotch asks after a moment of silence, which is unusual for the ever bubbly tech analyst.

“You got your profile wrong. Collins doesn’t take these girls because of an ex flame.”

The team looks at each other in confusion. Garcia always stresses how she isn’t a profiler and can’t judge over people, because she only wants to see the good in them. How is she able to tell that the profile is off?

“Shoot baby girl, we don’t have much time left”, Derek urges her. He wants nothing more than to have this SOB finally behind bars. The whole team wants that.

“He has a daughter. Technically it’s not his daughter, it’s someone else’s, but he is her foster father. Go and please save both girls!”

Penelope doesn’t have to say it twice. After a brief thank you and goodbye the team is on their way to the given address. As soons as they get there, everyone notices the absence of a car in the driveway. Hotch sends Spencer, Emily and Derek through the back door, the rest goes in from the front.

“FBI! OPEN UP!”

It’s needless to say that nobody opens up. There is no other way than kicking the doors down.

After entering the house and clearing the first floor, Rossi points towards the stairs that leads to the first story. There are only two rooms. A bathroom right hand and a closed door left hand.

Morgan counts quietly down before also kicking this door down and screaming “FBI!” But he seemingly talks with air, because there is no one to be found. Once again the team swarms out to look for evidence or clues.

As Spencer looks through the room they cleared last, he sees various things that make him smile. Several bookshelves are flooded with all kinds of genres, authors and covers. At first he can’t make out in which way they are sorted. But a closer look makes him realize that they are sorted by the author’s birth year. The doctor is kind of impressed, because that means the person knows when they are born in order to find a certain book. He likes the idea, it is a nice little challenge.

While he investigates further a sound makes him stop. He sends a text to Emily and waits for her. When she enters the room Spencer gestures to her to keep it quiet. Then he points to the bed.

They lower themselves down to the floor at the same time on each side of it. A girl, no older than 14 years, lays there shivering in angst. With big doe eyes she looks at Spencer and whispers:

“Please don’t hurt me.”

A while later the team is back at the station with the girl sitting in one of the interrogation rooms. The temperature is already set down, though Hotch feels really bad for it. Still there is another girl out there waiting to be safed.

“Baby girl, what can you give us on her?” Morgan sets his phone in the middle of the table and switches the speaker on.

“Our little girl’s name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), fourteen years old. Parents were deemed to be unable to look after her since they are both heavy drug addicts and didn’t even register her crying for two hours straight. Since the age of six months she bounces through the system with nobody wanting to keep her longer than two years. They claim she is too smart for them and want somebody to look after her, who can challenge her intellectually.

“Collins took her in one and a half years ago. He got her signed up in several activities after school, like chess and academic decathlon. As of right now she is a junior with an opportunity to graduate next year. Her teachers describe her as incredibly bright with a complicated way of thinking.”

“Complicated way of thinking? Her intelligence was neglected for years, so she gave herself her own challenges. I found her books sorted by the birth year of the authors. She found ways of making things more difficult for herself, that’s why she fabricated strange ways of thinking. This is often found in children with high intelligence, who are not boosted enough by their environment”, Spencer explains, getting more and more furious.

His colleagues feel that this is a sensitive subject for their resident genius. JJ comfortably puts a hand on his shoulder, making the tense go away.

“Emily and Dave, I want both of you to interrogate her. We need to know where he hides the girls. JJ, try to hold the press off for a bit longer. Morgan, Reid, I want you to watch and look for tells or anything else”, Aaron orders.

Everyone works on their given task immediately.

You don’t need to be a profiler to see that (Y/N) is scared out of her mind. She has her feet on her chair and her head lies on her knees. When the two agents enter, she tries to at least fake some kind of composer. But she fails miserably at it.

“Hello (Y/N), may I call you that?” Emily begins in a soft voice. The teenager nods shyly. “Good, (Y/N). My name is Emily Prentiss and this is David Rossi. We are agents from the Behavior Analysis Unit from the FBI. Do you know why you are here?” The teenager shakes her head.

“Ok, let’s cut the chase”, David's voice booms through the small room. “You know exactly why you are here. From what we saw in your room you are an incredibly smart girl. How high is your IQ? 130? 135?”

“147 a-actually”, she nervously corrects the agent, never meeting his eye. The team notices this fairly quickly.

“Even better, normal people don’t know their IQ. So you know what your forster father does. You saw the news, you read the papers, you heard your classmates talk. In addition to that, the girls look alarmingly similar to you. And all of the sudden Charles is more often out than usual. So do us a favor and come clear.” Then he pulls out a picture from a manila folder on the table. Emily tries to intervene.

“Rossi, don’t. She is not the UnSub. (Y/N) is just unfortunate to be at the wrong place.” “She might as well be another UnSub if she doesn’t do anything to help us. Do you know how long you are going to jail for helping hi-”

“I don’t know anything. I- of course I saw what is h-happening. A-and I connected the dots a long time a-ago. You know, Charles lost his job and that’s a stressor. T-then Child Service was investigating him, because of the suspension’s reasons. I-I couldn’t do anything. I had no evidence, the police wouldn’t believe me. I asked him once wh-what he thinks about, you know, what’s happening. He slapped me and told me to not talk about it again. I’m so sorry, I wanna help. The only thing that comes into my mind is an old cabin he once mentioned when I first arrived at his. B-but I don’t know if it helps you. P-please, I don’t want to go to jail or juvenile, I-” Then (Y/N) breaks down into tears.

Emily is in an instant by her side trying to calm her down, while Hotch gives the information to Garcia. As soon as she finds the location, JJ takes a seat next to (Y/N) and the rest of the team flies out.

“You don’t have to be scared of him anymore, Sweetheart. My colleagues will find him and he will be tried and convicted. He will never be a threat to you again”, the blonde tries to comfort her.

“Whenever I leave an abusive home, there will be another one that’s exactly the same. The only difference with Charles was that he seemed to understand me. He helped me. There’s nobody who is willing to do what he did for me”, she admits sadly.

It breaks JJ’s heart, because her words are true. Even though he is a killer, Collins did help her. But she is also determined to show the young girl that he isn’t the only one who can do that. That there are more people out there, who are kind and as helpful if not more.

Not long after this the team brings the man into the station, Morgan guiding him with a deadbolt-like grip.

Rossi spots (Y/N) in a break room with a hot drink in her hands. While making his way over there, Spencer follows him. He wants to talk with her as well.

“(Y/N) I’m sincerely sorry if I hurt you earlier. I didn’t intend to scare you, we just had to act quickly and you were the only source of information available. I also wanted to tell you, that your achievements are astonishing and I guarantee you a bright future, maybe even at the FBI”, he winks at the end of his last sentence.

“I understand, Agent Rossi. But doesn’t everybody know their IQ? I assumed everybody gets at least tested once in their life in some way”, she asks with surprise in her voice.

At that the older man is speechless. Of all things she could accuse him of legitimately, (Y/N) goes with the most innocent question.

“Actually, not everybody gets tested. A reliable test has to be done by a psychologist and most people don’t go to one. Furthermore there has to be a valid reason to do one, that’s why a great part of the population doesn’t know their IQ”, intervenes Spencer. He has to infodump, since the last time was over half an hour ago.

“But you also have to differentiate between the several kinds of intelligence, because intelligence is way more than being good at math. There…”

Rossi stopped listening to the excited interaction between the two geniuses. Instead he watches their body languages and facial expressions. He hasn’t seen both of them more at calm than they are now.

After all there might be a way for (Y/N) to get a little Happy End.

[dreamingofaizawa]

A Dragon’s Bride

Dragon Prince! Bakugo Katsuki x Fem! Fae Princess! Reader

Fanstasy AU

***18+ Fic***

If you are not 18 years old, you are not old enough to ride. Please exit the line and find another. Thank you and have a good day.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, smut, soft to rough sex, light fluff. Characters are aged up, Bakugo and reader are the same age.

Word Count: 4.7k

Author’s Note: So I had this idea after reading other fantasy AU fics, and I just really wanted a soft Bakugo. I know he’s an angry moody mf but idgaf aight? I didn’t wanna get super descriptive with the smut, just cause I wanted it to be more like ‘lovemaking’ than just sex, you feel me? Sorry if the pace is a little weird, I didn’t spend a whole lot of time on this lmao. Anyway, here’s dragon boi Bakubitch.

Enjoy the read~

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As the youngest daughter of the Fae King and Queen, you knew it was only a matter of time before you were put in an arranged marriage. Your eldest brother had taken his Fae wife and would ascend to the throne in due time, and your older sister had already been married off to the Elven Prince Shouto.

Despite knowing you’d need to marry for political ties, you hadn’t expected to be sent off quite so soon. Your 19th birthday had passed only a few days ago, and that was when the news was broken to you. You were to be married to the Dragon Prince Katsuki Bakugo, soon to be the Dragon King, for his parents had expressed their wish to step down as royals rather early for Dragons of their age. 

The journey was rather long, even as you flew with your guards in a beeline to the lands of the Dragons. Throughout the weeklong trip your nerves were building and the mild fear settled into your bones. The Dragon Prince was infamous for his temper and short fuse, his anger always taken out specifically on Izuku Midoriya, the Fairy Prince from his  childhood. Your kingdom had not tied itself with the Dragons in centuries, and this alliance meant the Fae’s history of stubborn seclusion and independence would begin to diminish. This was a mission you could not afford to fail.

The final night camping was the worst. Sleep seemed to fear you, and you tossed and turned, attempting to settle your nerves. But it was to no avail. The sky began to lighten into a dull gray, signaling the coming morning. The guard came to wake you up, and soon you were bathed and back in the sky. Not having slept was of no concern, you’d gone days without sleep before and were just fine.

By midday you’d reached the edge of the Dragon kingdom, and were landing in front of the mountain castle just before sundown. The castle was gorgeous on its own, the face of it being the only exposed piece of the structure with the rest of the castle buried inside the mountain itself. The entrance was large, a platform that no doubt acted as a landing pad for the royal Dragons. Warm light poured from the large arched doorway as the huge stone doors opened as you approached.

You were greeted by the King, Queen, and the Prince himself. You sank before them in a low curtsy, pitch black wings spread out and flattened to your sides in a display of reverence. The King and Queen themselves bowed their heads toward you as a sign of respect, and when the Prince looked away indifferently, the Queen forced the boy down into a bow by grabbing his head and shoving it down, leaving you shocked. 

You were of lower rank than he, so there was no reason for him to bow his head to you. Noticing your confused state, the Dragon Queen spoke. “Rank is of little concern here, child. My son must learn a grain of respect if he is to be King.” With a small smile, you nod in understanding, too afraid to speak. Your nerves were bound to come through in your voice, and you refused to show signs of weakness in front of Dragons powerful as they.

Tonight was one of rest, and there were rooms for your royal guards to rest for the night before they had to make the journey back to Fae land. The Queen insisted you call upon a maid should you need anything, and personally escorted you to your room. Once alone, you took the time to bathe. A warm indoor spring was not something you were used to. Waterfalls were the bathing pools of choice in the Fae kingdom, though the warm water was welcome after your long journey. Soon you were in a nightgown and fast asleep in a warm bed of furs.

The next morning a maid came to wake you, and you were dressed by several handmaidens. The gown you wore was simple. A soft grey, long and flowing, with the fabric bunched at your shoulders in a sleeveless style and a low-cut back to accommodate your wings. You were escorted to the dining room, and you took the time to memorize parts of the castle.

The table itself was shorter than you expected, with only three seats on the longer sides and the usual single seats on the ends, already occupied by the King and Queen. Prince Katsuki sat to his mother’s right, and you were led to sit on her left, directly across from him. For the first time, you got a good look at the boy. 

Unruly ash blonde hair framed his face, which was chiseled and defined. His deep red eyes seemed to burn and glow like embers, and you had to look away from the intensity of his gaze on you. Your eyes were drawn to the exposed skin of his arms and collarbones, the muscles rippling underneath. You’d be lying to say he wasn’t incredibly handsome.

Through breakfast the Queen asked about your kingdom and its customs, and personal questions on how you felt about this alliance. You gave simple answers, having been trained to respond to such questions. She then walked you through the day, explaining how you’d be spending a lot of time with Katsuki not only for today, but all the way up until the wedding, which was set to take place in six months. The Prince scoffed at the idea.

“Why the hell do I even need to marry her? Why can’t I go find someone I like? I’m sure she’d rather marry someone she likes.” The Queen let out a low growl that could only be from a Dragon, directed toward her son. Her voice boomed through the hall. “Hold your tongue, boy. This alliance is important to both our kingdoms. You’ll do well to remember that.” He went silent with a snarl. She then turned her attention to you with a soft smile, the harsh edge gone from her voice.

“My apologies, dear. He can be...difficult. I hope your union can teach him some humility as well as respect for others.” With a soft smile, you nod. “I understand, my Queen. I pray I am not a burden to the Prince.” She chuckles and shakes her head as if you’d said something extremely amusing. Breakfast was soon over and you were left to spend the day alone with Prince Katsuki.

It was a rather difficult day. The Prince refused to speak, only voicing any irritation or anger he had for something he’d noticed. You were mostly quiet, in fear of angering him and possibly spoiling the union. He didn’t address you at all, and most interaction was awkward, but that was to be expected. You didn’t know each other. The King and Queen left the kingdom on a trip that was to last up until the week of the wedding, leaving you alone in the castle with the prince.

The first few weeks were relatively the same, little conversation between you and the Prince, silent meals, him angrily grumbling about one thing or another. You began to wonder if this was how life was going to be with him. It’s been nearly four months now, and he only ever addressed you briefly when he commented on one thing or another, though he was less angry lately. Tonight you lay awake in bed, stressing over whether or not you’d end up ruining this alliance. 

Sleep refused to come, and you decided rolling around in bed would do you no good. Silently, you stepped out of your room and padded through the castle aimlessly. Eventually you ended up on a lone balcony at the face of the castle, far above the entrance and off to the side, jutting out from the cliffside. The chill of the night air made gooseflesh pebble your skin, but you welcomed it. It had been a while since you’d flown.

Wrapping your night robe tight around your body and stretching your wings, you stood on the railing and leaned back, falling into the open air and sailing into the night sky. You missed the wind rushing past your feathers, whipping through your hair. It was cold, but it made you feel free and light, away from the pressure of the marriage and alliance. Little did you know a pair of red eyes were watching you from a more hidden balcony.

____

You were absolutely beautiful to him. Katsuki watched as you floated on the air. Your dark feathers barely catch the warm light from the castle, giving them a slight glint as they ruffled and moved. He watched as you darted up into the clouds, pulling your wings in and spiraling up through the thick barriers, then falling back downward with your wings stretched out below you.

You were mesmerizing, and he hated how quickly he’d grown fond of you. At first he thought you were some stuck up princess, like the Elf Prince Shouto Todoroki. But he was proven wrong rather quickly. You were intelligent, your opinions sound and logical, the complete opposite of him. He was rash and emotional, and he knew it. He soon came to respect you, though he couldn’t figure out how to speak to you for the life of him. He was always more a man of action. Words were not his forte.

But as he watched you in the night sky, he couldn’t help but be drawn to you. He wanted to fly with you, to dance with you through the air. He wanted to touch you, your skin, your feathers, even your horns. He’d never seen a Fae before, only drawings from books. Though those images were put to shame next to you. Your grace seemed unmatched, even compared to his mother, who was just as rough around the edges as he was.

He’d be embarrassed to say he observed you more than he had intended to. The way you walked as if you were floating, how you held yourself around others. Your posture was regal, poised, and yet full of humility and compliance. You looked like you understood your place in this world, like you knew why you were supposed to marry a Dragon in an arranged marriage instead of being able to choose who you loved.

His thoughts drifted as he watched you, and he found himself wanting to fly with you more and more as time passed. Unlike you, he could sprout his wings whenever he wanted, and soon his large leathery wings were fully formed, ready to lift him from his perch. And that’s exactly what he did.

____

You were so distracted with the rushing wind you didn’t notice the figure approaching you until you felt the air whoosh behind you unnaturally. Swiftly, you turned, and found a pair of glowing red eyes focused on you. Both of you stayed there, flapping softly in the wind to keep steady. He was the first to break the silence.

“It’s a bit late for you to be flying, Princess.” His unusually soft tone of voice had heat rushing to your face. You sputtered out your response, partially from his words, partially from your nerves. “I, uh, I’m sorry, my Prince. I had no idea that…uhm… that I wasn’t allowed to fly this l-late.” A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, clearly amused. ‘Cute’ he thought to himself. “I didn’t say that, Princess. Just that it was rather late for you to be awake.” More heat flooded your face at his teasing tone.

He tilts his head, indicating for you to follow him, and he flits away, landing on the balcony you’d leapt off of. You were close behind, and landed next to him as his wings vanished into his back. A large hand was extended toward you and you took it, a bit hesitant, as he’d never engaged this much contact before. His warm hand enveloped yours, and he pulled you alongside him through the castle.

You cleared your throat quietly to speak. “Apologies, my Prince, but where are we going?” A small smirk graced his lips as he turned to you. “It’s a surprise, Princess. But I promise you’ll like it.” You gave a small nod and allowed him to guide you through the halls of the castle. He led you deep into the mountain, down corridors you hadn’t explored before, and soon you were walking down uncarved tunnels lit only by torches every few feet.

After a few minutes in the tunnels, the torches came to an abrupt stop, and you began to feel uneasy with the looming darkness. As if sensing your hesitation, the Prince turned and squeezed your hand in his. “Don’t worry, I promise I’m not dragging you to the dungeon.” His voice was playful, something you’d never heard from him before. Despite the mild discomfort of the underground depths, you trusted him and let him pull you into the darkness.

Once your eyes had adjusted, a faint glow came from somewhere further inward. He kept walking, further and further down the tunnel, and the glow consistently strengthened until you were sure you’d find the source behind each turn you took. Then he stopped, and turned to look at you over his shoulder. “You ready, Princess?” You nodded almost excitedly, and he pulled you with him around the corner. The sight before you stole the breath from your lungs.

The source of the cool glow was a gigantic cavern, the walls and ground littered with white, green, blue, and purple crystals, all glowing in the darkness, illuminating the space. The high ceiling was dotted with them as well, almost mimicking the night sky. In the center was a deep pool that reflected the light, the crystalline water perfectly still and undisturbed. Your wings ruffled as you took in the sight before you, the reaction involuntary.

In your wonder, you failed to notice the Prince had disappeared from your side. He called out to you once he had sunk into the water, and your eyes snapped over to him, heat rushing to your face in the realisation that he was naked. He seemed to sense your shyness, and let out a chuckle. “Come on, Princess. Won’t you join me?” Slowly, you made your way over to the pool, eyes focused on the steam rising from the water, and away from the very naked Prince.

You sank down to your knees a few feet from him, your wings wrapping around you slightly. From the corner of your eye you could see his head tilt at you, and you were sure he was smirking at your flustered state. With an amused hum, he turned his body away from you, giving you privacy to undress and dip into the water. Once you were in, you settled onto the ledge and hugged your knees close to your chest, your wings hiding most of your body. 

“Y-you can t-turn back around now, my Prince.” He shifted back to his original position, leaning against the edge of the natural pool and resting his arms up on the ledge, relaxing into the hot water. You were still a bit tense, not having been naked around a man before. His deep voice was playful as he spoke. “Relax, Princess. We’re to be married. I’ll see you eventually.” You could hear the teasing undertone and you hugged your knees in closer.

His eyes were now fixed on you. With a small sigh, he moved, and you squeaked as his arms wrapped under your wings and around your waist. He lifted you with ease, and positioned you to be straddled on his lap, face inches from his, strong arms holding you close. His eyes were glued to yours, and you couldn’t hold his gaze. It wasn’t the same intensity as the first time you’d looked at them. This time was a bit different, the burning in his eyes was not from anger.

A hand came up and cupped your cheek, shocking you from the gentle touch. His voice was just as gentle, soft as his eyes trailed over your features. “You’re beautiful, Princess.” Your wings puffed up slightly at his words, and his eyes snapped to them at the movement. “Can I touch them?” The question shocked you a bit, but you nodded, not trusting your voice. 

The hand that was on your face reached out and pet your feathers, gliding down your wing gently. Nobody had really touched your wings other than you, and it was only to clean them. This was a new sensation, and your wings shook lightly as your shoulders tensed a bit. Katsuki’s ministrations froze, and his voice turned slightly serious. “What is it? Did I hurt you?” 

You blinked at him before shaking your head. “No, no of course not. It’s just...nobody has ever touched my wings before…” He seemed to relax at that. Still, his hand pulled away from your wing in favor of holding your waist. He held you closer, and your breath hitched slightly at the close proximity, your noses inches apart. His breath was warm on your face. “You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to hold you close like this, Princess.”

Your eyes widened at his words and he laughed a bit. “I’ll admit, Princess, you’d captured my attention rather quickly. I never quite knew how to talk to you. But I am impatient, and couldn’t wait to hold you.” You were giddy from his confession, and you leaned forward, burying your face into his neck and pressing your body into his. 

Up until now, your focus had been on the marriage and the alliance and making sure it went well. But now, knowing it would work out, you allowed your feelings to come into play. From the beginning you’d been taken with the handsome Prince. Within the first month you were no doubt falling for him. His attitude and personality was rather brash, but he was never aggressive toward you. Sure, he didn’t speak to you, but his actions spoke much louder.

He was a gentleman more often than not, holding doors open, escorting you to and from meals, even occasionally gifting you gowns and jewelry. You’d kept your emotions in check, though you knew by now you’d fallen head over heels for the man. Now, his arms tightened around you and you breathed in each other’s scents. His fingers massaged the skin in between your wings, and your body shuddered. It felt...good. Really, really good. You mewled into his shoulder, enjoying the new sensation.

You could feel him smirk into your neck as his fingers dug into the fluffy feathers at the base of your wings. With a gasp, your wings extended out behind you and fluffed up, all the feathers ruffling as you pressed your body tighter to his. A warmth began to build in your abdomen and between your legs, and you squirmed a bit, unsure what the feeling was.

His hands released your feathers and gripped your hips with a low hiss. “Quit your squirming, Princess. I don’t think I can control myself right now.” His voice was deep, and slightly strained. You lifted your head to look in his eyes, and his pupils were dilating, red irises now small rings. “What do you mean, my Prince?” His eyebrows raised slightly before his lips curled into a smirk. He brought your hips down, grinding you down onto him. 

That was when you felt it, his hardness rubbing against your thigh. A small gasp escaped your lips and heat bloomed from your chest up to your cheeks. He watched as your pupils matched his, irises disappearing into blackness. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips onto yours in a passionate kiss. When he finally let go you were both panting, and he leaned his forehead against yours. “Angel. My Angel.”

His eyes burned into your own as he spoke, his voice almost pleading. “Let me take care of you tonight.” You barely managed to nod before his lips were on yours again, this time hungry and wild. His tongue prodded at your lips and you let them part, let him explore your cavern in a mess of tongue and teeth. Without breaking the kiss his hands grabbed your thighs and began to lift, and your arms wrapped tight around his neck as he lifted you both from the warm water and walked.

You had no idea where he was taking you until he leaned and placed you down on soft pelts. Surprised, you pulled away to look around. The bed was situated behind a mass of towering crystals, hidden from the entrance. The blue glow illuminated the blonde’s face as he hovered above you, highlighting his features. You took a moment to admire just how beautiful he is, before his lips were on yours again.

His hands wandered freely now, groping the flesh at your hips and thighs, fingers massaging the soft skin there as his lips trailed down your neck and along your collarbones and shoulders. A thick finger found its way to your dripping core, and you let out a gasp at the feeling. You’d never laid with a man before, however you had to learn how to please one through books. You wondered briefly if the Prince had any real experience, before your mind was brought back to the moment as his finger pushed into you.

It wasn’t painful, and the mewl you let out let the blonde know you enjoyed it. His tongue attacked your pert nipples as distraction as he pressed another thick digit at your entrance, pushing it into your tight walls. A hiss escaped you from the slight burn, the stretch something you weren’t used to. Nothing had ever been inside you like this, the feelings foreign but pleasurable all the same.

His fingers maneuvered inside you, scissoring and curling and pumping until you were a panting moaning mess beneath him. His thumb dipped down into your wetness before reaching up to rub at the little bundle of nerves, making you flinch with the sudden jolt of pleasure, your wet walls clamping down on his fingers. A tightness built quickly in your abdomen the longer he kept his ministrations, and he leaned up to whisper in your ear. 

“I can feel you gripping me. Cum for me, sweet girl.” His mouth attached to your neck and sucked, adamant to leave a mark. It only took a few more moments for you to fall apart around the man’s fingers, legs and wings trembling, moans echoing through the cave. When you had come down from that high, he pulled his fingers from you and licked them clean, a deep groan pouring from his lips. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, he lines himself up with your core, grasping your hip in one hand. “Are you ready for me, Angel?” Grabbing at the furs underneath you, you nod. “I’m ready, my Prince.” Slowly, he pushes himself into you, panting and growling, jaw clenched hard. The stretch burns, but only slightly, and soon you’re moaning and mewling beneath him. Finally fully seated inside you, his head drops to your shoulder and his arms wrap around you, holding you tight against him.

His breath is hot, blooming over your shoulder and neck, lips and tongue attacking the skin there. He holds his hips still, flush against yours, giving you time to adjust to him. When your walls relax around him, he begins to pump into you, shallow thrusts grinding himself into your walls. As he moves, his hands crawl up your back, fingers tangling into the base of your wings and massaging gently, making you moan out and wrap your arms around his neck.

He keeps his pace steady, but you can hear the strain in his breathing and feel his jaw clenched tightly. He’s holding back, and you don’t want him to. “Please, don’t hold back. I want all of you, Katsuki.” His movements stilled, you never used his name before. Pulling back, he peered down into your eyes as your hands held his face.

“You can have all of me, Angel, if you’ll be mine.” You leaned up and kissed him sweetly, “I’m already yours, my King.” A deep growl rumbled in his chest at your words, “Then you will have all of me.” He pulled his hips back and snapped back into you, setting a quick pace. Your breath came in pants and moans, the pleasure wracking through your body stealing the air from your lungs. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the cave, along with moans and growls and the smell of sex.

His arms held you tighter, fingers continuously digging into your feathers, lips latching onto your neck between heavy breaths. “Mine. My Angel, mine, mine. I love you my Angel.” You moaned out, your voice soft in his ear. “I love you my King. I’m yours, all yours forever.” His pace became erratic, and a hand came between your bodies to rub at the little nub between your folds. Only a few tight circles around it had you cumming and clamping down hard around his length, and he thrust into you hard. 

A few more thrusts and he stilled himself, letting out a deep guttural moan as he spilled his seed inside you, holding your body tight to his. He rolled over, laying you on top of him without removing his length from you. Your wings stretched out behind you, falling limp at your sides once they were relaxed. Katsuki peppered kissed along your hairline, whispering sweet nothings as your breaths calmed.

After a long, comfortable silence, he spoke. “Are you alright, Angel?” You smiled and kissed at his chest. “Never better, my King.” He hummed, the sound vibrating through your body. “We should get back to the main castle. The maids will panic if we’re missing.” You giggled at the thought of the maids running around like headless chickens searching for the two of you. With a nod, you sat up, and he lifted you off of him.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed and pushed up, but your legs were weak and gave way to your weight. Katsuki caught you easily, and scooped you up like you weighed nothing. After bathing in the pool once more, you both dressed and he carried you with him to his chambers, and you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

The next couple months you spent nearly all your time together. You sit side by side during meals, talk regularly, and spend free time alone on a balcony or in the crystal cave. As you spend time with him, you notice things about him you never would have guessed before. He’s extremely perceptive, smarter than his angry demeanor would lead most to believe. He hates lying, hates secrets and deceit, which showed through when he explained why he was so against the arranged marriage at first. 

The news was sprung on him only hours before you arrived, and he was angry that his parents had kept it secret from him. You noticed he was rather protective and liked skin contact, holding you tight to his body whenever he got the chance. He was thoughtful, his gifts were never useless, always something he was sure you would use and appreciate. Your favorite was the many custom jewels he had crafted for your horns. Some a delicate array of dainty silver chains and gems that glittered and swayed as you walked. Others golden wire, mimicking vines and leaves that twisted around and hugged your horns.

That was when you noticed his infatuation with your horns. He’d touch them often when your head was on his lap, tracing the intricate texture with his fingertips. He didn’t find them grotesque or intimidating like most others did, instead he found them beautiful and magical. He never tried to cover them, always adorning them with sparkling gems and glittering metal to accentuate the deep ebony.

He was curious, constantly asking questions about you, your home, and your customs. You grew to love the man more and more with every passing day, and as the wedding came and went you had no reserved feelings about the union. You loved Katsuki, the Dragon Prince, and he loved you, the Fae Princess. He was your King, and you were his Angel, and neither of you would have it any other way.

[weelittleweasley]

growing pains (d.m.)

prompt as requested by anon: after the war and settling down with draco, the time comes for your children to attend hogwarts.

pairing: draco malfoy x fem! reader

warnings: recollection of pregnancy, recollection of the war, crying, lots of cute fluff though :)

word count: 3.6k

a/n: i cried writing this. have fun.

Never did you think that you would have a normal life with Draco after everything that happened. The war took so much life away from you both; it showed you how truly ugly and vile the world could be. Especially Draco.

After the war, Draco refused to allow himself and his future family live in a world that was so cruel and unforgiving. Draco wanted to undo all of the wrongdoings he had done and work harder for a better future for himself, for you, and your family; it’s what you deserved, he told you. Draco wanted to give you the world and he would rest at nothing to do so.

Draco left his past behind him and moved from Malfoy Manor to settle somewhere new. A new start, a new life. You two were married immediately after the dust had settled from the war. The ceremony was very private just the two of you, professing your undying love for each other, Draco promising profusely that he would do anything and everything to keep you happy.

Life, for the first time, felt ordinary. And you thanked Godric for that. The two of you worked your jobs, supported yourselves, and were happy. And that’s all you could really ask for. You had everything you needed, a job, a roof over your head, and Draco by your side.

Although life was ordinary for the first time in years, Draco would do special things for you here and there to show you just how much he loved you and adore having you as his wife. During work, he’d send you three dozen roses to your desk, earning you strange glances as you just sat there, smiling like a school girl. Or when he knew you had an awfully long day, he’d draw you a bath and pour you a glass of wine and let you be for a few hours, letting you decompress. Or it could be something as simple as leaving you a love note on your pillow when he woke up before you. Draco was so thoughtful when it came to taking the time to appreciate all that he had. He had taken it for granted so many times in the past and with the war, it was all threatened. Draco learned quickly that he needed to recognize his blessings and take a moment each day to really show you how much he cared.

This was more than enough for you, just you and Draco living your lives together, relishing in this new life you created together. 

But soon enough, Draco started casually tossing around the idea of having children. You had been married for a year when it he started toying with the idea of having your own kids. You were in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes from that night’s dinner, Draco wiping down the table.

“(Y/N)?” he spoke from the dining room.

“Yes, my love?” you called back.

Draco walked into the kitchen, leaning on the door frame his arms folded across his chest. “Do you think we should move?” he asked, searching your face for a reaction.

Your eyes furrowed. You had been living in this house for a little over a year and you loved it. It was a symbol of your freedom away from the mess of your pasts and your renewed love and dedication to each other. Why would Draco want to leave this place you so fondly called home? You spoke your thoughts that swirled around your head, “Move? Why would we move?”

He peeled himself off the door frame and took a few steps towards you as you shut off the water and turned towards him to give him your full attention. “I think we’ve out grown this home,” he speaks. “Think about it. With my new business starting and with your promotions at work, we’ll both need a home our own offices. Not to mention, we’ll need a nursery soon and that means we’d have to covert the guest room into one, but where would your parents stay when they visit us. Besides, I want to move somewhere were my commute is shorter to work,” Draco shurgs, dancing around the fact that he just mentioned having a nursery in your home.

You stop him in his tracks, “Hold on there, lover boy,” you tease him with the nickname you’d given him back in your sixth year at Hogwarts. He smiles at the name, lightly laughing. “A nursery? Why would we need one of those?”

Draco inhales a deep breath and takes a step closer to you, placing a hand on your hip, pulling you close to him. “I love you, (Y/N). I always have. You are and will always be the most important thing to me,” he tells you as you smile, him kissing the tip of your nose. “I want to start a family together. We have more than enough money to move into a bigger house,” he refers to his hearty inheritance along with the money he’s made from his booming company, “we are both mature and ready, and don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t want a little Malfoy running around,” he teases.

You hated to admit when Draco was right. He saw the way you watched children play in the park around the corner from your home. How children giggled and played, their small feet running around, tiny voices speaking childish phrases, getting excited over new discoveries. Having a child with Draco would be a blessing. But you didn’t know if you were ready to be a mother yet. It was a large step, and one you wanted to take, it was just a matter of if you were ready for it.

Sighing, you brush your fingers through Draco’s blonde hair, a familiar feeling to the both of you. Draco lets his eyes flutter closed as he hums as you do so. “You’re right, Dray,” you admit as he smiles widely. A child. For the both of you. “But,” you interrupt, “I don’t know if I’m ready to be a mother just yet. I’m doing so well in my job and I love working. I’m not ready to give it up. This is only the beginning for me. And it’s not fair to ask you to leave your job to raise a child.”

Draco lets out a breathy laugh as he cups your cheek, rubbing it gently with his thumb as you lean into his touch. “I’m not asking you to drop everything for our child, sunshine,” he tells you. “Besides, we can always take leave from our jobs temporarily on maternity and paternity leave. When you’re ready, you go back. I run my own company, darling. My own. I call the shots. If I need to work from home to raise the child we created, so be it. I’ll enjoy every moment.”

Your heart flutters as Draco speaks. He really was perfect.

And in nine months time, you had created the most perfect thing you could have ever imagined. Celeste Frances Malfoy. Celeste...your star. A gift from the heavens. Your family was as complete as the sky; Draco, the moon, you, the sun, Celeste, your star.

Watching Celeste grow up was like watching a movie unfold before your eyes. Your beautiful baby girl held the universe in her eyes. And boy, oh boy, was she her father’s child. Identical grey eyes and silver hair, but she had your smile and laugh that made Draco’s heart swell with so much love. She had Draco’s love of mischief and often found herself in sticky situations.

Once you had found Celeste sitting quite literally in the toilet, red lipstick from your make up bag smeared across her face and chest, along with the toilet brush. You gasped as you found her and stared in shock. “Cel, what did you do?” you laughed.

She simply smiled, that mischievous smile at the age of two, and spoke, “It’s my wand! Just like mummy and daddy!” She waved the toilet brush around, making small mouth sounds that replicated those of magic and your wand. 

You laughed at the antics of your toddler. Instead of getting her out of the toilet bowl, you called out for your husband and called that he get the camera. This would be a memory you would love to keep. 

Draco ran in and saw his baby girl in this predicament and burst out laughing. “What mess did you get into, my star!” he laughed as Celeste giggled along with him. “Merlin, I need to tell your Uncle Blaise about this!” he wiped his eyes from laugher. 

The years past and Celeste grew and grew before your eyes. The more she grew up, the more she grew into her features. Her long blonde hair grew out and her eyes only grew to look more like Draco’s. But it became evident that your daughter possessed the same ruthless nature as you did. Celeste was bold and clever and wise beyond her years. She really was a perfect blend of you and Draco. 

Knowing that you could make such perfect children, that only encouraged Draco and you to have more children. Draco insisted that he wanted five children, but you stared at him with wide eyes. “Do I look like Molly Weasley?” you laughed as he chuckled to himself. “How about three?” you suggested as Draco rolled his eyes.

“I don’t like odd numbers. What if two are very close and the third one feels left out. I can’t do that to our children,” Draco pleaded as you groaned. “Four? Four and I’ll never ask for anything else!” he begs as you roll your eyes, knowing damn well that him not asking for anything else was the biggest lie. “Okay, maybe not that, but four! Four is a great number!”

And in typical Draco fashion, he got what he wanted. Four children. Celeste, your oldest, your leader, your star. Xander, your second, the jokester, the pot-stirrer, but also the empath of the family. Sage, your third, the free spirit, the humble one, Miss Independent. And last, Nicolas, your last, the baby, the soft-spoken one, but incredibly defensive of your family and its honor. Your perfect family. 

Each of your children all bore that same striking Malfoy hair, warning children to know who they were messing with. The girls looked much like their father, same hair and eyes, making your heart swell as you looked into their eyes. The boy, on the other hand, had Draco’s platinum hair, but your eyes and smile. The perfect combination.

Having such a large family meant chaos in the house. Celeste would often squeal about how Xander was bothering her while Xander tried to blame Nicolas for his pranks. Sage would quietly sit and observe before telling you the truth about what happened before going back to coloring. You laughed as Xander yelled at Sage for throwing him under the bus, but she just shrugged. The house never being silent always brought you a comfort that you never thought imaginable. The blabbering mouths of your children, the laughter, the fatherly voice of Draco booming over it all, catching your children’s attention. 

Draco was a phenomenal father. You didn’t think he could love anything as much as he loved you, but you stood corrected. Draco loved you fiercely, but Draco poured his heart and soul into the needs of his children. Each child had a different relationship with Draco but each so beautiful and lovely. Celeste, being the oldest, idolized her father and how he treated you with such love and compassion. Xander insisted he wanted to be just like his father, smart, funny, and successful. “What more do you need?” Xander would shrug as you laughed. Sage loved Draco something wild, she would draw him little pictures that he’d tape to the walls of his office, she slept with his old quidditch jumper as if it were a blanket. The sight was heart warming. And Nicolas was the baby, Draco’s baby. Nicolas was Draco’s shadow, following him room through room, staring up at him with wide eyes. Your children loved each other and that was all thanks to how you raised them.

From a young age, you told your children that family was everything. You needed to protect and love each other because if you didn’t, who else would. From then on, your children were fiercely close and loyal to each other. You remember clear as day when Xander got into a fight on the playground and word got to Celeste. Celeste then gathered the other siblings and walked up to the child and scared the living shit out of the poor kid who thought to lay a finger on Xander Malfoy.

As your children grew up, you and Draco knew very well that a Hogwarts letter would arrive in the mail soon for Celeste as she approached her eleventh birthday. Your children knew of magic and magical abilities; you wanted them to know the powers that they would posses rather than shield them so they grew to fear it. Each child had a different reaction when they found out about magic, but all fears dissipated when you showed them each your wands and old robes. (Of course, Draco revering his time as a quidditch team member, Xander immediately yelling that he would also be a Seeker like his father.)

Soon enough, the eve of Celeste’s eleventh birthday rolled around and like you expected a letter dashed through the front mailbox and landed perfectly on the breakfast table as you sat down to drink your morning coffee. The pale beige envelope was addressed to Miss Celeste Frances Malfoy. A small smile grew on  your lips as you sighed and looked towards your husband. Draco’s eyes laced together in confusion, but soon recognized the slip of paper you had in your hands. The two of you smiled at each other before Draco called out, “Cel! You have an early birthday present!”

Almost immediately footsteps sounded down the staircase before Celeste arrived in the kitchen. “What is it?” the almost eleven year old asked excitedly. You handed her the envelope with a beaming smile as she looked at you quizzically. She tore into the envelope and unfolded it to read the words scribbled onto the parchment. Soon, joy and excitement filled her eyes as she squealed out in excitement. “I’m going to Hogwarts?!” she yelled as you and Draco laughed. 

You engulfed your eldest child in a tight hug as happy tears flooded your vision. She was growing up far too fast for your liking.

----------

The start of school eventually rolled around the corner as Celeste happily pushed all of her luggage through the train stations, veering around different platforms. Draco carried Nicolas in his arms as you held Sage’s hand in yours as Celeste walked ahead with Xander, blabbing about Hogwarts, smiles on both you and Draco’s faces.

Your eldest child was about to embark on the greatest journey of her young adult life and you couldn’t be more excited for her. You had no doubt that Celeste would excel at Hogwarts, taking after both you and Draco. 

“Mum,” Celeste calls from ahead, “What house do you reckon I’ll be sorted into?” she asks.

You smile and look at your husband speaks before you, “I have my guesses, but I don’t want to influence you in any way, my star.”

Cel groans and speaks, “Come on! You reckon I’ll be a Slytherin like you?”

Draco laughs and tells his oldest child, “It doesn’t matter to me or your mother what house you’ll be sorted into. We know whatever house you are in, you’ll make us proud.”

Celeste smiles wide before looking at her surroundings realizing its come to the part she’s heard so much about. You look to Draco who nods as you sigh. Walking to Celeste, you place your hands on her shoulders. “You ready, star shine?” you ask, giving her shoulders a squeeze. Celeste gulps and looks at you, excitement and fear laced in her eyes. “We’re gonna run through together,” you aim the luggage cart at that all too familiar wall. “On the count of three,” you tell her.

Your daughter takes a deep breath in and huffs, “On three.”

“1, 2, 3,” the two of you speak before running directly at the wall, passing through with ease as another world appears before your eyes.

Multiple wizard families bustle through Platform 9 3/4, mothers calling to their children as fathers carry bags here and there. A smile forms on your face as Draco slides his hand in yours. “Looks familiar, doesn’t it?” he laughs as you roll your eyes teasingly.

You grab Celeste’s hand, “Come on, darling. Xander, push the cart for your sister. Sage, hold Daddy’s hand. She’s got a train to catch!” 

Your family starts walking to the platform where the train awaited the loading of multiple new and returning students. Draco loads Celeste’s luggage onto the train with the help of Xander as Nicolas holds onto your leg and sucks on his thumb in wonder at the scene before him.

Turning to Celeste, you see watch her anxiously bite on her lower lip as you did when you were nervous. You place a hand on your daughter’s shoulder. “Cel,” you speak as she turns towards you. “This is going to be the greatest journey ever. Enjoy every minute of it because it goes by in the blink of an eye,” you comfort her as you see tears well up in her eyes. “Oh, sweetheart,” you pull her into a hug, tears forming in your eyes. You hold onto your eldest daughter, pressing kisses onto the top of her head. “I’m so proud of you, star shine. You are going to be incredible. I have no doubt about that.”

Draco places a hand on Celeste’s back and rubs gently. “Your mother is right. When is she ever wrong?” he teases as Cel laughs and hugs Draco’s torso tight. “My star...” he gets choked up before breathing in. He squats to her level and speaks, “Have fun. Make friends. And don’t forget to write us.” Cel giggles as Draco smiles widely at his daughter. “My first born...go kick some ass.”

Cel laughs and hugs you and Draco tightly. You wished you could stay in this moment forever. It was so bittersweet. Watching your baby grow up before your own eyes, but doing everything you’ve ever wanted for her. “Okay, my star,” you pull away, letting her know it was time. “Kids, give Cel a hug goodbye.”

You smile, wiping your tears away as Draco wraps an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. Your kids embrace in a tight group hug, telling each other how much they will love and miss Celeste. “I’ll be home for Christmas! I love you guys and I’ll see you soon!” Celeste waves as she climbs onto the train. 

“Come on, Cel!” a voice calls out that you recognize as Tanner, Pansy Parkinson’s eldest daughter.

She’ll be just fine. 

Celeste looks at you and Draco as you both send her a wink, letting her know she’ll be just fine. And there she goes, disappearing into the train car.

Slowly, you watch the train pull away from the station, waving at it, watching Celeste embark on the journey of her life. You turn to Draco, watching him gently wipe away the tears that escape his eyes. “Where did time go?” you whisper to him. “I remember being on that train.”

Draco smiles and looks at you, “I remember flirting with you on that train. And then you stomped on my foot and told me to piss off. Didn’t expect to be by my side years later with four children, did you?”

You roll your eyes, “You really know how to ruin a moment, don’t you, Malfoy?” you laugh. “Alright, my lovelies,” you call to your children. “Reckon we should get some ice cream to celebrate, shouldn’t we?”

Your children all cheer at the prospect of a treat as you scoop Nicolas into your arms, kissing his plump cheeks as he giggles. Sage jumps into Draco’s arms and Xander leads the way out.

With one final look back, you sigh out. This wouldn’t be the last time you did that. You still had three more children. But part of you wished it wouldn’t come as quickly as that just did. “One down, three to go, eh?” you tease Draco who laughs.

“Yeah! I’m next! One more year!” Xander exclaims as Draco tickles his sides.

“Yeah, a whole year! Don’t try and leave us too quickly,” Draco laughs as you join in. 

It was almost surreal. The life you and Draco had built with each other. A life of love and beauty; beautiful and healthy children, successful jobs, a beautiful home to call your own, and all your loved ones safe and sound. You thanked your lucky stars that you had this life and that Draco was so adamant on giving it to you.

Draco looked back at you and noticed how deep in thought you were. As you walked through the train station, Draco took one of your hands in his. “I wouldn’t want to go through any of this with anyone else. I love you,” Draco squeezes your hand.

You smile fondly at your husband, brushing his cheek with your thumb. “I love you. Forever and always, my dear,” you whisper before giving him a sweet kiss in the middle of Platform 9 3/4 just like you had done so many times before.

Times flies when you’re having fun.

[adarafaelbarba]

Full

Pairing: Nick Amaro x Reader x Bryan Kneef

Fandom: Law and Order SVU and The Good Fight

Requested: No

Warning: Smut (Duh)! Do NOT read if you’re under the age of 18!! DP. Butt stuff (always prep!) P in V. Oral (Female and male receiving)

A/N: This covers the Double Penetration square of the Kink Bingo @thatesqcrush​ created! I’ve been so nervous about this and the Threesome square cause I’ve never written for three people getting it on before. But here we are, learning something new every day and I also get to challenge myself and think outside the box that is my comfort zone, so let’s go! ❤️

A/N2: It will MOST likely NOT be mentioned that Bryan and Rafael are identical. But if it comes up, so be it 😂 Also I’m just gonna assume Bryan went to Harvard, cause I don’t think it has been mentioned on the show … oops😂 -Karen

(gif credits to me!)

One thing that had drawn Nick to you was how confident you were. You were confident in court, no doubt about that. The other lawyers knew not to push too many button on you for fear you would rip them apart. You were also confident in your relationship. If Nick didn’t call, you knew it was because of work, or that he had Zara, and that was okay with you. You didn’t need him to always be there for you to know that he only wanted you.

Everyone who knew you both said that what you had was one of the best relationships out there. And those who had also know Nick and Maria, tended to say he seemed to be happier with you, something you had both agreed should never be mentioned to his ex wife.

Another thing you had a great amount of confidence in was in the bedroom, or wherever you and Nick found yourself having sex. You could tell him if there was ever anything you wanted to try out when getting down and dirty. And he knew he would never be judged if he wanted to try something either.

…

You knew something about today would be different when you walked into the courthouse to see a group of people flocking around someone. «What is going on here?!» You asked, your voice booming over the commotion. «Ms. (Y/L/N), how nice to see you again.» You could recognize that voice from anywhere. And as the crowd opened up, there he stood, as smug as he was back in Law School. «Mr. Kneef. What brings you to the big apple?» He chuckled at that. «It’s been far too long (Y/N). I figured I needed to come see you. Your assistant, Julianna is it? Told me you were going to be in court all day so of course I needed to come see you in action.» If there was one man too smug for his own good, it was Bryan Kneef.

The two of you had been close back in Law School. Always helping each other out, whether it was with school work or being each others dates when no one else was interested, or peaked your interests. Then he moved to Chicago, and you moved to New York, and well, as life happens, you moved on, and didn’t keep in touch much. «Well, well, well. Does that mean you want to see how a real lawyer works?» You teased. While you were here working for the District Attorney, he was off in Chicago working for a private company. «That’s very cute counselor, but no, not quite.» He had reached you now, and gave your cheeks a kiss. «You look incredible though», he murmured, and you felt chills going down your spine. Damn this man and his ability to make you blush!

…

Nick could tell something was off when you walked into the precinct after court, bickering with someone he didn’t quite recognize. «Counselor. What brings you here?» Liv asked, approaching the two new arrivals. «The case. Well, the witness you guys handed me. Completely incompetent. Did he even see anything that night? I told you to have him come over to get prepped. Didn’t show, no texts. Made me look like an idiot. And I don’t like being made a fool.» Nick felt himself getting hard at how she talked. «I’m sorry, counselor. No idea why he was a no show, but he sounded good when we talked to him.» Liv sounded irritated at being talked to like that, but it wasn’t like she didn’t need to hear it.

«Maybe if your detectives could pick him up and drop him off at my office, I’ll let it slide», you suggested, crossing your arms over your chest, «Call me if you have some more for me.» Walking past Nick you leant over and gave him a small kiss, «Be safe okay. I love you», you murmured, leaving with Bryan.

…

«Who would have known you would settle down for a cop?» Bryan asked over lunch. «Give it a rest Bry. He’s better than you are.» You had finally calmed down after the initial outburst earlier, and were now enjoying a meal and a catch up with your old friend, like you had never spent a day apart. «Oh please! Not that you would know that, but I’m incredible, in every way.» For anyone who didn’t know Bryan, they would think he was always this happy, and you had a small feeling that he might be like this because he was with you and he was out of Chicago. «Who says I want to know?» You asked, teasingly arching an eyebrow. «Don’t lie to me sweetheart.» That made you shiver. Bryan hadn’t called you sweetheart since your first year.

«Mind if I join you?» Looking up, you were met with your boyfriend’s chocolate brown eyes. «Not at all Guapo, do sit down.» Now was your time to talk to him, to both of them, about what you had wanted to talk about for the entire day. Leaning over as your boyfriend sat, you gave him a soft kiss, resting a hand on this thigh.

You and Nick had talked about wanting to have a threesome. And that had been when you had told him your desire of being filled up. You had never tried it before, but fuck if it didn’t turn you on to think about having two guys in you.

«She’s plotting something, I can tell. Got the same look she had when she had a plan on how to break the opposing council at Harvard», Bryan explained as you you just flashed a wicked smile. «What are you plotting?» He asked. «How much fun we could have.» The way Nick looked at you told you he understood where you were getting at. «And what kind of fun would that be?» Bryan asked, but you were fairly sure he understood too.

…

Getting back to your shared apartment, you all but crashed through the front door. «Such a naughty little girl», Bryan murmured, his hands on your ass, trailing kisses up and down your neck while Nick’s lips were locked with your. «I bet she’s soaked just thinking about it», your boyfriend murmured.

He wasn’t wrong either, you could feel yourself getting damp at the idea of getting filled to the brim. «She’s been dreaming about this for a long time», Bryan mused, squeezing your ass as he did. «This is your dream isn’t it Bry? Fucking your Law School best friend.» You teased him, biting your lip. «Does she run her mouth like this often?» He barely looked at you.

«All the time. Gets her into a lot of trouble», Nick commented, slipping his hand into the front of your slacks. A small whimper left your lips as his finger tips ghosted over your clit. «Naughty little girl», he said, his fingers rubbing over your sensitive nub.

Your legs felt numb and it was like you were about to melt. «Why don’t we get her undressed, and you can see for yourself how wet she is. I’m sure she’d love to feel your beard on her, (Y/N) seems to love when I grow one at least.» You gasped at his revelation.

Bryan’s eyes where blown dark with lust when you looked at him. «Does that make you wet sweetheart? Thinking about me going down on you?» Bryan asked, his fingers slowly opening the button and zipper of your slacks. You let out a string of small whimpers, nodding your head.

…

You felt so naked standing in front of them in only lingerie. But fuck, if it didn’t make you hot. The three of you had moved into the bedroom now, and the two men looked ready to pounce you at any given moment. You wondered who would go first when Nick spoke up, «Lay down hermosa, let out friend taste you.» Nodding your head, you did like you were told and laid down. «Good girl», Nick murmured watching as Bryan went over to crouch in front of your core.

«Mmm. You taste really good sweetheart», Bryan murmured, licking stripes up your slick folds. You were a whimpering mess, his beard scratching deliciously. In all the years you had known Bryan, you never once went for it, you never once tried to have sex with him, not that you would have been thinking about it since getting with Nick. But feeling how good he was with his mouth, you regretted the fact that you never once fucked him.

It didn’t take long before you felt your orgasm approaching. Pulling at his hair you looked over at your boyfriend who was looking back at you in amazement. «Nick», you whined, making grabby hands towards him with your free hand, «Want you in my mouth guapo», you added. «Dirty little minx!» Nick growled, quickly freeing himself from his slacks.

You let out a moan as your lips wrapped around his member. «Oh, hmm, fuck, you’re so good at that aren’t you?» Nick growled, looking at you as your head bobbed back and forth, taking more of him each time. Hollowing your cheeks, you locked your eyes with his as your release finally hit. The moans you let out sending vibrations through Nick and he quickly followed suit, spilling his seeds in your warm mouth. «You should see what her mouth does Bryan!» Nick gasped, pulling out of you as your friend stood up.

«I might do that while you warm her ass up», Bryan said in response, smirking at you as you let out a gasp. The two men shared a look before swapping places, Nick immediately going to grab the lube from the nightstand drawer and a condom.

Keeping your eyes on your boyfriend as he slipped the condom on you had to remind yourself to breath. «You ready cariño?» Nick asked, circling a lube covered finger around your puckered ass. «Fuck my ass baby», you purred, pumping Bryan’s cock.

A loud moan ripped from you as Nick eased his cock into your ass. «Oh Fuck!» You cried out, back arched up. «F—fuck—feels good doesn’t it?» Nick asked, slowly moving in and out of you. Not trusting your voice you could only nod, moving slightly to get a better angle on Bryan’s hard member.

Another orgasm came fast approaching, and you were sure they could both tell as Nick’s hips slowed, and Bryan’s quickened, fucking your face. Letting out one whine after another you clamped down as best you could on Nick. «Nope, you’re gonna hold it until we’re both filling you up hermosa.» That made you moan loudly.

Bryan was quick to pull out of you after emptying his salty liquid in the warm confines of your willing mouth. «Ready for us baby girl? Who do you want where, hmmm?» He asked, caressing your cheek. «Want you in my ass Bryan», you mewled, feeling soaked.

The two men laughed darkly at your submissive streak. «Guess you should lay down of this then Nick», Bryan suggested, looking at his new found detective friend. Grabbing two condoms, Nick handed one to Bryan while pulling out of you, causing you to let out a low moan. He quickly tossed the used condom in the bin before putting the new one on.

You were quick to straddle your boyfriend’s lap as soon as he laid down, earning a chuckle from him. «So eager querida», he mused, entering your cunt. «Hmmm always eager for you Nicky», you mewled in response.

Bryan pushed at your back to make you lay down, and without much warning he slowly entered you. The feeling of being stretched out like that was thrilling to you. The border of pain and pleasure mixing together made your vision go blurry. «Move. Faster. Please!» you moaned, clamping down on them.

Getting the hint, the two men started moving, making you scream out in pleasure, a mix of their names and incoherent babbling filling the room with slapping skin and grunts taking up the air too. You knew you wouldn’t be able to last much longer. The last orgasm being denied would make sure that you would be cuming sooner rather than later.

«Doing so fucking good for us aren’t you sweetheart?» Bryan asked, pressing kissed down your back. «Fuck, you clamping down hard, I think she’s about to cum», he added. Nick looked at you with a smirk before nodding at Bryan, «Oh she’s definitely close! She always does this when she’s about to cum», Nick confessed, making you blush. «Let go for us sweetheart», Bryan murmured, spanking your ass over and over, which was what tipped you over the edge.

Your vision went blurry as your orgasm crashed down on you. The moans and screams coming from you were mere muffled sounds as your ears rung. You had never felt so deliciously full before, and if you were being honest, you wanted it to happen again.

It was hardly there at first. But then Nick’s fingers graced your goosebump filled skin again. «You okay hermosa?» he asked, looking at you with worried eyes. «I’m more than okay baby», you whispered, smiling at him.

Whimpering at the loss of contact as they both pulled out of you, you lazily rolled over onto your back, looking at them. «That was amazing!» you whispered, biting your lip. «It was! A good way to spend my day in New York», Bryan mused, caressing your leg.

«You did so good for us cariño.» Nick caressed your cheek as he laid there next to you. Silence fell over the room, but it was good and you felt yourself getting tired. «I think I should head out, gotta fly back home soon», Bryan murmured, more to Nick than to you. «I’ll call you tomorrow (Y/N)», he added, leaning over to press a kiss to your cheek.

«Be safe Bry.» And with that you fell into a deep sleep, a lazy smile etched on your lips.

Taglist: @sweetcannolicarisi@rafaheadcanons@rafivadafreddy@detective-giggles@mrsrafaelbarba @storiesofsvu@stardust-fray@beccabarba@teamsladsandgents @tropes-and-tales@kriegsverlobte@prurientpuddlejumper @meri-dawn @caked-crusader@itsjustmyfantasyroom​ @dianilaws @delia26​ @permanentlydizzy

[entertainment]

Entertainment Spotlight: Will Vought, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

Actor, comedian, and writer Will Vought stars in the most recent season of the critically acclaimed dramedy series, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. Additional television credits include The Good Wife, The Good Fight, both Lipstick Jungle and Love Bites, Bones, and Wilfred. Will is also an accomplished comedian, having toured the country opening for Wayne Brady. He got his start in the entertainment industry by contributing to Scott Shannon’s #1 morning show on 95.5 WPLJ, offering David Letterman updates and recaps, which opened the door for him to work for Late Night with Conan O’Brien. Following his work with Conan, Will was offered a position in the West Wing of the White House, working for former President Bill Clinton, where he still continued his radio work on the weekends as the youngest morning show host in the country at just 22 years old. Will went on to serve as head writer for Wayne Brady during his time hosting the The Late Late Show prior to James Corden in 2014 on CBS, and he continues to collaborate with renowned actor and comedian Paul Reiser, including shopping a television pilot they wrote together with Julie Bergman. We got the chance to ask him some questions. Check it out:

Do you have a favorite character arc from season 3 of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel?

For Season 3, I’m finding myself really interested in Susie and her journey. I don’t want to spoil it for those getting ready to start the new season or binge the series; however, in the first two seasons, Susie’s been hustling and primarily being of service to Midge while her personal life hangs on by a thread. In season 3, there are so many more layers introduced and opportunities that will ripple into not only her clout as a comedy manager but also her personal life. Also, I’m really invested in Lenny Bruce. Having read so much about him to see his plight on screen told through Amy’s lens is incredible. I don’t know anyone in comedy that doesn’t appreciate what Lenny Bruce did for comedians. The end of the Season 3 premiere is absolutely priceless seen thought the eyes of Tony Shalhoub’s Emmy Award-winning performance as Abe Weissman - Midge’s father.

If everything that you did was narrated, whose voice would you want narrating your life?

HA! That is a great question, and I’ve had to think about it. At first, I thought of the late great voice-over artist Don LaFontaine who moviegoers would remember as the “In A World…” guy who made millions voicing almost every movie trailer ever! BUT…truth be told I think that I would love Seinfeld's voice and lens, and I think it would make my day to day activities far more entertaining to listen to, especially when on the phone with my therapist.  

Can you tell us about a time you bombed (on stage or in an audition)?

Well…the thing that pops to mind was an audition for NBC’s series called Lipstick Jungle. At the time, I was living on Long Island and decided to make the mistake of driving into Manhattan for the audition. Traffic was abhorrent, and you would think that there were mass casualties on the Long Island Expressway resulting in me being almost an hour and forty-five minutes late for the audition. The director of that episode was the one and only Timothy Busfield, whom I loved on Arron Sorkin’s The West Wing. Tim played reporter Danny Concannon - Senior White House Correspondent.

I had no idea that Timothy was going to be at the audition and was mortified when I showed up and saw him in the room because I was so late. It’s not unheard of to not be seen at all if you are late, let alone hours late. I read for the part and left. Tim was gracious. A month later, I got a call saying that I didn’t book that role; however, they were writing me another role and wanted to hire me for it. While on set shooting, Tim told me that when they asked him if he had any ideas for the part and he said, “That guy who came in 2 hours late. He was great. Hire him.” So I thought I bombed — but it worked out in the end.

The USO Tour scene from The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel broke the record for the most number of background actors used in a scene for tv in the state of New York (850). What was it like being a part of such a huge production?

I’ve never worked on Star Wars, but that’s what I was thinking of when we were filming that. It was by far the largest set I’ve ever been on, and yes there were almost 1000 background actors there for almost an entire week, who made up the audience of the USO show that you see in the season 3 premiere. When I met with Amy and Dan for the final audition for the role of Major Buck Brilstein, it was at Steiner Studios in Brooklyn in a small room that’s not much larger than a small studio apartment in Manhattan. It was the three of us and Emmy award-winning casting director Cindy Tolan. We did all the material from the episode, and to juxtapose that to being in an actual hanger with 1000 extras essentially filming a USO show that’s scripted — it was a historic moment in television that wasn’t lost on me.  

What was the audition experience like for your role on The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel?  

I kind of talk about that above. I had a great experience. As with anything, you have to go in a number of times, and then the final callback is with Amy and Dan Sherman Palladino. You are 2 feet away from her, there is a camera, and Cindy Tolan, the casting director, and you create the world and do the scenes — WORD PERFECT! That is a huge thing, and something I was told going in. Be word perfect every time. Their words are like notes on a page. Each one carefully picked and placed, and my job is to take them off the page and bring them to life with a sensibility of 1959 and a guy that’s a major in the army who always wanted to be a comedian but never really got the chance. So, my character is literally living his dream in this episode. Beyond that, you bring your A-game, nail it, and it’s up to Amy and Dan. It happened to go my way, and as I told Amy, I was grateful to get the invitation to play in her world. She wrote and directed this episode, so it was extra special.

Is there a specific role or moment that you feel has defined your career up to this point?

We’ll — this is pretty significant re: working with the Palladino’s.  I thought that The Good Wife was a big deal at the time — as I was part of Bob and Michelle King’s storyline that revealed Josh Charles’ character was murdered.  

It seems that I’m only allowed to act opposite actresses that have won 2 Emmy’s and 2 Golden Globes for Best Actress. LOL.  It’s truly a hard question to answer as each project is different, and as an actor, you hope that one job will open a door or opportunity to another.  That’s what I’ve found, at least over the past few years, so it’s certainly a slow burn.

Years ago, I was the low man on the totem pole at NBC’s Late Night with Conan O’Brien. I was an intern in the writing department under John Groff and often got the chance to appear in sketches on the show. This was an invaluable experience. There was an afternoon where I asked Conan (as I was cleaning his office) if he knew this was what he was going to do from the beginning. I’ll never forget what he said. He told me that, “In his wildest dreams he never thought he would be hosting a late night show.” He described show business as being on a highway. He was a writer in college, wanted to be a writer and set off on the highway with the goal of writing in mind. Along the trip, there were exits: Mad Magazine, The Simpsons, SNL. After each exit, he gets back on the journey. If you want to be a teacher or doctor or lawyer, you know exactly what to do. Go to X school for X years, and then they declare you as such. Boom. You’re it. Hollywood is not like that. Everyone’s path is so different, and how we get to where we are is almost inconsequential when compared to the culmination of the journey. I’ve been blessed to do a lot of different things so far and work with incredible talent that truly moves the needle in this business, and I hope for more opportunities.

What’s your favorite bit or joke from one of your stand-up sets?

I have a new bit I’m working on that’s fueled by my natural anger toward this situation.

I hate paper straws.

If this makes me a horrible person, so be it. If “they” think I don’t care about the EARTH or ENVIRONMENT and support the extinction of humanity because of this — so be it.

Paper straws? Really? Who did this make sense to? Who thought it was a good idea to combine PAPER and WATER?

I’m sure it seemed like a good idea at the time — but it doesn’t work. Three sips into my iced coffee and the thing has disintegrated, and I’m now drinking iced coffee and paper!

If you think paper straws are a good idea, let me ask you one question. Would you like to use a paper condom?

In the future, you’ll be standing in the rain telling your friend you can’t understand why she’s pregnant and soaking wet from holding the paper umbrella.

I will say that if we do switch to paper condoms …. I don’t know about the environment, but we will absolutely ensure the survival of humanity.

Lighting round! Describe each of the following in one word: Who you are, what you value the most, and what you’d be if you were a food item.  

I AM WILL VOUGHT.

I VALUE MOST: MY SON.

IF I WAS A FOOD ITEM, I’D BE A BEYOND BURGER!

What are you working on right now?

Right now, I’m working on sending out subliminal messages via Transcendental Meditation to Adam McKay for a coffee meeting that would result in being cast on the 3rd season of Succession on HBO.  I’d text him, but I don’t have his cell. Do you?

Thanks for taking the time, Will! Catch Season 3 of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel on Prime Video. 

Photography: Emily Assiran | Grooming Laila Hayani | Styling: Natalia Zemliakova

[kumkaniudaku]

Mama

Happy Mother’s Day to all the mama’s! I also hope those who may be experience tough mental states during this time were able to be surrounded by light and love. I care about you and your cute face. 

Little giggles and warnings to be quiet filled the kitchen of the Boseman home, the mid-morning sunshine lighting the brown faces huddled around the counter. The youngest of the group was the only member not covered in one of the ingredients sprawled across the marble surface. On a regular Sunday morning, the area would be kept tidy as CoCo moved around her sanctuary with trained precision to prepare breakfast for the family. But, for one of two special mornings during the year, Chadwick and the kids snuck around to beat Tasha to the punch and do the heavy lifting.

“Daddy, I don’t think Mommy will like this. It looks...nasty.”

Genuine shock flashed across Chadwick’s face before his booming laughter rang out.

“Does it really look nasty, Princess? You tellin’ me you wouldn’t eat some of your mommy’s favorite french toast?”

“Only if mommy makes it. This looks like sad pancakes.”

Chadwick took a look at the dish and silently agreed. 

Tasha had an affinity for brandy soaked French Toast from the moment her late grandmother allowed her to taste a piece when she was young. The dish was always reserved for special occasions and, in special cases, a session of lovemaking that was too incredible to overlook. When CoCo made them, the golden brown pieces of bread sat on the most expensive plates in the house covered in granny smith apples and syrup in all their glory. After Chadwick had taken his stab at the recipe, the results weren’t nearly as picturesque.

Instead of pillowy slices of challah arranged expertly on the plate, Tasha would be met with slightly mushy apples atop pieces of toast with varying shades of brown and the occasional speck of black. The recipe called for two tablespoons of booze, but without the patience to decide if the tablespoon he used was enough, Chadwick opted for a full shot from his wife’s “special” shot glass.

Micah was right. With the bread soaked in alcohol and apple juice, the french toast did look like sad pancakes.

“You know how you didn’t wanna eat broccoli and cheddar soup because you said it looked like snot,” Chadwick asked Micah who nodded in response. “But you liked it because I made it taste good! Well, your mama will like this because I made it taste good even though it looks like snot.”

“And because she thinks we’re cute?”

“Especially because she thinks we’re cute.”

The slow creak of a door opening above their heads made Chadwick wink to Micah with a smile.

“Mama,” Noah exclaimed, clapping his hands together to mimic the way Tasha would greet him with the good morning song and dance.

“I like the way you think, AJ. Let’s go feed Mama.”

Serving tray in hand, Chadwick helped Micah make careful steps up the stairs and to the room. Tasha’s conversation beyond the bathroom door was unusually groggy and slow with morning drowsiness. Some clever planning from Chadwick kept CoCo up past her self-imposed bedtime to buy time for breakfast prep the next morning. His efforts were paying off.

“Yeah ma, I don’t know where they are. It’s too quiet in here,” Tasha informed her mother over the phone.

“Well are you gonna look for ‘em?”

“No. Hopefully they’re out getting my gift. I’ve been dropping hints about an upgraded wedding ring.”

“You haven’t even been married a decade yet.”

“So? A girl could use new diamonds!”

“That boy spoils you rotten, child.”

“He does and I love him.”

Chadwick caught the small sigh on Tasha’s end of the conversation and smiled. She’d been dropping more than hints and the ring. She was making her way into the “let me come out and say it” category day by day.

“It doesn’t matter what I get anyway. I’m more interested in your reaction when you get your gift! I told Daddy to record it.”

“That must be what he’s calling my name for now. I’ll call you with the verdict later.”

CoCo exchanged goodbyes with her mother before dipping into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Her absence gave Chadwick and the kids enough time to slip into the master bathroom unseen and set up her Best Mom Ever surprise. The moment her trophy was placed on the bedside table, CoCo opened the door.

“Happy Mama’s Day!”

A broad smile stretched across CoCo’s face as she clutched her chest and admired their excited faces.

“My babies! Is this for me?”

“Yeah! We got you gifts and a trophy and breakfast!”

“Well I’m excited. Show me what to do!”

While Micah gave her mother instructions, Chadwick took his moment to pepper Tasha’s cheek in kisses.

“Happy Mother’s Day, baby. You the best.”

“Ooh does that mean I got my ring?”

“Of course. I installed the new doorbell last night.”

Backing away from his kiss, Tasha made her disgust known. “Get away and give me my son!”

“Ah don’t be like that, Cookie!”

CoCo playfully shooed her husband away and took her spot in the chair beside their bed to wait for whatever Micah had in store. Her first gift came in a ornate, handmade frame.

“This one is from Noah! It says I love you Mommy.”

Tasha took a look at the rainbow of unintelligible signs and shapes and smiled. “I see the vision. It’s abstract! Thank you, Chunk,” she cooed as she brought Noah up to her lips for a kiss. “What’s next, Mikes?”

“I gots the best gift for you from me. Open it, open it!”

Micah couldn’t stop dancing while she watched Tasha carefully pull apart the ribbon adorning a slender, Tiffany blue box. Tasha fully expected another charm bracelet, but the actual gift was nothing short of confusing.

CoCo looked to Chadwick for answers and received a secretive smile in return.

“What is this baby girl?”

“It’s a magic wand because you’re magic! And it’s glass so that it sparkles.”

The explanation made CoCo melt in her seat. “You think I’m magic?”

“Yeah! You do all the cool stuff like cooking and playing dress up and taking pretty pictures and teaching me how to read. You’re like a fairy!”

“Oh my...I’m gonna cry. Come here, sweetie.”

Micah rushed into her mother’s arms for a huge embrace that seemed to last forever.

“I love it so much, Munchkin. I’ll keep it forever and ever. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Micah exclaimed, unaware of the emotional roller coaster she’d just gifted Tasha.

“Whew, the WATERWORKS. Can you beat that Daddy?”

���Actually,” Chadwick answered, dramatically drawing out the word. “Let’s take a break and eat breakfast. I made you famous brandy French Toast.”

“Mmmm, I-.” Tasha’s face dramatically changed expressions as she watched a steaming hot plate of mush be placed in front of her. “This looks...food-y.”

Chadwick caught the hesitation in her sentence and smiled, “We know it doesn’t look as good as yours, but we know it tastes good.”

“And we’re cute!”

“You guys sure are that. I guess I should dig in?”

“Eat it! Eat it! Eat it!” Micah danced and chanted as Tasha attempted to cut through the thickest and, somehow, driest portion of the bread.

All eyes were on her to watch for her reaction. She chewed and chewed...and chewed some more until she had small enough portions to swallow. The sting of potent bourbon nearly made her choke, but she smiled through the reaction.

“Does it taste good, Mommy.”

“Mhmm,” she answered through pursed lips. “Hey, Mikes, Daddy forgot your being me water. Can you bring me a water bottle from the kitchen?”

Micah jumped at the opportunity to be helpful and dashed out of the room. Once she was out of earshot, Tasha’s eyes grew wide.

“Babe, I think I’m drunk! Did you soak it overnight?!

“I may have gone a smidge too hard but the cinnamon flavor is there right?”

“Hell if I know! I can’t taste anything past liquor,” she laughed. The sound drew Noah’s attention and he craned his head around to kiss her lips. “No, no, baby. Can’t have you tipsy at 9 in the morning.”

Chadwick couldn’t help but laugh at his blunder, but chose not to comment. Instead, he chose to take a seat beside her in the bed and pull out the gift hidden in his pocket.

“Since I did less than stellar with your favorite breakfast, I figure I’d give you this to make up for it.”

He presented her with another Tiffany blue box and Tasha immediately knew that was inside. She rushed to pop the top and squealed when she was met with a beautiful diamond with an engraved band.

“Another wedding band? I’m so surprised! I would have never guessed.”

“Yeah right,” Chadwick mumbled. As soon as the words left his lips. Tasha covered them in kisses.

“You the best, babe. I love you.”

“I love you.” A second kiss cake right as a flash of fluffy coils came rushing in to join the rest of the family on the bed. Tasha quickly received the cold bottle before welcoming Micah into her arms.

“I love you all so much. Thank you for being my babies.”

“It’s our pleasure,” Micah affirmed, snuggling closer to CoCo.

The room filled with laughter from wall to wall as they enjoyed time together. Tasha didn’t need flashy gifts and trophies on a holiday to know that she was loved. In her mind, the three versions of her heart was enough to make every day worthwhile.

——

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[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Dressed Up, Part 1 of 2 (An I Give Up Deleted Scene)

Genre: Fluff / Sexually Suggestive Situations(15+)

Characters : You x Baekhyun

Word Count: 7.4k

A/N: Warnings: a pretty woman makeover, nudity, an attempt at seduction via video call, Houston we have a sugar daddy.

[Part 2]

IGU Deleted scenes masterlist

This shop wasn’t your usual style. What was your usual style? The sale rack at that department store in the mall. This place was definitely not your style. The second you walked in you could feel it. There was a mild and pleasant fragrance wafting around your nose as you stepped through the double french doors and from the corner of your eye you saw a woman dressed smartly with a tasteful pencil skirt and heels that were not too high for a full shift of standing on her feet.

If she made any judgements about you upon entering the store, she kept them to herself. The fact that you didn’t quite fit the look of this boutique’s typical clientele wasn't lost on you and you nearly spun on your heels right on out that door before she was able to call out her welcoming greeting.

‘Something nice. This is going to be black-tie so go buy something nice. Ask the shop ladies for suggestions…’

You couldn’t leave. The company party was tonight and you’d be damned if you would be the only one wearing a five year old sale rack little black dress from the back of your closet. You didn’t even want to think about the complaining such a move would produce from Baekhyun. You’d surely never hear the end of it.

The woman in the tasteful heels immediately approached you with a stepford-wife smile on her face. You’d taken seven steps inside and weren’t circling around toward the exit despite glancing at the first tiny price-tag that hung from the sleeve of a plain white designer blouse. It wasn’t even that fancy of a blouse. It just had round pearled buttons going down the front and looked like it might even be a bit see through in the right lighting and -- sweet jesus, it was thousands of dollars. For a white shirt. Your eyes widened on their own and immediately you shook away the queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach.

‘...and please, just don't look at the prices. Please just ignore that...for me, huh? Like the way I ignored the six packages of sausages you accidentally threw away because the lighting was bad and you thought that they were expired when they totally weren’t and I just ignored it and cried silently in the bathroom because of all those delicious sausages that I had just bought and you threw them all — just….’

His heavy breathing echoed into your ear and you could practically feel the heat from his lungs coating your eardrum with his frustrating memory of that single week when you’d been on an obsessive cleaning kick since watching Marie Kondo saving counter space and saving lives in the process.

‘Just ignore the price. Like I ignored the second love of my life being wasted like...like some common garbage. Please...do this for me, as the first love of my life...’

Was this really the right place? You had checked the address for the boutique three times in your phone before you even exited the taxi cab and it all seemed to match. This was the honest to god place, Byun Baekhyun, your foolishly loveable husband, had sent you to buy your evening gown for tonight’s party. You had an appointment at a salon after this and you didn’t quite know how you would get through the evening in one piece after all the strangers and their fussing.

Baekhyun had asked you to come. Baekhyun wanted you there and it was an important evening to him. A social event with the influential, the powerful, the up-and-comings in his industry and with his friends and he wanted you, his (still secret) wife on his arm. You were certain he would be dressed impeccably with a tailored suit, shined shoes, full hair and makeup no doubt. If there was one irrefutable fact about the man, it was that he thrived when he looked good. And he was going to outshine all others. The least you could do was put forth a little effort.

“Welcome, Miss,” the woman spoke up at last and your smile felt entirely too tense to look natural on your face. “Mr. Byun called ahead. If you would follow me, we have a selection of pieces for you to try.”

Pieces. They called the dresses pieces which meant they surely would carry a price-tag that rivaled some of the art that hung on the wall of that exclusive art gallery you saw next door.

And he called them ahead for you?

Of course he did. That was probably going to be the least surprising thing about this entire evening. That Baekhyun was simply unable to contain his excitement about a fancy schmancy dress up party which the both of you were attending together; of course he couldn't resist getting in on the decision making. You wondered what sorts of dresses he’d instructed them to pick. You wondered if he paid any attention at all to keeping within some sort of a budget. That sort of thing didn’t really seem appropriate in a place like this though.

You found yourself seated in an armchair and beside you sat a crystal glass with cold ice water. You began to reach for it, but quickly pulled your hand back as images of knocking the whole thing over on yourself played through your mind.

There was but a pause to breathe before the parade began. Young women with matching uniforms all carrying evening gowns in different shades and styles all walked before you with their smiles pasted firmly to their faces and their eyes all fallen down just so. You’d been so caught off guard by the fact that not a single one of them would look you in the eyes that you forgot to look at the first five dresses that passed you by.

It wasn’t until the color red popped like a bubble in your field of vision and pulled your focus down to the gown that was making its way directly in front of you and you looked down at it and...and...

Oh.

Oh my, that was…

You sat up straighter -- a gut reaction -- and the woman carrying the red gown stopped her movement the moment you flinched.

“Can I just…” You hated to interrupt their little show, but this one felt different than the others somehow. Despite with the way it hung lifelessly in her arms like a deflated balloon you could see the quality of the sheer fabric that draped over the floral lace bodice below. The neckline below the tulle plunged deep and from the look of it, the skin-tone fabric bodice gave the illusion of showing a lot more skin than it actually did.

You couldn’t possibly pull this dress off, could you?

“Ahh, the Valentino. Excellent choice — bring that one. She will wear the Valentino.” A voice boomed from somewhere behind you and the once quiet sales woman that initially greeted you was clapping her hands as she directed her army of dress-cradling women to leave the room. Only a select few remained for the fitting.

As you threw away your reservations of disrobing in front of a room full of eerily quiet strangers, you placed your first tentative foot inside the open gown and as it was pulled up and closed up around you, one thing about this dress became abundantly clear.

You weren’t just wearing the Valentino.

Oh, no.

The Valentino was wearing you.

Your first spin to face the triple mirrors that lined the wall had you under a spell and the flow of fabric that swayed and followed your spin made you feel powerful. Perhaps it was the very real skin just above your navel that was made visible by the deep plunge of the neckline below the red tulle, or perhaps it was the way the contoured lace fabric hugged your breasts, leaving them covered while giving the illusion of leaving them bare -- and the curve around your hips that cinched around your waist and flattered the shape of you -- but, wow, this dress was incredible. This dress hugged your every curve as if it were created with only you in the designer‘s mind.

This dress was...yours. Marie might even say that it sparked joy in a way that no other garment that had been placed upon your skin in this lifetime had ever done before.

The bright overhead lights brought out a sparkle in your eyes that made you feel like a hundred carat engagement ring sitting inside a locked display case of the finest jewelry store in all of the world and as you ran your fingers down the curve of your hips, finding the spot where the under dress ended up high on your thighs and the sheer red continued as if it’s only job was to tease at the idea of a covering -- you visibly swooned.

“How much is this one?” Your voice sounded dreamy, heavily affected and almost drunk, and you caught a glimpse of humanity as you made a split second of eye contact with one of the women who had helped you into the dress. As quickly as it happened, she looked away from your face and into the face of the shop woman behind you, but her cheeks were pink -- her eyelids fluttered rapidly. It was a hairline crack in her composure. The slip of the woman made your cheeks feel flush and you remembered where you were and who you were and what kinds of questions the patrons of this shop didn’t usually ask outloud. You wondered if in another life, you and this young woman who steadied her gaze away from your prying eyes, might have been friends.

“It’s within the budget, Miss,” the shop woman said.

“There is a budget?” This time your question was genuine curiosity and you lifted your brows and spun to look into her amused face.

“There is a minimum budget, yes.”

Impossible. He was impossible.

“Just tell me how many zeroes.” It felt like bargaining with the enemy at this point and the stitched floral design in the lace bodice had some sparkle to it when you rocked your hips back and forth in this lighting. It was probably hand stitched by an expert seamstress. Someone had loved this fabric with their fingertips and a needle and sterling thread and you hoped their hard work had been handsomely rewarded.

She had gone quiet behind you and you figured her bonus was at stake if she spilled the beans your dear husband had insisted she keep a tight lid on so you lifted your chin and let out a sigh of defeat.

“I’ll pay with my own card.” It looked like defeat to the casual observer. Yes, you were using the card he gave you and yes, it was funded by his money. Yes, he would get a text message that the card was used with the purchase amount and location but the benefit of using your own card meant that you would also get the same text message.

If it was too much you could always just return it then and there, right?

Maybe you could go to the mall and find something there that looked just like this if you squinted and covered one eye as you looked at it.

Your card was already swiped and yet, the dress that had just been charged was nowhere in sight. There was a second where you paused and your eyes wandered over the faces of the shop attendants with just a hint of a question on the tip of your tongue. Your card was quietly returned by the sales woman and her smile preceded her answer to your unspoken question.

“We will have it delivered to your home within the hour.”

Oh, right. Rich people didn’t carry bags. Well, except for the designer ones hung over their limp wrists with the logo facing outward for all to see.

It was for the best anyway, you had two more stops to make before checking in with the dog sitter for the evening. She, a young girl named Sunny, had been highly recommended by one of Baekhyun’s bandmates for her reliability and patience with young puppies. In fact, she was going to be taking care of two poodles that belonged to another member tonight along with your and Baekhyun’s new puppy. You tried not to worry too much for the tiny ball of fluff. After listening in on Baekhyun’s phone call with Sunny, you were certain the poor girl had been given plenty of helicopter-parent instructions from him, she didn’t need your worried phone calls to add to the mix.

You were already on your way through the double french doors of the shoe shop when you felt the vibration of your cell phone through the layers of your leather bag against your hip.

That would be it; the text message alerting the card holder that their credit card had been used to purchase a, most likely, obscenely expensive garment that would be worn exactly one time. Did you dare look? Maybe looking was a bad idea. Maybe when you looked you would lose the nerve to make your way through the double french doors of the designer shoe store that was next on your itinerary.

Your fingers felt itchy. The back of the taxi was quiet enough to hear the sound of your cell phone calling out your name, telling you to check to see what the damage was so you could begin freaking out already.

You were powerless to stop yourself and as you pulled your cell phone out of your bag you felt it vibrating again, this time for a new text messages that had just arrived.

On your screen, just above the notification that read ‘A transaction has been made on your credit card in the amount of…’, sat a new text message notification from ‘Curry & Chocolate’ and you clicked there first. Would Baekhyun have something to say about how much the dress cost? Would he shake his head that you had squandered so much of his hard earned money on something so frivolous and wasteful?

‘Omgomgomgomgomg asdflakdfja;lkjfa … which one did you get?!!!’

This was followed immediately by a message that read ‘WAIT NO DON’T TELL ME!! I want to be surprised,’ that was succeeded by every single heart emoji he could find in his phone’s keyboard.

You hadn’t actually ever done this before. Gone shopping without him, spending vast amounts of money on yourself like this, and you could see the excitement in the messages that came one after another on your phone.

‘Is it too pretty? What if you look too pretty and i faint in public?’

‘It’s not like this is our wedding day -- you can send me a picture as you’re getting ready, so i can prepare myself, right?’

His enthusiasm was adorable and you had to bite down on your lip to keep from giggling all alone in the back seat of this taxi.  

‘No, don't send me a picture. I want to be surprised. I’ll just drop dead, it’s okay. I’ll die happy.’

Knowing Baekhyun as well as you did, you knew that his meandering mind would eventually settle itself on its own and you didn’t have to respond to these messages with anything except for a few heart emojis and a quick reminder that you were still not done shopping for tonight. You replied that you had just arrived at the shoe store and would be quite busy in the salon for hair and makeup shortly after.

You weren’t sure what you had been expecting. The fancy dress store had lead you into a false sense of security that made you forget that designer shoes were just as ridiculously overpriced as designer fashion was and you sighed right out loud as you handed over your card to pay for the strappy heels with the blood red lacquered soles whose designer’s name you couldn't even spell without the assistance of autocorrect and you swallowed down the guilt that you would be wearing something on your feet that, if sold, would feed a family of four for several months.

Your hands were shaking when you signed the receipt and when your phone vibrated again, alerting you of the charge to your card, you cursed at your ability to do mental math as you began to tally up the totals.

Of course he texted you again after the bank did and the diamond and heart emojis that he sent did not help ease any of the guilt, despite the weirdly obvious clues that he was somehow having a fun time watching you spend so much of his money. At this rate, you would be the most expensive thing on his arm tonight — blowing out of the water, the hefty price tags of any of the fancy watches he could choose from to adorn his wrist. Even if he wore them all at once, they would not compare.

Your nails were done; hands and feet to match the red of the Valentino (because everything else should fall in line when this dress was clearly the one in charge) -- your hair was halfway there and the makeup on your face was pristine and set with products that the beautician swore would not budge all night long and all you wanted to do was curl up and take a nap by the time you were done with all the card swiping and receipt signing.

You had a schedule to keep though, and once through the doors of your home you were called back to the ringing doorbell when the deliveries started. First it was the dress, shoes; a new clutch for tonight’s essentials and when the door rang again you glanced around at all of the crisp and expensive packages, taking a quick inventory and coming up with a new question mark. Everything you had purchases today had already been received, yet the young man in the classy suit who stood at your door was holding a package in his hands with the markings from a store you had not visited today.

You were friendly enough although hesitant to receive this latest delivery for fear that it had somehow been sent in error. The man in the suit smiled wider and urged your focus down, pushed the package closer to you and his eyes begged you to just take it already. When he confirmed your name and you admitted that, yes, you were the person he sought out you really had no other move but to finally accept what he was offering.

You felt downright funny about this. The package was small; not another evening gown or pair of shoes. You’d seen enough of high priced boutiques today to recognize that this item was of a similar source. Only as you reached inside and pulled out the heavy black clamshell case, you knew immediately that you were handling expensive jewelry and you definitely had not visited a jewelry store in your shopping today.

Inside, the clamshell was velvet lined and housed a set of jewelry — sparkling diamonds, lots and lots of them. You saw teardrop earrings that matched a diamond necklace and even a delicate bracelet with the sparkling stones going all the way around and you set the whole thing down onto your granite kitchen countertop to get a good look at the way the stones took ahold of the fluorescent lights above your head and shot them back at you from all directions. The sparkles were astounding. The cuts of each stone overwhelmed and you also had to get a good breath of air into your lungs because you honestly had been holding your breath as you stared at the gorgeous jewels before you.

It was too much...but at this point would such a statement even make any difference? It was already here in your hands.

You pulled your phone out and snapped a shot of the jewelry, slightly annoyed that your phone’s camera couldn't capture the full range of sparkle, and you sent the image to your husband.

‘Please tell me this is rented.’

He didn’t respond to your text message and the longer you looked down at the jewelry, the prettier the sparkle of those stones looked once you moved in the recessed lighting of your bedroom.

The more you touched them and handled them and held the necklace up against your neck or the earrings up to your ears, the more beautiful the image of those diamonds adorning your skin made you feel and when you stood in front of floor length mirror in your spacious bathroom you were wearing them all, and you wore absolutely nothing else to compete with the sparks of light shooting off of those precious stones that decorated your body -- and oh, you felt it.

The priceless and perfect, here and now.

You felt like possibly a million bucks even well before you put on the dress and everything else this man had already provided for you.

This was his mark. The strands of diamonds that completely encircled your wrist, throwing fire with each slight movement of your hand over the bare skin as you raked perfectly manicured nails over one bare breast. You watched the light travel over your skin and you felt the traces of him all over you.

The shine of the biggest stone, seated over the hollow of your neck, where his lips and teeth had tasted your skin countless times, that stone there beckoned to you with the sweet softness of his voice - mine, mine, mine, as he often called out in the warm pauses between breaths.

An urge was brewing inside of your chest. Below where the diamond sat, deeper inside where with each of your deepest inhales could not seem to satiate. Your slow exhale only quenched the superficial need for air, but this urge ran deeper.

This was not something you and he did.

You had never allowed it before — extravagant and expensive gifts. Sure he had tried in the past but you had put up enough of a fuss about the price of things he gifted you, and the unfairness of it. That you could never match the price tag with the things you bought him. You’d made it clear that this sort of disparity irked you and he had always followed along, choosing instead gifts with more sentimental value than monetary value and you and him both treasured the meaning behind these gestures above all else.

But this—

What would be his meaning behind the diamonds?

That tonight was such a special occasion and your ensemble required only the absolute finest embellishment. Ornate, gilded, and as beautiful as the love you felt when you looked into his eyes.

Was this how Baekhyun wanted to show off his love for you? Could his intentions be this obvious?

A single faint vibration sounded from the dresser of your bedroom and you pulled your eyes from the mirror for a moment.

‘What are you doing~’

He couldn’t have possibly been bored. He was supposed to be getting ready for tonight, and you knew he had less than an hour before he had to be at the venue and you had been scheduled to arrive within the following hour to keep the photographers, who likely camped outside, in the dark about the true nature of your relationship with your very successful and very important idol.

‘I am trying on the diamonds’

It wasn’t, ‘I am googling the price’ or ‘I am returning them to the store’, instead you were uncharacteristically and alarmingly honest about just how weak this particular set of jewelry had made you. Perhaps it had been the entire day of shopping and your sense of proper wifely behavior had been thrown off, but that urge that sat inside of your chest swelled up again, inflating your lungs and making the lights from the ceiling reflect beautifully off the enormous diamond that hung around your neck.

When you turned your head, the teardrops hanging from your ears swayed with the movement and you tucked an invisible strand of hair behind your ear to watch the delicate way your bracelet slid over your arm with the motion.

‘Oh?’

His response was tentative. It was the tip of a toe dipped into a swimming pool and pulled back out again. Only to check the temperature, of course. He wasn’t about to dive in just yet.

The deliberate silence that followed that single syllable word was an advanced tactic that you had been entirely unprepared for and you held your phone in one hand looking down at the screen, simply unable to believe that he had no follow up inquiry for you.

He wasn’t even typing.

He had gone completely silent after that gentle and soft nudge that had filled you with so much curiosity and tension that it sent your thumbs down hard on the screen of your phone. You hit a few random letters and deleted them, surely giving away your obvious unrest after his ploy.

Didn’t he have anything else to ask you? Didn’t he want to know if you liked them, or maybe give you some details about how he just happened to run across this particular set of jewelry that looked as if it were made specifically with your tastes in mind when you had been given less than three days notice about this entire event and the fact that you would be attending had been well up in the air until this very morning. Did he really have nothing more to say?

You were being baited.  You knew this.

‘They are very, very beautiful, Baek...’

It worked.

You had barely hit send when you saw the graphic on your screen that told you he was typing out a response.

He had been waiting it out.

‘Can I see?’

The air surrounding your bare skin had, prior to his simple question, felt quite warm and comfortable in temperature, yet the second you read his request you felt a chill run along your bare thighs; traveling quickly without a clear destination. It spread over your skin, pulling and puckering up your nipples and leaving the surface of your skin rough with goosebumps that reached well to the back of your neck.

As quick as the chill, came the heat and the surface of your cheeks felt warm to the touch as you typed out a three word response to the man who held more power over you than any other soul to walk this earth.

‘Are you alone?’

Baekhyun’s reply came without delay.

‘Mhmm’

Your fingertip stuttered for only a moment and you toyed with the decision.

You shouldn’t encourage this, the lavish spending you had always denied. You shouldn’t reward it.

And yet, a set of jewelry had never quite made you feel this way before. Sure, the tasteful diamond solitaire ring you wore on your finger was the symbol that brought all the warmth and love to the surface of your mind every time you looked down at it.

But this, it was Byun Baekhyun polished and sparkling bright and lovely around your neck. It was the years you had shared together dripping like liquid from the tips of your ear lobes and it was his long shimmering fingertips clasped around your wrist; holding on tight and promising to never let you go.

The video call was ringing and after a second of darkness the call was connected. You were rewarded with the view of his face; the top of his, already styled, light pink hair and dark eyes lined with the barest of eye makeup, applied by an expert’s hand, and his eyes focused on the view of you in front of him.

His eyes were moving and you knew from the way you held the phone and the image of yourself from the corner of your own screen, exactly what he would see. It would be the image of you, completely naked, except for the earrings, the necklace and the occasional spark of light from around your wrist.

Baekhyun’s eyes widened marginally, only enough to tell you that this was a surprise and you could hear the small puff of air exhaled through his parted lips as his eyes took in the sight of you.

He then closed his eyes and ran a hand with slender fingers over the length of his face, settling that hand over his mouth and his eyes pulled open again much too slowly. He hadn’t yet said a damn thing about what he thought about the diamonds.

Didn’t he think they complimented your skin tone perfectly? Didn’t the way that big stone pulled the delicate chain downward make your neck look pretty?

Did the sparkle of diamonds around your wrist make him want to hold your hand perhaps?

“Do you like them?” He finally spoke when he had removed his hand from over his lips and his voice was soft and low. Once the question was out he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and he bit down. His eyes darted up to touch yours once before they drifted down again and you wondered if he was looking at the diamonds anymore or…

“I love them,” you whispered and lifted a hand to show off the way sparkles caught the light.

Your declaration pulled his eyes back into yours and pulled his lips wide as he flashed the smallest smile of satisfaction. This look on his face was somewhat hard to read. Of course he was quite pleased with himself, but there was something else inside of his eyes as his smile slowly fell and evened out again and his lips parted and a tiny puff of air escaped through his mouth.

“You look so, so beautiful in them,” he inhaled through those parted lips and narrowed his eyes, looking almost intoxicated as he seemed to loosen his focus, “I knew you would, when I saw them...I just— I couldn’t help myself, baby.”

The excuse was the first bit of a clue he had given you of the incredible cost. As you had suspected when you first saw them, they had to cost a lot.

He could not help himself, he said. Their beauty was simply too great to resist when he thought of spoiling you in such a way with this incredible gift. The idea that this man loved you so much, he was powerless against such a temptation...perhaps it was you who was intoxicated.

“Were they very expensive, Baek?” The sound of your voice was soft and heavily affected now and you played with the necklace with your fingertips.

A sound betrayed him. A throaty whine, cut off quickly when he snapped his lips shut and he closed his eyes. He inhaled through his nose before you saw the up and down movement as he nodded his head. Yes. Yes they were.

“Do you always try on jewelry this way?” It came out almost as a complaint and you felt your lips pull into a smile. You enjoyed the thought that you could still have such a powerful effect on him.

“I want to buy you more,” you heard him say under a breath, his words trailing through the effort of their escape, “if this is how—”

“You did say you didn’t want to see the dress yet.” You lifted your shoulders with a little shrug as if you had merely been complying with his own request from earlier and not playing any dirty tricks involving expensive diamonds and gold and nipples and your navel and collar bones and the invitingly suggestive way you now leaned back onto your bed. The same bed that exactly four weeks prior he had pressed your back into as he pushed inside of you.

He had yet to return to you since then and you could feel the longing beginning to turn into desperation.

So that’s what the urge was. It was to be felt and touched and kissed and thoroughly had by your husband.

The same one who was staring now, cheeks flushed, so much more than the makeup he wore. He was positively pink, to match his hair and his lips.

“Do you miss me as much as I miss you?” You asked with the desperation sitting heavy on your tongue. You were certain he could hear it. You would do anything, you’d spend a million dollars just on yourself. You’d accept the luxury car he had been trying to sell you on. You’d even learn how to drive it. You’d do anything if it meant you could have just a little bit more of this man.

You laid a hand, the sparkly one, over your chest, between your bare breasts, where you could feel the steady thump of your heart.  Something had changed on the other side of the screen and you lost Baekhyun's eyes for a split second as he glanced at something behind him. A noise perhaps. Did someone knock?

He returned to you promptly and leaned in too close to the screen for you to make anything of his face.

“Baby, this...this is already too much. How am I supposed to put on my suit if I can’t zip up my pants?”

When he leaned away from the phone enough for you to actually read his expression again you could clearly see the struggle written all over that pretty face. But, God, was he pretty. His hair was styled up, a rare hairstyle for him, and one that always made your knees weak.

There was an alarm ringing somewhere inside his room. You felt downright victorious when you shifted and let your knees fall open slightly, just enough to show off the full body wax you’d subjected yourself to as a part of all inclusive spa treatment paid for by the one and only EXO’s Byun Baekhyun and he covered his lips again with a hand that was much less steady than at the start of the call.

“Oh,” you heard him whisper. “Oh god, I’ve...I have made a terrible mistake.” He said softly to himself and he was looking down from the phone. He was looking behind his shoulder. He was looking down at his lap and then away from the screen again, in the other direction. “I should not have asked to see a damn thing. I should’ve left it the hell alone—why...why did I ask to see?”

He was looking all over, but he was not looking at you.

He was not appreciating the way the line of sparks around your wrist traveled slowly down your stomach, lower and deliberate in direction. The occasional glance of his eyes when he was too weak to resist touched upon your movement and you smiled to yourself.

He had worked so hard. He had spent so much. The least he could do was watch you enjoy them.

“It’s—it’s time for me to go—baby,” he huffed through gritted teeth, “I — do you… do you like them this much? I have to put my suit on and go.”

You nodded your head — mouth agape as your legs parted further and you slipped your hand lower, the tips of your fingers finding the smooth skin between your legs, parted directly in front of your phone now propped on a pillow. You were already so wet, you just needed him.

“F-Fuck—Wh—what the fuck— what are you...doing with your hand?”

He was cursing now. The sound of it fueled your desperation.

“Fuck.fuck.fuck— my manager is texting me. You— fuck— I’m so fucking hard, how dare you. ”

“What are you going to do about it, Baekhyun?” You hadn’t expected your question to come out sounding quite so challenging but with your fingers running lazy circles within your wetness you were already feeling entirely too reckless to control your tone.

“I’ll...there’s no time. I don’t have time. I have to go. He’s already outside knocking and texting me, baby, I have to...do some squats or fuck it, I’ll tuck it in my waistband. I’m usually dressed right but I guess I’m dressed up tonight.”

“Are you really going to go?” The realization that he seemed to be quickly moving around his dressing room and the grunting you heard didn’t sound so much like sexy grunts and more like genuine effort made you sit up and look closely at the screen of your phone. He had sent it down and you could see movement as hasty arms were pulled through crisp white sleeves and his slim fingers fastened buttons and stuffed his stray shirt tails into his slacks.

You saw the evidence. Baekhyun had a full-on, sex-ready erection sending a bulge of black underwear through the open zipper of his pants and your arrousal/irritation that he would deny you so easily was temporarily halted by your genuine curiosity now.

You watched as he grabbed it. Just wrapped his right hand right around and his face twisted into one of pain as he seemed to squeeze down quite hard.

“Baek—don‘t...hurt yourself,” he looked like he was choking the life out of it and your voice took on a tone of genuine concern. You had seen one sex related injury come into your practicals at the hospital just this past week. The last thing this man (you) needed was to pull or strain something and be unable to fuck you later. You hadn’t seen him for a whole month. You did not want to wait even longer because he’d gone and broke his dick just because you had teased him too much.

His face ticked toward the phone and with all the ire and annoyance of a truly sexually denied man his words clipped back at you, “I’ve owned it longer than you have, darling. I know what I’m doing.” You held back the eye roll. You could write novels of all the ways you’d seen people hurt themselves when they had been positive they knew what they were doing.

Seemingly satisfied with his self aggression, Baekhyun pulled the thing up and with his other hand began zipping up slacks and shifting and pulling fabric around the offending appendage.

When he was all done, you had to admit it was hardly even noticeable unless you were you and you knew exactly the shape, length, width, and girth well enough to make out the exact outline of that dick inside of those pants. Of course you would easily find what was yours.

“I can still see it,” you said with a smug smile and his focus shot back at you with an equally smug grin.

“And I can still see what’s mine. All decorated so sparkly and pretty just for me. I might decide to add a pearl necklace too. If you love wearing my diamonds this much, perhaps you’d enjoy walking around with my cum on your tits all night.”

Your hand flew up to cover your mouth and you gasped. You actually scandalized-church-nun gasped right out loud and the action betrayed you entirely against your will.

Perhaps more shocking than the words themselves was the sudden realization that your own arousal seemed to be the one betraying you.

The image he had put into your mind...it sounded so filthy, and so damn tempting. To be marked as his so obviously. This man was so desired by so many, yet there was only one for him.

Only you.

Could this possibly be why you took to the jewels so strongly?

Your response came out sounding more like a dare than a denial.

“You wouldn’t.”

He leveled his eyes and that frustrated look on his face shifted into one of sudden understanding. A single eyebrow bobbed above his eye.

“Ohh,” he whispered inside of a breath and the corners of his lips pulled into a smile, “oh, you do want that, don't you?”

You felt unable to formulate a response. You doubted the question was rhetorical, yet you felt too stunned and too affected to reply.

“You know, it makes me so very excited to give you pretty things. Expensive things. Things that will show off your beauty. Things that show everyone that you are mine.

I would give you anything you wanted, my love. Anything.”

“Any—thing...” your words eked out slowly and softly in response to his, but there was little meaning in them. What you did feel deep inside your chest was a stronger sensation that had began to take root. Perhaps it had already been there; when you looked at him, through their eyes, the fans...when you saw the things they said about him, the yearnings and the longing they all expressed in elaborate and vivid ways.

And the feeling that grew inside of you as you watched them and all of their desperate wanting that was, again and again, denied.

When the cameras turned off and when the concert ended and the curtains closed and the staff went home and the acting ceased, Byun Baekhyun would pick up his phone and he would call you.

You would be at home or at school or in the subway or having lunch and your phone would ring and you would get his tired sighs or the subtle smiles and the pet names and when the stars aligned and his time off would coincide with your time off, your door would open and you would get his face and his lips and his smell and his skin and they...they had no idea.

This part was for you only.

And that feeling would surge again, just as it did when you unwrapped some gift he gave you, or opened your student loan statements to find that he had, again, made the last payment for you because the due date was coming up and you were going to be late due to your work payment schedule not quite aligning with the due date of the loan payment.

That feeling, it wasn’t quite the same as pride. It wasn’t smugness, or boasting that was fueling this, but it was an intense satisfaction that you were the lucky one. The one fortunate enough to receive his love. Baekhyun always found a way to make you feel like the absolute most important human in his world and even sitting here on the phone with him wearing the expensive diamonds he gave you, you could feel the profound gratitude that your life and his life had intertwined at such an important time as it had. That you had been given the chance to be loved and to love such a brilliantly beautiful man.

It made you feel the kind of special that did not happen to many people.

Baekhyun was dressed now. He was straightening a tie in a mirror and giving another rough tug at his waistband and he stood again in front of his phone, bending at the waist to place his pretty face into the frame of your video call.

You had given up on touching yourself by now. What was the point when he wouldn’t watch you do it.

“I’ll see you in an hour. You won't be late will you?” His voice still sounded huskier than usual but he was making the shift into business mode.  You could tell in the way he straightened out his face, blinking his eyes wide before squeezing them tight and shaking his head a little bit to rid himself of whatever leftover effects of you might still remain there.

He was magical sometimes, the strength of character this man had inside of him was astounding.

After a few throat clears he opened his eyes. Baekhyun lightly kissed his fingertips and blew the tiny kiss toward you and responded with a little nose scrunch when you caught the kiss in the air in front of you quickly, before it could vanish, you laid it over your heart, where you liked to keep all of his long distance kisses.

The call went black and he was gone for now and you pushed yourself to your feet to finish getting ready for tonight.

[ part 2]

IGU Deleted scenes masterlist

[vrgamertc]

John Prine was an Army veteran walking a U.S. Postal Service beat in Chicago and writing songs on the side when Kris Kristofferson heard him and helped spread the word about Prine’s gifts. Pretty soon, he resigned as a letter carrier; his supervisor snickered, “You’ll be back.” Nearly 50 years later, this January, he was given a lifetime achievement Grammy for his contributions to songwriting. The singing mailman almost always had the last laugh.

Prine, who died on Tuesday from complications of the coronavirus, was legitimately unique. He took familiar blues themes — my baby left me — but filled them with whimsy and kindness. He liked a saucy lyric, and wrote movingly, in character, of the quiet lives and loneliness of humdrum people. He seemed like a Zen sage and offered an uncynical live-and-let-live morality in his songs, writing in a colloquial voice that revealed a love of the way Americans speak. He showed how much humor you could put in a song and still be taken seriously. He had less in common with any other songwriter than he did with Mark Twain.

He grew up in Maywood, a western suburb of Chicago, and was reared by working-class parents from Kentucky, where he often spent summers with relatives and fell in love with country music and bluegrass. By 13, he was performing in rural jamborees. When he debuted in 1971, in his mid-20s, he sounded like an old man already, so years later, when he got old and went through two cancer treatments, he still sounded like himself. From his first to his last, he wrote songs that were tender, hilarious, and wise, without grandstanding any of these traits. Here are 15 of the best.

‘Angel From Montgomery’ (1971)

“Angel From Montgomery,” his best-known song, begins with a little declarative startle: “I am an old woman, named after my mother.” It’s an incisive and terrifying look at the dissatisfactions of a bad marriage and a woman’s sense of being economically trapped in her misery. Bonnie Raitt recorded it three years later and uncovered some of the song’s dormant melodies.

‘Your Flag Decal Won’t Get You Into Heaven Anymore’ (1971)

Prine’s self-titled 1971 debut album is a playlist all its own; it has more great songs than a lot of respected songwriters have in their entire careers. The moral stance of this sprightly folk-rock ditty is a response to what he saw as sham patriotism during the Nixon years, and it remains relevant: “Jesus don’t like killing/No matter what the reason’s for.” Prine, a former altar boy, stopped playing it live for a number of years, but when George W. Bush became president, Prine said, “I thought I’d bring it back.”

‘Hello in There’ (1971)

Some fans and critics are put off by this song and its slightly lesser companion, “Sam Stone,” which they see as performative displays of sensitivity toward the vulnerable, or what we now call virtue signaling. Yet somehow, we don’t ever criticize singers for signaling vices and meanness. Prine sings in the voice of an old married man with a dead son, who spends his days in silence and loneliness, and who at the end of the song, asks people to be kind to the elderly.

���The Frying Pan’ (1972)

For his second album, “Diamonds in the Rough,” Prine assembled a small, mostly acoustic band and pursued a front-porch, Appalachian simplicity. Like a lot of his songs, this one takes a lighthearted view of domestic complications: A man comes home and discovers his wife has run off with a traveling salesman. He cries miserably, recounts what he loved about her (“I miss the way she used to yell at me/The way she used to cuss and moan”), and full of pride, comes to the wrong conclusion: Never leave your wife at home.

‘Please Don’t Bury Me’ (1973)

For people who love Prine’s music, there’s some small solace in listening to his songs about death, which have the same sense of mischief and acceptance as the ones about broken marriages. (Try “Mexican Home” or “He Was in Heaven Before He Died.”) The narrator is dead, and as angels explain to him how it happened, they also recap his last wish: to not be dropped into a cold grave, but to be put to practical use, as an organ donor: “I’d druther have ’em cut me up/And pass me all around.” A kind of recycling anthem from his terrific third album, “Sweet Revenge.”

‘You Never Can Tell’ (1975)

Almost like an apology, Prine concludes “Sweet Revenge,” a grieving, downhearted album, with an exuberant Chuck Berry cover, one great writer nodding to another. The Memphis R&B guitarist Steve Cropper produced the record and put together a crack horn section, which pushes ahead of some barrelhouse piano. Prine wasn’t a rocker, but he could rock.

‘That’s the Way the World Goes Round’ (1978)

Prine seemed to have an unlimited ability to expand and vary songwriting structures and perspectives. This track, which has been covered by Miranda Lambert and Norah Jones, has two verses: In the first, the narrator describes a drunk who “beats his old lady with a rubber hose,” and in the second, the narrator gets stuck in a frozen bathtub (it’s hard to explain) and imagines the worst until a sudden sun thaws him out. Both verses illustrate the refrain: that’s the way the world goes round. Even when circumstances are bad in Prine songs, he favors optimism and acceptance.

‘Iron Ore Betty’ (1978)

A lot of Prine songs celebrate physical pleasure: food, dancing and sex, which he gallantly prefers to call “making love.” The working-class singer in this soulful, up-tempo shuffle feels unreserved delight at having a girlfriend (“We receive our mail in the same mailbox/And we watch the same TV”), and wants us to know he and Betty aren’t just friends (“I got rug burns on my elbows/She’s got ’em on her knees”). OK guy, we get it.

‘Just Wanna Be With You’ (1980)

A stomping number from “Storm Windows” in the style of Chuck Berry, with the Rolling Stones sideman Wayne Perkins on guitar. Prine’s lyrics don’t distinguish between reality and absurdity — they don’t clash, they mix — and here’s one more way to say you’re happy and in love: “I don’t even care what kind of gum I chew.” And another: “Lonely won’t be lonesome when we get through.”

‘Let’s Talk Dirty in Hawaiian’ (1986)

Prine had a sideline in novelty songs, which give full voice to his comic absurdity, throwaways that are worth saving, including the 1973 semi-hit “Dear Abby,” and this now-problematic number from “German Afternoons” inspired by a paperback book called “Instant Hawaiian.” Prine and his co-writer Fred Koller began making up Hawaiian-sounding nonsense words full of sexual innuendo, and Lloyd Green added airport-Tiki-bar bar steel guitar for maximum faux authenticity. You can say Prine’s loving disposition makes the song OK, and you can also say it doesn’t.

‘All the Best’ (1991)

After five years away, Prine returned with “The Missing Years,” a Grammy-winning album produced by Howie Epstein, Tom Petty’s bass player. The singer in this gentle, masterly miniature claims to want good things for an ex-lover, but feelings aren’t simple: “I wish you don’t do like I do/And never fall in love with someone like you” twists the knife. Now recording for his own label, Oh Boy Records, Prine was about to hit a hot streak.

‘Lake Marie’ (1995)

Bob Dylan, who was a huge fan, called the haunted, mysterious “Lake Marie” his favorite Prine song, and who are we to disagree with Dylan on the topic of songwriting? Even though Epstein’s booming production draws too much attention to itself, “Lost Dogs + Mixed Blessings” is full of winners: the simple, loving ballad “Day is Done,” the rapid-fire doggerel of “We Are the Lonely” and the calm, ornery “Quit Hollerin’ at Me,” where Prine tells his wife that the neighbors “already think my name is ‘Where in the hell you been?’”

‘In Spite of Ourselves’ (1999)

Prine was diagnosed with cancer, and doctors removed a tumor from the right side of his neck, which took away his already-modest ability to project his voice. But incredibly, his stolid singing was now perfect for harmonies, and he cut a duets album called “In Spite of Ourselves” with female country and Americana singers. On its one original song, Prine and Iris DeMent trade backhanded compliments (“She thinks all my jokes are corny/Convict movies make her horny”) that read like a divorce complaint, but turn out to be only pillow talk.

‘Some Humans Ain’t Human’ (2005)

At seven minutes and three seconds, this track from “Fair and Square” is the longest song on any of his studio albums. A cloud of slide guitar keeps this soft waltz afloat and allows Prine to express his disapproval of, if not contempt for, so-called humans who lack empathy for others. There’s a couplet that is clearly about George W. Bush, and Prine noticed that some audience members were surprised by it. “I never tried to rub it in anybody’s face, but I thought it was pretty clear that I wasn’t a closet Republican,” he told the Houston Press.

‘When I Get to Heaven’ (2018)

In 2013, doctors removed the cancerous part of Prine’s left lung, which sidelined and weakened him. It’s hard now to listen to his final album, “The Tree of Forgiveness,” which was nominated for three Grammys, and not think that Prine heard the clock ticking louder. There’s so much tenderness in “Knockin’ on Your Screen Door,” about a man whose family left him with only an 8-track tape of George Jones, and in the elegiac, reassuring parental entreaty “Summer’s End.” In the last song, “When I Get to Heaven,” Prine describes his ideal afterlife: a rock band, a cushy hotel, a girl, a cocktail (“vodka and ginger ale”) and “a cigarette that’s nine miles long.” He removes his watch, and asks, “What are you gonna do with time after you’ve bought the farm?”

[joeybelle]

Oh, how the tables have turned - Clyde Logan x Reader

Part 1

Inspired by @clyde-prompts: “Some guys are rude and use ableist slurs against Clyde. The reader is with them, and although she feels bad about what's happening, is too scared to say anything in front of her "friends". She comes back to the bar a couple nights later to try and show him she's not a bad person. They get to know each other and fall in love”. Doesn’t fully follow the prompt

Warnings: Language, ableist slurs, general stupidity, first person point of view.

Rating: Mature

Setting: Pre-heist

AN: Please keep in mind when reading this that I’m not a native speaker so my English may be questionable at time. Also, I’m a very slow writer because usually when I have the energy to write I don’t have time and vice-versa. Any type of feedback is appreciated, even incoherent keyboard smashes. The things I tag sometimes don’t show up in tag searches so check the masterlist from time to time. Thank you <3

It looked like a dive bar and I was pretty sure it was one, but I wasn’t surprised in the least. It’s what I had expected from my friends. Maybe they’d grown up in the years I hadn’t seen them, but I was certain they still enjoyed cheap drinks and questionable company, at least sometimes.  And to be honest, I wasn’t one to complain. With my dwindling budget, I would have done anything to save a buck.

“Baby!” Jake’s booming voice greeted me the moment I stepped into the bar, the heavy door closing behind me with a thud.

If there was something I really didn’t look forward to about moving back to my West Virginia hometown was being called ‘Baby’ once again. My childhood friend, Maggie, used to call me that since we were toddlers and somehow it stuck. Before I knew it, the whole high school knew me as Baby. Hell, that’s what the whole town called me. And while it was somehow acceptable (although a bit creepy for obvious reasons) in high school, in the meantime I’d grown up and felt like it was time for the nickname to die.

My friends were all gathered around a pool table, some actively playing, others watching or sitting at the nearby table. There were quite a few empty beer bottles in front of them, and I realized that the party had started way before I’d arrived there. Somehow, this made me uneasy. It’s never advisable to be the only sober person in the bunch.

Jake, Peter and his sister Lisa, stood around the pool table, and my childhood friend Maggie a little further by the bar. There was a brunette holding onto Peter’s waist, so I assumed she was his wife, but I couldn't for the love of me remember her name, although I was sure Maggie had told me about her multiple times. The others were faces I didn’t recognize. Although my group of friends in highschool has always been pretty large, the core was always made of the five of us.

Jake looked considerably more inebriated than the rest, although this didn’t surprise me either. Maggie had told me that he had become quite the heavy drinker after they had gotten married, and that scared me. He had always been tall and well built, and right now he looked even more massive than I remembered. With his volcanic personality and rather unpredictable nature, I wasn’t really sure what to expect. Hopefully, with age came some wisdom too, but judging by his glazed eyes and the stupid grin he had on as he approached me, I highly doubted it.

“Fuck me, you’re still a babe,” he interjected, giving me a one armed hug, squeezing me a little too hard, making me flinch.

“And I thought I’d finally evolved into an actual woman by now,” I joked, wiggling out of his crushing embrace.

“Nah,” he said patting me on the butt, something I really didn’t appreciate, but remembering it was something we used to do as teenagers, I let it slip. “You’re still a baby. Hey Maggie,” he boomed once again, earning some glares from the other patrons. “Look who’s here!”

“Baby!” She shrieked so loud that I was sure at least half the continent knew I was back in town. Not that anyone cared, besides the handful of highschool friends currently huddled around a pool table in this rather rural bar.

Maggie almost tackled me, hugging me so tight it almost hurt. “Oh my god, you changed so much,” she said, running her hand through my hair. “I see you prefer it more natural these days. Is that the trend in New York?” she said, and I could sense a weird note in her voice. She twirled a bleach blonde curl around her finger and went to kiss her husband. She was still the same as always: bleached hair, tiny shorts and a crop top revealing a perfect abdomen that didn’t show any signs of the three children she’d given birth to in the past ten years. But she had always been the athletic one, head cheerleader and all that, and although I envied her sometimes, I was much too lazy to try and be like her.

“I don’t think anyone cares how you look like in New York. No one really looks at you,” I replied, shrugging.

“Is that why you came back?” I always knew there was a sense of bitterness that Maggie was left with after I went to university, but I had hoped it would be old news by now. Apparently not.

Maggie and I have known each other since we were in diapers. She lived a few houses down the road and we spent all our childhood together. She had always been incredibly beautiful and bubbly and fun and everyone loved her, so it was a given that she’d be very popular. She was a cheerleader all throughout high school, got herself a quarterback boyfriend (that she later married) and because I was her best friend I ended up with the popular kids too. And for the most part I really tried to blend in. I dyed my hair and wore short skirts, flirted with whomever was available, I even tried to join the cheerleader squad, but after face planting and breaking my nose, I decided it just wasn’t for me.

However, during senior year I realized that the small town we were living in wasn’t what I wanted. I dreamed of the big cities, full of opportunities and exciting jobs and interesting people and all that. I was tired of seeing the same old faces every day, the same two bars that sold cheap booze and the same bleak future for all of us. I told her this and started applying to out of state universities.

She was hurt. I know she had imagined that we’d both live here all our lives, get married and have children that would be best friends like we were before them. She used to daydream about this when we were little, we’d buy houses next to each other and we wouldn’t have a fence, just a big garden where we would both drink our coffee in the morning. So I understand why she would feel betrayed by my departure.

But this was never my dream. I always felt like this place was too boring and that I could do so much better. So I studied hard, applied to universities and was finally accepted to NYU, and since then I lived in New York for more than a decade. However, when I was just a teenager dreaming of big cities, I never imagined how hard living in one would actually be.

“Nope,” I said, shrugging. “It’s the money. Couldn't afford living in New York anymore.”

There was no reason to lie to her, or to anyone for that reason. Finding a job in my current field was hard so I had to resort to teaching jobs for the past few years, and the pay wasn’t so good. That coupled with my student loans, other random loans and rent, left me with very little for expenses, not to mention such luxuries and new clothes and internet. I felt really embarrassed having to borrow money from my parents just to live, even though they were always loving and helpful, so when I heard that the community college near my hometown had an opening for an assistant job in my field, I was happy to come back and not starve in New York. Big cities are way less glamorous when you’re homeless.  

“It’s always the money, eh?” she said, and her eyes were a little softer, like she understood. With the current economy, she must have struggled at some point too. “You live in your old house, right? Too bad we sold my family house after my dad passed away, otherwise we’d still be neighbours,” she laughed.

“We’re not that far away. A short drive and we can visit anytime.”

“I know! I’m so happy that you’re back! Can’t wait to tell you all the new gossip!” She sounded so excited that I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I just didn’t give a shit about any sort of rumours. One other thing that I really didn’t miss about small towns: the gossip.

“Hey babe,” Jake cut in. “Where are our drinks?”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry,” she apologized with a distracted smile. “I was about to get drinks when you showed up and I completely forgot why I went to the bar in the first place. What can I get you?”

“Uhh, a beer is fine. I can’t stay long anyway. I’m waiting for someone to deliver my fridge.”

“At this hour?” asked Jake.

“They got lost somehow. I don’t know, I just want my fridge, so my food doesn’t spoil anymore and I can have cool drinks once again,” I said, thinking at how the past week had been torture. I could easily live without the luxury of an AC, but living without a fridge was too much for me.

With the corner of my eye I could see Maggie returning, precariously holding too many beer bottles. I thought I’d help her, but the bartender had already gone around the bar and was taking a couple of bottles from her hands, making sure she arrived with them all in one piece. She shot him one of her trademark winks and I couldn’t help but laugh. One marriage and three kids later and she was still cheekily flirting with everyone.

“Hey fuckface!” Jake yelled, startling me. Confused, I had to look around to see who he was referring to. Following his extended index, it seemed that he meant the bartender. “You stay away from my wife! You hear me, stay away!”

Right. He’d always had a jealousy problem that didn’t seem to have gotten any better over the years. It was another thing I was glad I didn’t have to deal with while living in New York. As it seemed, I was already starting to regret moving back. Or at least, trying to mend relationships with my old friends. I guess distance wasn’t the only reason we lost touch.

“Come on, babe, he’s just trying to help,” she said appeasingly, and somehow I didn’t think this would help de-escalate the situation, so I hurried to take the bottles from the bartender’s hand so he could go back to where he wasn’t perceived as a threat by Jake.

“Thanks!” I said, looking up at him. He was a really tall and broad man, even taller than Jake, but he didn’t have the same intimidating stance. Maybe because his eyes looked soft, or because his face held a certain gentleness. “And sorry, my friend is a bit of a hothead,” I tried apologizing, hoping it would all stop here.

“It’s ok,” he said in a low, beautiful voice, that I had to admit kinda tickled my fancy. However, before I could say anything else he turned on his heels and went back behind the bar.

In the meantime, Jake was still yelling profanities, although by the tone of his voice he was more mocking than angry. “Jake, stop it for fuck’s sake,” I said, passing the beers along, and taking a sip from my own bottle, quite certain that more alcohol wasn’t the best idea, but I wasn’t their mother. “He didn’t touch her, he just wanted to help her with the beers that’s all. Leave him alone.”

“You’re still such a baby,” he laughed and I snorted. “You didn’t see how he was staring at her, the fucking creep.”

That made me look over to the bar. The bartender was making himself busy with something behind the counter but when he lifted his eyes, he did have and intense gaze, one that could possibly be mistaken for staring by an inebriated hothead. “I don’t think he meant anything by it,” I said, prying my eyes from the tall man. “Anyway, how are you all doing?” I said, trying to shift the subject, because I really didn’t want to be part of a bar brawl.

“Jake’s right, he’s always been a weirdo,” said Peter finally leaving the game of pool to join the conversation. “Staring creepily at all the pretty girls he couldn’t have. Cause he’s an ugly ass nerd.”

“Oh shut up!” I hissed, getting increasingly irritated. They spoke loudly like they wanted him to hear. I just wanted to spend a pleasant night out with my old friends, not to watch them belittle someone else.

“He’s kinda right, Baby,” Maggie said, apologetically. “He was always a bit weird. Not talking to anyone, that sort of thing. He was always ogling at us in highschool.”

“Do I know him?” I asked, trying to put a name to the face.

“Maybe. Yeah, probably, he was a year or two older than us. Clyde Logan.” The name didn’t ring a bell. “Jimmy Logan’s younger brother?”

“Ohhh!” I glanced towards him again trying to see if he looked familiar. He didn’t, and definitely didn’t resemble his brother at all. “Was he really in highschool with us? I don’t remember him.”

“‘Course not, Baby only had eyes for the great Jimmy Logan,” Peter said in a mocking tone, and I could feel the old bitterness was still there. He’d asked me out multiple times during highschool, and I always turned him down, but that had nothing to do with my everlasting and very well known crush on Jimmy Logan.

“Well, Jimmy’s single now,” Maggie informed me with a wink. “Not sure you’d like him anymore, now that he isn’t a star quarterback.”

“Wasn’t he going to marry Bobbie Jo?” I asked out of pure curiosity. Jimmy Logan hadn’t been on my mind for ages now so this conversation seemed weird.

“They broke up a long time ago. She’s married to some car dealer now. They have a kid together though.”

“I see,” was my only input.

“Bobbie Jo’s smart, she wouldn’t stay with a loser like him,” Jake laughed.

“Besides, people say the Logans are cursed.”

“Why would they say that?” I said, looking from Jake to Maggie, feeling more and more like I’m gonna regret this outing.

“Cause, you know,” she started explaining, “both their parents died, Jimmy fucked up his career because of his leg…”

“And this one lost his fucking arm in Iraq.”

Only after they pointed it out did I notice the plastic prosthetic strapped to his arm. I took my time to actually look at him, since he seemed busy behind the bar and not looking up. He did everything with only one arm, with more dexterity than I would have been able to, with both arms intact. There was this air of sadness on his long face, the corners of his mouth slightly curling downwards. I felt really sorry for him, being in a warzone is tough and coming back with permanent injuries is even tougher. I didn’t really want to know the mental trauma that came with it.

He suddenly looked up, meeting my gaze so I smiled and looked away, hoping he wasn’t too weirded out that I was staring at him. Given the shit he probably heard from my so called friends, he probably was.

“They say he’s lucky, he could have died that day,” Maggie continued, and I was starting to feel exhausted by this conversation. Not because I didn’t want to find out more about Clyde Logan, quite the opposite, but I was pretty sure we were close enough for him to be able to listen in. And none of them made an effort to keep their voice down. “But living with only one arm feels more like a curse to me.”

“He’s lucky alright,” Jake laughed loudly, and I feared the worst. “He’s lucky cuz he lost his left arm and he’s still got something to jerk off with,” he said, loud enough for the whole bar to hear. Clyde only looked up for a second, then went back to what he was doing.

“For fuck’s sake, stop it already,” I pleaded with Jake, now knowing full well that this meeting was a mistake.

“Well maybe he likes jerking off with the plastic hand,” Peter added, making an obscene gesture with his hand and I snapped.

“Jesus fucking Christ what’s wrong with you guys?”

“Relax, Baby! We’re just having a little fun.”

“This is definitely not fun!”

“What is it,” Jake said, placing an arm around my shoulders that I promptly shook off, “did New York steal your sense of humour along with your accent?”

He had such a stupid sneer on his face that I wanted nothing more that to punch him in the teeth. “I didn’t lose my sense of humour,” I snarled, “but never, no matter how stupid or drunk we were during high school, would we stoop so low as to mock a disabled person. And I’m not gonna start doing it now. Not gonna be part of this.”

“Baby, please, come on, he didn’t mean anything by it. You know how Jake gets when he drinks, he’s always been a jokester,” Maggie tried to salvage the situation, but it was too late for that.

“Sorry,” I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket, “I think my refrigerator’s here. I have to run. I’ll see you all around, I guess.” I turned on my heels and went to the bar to pay for my beer.

Clyde Logan handed me the change with the same unfazed if a little sad look on his face and I had to wonder if he was just so used to this kind of abuse that he just didn’t give a shit anymore.

“I’m not disabled, you know,” he said, and I felt my heart sink to the depths of hell. “I’m just… I’m just missing a hand, that’s all.”

He looked me in the eye for a second and there was so much sadness in that brief glance that it almost broke my heart. It filled me with shame that I had somehow contributed to that.

“I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean…”

“It’s ok,” he said, but his voice was strained. He turned his back to me and I wanted to cry.

I almost ran out of the bar and climbed into my car. I let out a prolonged wail of anger and shame as I repeatedly banged my head on the steering wheel. This wasn’t how I planned on moving back to my old hometown. I really wanted to pass unnoticed and live peacefully in the countryside for as long as I’d be here. Have a garden. Maybe get a dog at some point, when I’d feel I could be responsible for a life other than my own.

I didn’t want to realize that my highschool friends were shit and that probably I had been shit for being friends with them. I didn’t want to hurt the cute bartender’s feelings especially since he was a veteran and his voice was so soft. The only thing I wanted to do was crawl under a rock with a working refrigerator and spend the rest of my life hibernating.

I mentally said goodbye to the Duck Tape before I drove away, because I sure as hell wouldn’t step in that bar ever again.

Masterlist

Next Part

[whatliesabove-blog1]

small, quiet room

Chapter fifteen | ao3

An agonizing two weeks go by before she has any kind of contact with Hopper. 

Earlier in the week, she asked Jonathan if he'd seen him around town. She didn’t expect her son to have searched him out or anything; she knows he’s not in any rush to sit face to face, but Hawkins is small and it’s not out of the ordinary for the boys to see him milling about. She got a negative, which struck her as odd but she merely offered a small smile and a nod in return.

After zero sightings and radio silence, he comes into the store near the end of her shift. 

Joyce almost doesn't notice him. She's so preoccupied by the stress of the customers today, who don't seem to understand that she isn't personally responsible for there being a lack of a specific item, she doesn't bat an eye when the door opens and the bell chimes.

It's only when there's a rather large shadow hovering over her that her brows furrow, head lifting to find out what’s going on. Eyes wide, she looks into the face of a very stoic looking Hopper.

"Hi," she says, though it comes out something of a question.

"Hi." 

He doesn't give much away, nothing at all, and she wishes he’d just say something. Anything. There’s plenty she could say, but she doesn’t feel it’s her place yet; he has to come to her on his own time. 

Which, she supposes he’s doing right now. Right?

"Can we talk?"

Looking around, she surveys the few customers before focusing back on him. "I can't leave the floor," she tells him. She can't just go into the back and leave the register unattended, and he knows that. "I get off in an hour?"

Hopper nods, the movement a little disjointed. "Okay."

"Okay,” she echoes, head nodding slowly, waiting for him to elaborate. When he doesn’t, she takes a breath. “Where do you want to meet, Hop?"

The look on his face tells her he hadn't thought that far ahead, didn't think much further than showing up at the store at all, and she’d laugh if she didn’t think it’d only make things worse.

"The boys will be home, which means El will be at the cabin,” she starts when he continues to say nothing at all, pausing for his small nod of confirmation, “so why don't we go to your trailer." 

"Yeah," he decides, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, that works."

"Okay."

She gets one more curt nod before he turns and walks right back out the door, leaving her stunned and more than a little confused. At least he came, she supposes. 

It's been a rough two weeks, but she’s had seventeen years to digest this information. Two weeks isn’t all that long when she thinks about it like that.

Joyce doesn't even realize there's a line of three customers until one of them clears their throat. Mumbling an apology and plastering on a practiced smile, she grabs their items and starts to ring them up.

Her knocks go unanswered long enough for her to wonder if he ever even wanted to meet up at all, if this wasn’t just one giant ruse so he could blow her off and make her feel like an idiot. 

She can’t say it’d be undeserved, but it doesn’t seem like Hopper’s style. 

Just as she's about to give in and turn back to her car, the door swings open.

"Sorry."

Hopper doesn't give an explanation and she doesn’t expect one, but he steps aside enough to allow her in. He closes the door behind them and then moves into the small kitchen. He grabs two beers from the fridge, extending one towards her once he returns.

"Oh, I'm—"

"We'll need them."

Shrugging a little, Joyce sighs and grabs the bottle. He’s likely right, anyway, and she has no doubt this will be awkward, uncomfortable, and probably emotional for the both of them. 

One beer will be the least of what she needs.

"Thanks," she murmurs. She doesn’t open it right away, just lets it rest against her stomach as she follows his lead into the living room.

He takes a seat in the chair, and so she situates herself on the couch across from him. Close but not too close. She’s giving him space. 

Hopper cracks his open, silently passing the bottle opener to her when he’s done. They each take a long swig, neither saying a word. The tension is palpable; Joyce chances a glance at him and watches as he pointedly avoids looking at her. 

For a while they just take turns looking up at each other when the other isn't looking, pretending not to pay attention when they are.

Ridiculous; they aren’t teenagers.

"You wanted to talk," she finally says, breaking the silence. "I think we should."

Hopper downs the last of his beer, rather quickly she thinks, and finally looks over at her. The dullness in his eyes catches her off guard, sends a shiver down her spine. It's just so unlike him. 

She hates that she's responsible.

"I want to know everything."

"Okay," she starts, drawing out the word. "Okay, and I'll tell you everything I can."

Hopper takes a breath. "It was graduation."

"Yeah."

"Karen's party."

"Yeah."

"Okay, so... I don't know," he says, raking a hand through his hair. "Explain to me what happened after."

"You left, Hopper. That's what happened. You went to Vietnam and I was still in Hawkins." Wringing her hands in her lap, she cracks her fingers. “I know that’s not... you didn’t choose... but you were already gone a few weeks when I found out I was pregnant."

His face remains unchanged, but he does flick his eyes in her direction. "You could've written."

Joyce scoffs. "And said what? ‘Hi, Hopper, I know you're fighting in the war and everything but I just thought I should let you know I'm pregnant and it's yours’."

"Yes, exactly that!"

"I was scared, Hop," she says, her voice rising. "I was still a child and I had no idea what I was going to do! You were thousands of miles away, and I didn't know—" She trails off, a sudden lump forming in her throat. "I didn't know if you would come back, and it was a lot to process."

He scoffs. “Scared,” he repeats, the word like poison on his tongue. “You were scared, and I was what? Having a party?”

“That’s not fair.”

“And neither is you withholding the fact that I had a kid.”

They don’t say anything for a few minutes, a heavy silence weighing them down. Joyce is pissed he’d even insinuate she thought he wasn’t scared in Vietnam, that she’d even think the two were comparable, and he’s pissed she’s using fear as an excuse. 

He groans then, closes his eyes. "Okay, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have... I understand being scared,” he says finally. “I do. But how do you get from being terrified and not knowing what to do to Lonnie being his father?"

Hopper spits Lonnie's name, disdain dripping from his tone.

"We got back together a few days after the party. I didn't—I was already pregnant, Hop, I couldn't be pregnant and alone. The thought of being crucified in town was too much, and so... Lonnie and I had slept together after you left, and I just—I told him it was his."

"He doesn't know."

It's not a question. They both know that if Lonnie did know, hell would’ve been raised a long time ago. She’d have more than bruises to show for it.

She answers anyway.

"No."

"What the hell, Joyce," he grinds out. Standing from his chair, he begins to pace in the small area. "You know, I really hate that I get why you lied. Initially. I can't fault teenage Joyce for trying to protect herself and her son. I can't."

She takes a small breath, tries to regulate her heartbeat.

"What I don't get is keeping that from me after I got back," he continues, huffing. "Was I such a fuck up that you couldn't imagine me being a father to your kid? So fucked up that Lonnie felt like the better choice?"

Her eyes widen and she nearly jumps from the couch, stands toe-to-toe with him. "What? No," she says, staring up at his back with fire in her eyes. She tries to put a hand on his bicep but he jerks it off. "That's never been it."

"Then why?" he asks. The quick way he turns and stares her down takes her breath away. "Why not tell me? You've had seventeen years, Joyce. Seventeen years! I ran into you two in the fucking department store, brought Jonathan back to you when he ran off, and that whole time I was returning my son."

Indignation boils beneath her skin.

"When should I have told you, Jim? When you came back after Vietnam, boasting about some big position in the city waiting for you? When you were off in New York for most of those seventeen years? You weren't here, Hopper! You had a wife and a daughter—should I have told you then?" Joyce pauses for a moment, tries to reel in her emotions. 

A part of her knows she’s being difficult, that sure, maybe she could’ve told him any of those times. But they never seemed right; there was always something else going on, something she’d be effectively shattering with the truth. 

"How about when you came back for two months and your mother died? When you were dealing with her funeral and putting her things in order? Or maybe I should've told you when you were grieving your daughter, just to add onto the pain."

The mirthless laugh that emits from his throat is stone cold.

"You are incredible. You could've told me at any time, Joyce, but you didn't. I wasn’t here? I would have been if you told me,” he yells, his voice booming. He starts pacing again and it’s making her anxious, her eyes following the heavy footfalls he makes. “You know what would have saved you from having to decide whether or not to tell me in times of grief? One simple solution. If you had just told me after I came back."

The air crackles between them, so much pent up emotion floating in the stuffy space of the trailer.

Simple. There’s that goddamn word again.

She wants to scream.

Joyce throws her hands up, wills him to understand. "You were leaving," she says, her voice desperate. "All you ever wanted was to get out of Hawkins and be a cop in a big city, and you were getting that! You were off to fucking Manhattan. I couldn't be the one to ruin that for you."

"Ruined it?" His voice is loud, angry. "That's what you think? That Jonathan ruined your life?"

Her eyes darken. "Of course not, and you know damn well I'd never think that."

"Then who gave you the right to decide whether he'd ruin mine?"

"You were destined for bigger things, Hopper. I wasn't going to be the reason you gave that all up."

A raspy sound claws its way from the back of his throat, the noise somewhere between a groan and a scream. He scrubs a hand down his face. "You could've come with me. Both of you. I did well in the city; I could've taken care of you both, but you never gave me that chance."

Joyce shakes her head. "You say that now, but you would've grown to resent me. Resent Jonathan. And I didn't want that."

"Do you think I resented Sara?" he asks, and she takes a step back. Her shoulders drop. "No, I didn't. Because even though he wasn't planned I wouldn't have turned away my kid. Or you."

“Oh, please,” she says. A watery chuckle scrapes out, her throat raw. “I believe that you believe what you’re saying, Hopper, but we were kids. I knew teenage Hopper, too, you know, and can you honestly tell me that you would’ve just sat there with open arms and given up your dream?” 

He remains silent, staring at a spot just beyond her left shoulder, and she watches as a storm brews behind those eyes of his. 

“No.”

His entire demeanor changes with that one word. She isn’t surprised to hear it and she’s not mad either. She knew. It might’ve taken him a while to realize it, too, but she knew.

“But I would have tried my best after the shock wore off, Joyce,” he says. “And if you don’t think that...” He lets out a hollow laugh. “What does that say about me?”

"It wasn’t... I'm sorry, Hop." Tears prick at the backs of her eyes and she collapses back onto the couch, lets her head fall into her palms. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't erase the last seventeen years."

Nodding, she chews on her bottom lip. "I know."

Hopper takes a deep breath, paces for a few more moments before he finally stops. He looks down at her before slowly settling himself back into the chair, resting his elbows on his thighs. 

She can tell he’s nearly back at eye level but she can't look at him.

"Joyce."

The responding hum comes out garbled, caught in the lump in her throat.

"Look at me." 

Reluctantly, she lifts her eyes to him. She owes him this much. Wiping beneath her eyes with the back of her hand, she tries to blink away any fresh tears.

"I wanted to tell you," she whispers, so quietly she's almost not sure she's even said anything at all. It’s only small twitch in his brow that tells her she has. Sniffling, she doesn't look away. "I wanted to tell you so many times."

He softens more, and she doesn't know if it's because the fight has left his body the same way it's left hers, or if it's simply resignation.

She doesn’t know which one she hopes for.

"So why didn't you?" Even his voice is quiet, not the same booming anger he had before. “I know you were scared, Joyce, but... truthfully, just—why?”

"I don't know." At her shrug, she gives an almost hysterical laugh. "It's a shitty excuse, Hop, I know, but the more time that passed, the harder it became to even think about letting the truth out. And I knew that the longer I lied the worse it would get, but that knowledge mixed with how much time had already gone by and how it never seemed right, I just... I couldn't make myself tell you. Or Jonathan."

"I'm still mad," he says by way of reply. She looks up at him, lashes wet. "I'm still really mad, Joyce, and I'm—I don't know how to process the last fucking two weeks, but I don't want to fight."

She nods. "I don’t want to fight either."

"I'm gonna need... I don't know, some time. Some more time to figure it out."

She nods again. "Okay."

"What am I supposed to do now?" he asks, shrugging before leaning back into the cushion. "I don't know shit about raising a teenager."

Joyce laughs a little at that. "You're kind of already raising one," she reminds him. El may only be thirteen, but she’s still a teenager. And a teenage girl at that, something she's never had to deal with. "Besides, Jonathan doesn't need raising. He's almost eighteen, almost off to college."

His jaw tightens and she her chest constricts. She knows what he’s thinking about and she almost wishes she hadn’t said anything at all.

"So where does that leave us? Does the kid even like me?" He waves a hand around. "Is he freaked out?"

"He likes you, Hop. The second you believed me, the second you helped us bring back Will, he liked you," she assures him. This time when she reaches out, covers his hand with her own, he doesn't pull away. "Yeah he was freaked out, he's still figuring it out, too, but... he doesn’t seem upset about it. He’s more upset about the lie than..."

Her voice trails off; he can fill in the blanks.

"I don't know what he wants," she tells him honestly. "I don't know how either of you want to play this, but I think that's something the two of you should talk about. I've done enough."

"I'd say," he mutters under his breath, and her fingers twitch on top of his.

She deserves that; she knows she does. 

What she doesn’t deserve is the small flicker of apology in his eyes when they meet hers.

"You can come by whenever you have time? Talk to him?"

Hopper moans a little, squeezes his eyes shut. This is so out of his realm, out of his comfort zone, and she knows that. Sure, he's interacted with Jonathan before, but that was as the Chief, as Joyce's friend, as someone who helped their family. Not as one of his parents. 

"Yeah," he sighs eventually. "Yeah, I guess. What do I say to him?"

"You just talk to him. It'll be weird, Hop, there's no getting around that. But just talk. Tell him the truth, whatever that may be."

It's silent for a while, the two of them stewing in the aftermath of this conversation. It's drained her, body as tired as her mind, and she wants nothing more than to go home and take a hot bath. In reality, she'll probably take a short, lukewarm shower and have to immediately start on dinner, but she'll take it. 

Anything to ease the tension in her bones.

"I'm sorry," she repeats, for what feels like the millionth time, after few moments. Hopper turns to face her. "I really am. I never meant to hurt you."

"I know." His fingers squeeze hers. "I won't say it's okay, because it's not, but I want us to be okay."

Joyce swallows, worries a nail between her teeth. "Me too. I don't want you to hate me forever."

"I may not like you very much right now, but I don't hate you. Kinda wish I could, but I... never."

She gives a watery laugh, and a small weight lifts from her shoulders. "I'll take what I can get."

There's a brief pause, and then, "we have a kid."

Joyce smiles in spite of herself. "Yeah."

"We have a kid, Joyce. Us."

"Yeah, Hop. We have a kid."

[oblivion-time]

Love Me Again, Husband

The Vow AU. A motorcycle accident leaves Soul missing years of his life, memories of how he met and fell in love with his wife, Maka Albarn. He's left trying to pick up the pieces of the life he doesn't remember with Maka by his side, but it isn't easy when his heart belongs to someone else and his memories don't fit in with his current lifestyle. It's a tug of war with the person he remembers and the person he had become. Resbang 2017

The date is finally here! Here's my Resbang I wrote for this year! I had so much fun writing this fic and I hope you will enjoy this story of mine! ^-^

Check out @chaoticlivi ART for this fic! (I don’t know why I couldn’t tag you o.o) It’s so amazing and I can’t stop looking at it~

You can read the whole story at AO3 and FF.net

Love Me Again, Husband

Chapter 1

Maka leaned against the wall, eyes anxiously fluttering shut. The egg timer ticked loudly resonating within their apartment beside the box and the stick resting upon it. Soul paced back and forth in front of the box, hands entwined behind his head as he breathed heavily.

"I think I'm going to throw up," Maka breathed as she slid down the wall, nervousness shaking her world like never before by just this one moment, waiting for the results to arrive.

"Hey." Soul kneeled down in front of her and collected her hands in his, planting a kiss on her knuckles. "We haven't been trying for even a month."

"Yeah, but I've studied so much and we've put down so much work." She savoured his touch and rubbed the inside of his thumb with hers. "I just want to be pregnant."

"And you will be. If you're not pregnant now, you'll most definitely be pregnant the next month." He leaned in and his lips feathered over her neck, nuzzling and kissing and nibbling her delicate skin.

She giggled as her hands left his and snaked around his neck, finding his soft hair and entangling her fingers in it. Her eyes shut, enjoying the sensation of his teeth feathering over her skin before his lips would kiss it tenderly. His right hand softly caressed her side as it went down her ribcage and settled on her hip, his thumb running up and down her hipbone. Her legs parted and invited him, which he accepted.

The egg timer rung loudly throughout the apartment and Soul pulled away from her. Her eyes were wide once again and the tension in her muscles he had managed to break down, was stiff once again, even stiffer than before! This was the moment they had been waiting for! Pregnant or not pregnant! The answer had arrived.

"The moment of truth." Soul rose to his feet and grabbed the pregnancy test from the counter, hiding the result with the palm of his hand. He sat down beside Maka and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him and looked at the pregnancy test in his hand.

"Come on, show it," she urged.

"On three. One…"

"Two…" Maka leaning closer to the test.

"Three." They said together and he opened his hand.

Not Pregnant.

Her heart sunk in her chest with disappointment. The letters glaring at her sent a punch to her gut. Her head fell and she shook it slowly disapprovingly.

She had studied so hard and she had even downloaded an app on her phone to detect the highest possibility of getting pregnant. They had even tried out different positions which would raise the possibility of a pregnancy.

But it hadn't worked.

"What if I can have children?"

Soul snickered. Her head shot up and he quickly apologized. "We've just tried for a little over three weeks. I think we've to try a few months more before we can start considering that possibility."

"But what if I should go and check on my eggs? Maybe they are in a bad condition."

"I highly doubt they are with how healthy you've been. If someone's body is not up to standard, it's mine."

She stared at him with realization. "… could you get them check?"

He chuckled heartily.

"I'm serious! What if we aren't healthy?"

"Maka. We're 26. I don't think people have trouble conceiving around this age."

"But what if?" she pouted.

"I promise you, if you're not pregnant by next month, I'll definitely get a check up on my sperm."

A vague smile dawned on her face and she leaned her head against his shoulder. "Thank you," she sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I was so sure I was pregnant… my period is late."

"You'll get pregnant. Just you see," he whispered into her ear.

She sighed with content as her eyes fluttered shut. She wasn't pregnant now, but he had a point. They had just started making babies. She quit taking the pill the same day they started trying to get pregnant so maybe it had made her ovulation a bit wacky.

Still… she really thought she was pregnant. The thought of caring their baby had made her glow with happiness. That was what they wanted. They were ready to start a family. Together. The reality of caring his child in her womb… it just made her feel lighter than air and limitless of happiness had run through her veins. When she bought the pregnancy test at the pharmacy, she really was glowing, just wanting to see the test come out positive.

Some gut feeling she had.

Her hand wandered from his waist onto her lower belly, her empty womb, running her thumb over the exposed skin peeking between her shorts and tank top. Her eyes snapped up to Soul's incredible soft crimson eyes when his hand laid above hers on her stomach.

"We'll make it."

She planted a kiss of gratitude on his lips. What would she do without him?

A wide mischievous smirk grew on his face, exposing his sharp teeth and his eyes darkened. "You know we've around an hour before work and we could both use a shower."

"Oh yeah?" She turned her body toward his and her fingertips ran downward his chest. "Then we better jump into the shower immediately." She gasped and giggled when Soul scooped her up in his arms and carried her inside of the bathroom.

…

Maka quickly jogged as fast as she could in her heels while carrying her bag in one hand and jiggling with her car keys in the other. Her phone buzzed and she juggled her things and she pulled up her phone, answering it.

"Where are you? The people are waiting for you!" her boss's voice boomed from the speaker.

"Sorry! I'm in the parking lot. I'll be up in just a minute! I've the updated power point on my laptop ready to go as soon as I get there."

"Good. Hurry up. They're starting to get cranky," Wes said before he hung up.

Ugh. If only he knew his infuriating brother decided an extra-long shower was in need (which she was reluctant to admit) especially when her mood had been more grey than normal.

The double door automatically opened and her heels clicked loudly against the marble floor. "Hi Tsubaki!" Maka quickly waved toward the receptionist as she hurried passed the front desk.

She sighed with relief when Mr. Buttataki his usual white dress shirt and vest entered an elevator. She quickly dived inside of it after him. "Good morning, Mr. Buttatki. How's your wife?" she greeted him as she pressed the floor button.

"Good Morning, Mrs. Albarn. Marie's a little tear-eyed at the moment. You know how it is when your child leaves for college."

"I see. Still calls him five times a day?"

"She has managed to limit it to two phone calls. Two very long phone calls."

The elevator door opened and Maka quickly waved toward Mr. Buttataki. "Oh! And thank Marie for the book recommendation. It's a very interesting read." Um, the pregnancy books she'd once recommended during a company party three months ago when children had come up in the conversation.

"Will do." He called after her as she raced down the corridor. The other employees greeted her as she struggled with pulling her laptop from her bag.

"Finally you're here!" Wes's voice resonated from the other side of the corridor. "What took you so long and why is your hair wet."

"Blame it on your brother," she quickly explained as she handed the laptop to him. "The power point presentation is on the desktop. I updated the diagram of the stock market for the technology funds on slide four and I fixed the pros and cons for the pension fund just like you asked."

"Great. Lady Arachne and Mr. Giriko are already seated in conference room four. Quickly dry your hair and come to the meeting."

"Yes boss."

They branched away and she hurried inside of the bathroom and dried her hair under the hand dryer, tied it up in a ponytail to make herself more presentable. She hurried back to the conference room.

…

"Good job in there." Wes patted her back as they exited the conference room. "I think we hooked them with our private pension saving funds. They were very interested in your points and I really think you managed to convince them."

"I think so too." Maka beamed.

"If this goes our way, I'm 100% confident I can hand you this case in your capable hands. The idea was yours after all and there's nothing you can't do. It will be a lot of communication via email and phone calls and meetings for a year, but I know you can do it," Wes boasted.

They were a team since the beginning, even before the beginning of her career in the business. In her second year of college, Wes had been a guest lecturer in her stock market strategies and let's just say, her enthusiasm of questioning and probing his strategies had made an impression on him. An interview later for one of the internship spots, she was officially in. She worked directly under Wes as his P.A. as she kept up her studied. It had been the greatest thing to ever happen her. It led her to skipping steps and jumping right on top in the stock market, and it brought her to the love of her life.

She could still remember the day so vividly. She had taken notes during a business meeting, analysing their thoughts and strategies to break into the medicine field to make profitable insurances that benefit both parties without leaving the customer in debt. Tsubaki had called the company phone, notifying his brother was waiting by the front desk with his wallet he had forgotten at home. Wes had asked her to fetch it, which she was on it immediately.

She had never believed in fairy stories or love at first sight, but when she exited the elevator and her eyes laid upon the handsome young man in jeans and a hoodie, something happened within her. It wasn't like angels descended the sky and sang Hallelujah or every cell in her body heating up and turning to butterflies, but more like a bond was created. Admittedly, she was drawn to this handsome stranger with unusual white hair and the gorgeous red eyes she had ever seen. It was so strange. It was nothing like the one time she was crushing hard on her eighth grade classmate, but something tamer, but at the same time, very powerful.

When she approached him and his attention was on her, and the husky voice of his asked "are you Wes's P.A?" left her stuttering out a "Y-yes."

That first meeting with Soul had her dawning thoughts of being in college around people dating and building lives had left her lunging to try serious dating, had made her want to ask the strange but intriguing brother of Wes's out on a date.

That day, by Tsubaki's front desk is where they started.

"Hello?" Wes waved his hand in front of her face.

"Oh! Sorry." She quickly apologized, feeling her checks heat up.

Wes grinned wide, a smile so similar to Soul's, but without the sharp teeth she loved scrapping against her skin so much. "Were you thinking about my kid bro?"

She quickly looked away from her partner and started walking down the corridor, clutching her bag in her hands. "I-it's not work related."

Wes was quick to follow after her. "It could be."

"Oh be quiet." She headed inside of her office and dumped her bag on the free chair and placed her laptop on her desk.

"Oh no I'm not." He closed the door to her office and sunk down into the chair in front of her desk, legs thrown over the armrest. "So tell me, when do you want to go on maternity leave?"

"Please, we're not even trying to have a kid," she lied. There had been one person both her and Soul agreed not to tell about their baby making and it was Wes. The one time they had been caught heavily making out in her office by Wes, the next day he had handed her a large pack of condoms and told her to keep it in the office, but only do the thing off office hours. She was afraid of what he would do if he found out they were trying to have children.

She gulped at the too knowing grin on his face. "I'm not stupid. The reason you were late was because of Soul, you had wet hair and you might want to unpack the pregnancy book from your bag next time."

She gasped and slapped her hand against her forehead. Shit. She really had forgotten to take out the pregnancy book she had bought yesterday, hadn't she?

"So…?" Wes inched closer with a huge grin on his face. "Am I going to be an uncle in nine months or less?"

"That's between me and my husband." She finished the conversation and opened her laptop.

"Aw come on, I am your brother-in-law and your boss. That ought to get me into the circle of trust."

"Nope, and if you excuse me, I've stocks to analyse." Her eyes left her obnoxious brother-in-law to her screen.

"Fine." Wes rose from the chair. "But don't think this conversation is over. I take nieces and nephews very seriously." Geez, she could've never imagined. The first thing he said to them after Soul and Maka said their "I will"s was will they start having kids. He would spoil the kids rotten if they gave him the chance!

She sighed with relief when the door shut behind Wes.

They were more entangled than boss and employee should be considering she married his brother, but it was nice. He was overbearing, stepping over so many boundaries and so caring. Soul was lucky to have such a caring brother in his life. It was all thanks to him she met Soul after all.

She pulled up her phone and unlocked it. Speaking of Soul, there was a text message from him.

How about a lunch date? My treat

She rolled her eyes. As if anything was hers or his anymore. She had a certificate from the state of Nevada to prove it.

Sure. Where do you want to meet? She texted back.

She received a message almost instantly she replied. Seemed like someone was slacking at work.

I'll pick you up. Meet me in the lobby

Sounds good. She placed her phone on her desk and a bright smile spread on her face.

…

When lunch arrived she headed down to the ground floor. As soon as the elevators opened, she saw Soul waiting by the front desk, just as handsome as ever. Every time she went down to the lobby to meet Soul, she couldn't help but think of how far they had come. From strangers to acquaintances, to good friends and then, to lovers. She didn't get the tingling in her fingers or the butterflies in her stomach from just seeing him anymore, but the strong bond and intimacy were stronger than ever.

"Hey you," she greeted him with a quick kiss.

"Geez, you took your time. Did Wes hold you up?" His hand entwined with hers like usual.

"Something like that considering, you know, since someone made me late for work."

"I thought we had more time," he pouted.

She knew he hadn't done it intentionally. He knew very well about the game-changing meeting she had in the morning with the people from Arachnophobia. He wouldn't intentionally hold her up for her meeting. But he looked so cute when she teased him.

"Maka and Soul," Tsubaki spoke up from behind the front desk. She pulled up a flier from and handed it to them. Soul took it and she gazed at it with surprise, Maka peeked at the flier with joy.

"Black*Star's gym is opening up in two weeks? I'm so happy for you!" Maka exclaimed.

When he first started renting the space, she and Soul had checked it up and helped painting the place and getting it ready. She knew it was bound to open soon, but not this soon.

"We worked really hard redecorating the bathrooms into locker rooms and all the gears have arrived, so we've finally put an opening date." Tsubaki smiled kindly. "You got to show up. Black*Star will hand out protein bars and shakes as snack, and he'll give everybody who sign up for a gym membership a 50% discount."

"We'll definitely show up," Soul said.

"I know he'll appreciate it." Tsubaki leaned against the front desk. "So, where are you two going?"

"Just out for lunch," Soul answered and started pulling her toward the exit. "Now if we want to actually eat during your lunch, we better leave."

"Just make sure to bring her back on time!"

"I'll see you later, Tsubaki." She waved toward her friend before they exited the building.

They went to Soul's bike parked in the parking lot. Soul released her hand and opened the compartment and pulled out Maka's helmet, handing it to her.

"Where are we going?" Maka asked. Usually they went to the nearby café where they had usually spent their first months lunching when they were just friends before they started dating.

"We're going to try out something new." Soul strapped his own helmet on his head and climbed on the bike. "Now jump on."

Maka made sure her helmet was tightly strapped on before she climbed on the bike behind him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. The engine roared to life and they took off.

Soul drove. Safely driving through the rush hour traffic. They were going further away than she thought, but fifteen minutes later they rolled up in a parking lot and he killed the engine. She took off her helmet and shook her damp hair, getting off the bike. She cocked her eye at the cursive neon pink letters spelling out Aphrodite.

"What's this kind of restaurant?" she asked.

"This," Soul got off the bike and took of his helmet, "is a restaurant and a store focusing on fertility and intimacy." Soul hung his helmet on the handle and grabbed hers, putting it back into the compartment. "Since you were so down this morning about the negative pregnancy test, I thought we could do something special."

A smile grew on her face as affection swelled within her heart. Seemingly always so aloof and unbothered, but always so considerate and caring behind the scene, this was the man she fell in love with.

"Aww." She entwined her hand with his and bumped her shoulder into his. "That's so sweet of you."

He squeezed her hand and smiled kindly back to her, saying you're welcome with his soft red eyes.

They went hand in hand to the restaurant. Soul opened the door and held it open to them. Maka was immediately met by the smell of spices and cinnamon. The cashier counter was filled with baskets of beans, avocadoes, chili peppers, chocolate and honey. A smorgasbord of healthy and close produced products which reminded her of the farmer's market.

"We have a reservation," Soul said to older woman behind the counter.

"Name?" she asked.

"Soul Albarn."

She tapped on her touch screen and grabbed one menu. "This way." They followed her deeper in the restaurant and passed other couples seating close to each other as they share a plate of food. "Here's your table." She gestured with her hand toward a booth in the far back of the restaurant.

"Thank you," Maka slid into the booth, feeling the soft red leather under her thighs. Soul followed and sat close to her so their thighs were firmly pressed. His arm snaked around her waist and held her close to him.

"This seems really nice," Maka said.

"It does." Soul flipped the menu up with his free hand and they both gazed at the line of various dishes. Beside every dish there was a tip of how it would raise your sex drive or in their case, raise fertility. Most of the facts she had read in a book, but some of them were new to her.

The whole environment was very… intimate. The dim lit lights, the privacy of the U-shaped booth and the soft leather cushions. Only Soul knew how much she enjoyed the texture of leather, especially his leather jacket on her skin. The environment definitely made her feel closer to her husband. She didn't need to read the menu, the environment did enough to set the mood.

"So what will we have?" His voice was husky as he whispered into her ear.

"I think I might go with the nutty salad."

"We're sharing," He chuckled as he tapped toward the top of the menu where it said couples could order larger portions to share for the same price as an ordinary portion.

"Are we now? Then what will we have?"

Soul's finger slid down the page and pointed toward a dish. "We could take this one." It was a salmon dish with arugula, nuts and avocado. It came with whole wheat bread with olive oil and salted tomatoes and strawberries, vegan chocolate and whipped cream for dessert.

Salmon wasn't her thing, but the nutty salad side dish and the tomato sandwich did intrigue her and made her mouth water just looking at the fresh miniature picture of the dish. "The sandwich does sound delicious."

"Good. Then we're ready to order."

The older woman came back and took their orders and disappeared. The atmosphere and the moment was so special. He was special. To arrange this whole thing just in a matter of hours when he had work to take care of, it touched her deeply. It really was about the small things in relationships that count.

She leaned her head to rest against his shoulder and he rested his on top. "So, what did you do today at work since you were so busy finding this place?"

"Nothing really. The business was slow today," he murmured as her hair tickled his face.

"Oh no, that's not good, Soul."

"It's the usual. I knew it would be hard starting a recording studio when the technology allows you to record just as good stuff at home."

"But you burn for these things. I just don't want to see your dreams go into the ditch."

"Hopefully it won't. Tomorrow I actually have a client to serve so that's good," he snickered. "Besides, if the record studio does go into the ditch, I could always become your personal assistant at work."

She blew a raspberry. "Oh we both know if Wes ever allowed that, he would take away my door and install CCTVs in my office."

"Nothing a shirt over the camera can't solve, am I right?"

The smugness just radiated from his voice. He sure was proud of the few times they managed to sneak around her work and hook up before they were caught.

The lunch arrived and the spices glistering on top of the salmon smelled so good. The lunch was even more delicious than it looked like. The bread mixing with the olive oil and the salted tomatoes made her moan out as it melted in her mouth. Mixing it with feeding each other and sharing a kiss or two made it all better.

When their plates were empty and their bellies full and satisfied, a new hunger had awakened within her, thirsting to get back into bed with her dear husband and start making babies once again. If only she could ditch work and spend some more time with Soul.

"You can go to the bike." Soul urged Maka. "I'll be right behind you."

She cast a quizzical eye at Soul standing by the check out, grinning at her.

"Okay." The door plinged as she exited the restaurant.

It didn't take long before Soul exited the shop and came jogging over to her. In his hand he held a basket full with vegetables peeking out on top of it.

"What's that you're holding?"

"Aphrodisiacs for tonight along with another surprise."

The humming heat only tightened at the word of it. "And what is it?"

"That's something you'll find out tonight. That's why it's a surprise, dork." He grinned smugly at her, just enjoying keeping it a secret from her.

"You know I don't like surprises."

"I know." His arms snaked around her waist as their bodies were pressed together. "But it will be worth it. It will be waiting for you at home."

"Are you trying to motivate me to blow off work?"

He chuckled and pushed a loose strand of hair out of her face. "No, I do have some stuff I need to get done before you get home, but, motivating you not to work overtime, that, indeed I am."

"Consider it done. At six sharp, stud." She playfully smacked his bottom before she pulled away. He placed the basket on the ground and he opened the compartment, pulling out her helmet and handed it to her.

"Fuck!" he cursed loudly.

She jumped in shock and gazed at him. "What happened?"

"Someone stole my helmet." He ran his hand through his hair. "And it was brand new! It cost me 250$ too!"

"Hey, take it easy." She cupped his cheeks and steered his face to hers. "We'll get a new one. You can take my helmet."

He blew a raspberry as he enveloped her hands with his big strong ones. "Hell no. It's my own fault I didn't properly protect it. You take it." A wide grin spread on his face as he removed her hands, entwining them instead. "Besides, it would be way too big on my head. We all know how big your head is with that large brain of yours."

She playfully smacked his chest and grinned at him. "Or it's just you who have a pea for a brain."

He let out a short laugh before he climbed onto the bike, sliding further back on the bike than usual. After putting on and strapping on the helmet, she grabbed the basket and took a seat on the bike in front of him.

"Just drive safely, okay?"

"I will." The engine spun to life and he took off from the restaurant. He left the parking lot and drove extra slowly, using his blinkers at every turn and didn't take any chances when the traffic light turned orange.

They rolled up to a traffic stop. The engine hummed lowly as they waited for the light to turn green. She leaned into Soul, feeling his chest warm against her back and his warm breath tickling her neck.

Marriage was all about the small moments.

The traffic light turned orange and Soul slowly put a little gas, slowly starting to roll forward. It turned green and cautiously he started to roll forward.

A shrieking sound pierced the air and before she knew it, the bike lurched forward and they were both flying through the air. She crashed on the road with the basket full of aphrodisiacs scattered on the asphalt.

…

"Soul?" Maka murmured as consciousness started to return to her. "Where are you?" Her eyes drifted from the white ceiling until she found, Black*Star, Wes and Tsubaki by her bed.

They had been driving back to her work after a romantic lunch together. They had been by the stop light when they had been rear-ended.

Soul hadn't worn a helmet.

"Soul." She started to sit up in her bed but a sharp pain in her shoulder had her crash back on the soft mattress. "Where's my husband?"

"Take it easy." Black*Star said in a hushed tone, carefully holding her down by her other shoulder, which surprisingly didn't hurt. "You're hurt, you need to rest―"

"Where is Soul!" she roared.

"He's…" Wes cut himself off, looking the other way as he took a deep breath. "He's in surgery."

Her stomach fell as her throat started to knot with sorrow. "He's… he's going to be alright, right? Right!"

Wes ran his hand through his hair, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know."

Tears started streaming down her cheeks as sobs echoed within the hospital. "No… no! He― he can't… he just can't!"

"The doctor will inform us as soon as the surgery is over," Tsubaki said.

Tears were endless. Streaming down her cheeks as she sobbed loudly, not a care in the world who heard her. Black*Star's hand comfortingly rubbing her shoulder was so unknown, all she wanted was his fingers to grow longer and slimmer into the elegant and beautiful piano fingers of her husband. All she wanted was Soul― she needed him.

…

"Mrs. Albarn?" A man waltzed inside of the hospital room wearing green scrubs as if he had just come out from the surgery.

Her voice broke before even a word had come out of her mouth, instead she settled on a nod.

"I'm Frank. Frank Stein. I'm Soul's doctor." The man's gaze moved to Tsubaki, Black*Star and Wes. "May we have a moment alone?"

"We'll be right back." Black*Star gave her one last comforting squeeze on her hand before him and Tsubaki exited the hospital room.

"I'm Soul's brother. I'm staying." Wes said with determination.

"Very well." The Frank closed the door behind Tsubaki and Black*Star. "The good news is he's alive."

Maka let out a sigh of relief. He was alive.

"What's the bad news?" Wes asked.

"The bad news is he's in the ICU. He's suffering from severe brain trauma. In order for him to get better we'll put him into a comatose state so his system can calm down and allow the swelling to subside while his body is given time to heal, but other than that, he's very lucky. If it weren't for your body shielding his and slowing him down, he would've one-hundred percent been brain dead before paramedics even arrived at the scene."

"Does that mean…" her voice cracked. "He's… he's going to be okay?"

"I don't know about that. Brain trauma is very complex and nothing is normal when it comes to the brain. We'll just have to see when he wakes up."

"But he's going to survive?" Wes asked.

"He's stable at the moment and his survival rates look good."

"Thank death." Her eyes fluttered shut and new tears trickled down her cheeks. He was going to be okay.

A smile played on Wes's lips and he leaned on the bedframe on the hospital bed. "That's good news. That's… really good news."

Frank grabbed her journal from the bed and started to flip through the pages. "Speaking of even better news. Your shoulder just needs some rest and then you've just a couple of stitches and bruises. You'll be up on your feet before you know it."

She didn't care about that. All she cared about was Soul. His well-being came first.

…

"Mr. Albarn is in room four. Take right and you'll find the room to your left," the nurse by the desk informed.

Maka quickly hurried down the corridor, following the nurse's instruction. Room four was within her reach and she busted into the room. Her heart sunk when she laid her eyes on her beloved husband in the hospital bed. Eyes peacefully shut as if he was lying in their bedroom sleeping like usual and not in a hospital. A tube came out form his mouth and connected to a machine, slowly pumping in oxygen in his body. The side of his head was shaved and a newly stitched scar spread on his temple.

"Oh Soul," she sighed and grabbed a chair, pulling it toward his bedside. She watched out for the catheter on the back of his hand as she entwined her fingers with his. "I'm so sorry," she murmured.

If only she had suggested taking a cab back to the office instead, maybe then the speeding car wouldn't have rear-ended them. Soul wouldn't have gotten hurt the way he did. There were so many options to how they could've avoided the accident. There were different routes, different vehicle, heck, she could've just called Wes saying his bike had broken down or something.

But they had taken the wrong route, the wrong vehicle and at the wrong time.

She lifted his hand and planted a kiss on his hand.

Whatever happened, she promised to herself, she would stay by his side. It didn't matter if he was paralyzed, suffering from chronic pain or had to go in and out of the hospital every week, she would be there for him. They would get through this. Together.

"I met Doctor Frank. He gave me his belongings." Wes spoke, holing a plastic bag as he stood by the door frame. "He said his swelling has gone down and they're going to wake him up from his coma tomorrow."

"That's good." She whipped her tear-stained cheeks. "That's really good news."

Wes went over to her and placed the plastic bag in her lap. "I went through his stuff. Sorry."

"It's okay." Her shoulders shook with sorrow as her hand squeezed Soul's. "I'm sure Soul would complain about it, but he would be okay with it."

Wes's warm hand soothingly rubbed her back. "He's going to be able to say that himself once he wakes up." He pointed toward the white plastic bag in her lap. "I don't want to tear open any wounds, but I think it would be useful for you to go through his stuff."

Tear open any wounds? Her wounds were already gaping wide open, gushing blood and unattended. She was already hurting more than if she was the one in the hospital bed.

Maka looked over her shoulder at Wes whose eyes were transfixed on the bag. "I'll give you a moment." He patted her shoulder before he left the hospital room.

Nervousness started knotting in her stomach and she looked at the plastic bag in her lap. "What did you have on you?" she whispered to Soul.

She pulled her hand away from his and opened up the plastic bag. Right at the top was a tiny zip lock bag with his phone, wallet and― his wedding ring. She pulled out the simple silver band from the zip lock bag and she slipped on the ring on his left ring fingers. The plastic bag rustled as she went through his things. His bloody and ripped clothes were in the bag, everything familiar was there. She raised her eyebrow when she lifted his favourite leather jacket which was now torn up and bloody, something white was poking out from within it.

She pulled it out from the inside pocket and it proved to be a piece of paper. The edges were bloody, but it was still in a good shape. She straightened out the paper and it proved to be a medical report of… of―

She slapped her hand over her mouth and tears brimmed in her eyes.

It was a report of his sperm count dated the day of the accident and the word healthy and active sperm rung in her mind.

Emotions overflowed her and he buried her head in his side, holding onto his hand. He did this for her. He knew her fear was somewhat irrational, but he had taken the time to book an appointment to prove to her he was healthy, all they needed was to keep on trying.

Only one of the many reasons she loved him.

"You better wake up alive and well," she sobbed and squeezed his hand tightly as she buried her face in his warm side, feeling his familiar warmth hidden underneath the hospital gown and the blanket. "You hear me, you can't leave me now. Just be okay. Please be okay."

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Soft Names, Soft Touches

Epilogue

 Master List  |  Bucky Barnes Master List

 Previous Chapter

Pairing: Bucky X OC  | Word Count: 8k+

Warnings: Swearing, super fluff, violence, Russian that may or may not be correct.

A year had passed, nearly to the day since Bucky had bodily dragged Francessca to his room. They’d had their share of ups and downs since, arguments and makeups, pain and joy, but today was a day which would be filled with nothing but happiness. Today, after two years of teamwork and a year of being stupidly in love, Bucky was doing something he’d never imagined would ever happen.

He was getting married.

Married to his Franki. To the woman who was his perfect match, and, sappy as it sounded, his soulmate. He loved her so much it was impossible not to smile just thinking about her.

Throughout the last year, with Helen’s help, they’d figured out how to offset a lot of what Hydra had done. They could be apart for longer periods of time. Up to a month, thanks to the bracelets the Doc, Bruce, and Tony had perfected. The slow release of the chemical cocktails, the ones he and Franki produced naturally, kept them both from melting down when apart, as well as allowing Franki to easily accept the touch of others.

She would still rather people just not have contact with her, besides their close friends of course, but she didn't leap out of her skin with the slightest brush as she once would have.

And while Hydra still chased them both, as far as any of them knew, the agency was as of yet unaware of the success of their experiment. Which was good, great in fact, for had they come for Francessca again, Bucky knew he’d go full Winter Soldier on their ass.

But, today was not the time for such thoughts. Today, as he waited with Steve and Clint in a room off to the side of where the ceremony was being held, he ran his hand over his suit jacket nervously.

“You look fine, pal,” Steve clapped him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, man. And your bride… wow!” Clint smirked, teasing the big man.

It had surprised a few people when Bucky had asked Clint to stand up as a groomsman, but Clint had only grinned and said yes. Few knew he and the archer had shared many a late night drink as Clint had a hard time sleeping away from his family.

When Bucky was first back from Wakanda, the nightmares had been keeping him up. Always one to believe in seeing the best in people, offering a second chance when it was warranted, Clint had taken to talking to Bucky, offering an ear when it was needed, and advice or council when it was requested. They were friends. Not Bucky and Cap close, but close enough.

“I’m just a little…” Bucky trailed off, voice growing thick with emotion. “I never thought this could happen for me.”

“You deserve it, Buck. Really.” Steve pulled him into a back-slapping hug.

“Hey, hey! You two crush those boutonnieres, Laura and Tam will have your butts,” Clint warned, tugging them apart, eyeing both suits before fixing the petals on Steve’s rose.

Clint’s wife and Tam, the wife of Jack who’d taken Franki home with him after she’d gotten the news about her program, had become fast friends. They had been more than happy to assist Francessca in the wedding plans. Considering Franki knew nothing about what to do or what was needed, and Nat and Wanda were often busy with missions, the two civilians had taken the title of wedding planner to heart, keeping notes and lists and making sure Franki was pleased with the decisions. His little shadow had been glowing she was so happy with how everything had turned out. Bucky quite literally didn’t care as long as she was happy.

The one thing none of the women had missed out on, Tony too had insisted on going, was the search for the wedding dress. The women had taken over some boutique called Kleinfelds, a place with its own reality television show. From what he’d been told it had been incredibly special.

Tony, being his usual debonair playboy, billionaire self, had arranged the whole day, making Franki the center of it all. When she’d chosen what she said was the perfect dress, Tony had insisted on paying. After all, he was going to give the bride away. As he was playing paternal stand-in, he may as well go all out. It had made Franki cry, but they were happy tears.

The wedding location was another surprise of Tony’s. The mansion, fondly known now as House Avenger, was located not far from the tower and had once been the home of the Stark family. Tony had recommended he and Franki might like to relocate to give them more privacy shortly after they’d gotten together.

Seeing as how the rest of the team were tired of either hearing them or, in a few unfortunate cases, seeing things they’d rather not, it had seemed a sound plan. Considering the mansion was enormous, surrounded by top of the line security, and had a garden of its own, it was not a hardship to make the move.

He remembered the day a few months after they’d changed homes when he’d gone with Steve, nervous as hell, and picked out a ring. They’d gone in secret, something challenging to do when the entire city knew who they were, to the boutique of a jeweller called Cartier. The man had been over the moon happy to assist and keep it quiet until after Bucky could do the asking.

It took another two months before he’d worked up the courage, finally getting it done.

When the night came, he'd walked Franki through Central Park as they were want to do, taking her back to the swings from their first date. She’d laughed, teasing, saying he was going to get her in trouble again, but, when he seated her on the swing as he had the first time, he’d knelt to a knee before her. There, he’d spilled his guts and his heart, had pulled out a red velvet box, a match for her favourite coat, from his pocket and flipped the lid. Nervous as hell, he’d asked her softly if she’d marry him.

The tears had poured from her eyes, but she’d nodded with enthusiasm, laughing, squealing out an enthusiastic yes!

“Earth to Bucky?” Steve chuckled.

“Huh?” Bucky snapped back to the present.

“Someone here to see you.” Steve nodded his head towards the door.

Turning around, Bucky grinned for standing there, hand and hand with Jack O’Shea, was little Jimmy. “Hey, buddy! You ready?” Crouching down, he held out his arms.

The boy had stolen Franki’s heart. Upon meeting him, he’d taken Bucky’s too. The whole team loved the exceptional little boy. Tony had even created Jimmy his very own winter soldier inspired arm. It wasn’t going to stop bullets, but it was a fully functional prosthetic. With how close they’d grown, Jack coming on at the Tower to work in security, Tam joining him, and Jimmy getting into one of the better schools thanks again to a Stark recommendation, it hadn’t surprised him in the least when Franki had asked to include the family in the wedding. Tam had helped with preparations. Jimmy was going to be the ring bearer, but instead of a pillow - something far too girly, so he said - there was a miniature of Steve’s shield gripped in his metal fist, magnetized to hold the rings in place.

Bounding over, Jimmy threw his arms around Bucky’s neck. “Bucky! I’m ready.”

“Good. Me too,” he said, getting up with the boy in his arms.

“You clean up pretty good there, Barnes.” Jack grinned. In his opposite hand, he held four precariously clutched glasses. A bottle of Irish whiskey was tucked beneath his arm. “It’s an O’Shea family tradition to toast the bride. Thought you gentlemen might be inclined to join me?”

“Daddy says I have to be at least ten before I can do the toast,” Jimmy pouted.

Bucky, Clint, and Steve all chuckled.

“Oh, yes. Ten. Definitely.” Bucky agreed seriously with the boy. “Otherwise you’ll stay a little squirt. Wouldn’t want to stunt your growth.”

Considering how big Bucky was, Jimmy really didn’t want that. “I’ll wait.”

Jack handed out the glasses before pulling the cork from the bottle. “My grandfather used to say only the best would do when toasting a bride, so, Redbreast twenty-one.” He poured a few fingers into each glass, corked the bottle, and set it on a table. Accepting the glass from Clint, he held it up with the others. “To the bride. A woman of grace, courage, and a fortitude the likes of which I have rarely seen. Let’s drink to love which is nothing unless it’s divided by two.”

Before any of them could drink, Clint held up his hand. “I know you two fellows can’t get drunk, but I can and so can he, and if either of us does our wives will kill us. So, I will offer my toast as well before we down three fingers of whiskey, and have to pour another round. We’re doing this in one.”

Chuckling, Steve said, “Then all I have to say is, may your love be as endless as your wedding rings, Buck.” He clicked his glass to Bucky’s, grinning at Clint who was scowling at him. “What?”

“Just had to sneak yours in first, didn’t you, Cap?” Rolling his eyes, Clint turned his attention back to Bucky. “Bucky, if there is one thing I’ve learned after being married all these years it’s this. No matter the argument, your wife is always right.” They chuckled as a group, but he shook his head. “It’s not a joke. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, which will ever matter to you more than she does. So, if you two are butting heads, just ask yourself, would I rather win the argument or have a happy wife? Simple as that. To the bride!” Lifting his glass, he tapped it against Barnes’ and threw back the whiskey.

The other’s followed suit, each wheezing slightly with the burn.

“Wow…” Bucky gasped. “That’s good stuff.”

“Damn,” Clint breathed out, smirking at Jack. “You and I need to hang out more often.”

The door banged open. They all looked to the blond behemoth standing in the opening.

“Gentlemen! You toast without, Thor?” He stalked through the room with a wide, mischievous grin. Clapping a hand down on Jack’s shoulder, he didn’t notice when the man flinched beneath the force. “It is good, then, I come bearing a gift for the bridegroom!”

His voice boomed through the room, making Bucky laugh. “Glad you could make it.”

“Jane and I would not miss such an auspicious occasion! Thee are family, son of Barnes!” Thor plucked Jimmy from his arms, tossing him straight up to the boy’s delighted squeal. “And you, young Jimmy? How fares the new arm?”

Bucky smirked at Jack, sure the man’s heart had only stopped the once, instead of the dozen times it had the first time the god of thunder had done that.

“He’s doing just great,” Jack said.

“Excellent!” Handing the boy off to his father with a gentle ruffle of his hair, Thor, dressed in the Asgardian equivalent of formal wear, drew a flask from within his cloak. “The finest of Frigga’s wines, not for mortals,” he looked pointedly at Clint and Jack as he poured two half glasses. “Apologies.”

“Not to worry.” Clint had no desire to have his eyes explode or his stomach rot or whatever other calamities would happen if he did. “I’m going to go see if they’re ready for us.” Grinning, he and Jack, and small Jimmy headed out the door.

“My friends! We drink! To the fair Francessca! May she forever be the warrior she is today, and may she give you a hundred sons!” Thor boomed, throwing back the flask and drinking deeply.

Steve and Bucky exchanged looks, sipped the wine so as not to be rude, but before Thor finished, they each upended their glass in one of the potted plants nearest them.

“Tell Frigga we are most thankful for her gift,” Bucky said with only a small smirk. He’d had Asgardian liquor before. He’d really like to remember his wedding.

Smoothing her hands down the front of her dress, Franki glanced at the mirror for what felt like the hundredth time. The silk dress fit her like a glove, accented her breasts, flared at her knees and delved deep at her back. Crystals winked in the skirt and train, more glimmered in the cascading fall of curls her veil was tucked into and shone on the ring finger of her left hand where her engagement ring waited to be joined by a wedding band.

“Sestra, you are gorgeous! Stop fretting,” Natasha scolded, wandering over to fuss with Franki’s veil.

“Yes, you will knock Bucky’s socks right off with how wonderful you look,” Wanda agreed.

“Sorry, I’m just so… nervous,” Franki sighed.

“Then have a drink, precious,” Tony offered, coming over with two fingers of scotch, handing her the glass. “Calm yourself.”

“Thanks, Tony.” Franki smiled, taking a deep breath. “I just want everything to go right.”

“It will,” Nat assured her.

Clint arrived in the doorway, little Jimmy on his hip, snickering softly. “I see we're not the only ones abiding in a little liquid courage.”

“What?” Frankie gasped. “He’s drinking to get down the aisle!”

Seeing the waterworks wanting to start, Clint rushed forwards. “No! No, no. Jack had us do the traditional toast to the bride. A little whiskey was all. He’s fine, darling. Excited and ready.”

“Oh.” Breathing out a sigh, Franki nodded. “Good.”

“Thor’s in with him and Steve.”

“You left them alone with him!?” she yelped. “He’ll have Asgardian liquor!”

“Bucky isn’t going to do anything to muck up your special day, precious.” Tony took her by the hand and gave it a gentle pat.

“Okay, okay. You are right, kotenok.” Nodding Franki took a deep breath.

“Five minutes ladies!” Tam called out as she zipped past the door. “Clint! You’re in the wrong room. Let’s move it!”

“See you up there, vorobey.” Franki set her glass on the table, reached out and kissed his cheek.

“Oh! I almost forgot. He would have kicked my ass.” Grinning, Clint dug in his pocket. “Something old, for the bride.”

“I thought that was Barnes?” Nat snickered.

“Haha. Laugh it up, sestra.” Franki glowered at her while taking the box from Clint. Pulling on the bow, she tugged the lid off, lifted out the soft cloth within, revealing a beautiful cameo brooch. “Oh! It’s lovely.”

“Buck found it in an antique shop. It was just like one his mom had.”

Franki looked up to see Steve standing in the doorway. “Really?”

Steve’s eyes were teary as he nodded. “Can I have a minute alone?”

“Only one,” Laura called out as she zoomed past the door. “Barton! Move that ass!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Squeezing Franki’s wrist, Clint slipped out past Steve.

“I’ll be back for you, so don’t get any funny ideas about running off with blondie there,” Tony joked, thumping Steve on the shoulder as he sauntered out.

“Yeah. No runaway bride or I’ll hunt you down,” Nat warned with a grin.

Wanda only waved and shook her head, shutting the door behind her.

“Wow. Franki, you’re going to give the old guy a heart attack,” Steve said, striding toward her.

“I hope not. I would like to be a wife for a very long time.” Picking up her bouquet, a small one of red calla lilies, she worked at pinning the brooch to the ribbons.

Seeing her struggle, Steve held the bouquet so she could use both hands. Hey, Franki?”

“Yes, belyy rystar’?” she said, looking up into his bright blue eyes. They were like Bucky's only more sky blue than the sapphire of her man’s.

Cupping her hands, Steve bent to kiss her cheek. “Thank you.”

Shocked she gaped at him for a second. “For what?”

“For being you. For loving Bucky. For giving him the life he thought he'd never have.”

“It swings both ways, Steve. He’s done the same for me.” She’d never imagined she’d have a life outside a cage, let alone a man who loved her and wanted to spend his life with her. “It is good, da?”

“He’s… so happy. I never thought I’d see pre-soldier Bucky again. You’ve given him back to me.”

Her watering eyes had Franki reaching for a tissue. “They’ll kill me if I ruin my makeup.”

Taking it from her, Steve fixed the little run of her mascara. “There. Good as new.”

“I love him so much.”

“And he loves you.” Leaning down, he wrapped her up in a tight hug.

Franki smiled as she hugged him back. It was so nice to not want to crawl out of her skin. “Hey… Steve?” Turning her mouth to his ear, Franki whispered in it softly just as the door opened.

“Minutes up, Cap. They’re calling for you.” Tony frowned at the weird, excited puppy look on Steve’s face. “Yo, Capsicle! There’s a spot with your name on it beside Barnes which is empty.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay.” He nodded, hugged Franki a second time, and jogged out of the room.

“What was that all about, precious?” Tony asked. “You keeping secrets from your daddy?”

“Do not ever say that again.” Franki’s face twisted in revulsion. “It is not too late to replace you.”

“Nuh ugh!” He shook his head. “I paid for your dress, so the least you can do is let me walk you down the aisle, so I get to see Barnes’ jaw drop when he sees you in it.”

“Fine. But don’t ever refer to yourself as daddy again.”

“Whatever you say, snookums.” She glared, and he grinned. “Sweetums? Pooky? Moonpie? Sugar? Fine, I’ll stick to precious.”

She couldn’t quite control the urge to laugh, her lip twitching. “Tony?”

“Yeah, doll?” He grinned, knowing he’d amused her.

Leaning in, she kissed his cheek. “I love you. Thanks for everything.”

His eyes watered as he pulled her into a tight hug. “Daddy loves you too, precious.”

“Tony!”

He only laughed.

The want to fidget was upon Bucky when Steve jogged up beside him. “Well?"

“She looks great, pal,” Steve assured him. “Drop-dead gorgeous.”

“She’s always gorgeous, but that doesn’t explain why you look like you’re going to cry.” Bucky frowned at him.

“It’s a wedding. People cry.”

Clint snorted. “You cry at everything.”

It was true. Steve had been known to blubber at Disney movies, so this shouldn’t have surprised Bucky.

Looking out over the gathered crowd, he nodded to those who smiled or waved. There were far more people in attendance than he would have liked. But, as an Avenger, their wedding had taken on a social aspect which couldn’t quite be ignored. Or so Tony had told them.

He’d been concerned at first. This would have been a prime opportunity for Hydra to pull some shit, but the security was so high he’d almost had an issue getting in, and it was his wedding. Plus, there was a host of superheroes in attendance, more Shield agents than he could count, as well as a bunch of Asgardians who’d come with Thor. If Hydra was stupid enough to try something tonight, they were going to have their asses handed to them.

As for the rest, he didn’t know, or really even care who they were. They’d come to see and be seen. As long as they didn’t cause trouble, they could stay. They’d all be contributing to the charities he and Franki had picked out, so the more, the merrier in that aspect.

It wasn’t as if either of them needed wedding gifts. Everything they required was already stocked within House Avenger, standing tall and stately behind the gathered guests. Instead, they’d chosen to have people make donations to charities which were essential to them. Like prosthetic research for kids, something close to both their hearts.

The music changed, a hush came over the crowd. Everyone stood to their feet.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky breathed it slowly out as first Wanda, then Nat made their way down the aisle. Both looked great in simple red gowns which swept the ground as they walked. They smiled at him, Nat’s eyes a little damp, as they took their places. Next came Jimmy, his eyes big, a look of fear on his face. He froze about halfway down the aisle.

Bucky was quick off the mark, down towards the boy who he lifted up, tucked in his vibranium arm, and carried back to the altar with him. A chorus of awe’s followed which he ignored.

“You good, buddy?” he asked Jimmy.

“That’s a lot of people,” the boy whispered, hugging his neck, his makeshift shield dangling.

“I know, bud. You did great.” He patted the boy’s back.

Arriving back at the front, Steve held out his arms, but Bucky shook his head. “Nah, he’s fine.” Again Steve’s eyes watered, making him frown. “What the fuc-dge is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” Steve cleared his throat, straightening his spine.

“Sure, sure,” Bucky grumbled, turning to face the aisle again. He’d figure out what the fuck was up with his best friend later.

Right now, his eyes, as well as everyone else’s, were glued to the doorway from which Franki would exit. Tony stepped out first, looking his usual debonair self, red tie and pocket square perfectly aligned.

Bucky took a breath, held it, and exhaled hard when Franki appeared.

“My God…” his voice was filled with wonder.

“I know, right?” Steve chuckled.

“She’s gorgeous, man.” Clint’s grin was enormous.

In his ear, a little voice whispered, “She’s an angel.”

Bucky smirked a quick grin at Jimmy. “She’s my angel. Moya zvezdochka.”

Turning his attention back to her, he took in the stunning dress. He could see why she loved it.

It clung to her, moulded to all her lush curves, lifted her breasts to mound at the neckline. The sleek dress flared at her knees, trailed behind her, sparkled like it was covered in diamonds. The pure white set her skin glowing, her eyes shone with love and happiness. The glorious cascade of her chestnut hair fell down to her thighs in gentle waves, and the veil turned her into the most beautiful bride.

Her arms were bare, though the straps of her dress were wide. To have chosen something without sleeves caused his heart to swell. She was doing so well.

“Stunning,” he whispered, unable to take his eyes off her.

When they reached him, Bucky handed Jimmy to Steve, shook Tony’s hand, and took Franki’s all without looking away from her eyes. The silver was soft today, her happiness so apparent he couldn’t stop himself when he leaned forward and kissed her mouth.

“Not yet, Barnes!” Nat barked.

“Mine,” he growled at the redhead.

Franki’s hand caressed his cheek. “You can have another later, snegopad.”

Her response set their guests laughing.

Vows were exchanged before the grinning priest. It hadn’t mattered to Franki what type of ceremony they had, but Bucky had been raised Catholic. Even after everything he’d been through, all he’d done, marrying her any other way had felt… wrong.

It would have been important to his family. It became important to him with that thought. She went with him willingly to the church he’d once attended mass at so many years ago, spoke with the current priest, and received a wholehearted yes by the man.

For once, his past had worked in his favour.

The ceremony went by in a blur after that.

He was unable to see anything beyond Franki’s eyes.

Franki stared up at Bucky, his eyes the startling sapphire blue she knew and loved. His attire for the day was not so far from what he’d worn to that fateful Halloween party a year ago. His hair was shorter than back then, but only just.

She liked it too much for him to cut it off.

He stood with her beneath the arbour of fall leaves, the trees of the garden of House Avenger a blaze in a riot of colour. The sun was setting in the background. A bird was singing. Jimmy giggled.

She noticed all these things yet saw none of them. Looking away from Bucky was impossible.

He’d rarely if ever, looked more dashing, more handsome than he did right now.

She wanted to engrave this moment on her memory forever.

He smiled, almost as if he could read her mind.

They exchanged their vows. Later, she would wonder how she managed, as she couldn’t seem to remember saying the words.

When it came time for the rings, little Jimmy had brought them to her on his blue and red shield. She’d crouched to kiss his sweet cheek, making him blush.

Bucky slid the ring over her left ring finger.

She slid one over his.

T’challa had surprised them both with a vibranium one which would work with his arm, as tough and strong as his hand was, ensuring he wouldn’t destroy it should he punch something hard.

She ran her thumb over it. Some smart scientist had discovered a way to tint it slightly, make it look like titanium, so it showed against his gleaming silver hand. It made her happy. No one would ever mistake it for just another part of his finger.

When, finally, they were pronounced husband and wife, Franki threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly.

The roar of cheers rose around them.

Laughing happily, Franki dragged Bucky inside, away from the congratulating guests. She’d made prior arrangements to have Nat and Wanda gather their team for a post-ceremony toast. It was likely they would be inundated with well-wishers, but she wanted some time with those closest to her before that happened.

“What are you up to, wife?” Bucky grinned, enjoying her new title.

“You’ll see,” she said, smiling back at him.

He pulled her into his arms, spun her into the wall, pinned her there. “Have I told you yet how beautiful you look?”

“You have, but I don’t mind hearing it again,” Franki giggled. “But our friends are waiting.”

“Let them wait.” Bucky tucked his face down against her throat and growled. “God, could you smell any better?”

Laughing, Franki gave him a shove. Slipping away from his grasping hands, she picked up the front of her dress and ran for it.

“Oi! I wasn’t done with you!” Bucky bellowed, giving chase.

Racing into the room she’d waited in earlier, she skidded to a halt beside Steve whose arms came up to steady her.

“Easy there, doll face,” he said.

“Hands off, Rogers. She’s taken.” Bucky smirked at his friend before grinning at the rest of the gathered team.

Thor and Jane, Clint and Laura, Jack, Tam and Jimmy. Scott and Hope van Dyne. Sam, Wanda, Vision, T’challa, Natasha, and Peter. Maria and Fury. Tony, Bruce, Helen, and Steve. Everyone was there, waiting, glasses of champagne in hand.

He took one from Steve as Tony handed one to Franki.

Clearing his throat, Tony stepped forward. “A toast to the bride… and, I suppose the groom as well.” Quiet snickers rose around him. “You and I’ve had a rough go, Barnes, and I only got one thing to say about it. You’re a good guy, Franki’s lucky to have you, but you hurt my girl, and I’ll bring the hammer down.”

“I believe that is my area, Iron Man.” Thor chuckled, Mjolnir hanging from his fist.

“He gets my meaning,” Tony quipped.

“Kotenok , stop threatening my husband.” Franki glared at him.

“Just looking out for you, precious.” Tony winked at her.

Bucky only smirked. Tony was overprotective of Franki, just like he was her father. It didn’t bother him in the least. “It’s all good, Tony.”

“You’re all such men.” Natasha rolled her eyes. Lifting her glass, she said simply, “Congratulations, sestrenka. May your happiness never end.”

A chorus of here-here’s­ echoed, and they all drank.

All except Franki.

“Baby?” Bucky frowned at her. “What’s wrong?”

Franki glanced at Steve, noting the wet eyes and sappy smile. Nat’s were knowing, as were Wanda’s, and Helen’s were patiently amused.

Turning to face Bucky, she set her glass down on a table and took a deep breath. Placing her hands on his chest, she stroked her fingers over his lapels. “You may have noticed, snegopad, I did not send you a wedding gift.”

“Wasn’t a big deal, Franki. I–”

She pressed her fingers to his lips, arching a brow in warning to shut up. “I didn’t send you a gift, because I need to hang on to it for a while longer.”

He frowned, confused. “How long?”

“Oh, about seven months.” She bit her lip, trying hard not to giggle at the way the confusion cleared, became shock, then turned to complete joy.

“Francessca…” he breathed in awe. Dropping to his knees before her, he pressed his palm flat to her belly and leaned his head against her. “Privet, moy dragotsennaya malysh.”

“Huh?” said Tony.

“He said, hello my precious baby.” Natasha wiped at the tears sliding down her face.

“Baby…” Tony gasped. “She’s pregnant!”

Steve laughed. “She sure is! Congratulations, pal!”

“Did you know?” Bucky asked, looking to Steve.

Franki, touched his cheek. “He said some very nice things to me before the wedding, lyubimaya. I should not have, but… I wanted to share with him.”

“Dollface,” Bucky rubbed his nose across her still flat stomach. “This is the best gift ever. Telling Steve doesn’t take away from that.”

“Nat, Wanda, and Helen also knew,” she confessed.

“That’s a given,” he chuckled, not at all surprised those three knew. They'd been talking about family, so in love with Jimmy they'd decided to try for one of their own, but he'd never imagined it would happen so fast. Getting slowly to his feet, hand still laid lightly on her belly, he looked to Steve and Tony. “Franki’s done.”

“Snegopad,” she growled low.

“Absolutely,” Steve and Tony said together.

Franki huffed, but she wasn’t about to argue today, not on her wedding day. “We will discuss this later, da?”

“Discuss away, malenkaya ten'. Doesn’t mean you’re going back out in the field.” He swept her off her feet, up into his arms, holding her there with ease as he kissed her soundly.

Everyone gathered to give congratulations.

“Today is a most auspicious day,” Vision said, smiling down at Wanda.

“Come. We shall celebrate their good fortune.” Wanda grinned back.

“Let’s keep this between us,” Bucky said, looking around the room at all their friends. “At least until we can’t.”

T’challa smiled as he walked toward them. “You will come to Wakanda when the time grows near. A safe place away from Hydra. A sheltered place.”

“T’challa,” Franki whispered, tearing up. “Thank you.”

T’challa took her hand, squeezed her fingers. Leaning in, he kissed her cheek. “Congratulations, little shadow. On both your wedding and your impending arrival.”

Later that night, after everyone had left and only the two of them remained, Bucky stripped Franki slowly out of her dress.

She’d been gorgeous in it, sparkling beneath the floating lights of the reception.

They’d danced beneath the stars in the grass, the song chosen by Laura and Tam, Perfect by someone named Ed Sheeran had fit far better than anything he could have come up with.

She’d even kicked off her shoes, dancing barefoot, exactly like the song said.

Now, standing before the empty fireplace in their sitting room, he slowly pulled the straps down. The back of the dress, a plunging ‘V’ he’d failed to notice until his hand had slipped beneath her hair partway through the reception, had the sleek gown falling quickly to the floor.

He moaned, finding her standing in only a pair of lacy white panties, gartered stockings, and sexy white pumps. “You’re one gorgeous dame.”

She chuckled, sliding the jacket off his shoulders. “And you’re one handsome dude.”

“Tease.”

“Flirt.”

He chuckled as he took her by the waist and lifted her out of the pile of fabric her dress had created. “You tired, Mrs. Barnes?”

She shook her head. “Not tired, but a little hungry. I kept trying to eat and would get interrupted.”

“You should have said something, malyutka! You’re eating for two now. No skipping meals,” he scolded her gently, his hand dropping to rub circles over her belly.

“I did eat, but it was in fits and starts.” Pressing up on her toes, she wrapped her arms around Bucky’s neck. “You get me a snack, da? Pozhaluysta, dlya rebenka?”

Stroking her bare back, he shook his head. “Is this how it’s going to be for the next seven months? Whenever you want something from me, you’ll tell me it’s for the baby?”

“Da,” she snickered, kissing him firmly on the mouth. “I will not be able to use my body to get my way once I am big as house. I must learn new tricks for getting you to do my bidding.”

“Big as a house or not, you will always be the most beautiful woman,” he murmured. “And as that’s my brat in your belly making you big as a house, doll face, you’re just going to be sexier.” His eyes darkened, heated.

Franki sighed happily, melting into him. “You sweet talker. It’s already our wedding night. You don’t have to try so hard. I promise, you’re about to get lucky,” she whispered against his lips, feeling the hard length of him grow against her.

“Francessca…” he groaned, hands gliding down to grip her ass.

“Feed me first, Barnes,” she snickered when he froze.

“Still a tease,” he grumbled.

“And you’re a flirt.” He smacked her on the butt, making her jolt. “Hey!”

Chuckling as he let her go, he shot her a grin. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it, Franki.” He may not have understood the concept of pain equalled pleasure when it came to sex, and with Franki it was a moot point as pain just locked down her ability to feel anything, but she was a frisky little thing when it came to the bedroom. Far more adventurous than he’d ever expected. She quite liked his hands on her ass.

After he left the room, Franki darted toward the bedroom. It was all a ruse. She’d eaten enough to stuff the Hulk tonight. But she couldn’t put together the second half of her surprise if he were standing there watching her.

The girls had thrown her one hell of a bachelorette party. One which included some seriously sexy underwear, but it was the gift from Natasha she was after.

Her sestra had found a reproduction forties style nightgown in beautiful white satin. The wide straps made of the softest lace, dipped down into a deep ‘v’ both front and back. The satin made loose cups, slightly pleated before the waist tucked in tight beneath. Another wide band of lace defined her upper torso, then more satin fell straight to the floor.

She was ridiculously excited to wear it. So much so she giggled as she pulled it out of the box she’d hidden in her underwear drawer. Taking it reverently from within, she held it aloft, swiftly drawing it over her head. Flicking her hair from the back, Franki turned to the mirror and smiled. “Perfect.”

Bucky was going to swallow his tongue.

Squealing, she threw the robe on with it. It was a gift after all. The least she could do was let him unwrap her.

Hearing a noise in the other room, she took a deep breath, gave herself a wink in the mirror, and sauntered out to give Bucky his final present. “You were fast, snegopad. Are you perhaps ea…ger…” She froze in the doorway.

“Welcome, Mrs. Barnes. How good it is of you to join us.”

She didn’t recognize him, but the symbol on his chest was unmistakable. “Hydra scum!” she hissed, stepping forward. A half dozen weapons cocked, causing her to send a swift glanced around the room. “You are stupider than I thought if you think you can get away with this! Do you know how many heroes are in residence?”

“Two. You and Barnes.”

He’d called her bluff. The other’s had all left, returning to their homes or perspective worlds. “Are you so certain?”

“Positive.” His face was smug with triumph. “Come here, subject 7.”

Fear, overwhelming, unrelenting terror, pounded through her. “What?” she whispered.

“Or would you prefer Weapon F?” he chuckled. “Oh? Did you think the hard drive you stole was the only place the information on your… program was stored? How foolish. Come here now, and I won’t kill your… husband.”

Her legs were like lead as she walked across the room to stand with the middle-aged man. His features were cruel and hard, his eyes cold, his skin weathered. He’d evidently lived a hard life, one which had been permanently marked on his skin.

“What do you want?” And how the hell had they gotten in? There were at least a dozen agents around the room, each heavily armed. Why had their security failed? Where the hell was Friday?

He twisted a lock of her hair around his finger, tracing appreciative eyes down her body.

Franki refused to flinch. Her robe was well tied. He saw nothing more than her silhouette.

“They call you Reaper. What a shame. Losing someone of your talents will be horrible. It really is too bad we can’t simply wipe you. But, you will serve another purpose now.” His eyes dropped to her abdomen.

She had to fight not to recoil. There was no way they could know! What tests had been run had been done so by Helen, secretly and without a paper trail. This was merely him trying to reinstate the program. “I will never be a broodmare for Hydra!”

His hand latched onto her hair, jerked her around by it. “You will be a breeding bitch if that is what we tell you to be!”

All sensation had cut off with the first sharp pull. Cold, emotionless, empty, she stared him down. “I will never again be bitch for Hydra!”

“Not even to save your man?” he nodded towards the door.

“Franki, I wasn’t sure what all you’d want so I…” Bucky froze, eyes glued to Franki held captive by a Hydra agent. He shot a glance around the room, calculated the risks. “What do you want?”

“Ah, Winter Soldier. How good of you to join us.” He motioned Bucky forward with a wave of his gun.

Setting the plate he was carrying down, Bucky strolled toward Franki’s captor until the gun swung toward her temple.

“That’s far enough. Weapons?”

Gritting his teeth, Bucky shook his head.

“Show me,” the man from Hydra demanded.

Turning around, Bucky showed the tucked in back of his shirt. His sleeves were already rolled to his elbows, but he tugged both pant legs up. No weapons.

“Excellent. Now, we are going to have a little chat, then you are going to comply. Is that understood, soldier?”

Glancing to Franki, Bucky muttered, “Da.”

“Good, good.” The man chuckled. “It’s quite simple really. We want our soldier back. Comply, and keep your wife. Resist, she dies.”

The gun cocked. Franki’s eyes never left his.

“Fine.”

“Bucky!” Franki gasped.

“Shut up, Franki.” He looked to the man holding her. “Do it.”

“Such a good soldier. It will be so nice to have you back. Let’s begin, shall we?” He didn’t wait for Bucky to agree. “Zhelaniye.”

…longing…

Franki’s heart pounded when Bucky’s fists clenched. “No…” It couldn’t be…

“Rzhavyy… semnadtsat’."

… rusted… seventeen…

He flinched, curling in slightly, his eyes darting back to Franki’s. “Baby… take care.”

Franki cried out, but the barrel of the gun pressed to her temple.

“Rassvet … pecht'… devyat’.”

… daybreak… furnace… nine…

His hands went to his head, fisted there as he groaned, an excruciating sound that sent tears streaming down Franki’s face.

“Dobroserdechnyy… vozvrashcheniye na rodinu… odin.”

… benign… homecoming… one

He fell to his knees, the groan of pain becoming a scream of agony.

“Bucky! No! Fight it!” Franki screamed, uncaring of the gun at her temple.

The man holding her at gunpoint only laughed. “Gruzovoy vagon!” he crowed triumphantly.

...freight train...

All noise ended; silence reigned supreme.

Franki’s face was wet with tears. There was blood dripping from the lip she’d bitten through.

Bucky was panting, still on his knees where he’d fallen.

“Snegopad…” she whispered.

“Soldat?” the Hydra agent called.

“Ya gotov otvechat.”

… ready to comply…

“No!” she screamed. It couldn’t be! He’d been deprogrammed. But she found his eyes had become dead, lifeless. There wasn’t a hint of the Bucky she’d known anywhere in his familiar blue eyes. Here, now, sat the same type of soldier who had tried to kill her all those years ago.

The man with the gun hit her in the face, but it didn’t even register.

“Bucky,” she groaned. Sagging against the hold on her hair, the Hydra agent finally let go, allowing her to slump to the floor. Bitter tears cascaded down her face. “Bucky…”

“On your feet, soldier.”

Bucky rose, walked forward, paid no attention to her. “Ya gotov otvechat,” he said again.

“Here. Show me you’re a good soldier. Shoot the woman in the leg. I have seen a video of her powers. I wish to see it in person.” The man from Hydra handed his gun to Bucky.

Checking the weapon, Bucky pointed it at her.

She didn’t care. He wasn’t her Bucky anymore. Whatever he did from now on, she would never hold it against him.

The gun fired, but as she felt nothing, she didn’t bother to flinch or look up until the body of the Hydra agent fell beside her.

“Francessca! Move your ass!” Bucky bellowed, wrenching her to her feet. Firing as they went, he herded her through the door to their bedroom. “Goddamnit, Steve! Do it now!”

A loud bang went off behind them, making Franki jump.

Bucky only slammed the door. “Are you hurt? Did you get hit? The baby?” His hands ran frantically over her body.

She could only stare up at him in shock. “Bucky…” she whispered, reaching for his face. His frantic hands stopped when the sob escaped her lips. “I thought… but you were… but you had been deprogrammed! What the fuck, Barnes?” she screamed.

“Shh… easy, doll face. Calm down, baby.” He held her against him, rocked her gently side to side as floods of tears and choking sobs continued to pour from her.

Finally, once she was calmer, Franki pulled back enough to lightly pound her fist against his chest. “What the hell was that?”

Scooping her off her feet, he made his way over to the extra-large chair in their bedroom, one perfect for cuddling, or so he’d discovered when they’d first moved in. Sitting, he did so with her now, pulling her in, tucking her head beneath his chin, making sure she was wrapped up tight in his arms.  “No, the trigger words don’t work anymore. Steve and I, or Nat and I, go through them once a month, just to be safe. But, while we know the deprogramming worked, Hydra doesn’t. And we’ll keep it that way.”

A few more loud sounds, gunfire, slamming bodies, echoed outside her bedroom door. “And Steve? How did he know to come?”

“I knew the instant they breached the house and sent an alert. Not sure about outside yet, Friday was checking. But I couldn’t warn you, baby, not without tipping them off. I’m sorry, Francessca for scaring you like that.”

Turning her face into his throat, Franki trembled as the adrenaline wore off. “So much for our wedding night,” she sighed.

“And you look so beautiful. Where’d you find that, doll?” Her robe had come open in the rush for safety, revealing the lovely satin and lace beneath which he was slowly walking his fingers over.

“Natasha…” she sighed when his fingers trailed over her nipple.

“Hm, Natalia deserves a fucking statue in her honour. First your friend, then your sestra, now she gives you gifts like this? Damn, baby,” he chuckled, tugging her robe closed when silence outside preceded the knock at the door. “C’mon in, punk!”

“You’re a punk,” Steve grumbled, wiping drywall dust off his face. “You got to relax with a lap full of sweetheart while I cleaned up the mess.”

“Looks like you made a mess, belyy’ rystar,” Franki teased.

“You alright there, doll?” he asked, striding closer.

She nodded. “No damage, Cap.”

“Precious cargo and all?”

“Everyone is fine, Steven,” she huffed. “You are going to be just as bad as him, aren’t you?” She pointed at Bucky.

He didn’t even try to look contrite, just smiled and nodded. “We got ‘em rounded up, Buck, but you’re not going to want to stay here. Thor got a little… zealous and part of the roof is missing…” He rubbed at the back of his neck.

Another tentative knock came at the door, and T’challa poked his head through. “Am I interrupting?”

“Nope,” Bucky waved him in. “Who cares, it’s only our bedroom.”

“Hush, Bucky.” Franki scolded.

“I will not keep you, but I thought, with this sudden turn of events, perhaps it would be prudent to leave for your honeymoon… now.” The big man was in full Panther garb, carrying his helmet beneath his arm.

Steve, too, was fully equipped.

It always amazed her the speed at which they could get all that stuff on. “You might be right. Tony!” she bellowed.

“Yeah, precious?” His head, mask and all, poked through the open door. “Ooh, foursome. How progressive of you, Barnes.”

“Tony!” Franki gasped, “Get out!”

“But you called me in!”

“Then behave for once. This is important!”

He looked properly chastised, or at least his suit did. It was hard to tell with the mask down. He could be grinning for all he was worth in there.

“Fine. We have small problem,” she said.

“What’s that, doll?” Bucky muttered.

“The Hydra agent in charge, he called me subject 7.” She’d never seen four grown men panic so swiftly in all her life. “Calm down! I do not think they are aware of the program’s success, simply that I am with Bucky.” But it was too much of a risk to take. Especially now.

“We’re going to Wakanda.” Bucky’s voice was cold with finality.

“And if they come for me there? What happens when news of this pregnancy gets out?” She didn’t want to put more people in danger because it was convenient to hide out in Wakanda.

“My people would never speak of it if that is my wish,” T’challa promised.

“My baby is not something to hide!” Franki barked, tears coming to her eyes.

“You could always come to Asgard.”

She looked up to find Thor standing in the doorway, a massive grin on his face. “And never see my husband?”

His face fell.

Sighing, Bucky pulled her in tight. “We’ll figure it out, doll. Don’t fret. Let’s go to Wakanda, have a few nice days first before figure it out. Sound good?”

Sniffling, causing all the men in the room to freeze, Franki finally nodded. “Da.”

Twenty minutes later, her bags already packed, Franki walked onto the back of the quinjet.

Stopping at the top, she looked to her friends gathered at the bottom of the ramp. They waved or smiled, spoke words of farewell and well-wishes. She simply nodded, continuing inside to sit in the co-pilot seat beside Bucky.

“You okay, Franki?” he asked quietly.

“Da, but, I have a strange feeling I will not see them again for some time.”

When he reached over and took her hand, she knew she wasn’t the only one.

The End… for now.

[not-recovering-internet-add-blog]

Hey, starting a new DP story here, and want to get a preview of it out to you guys! DP AU

Summary:

After staying in the cemetery a little longer than he should one night, Danny is attacked. Now he isn’t sure where he fall on the “Alive or Dead” scale. Maybe between the “Living dead” and the “Dead” sections? Who knows? His kidnappers don’t. He sure e only thing he knows for sure is that he isn’t anywhere close to what you’d call “Alive”. (NO PP cause it sucks…heh) .

Now on to the show!

Hey everyone! I’m posting this as my first story since I shut down my last profile back in 14’. (It was bad, like watt-pad level writing bad). If you want to Beta, send me a PM, I’ll get with you. Also, I’m open for Ideas, send me what you think should happen. If its good, I’ll write it. Finally to clear some shit up. Danny is 19 when this takes place, No PP (cause it sucked balls). Thanks for Reading-THE DARK FABRIC SATIN

The night that started it all was a cold November Day, The 29th to be exact. It had been raining the past four days so when the clouds cleared, Tucker Foley and Sam Manson had driven over to their best friends Danny’s house. For both the reason that they hadn’t seen Danny since the rain started, and because the Fentons probably still had some leftovers from Thanksgiving. That night a cold wind blew through the city and everyone with any sense to them stayed inside by the fireplace. Except Danny, the Fenton’s son, who was walking on his way home from a snack run to the corner store. The cold hadn’t bother him in the last five years.

He had just rounded the corner onto their street when he felt the blast, and the thunderous boom of his home, and everyone inside, going up in flames.

They had died watching a movie “The Incredibles”, about a family of superheros, not unlike themselves. Of course, two of them weren’t family per se, but might of well have been with how often they could be found at the home. They were the town Ghost Guard, having given up the title of hunters after their son had come out to them as the half-ghost super hero of the Town. Phantom.

A electrical fire from a malfunctioning prototype reacting with a nearby ecto ranium battery. A chain reaction explosions vaporizing the house, and everything in it instantly. They had felt no pain.

Danny was another story. His obsession had been protection, with an emphasis on his family. The second he felt the blest, a pain as intense as when he first half died coursed through him. He knew the second thier deaths occurred. Clutching his chest and letting out a pained cry, he fell to his knees, and as his vision faded, he heard the sirens of the fire trucks and ambulances, responding to the explosion of his home, and everything he had loved with it.

Time Skip- 12 days.

“And in recent news, the sole survivor of last week’s tragedy has woken up today. Daniel James Fenton, who had been walking home when the explosion occurred. He’s in the hospital stabilizing after what paramedics described as "Shock so intense it stopped his heart”. The Funeral for the Fenton family, Tucker Foley, and Samantha Mason is planned to be held in exactly a month at the-“

Danny didn’t let the newswoman finish her sentence, flicking off the television before any more could be heard.

He refused to believe it. He REFUSED. They weren’t dead. They COULDN’t be dead. As he sat there in the Hospital Bed, he promised himself.

I won’t cry. I won’t cry. He repeated this mantra over and over in his head. Danny sat there, staring at the white wall for what seemed to be hours.

The Masons and the Foleys were his rock through the rest of the week. They, despite being in grieving themselves, recognised that this boy, no, man needed them for them to be strong. Mr. and Mrs. Foley had brought him cookies, freshly baked chocolate chip, every day since he had woken up. The Masons had done their own part as well, using part of their fortune to pay a few doctors and nurses to believe that "his abnormal Temperature, Blood Composition, and Heart Rate were the result the the ecto-radiation of his parent’s work”, despite that ecto-radiation wasn’t a real thing any of them knew to exist.

Both sets of parents had been privy to his condition, figuring it out after all three of the children had been caught talking about their late night activities when the Fenton’s had walked in, and were all to aware of his obsession.

Danny, they feared, may soon become the next victim of this tragedy if they weren’t careful. They had to be strong for him. He was the only thing they had left of their children, and they weren’t ready to go fight that ghost the kids said controlled time. Clock Face? or Cog Work? Something weird like that… Because if they lost Danny as well, they would knock down that ghosts door themselves.

The next week until he was released from the hospital had been a blur. Some old friends, ghostly and human alike, had been visiting him as he lay recovering. he didn’t remember much, except for the fact that Vlad had been there at some point and that he had actually APOLOGIZED for his past actions, something that Danny would have been more focused on if the next words to leave Vlad’s mouth hadn’t been…

“Daniel, I’m sorry. The entire ghost zone has been searching for the ghosts of your family. None of them ever formed a ghost. I guess they had died happy with their life”. The man said sympathetically, wondering how he was keeping his voice from cracking as he tried to stay strong in front of the one being that shared his fate.

Vlad left shortly after, the pain of losing Maddie, and surprisingly, his old friend Jack too much for him to handle. He left with the promise that he’d cover the cost of their funeral.

As soon as he got home, he had one of the vultures bring him his will. Without hesitation, he marked one Daniel Fenton as the sole inheritor to his wealth. Now, he was off to the animal shelter to find himself a cat. He promised himself he wouldn’t name it Maddie.

Time Skip- Funeral

The day of the funeral was a bright, sunny day contrasting with sadness that had settled into the town’s heart as many of them gathered to celebrate the life of the Fentons and the Foley boy and the Mason girl.

Daniel had managed to sit through the entire funeral without tears. The service was, of course, beautiful in every sense of the word. It had been held in the chapel where Jack and Maddie had gotten married. A small, little backwoods church with stain glass paintings, a real organ that played a somber but enchanting tone, and wooden pews. The Foleys and Masons had sat with him, crying on his shoulder and hugging him through the whole thing.

Mr. Lancer had given the eulogy. He told stories of the zany but charming Fentons, the incredible intellect and compassion of Jazz, the lovable goofiness and genius of Tucker, and the unbreakable spirit and wittiness of Samantha Mason. His stories of High school pranks, interesting parent-teacher meeting, and of his star pupil were moving, and the ladies of the audience, and some more sensitive men, were bawling by the end of it. But not a single tear fell down Danny’s face.

Danny didn’t cry when they drove to the cemetery. Not when they lowered the bodies into the ground, not when they each took a handful of dirt and tossed it over the coffin, and not when they finally covered the caskets, separating Danny and his family with 6 feet of earth. Neither did he cry when the cars started leaving. He just stared at the coffin. It wasn’t until he heard a soft,

“Danny, we want to ask you something” come from the mouth of Mrs. Foley did he turn away from the coffin to see the Masons and Foleys standing behind him. Mr. Mason holding papers in his hand that wasn’t wrapped around his wife.

“Danny we know that you’re legally an adult and that we can never replace your parents, but we’ve watched you throughout these last weeks. You need a family. We were wondering if maybe you’d like to be-” Mr. Mason broke off his sentence, finding it to hard to finish.

“Danny we’d like to give you a family. We like to…” Mr. Foley slowly struggled out. “Adopt you”. He finally finished.

And as the adults were about to start trying to continue talking, Danny silenced them all by walking over to thema and wrapping his arms around all of them. Pulling them all close to him, He managed a shakey,

“Yes. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!” Danny whispered out, still shaking. Perhaps it was his core starting to heal, perhaps this just happened to be his emotional breaking point, but whatever happened, caused the tears to start flowing. They held Danny in their arms as he slowly began sobbing an ugly sob. This wasn’t the crying of someone in one of those cheesy romance movies, these were these ugly, gasping wails of sorrow that only came with true sadness.

It was then that, while being held in his new family’s arms, something in danny snapped. The little voice that told him nothing would ever be okay again broke.

He truly realized that he needed to get back up, dust himself off, and keep going. He thought of how disappointed Jazz would be to see how he had given up on his half-life. He nearly snorted at the thought of how hard Sam would’ve slapped him for letting their deaths affect him like this. He thought of how tucker would have cheered him up with some stupid joke about how he had Danny beat in the “who’s more dead” competition now.

When night started to fall and the sun slid behind the earth, his family moved to go home. Danny wanted to stay for a bit longer. In his stupor, he had never actually said goodbye to his family. Despite their insistence, Danny wouldn’t budge.

Eventually his new family decided to give him some alone time to mourn. Trusting he’d be able to make it back to the Mason’s house, where he’d been staying since the accident, they left him alone at the cemetery. At Night.

As Danny stood over his family’s graves. He once again started to cry. This time, however they were not tears of sadness, but tears of joy as he reminisced on the good times. He thought back to when Tucker had tried to ask out a girl only to have her turn around to be a dude with long hair. It wouldn’t have been as funny if tucker hadn’t started with the greeting “hey Sexy”. He thought back to the time that Sam had been put on a team as part of an intramural event back in highschool. Her team was the pink team, and they were REQUIRED to show up that day or they had to write a 5 page essay on why teamwork was helpful. Sam did her essay on how she was gonna get a “team” (of criminals) together to prank (assault) the principle. He thought of the time his dad had to shoot the fudge after it attacked him. Danny’d never seen such a big man sob like a little girl before. Or the time when Maddie had punched Vlad after she caught him staring to low for it to be eye-contact. And the time when Jazz had decided to pavlov the neighbor’s dogs to bark and snarl everytime Paulina walked by. Seriously don’t ask how she did it, Danny still has no clue.

But, as Danny sat there, the sounds of his tears attracted predators. No, not wolves or anything of the sort. These creatures were older, more dangerous. They started circling. The boy remained unaware.

As Danny got up to go home, having finally said his goodbyes, the wind shifted. And the warm night grew very, very cold. It wasn’t cold like ice and snow type cold, but like a cold atmosphere, an atmosphere of death, spread through the cemetery. It was a cold that made Danny, the ghost with a ice core who had once spent the night naked in a blizzard (seriously don’t ask how. Just know that ecto-alcohol, Wulf, and a lawn flamingo was involved), shiver. Danny could feel it in his bones. Something was here. Something….Dangerous.

The creatures approached danny though the bushes, and he saw 3 pairs of glowing red eyes appear out of the mist. Wait, since when was there mist! Danny thought. The Eyes began to stalk towards, slowly.

That’s when Danny remembered jazz once saying something about how some pack-hunting dinosaurs would distract their prey, while another member snuck up behind them. That was when he heard a twig behind him snap.

SHIT. Was all that Danny had a chance to think before he felt the animal’s claws and teeth of the creature that had come up behind him rake into his back and neck. Well guys look like I’ll be seeing you sooner, rather than later. He thought before blacking out atop his family’s grave.

To find more of this follow this link https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12401599/1/The-Undead-Dead

Let me know what you think, and any suggestions you have for the story! Thanks I love all yall

[titheguerrero]

Dander Still Up. Drowning in Great Dismal Swamp. Film at Eleven.

Maybe this is the last in my series of dander-raising essays, as recent national and world events have most definitely left so many of us with a raging case of TDS. (Trump Derangement Syndrome, look it up it's a thing). So many damned browser tabs open. So little time. Or maybe not. Who knows. Where are all these suicides coming from? My editor keeps telling me, "don't let it make you paralytic." Hey, I'm trying. Just sensing a kind of coalescence in all the corruption our bloggers keep writing about. How do we even differentiate these activities across so many sectors of society. We were going to see our swamp drained. He promised. But instead there's just this big brand new bodacious cesspool. There it is in all the revolving-door sectors. Federal government. Private sector. Health care non-profits and even academia. Just read back over recent weeks and months of this, your favorite blog. The coalescence of corruption is certainly made easier by our enjoyment of a remarkable and possibly quite barmy Confabulator-in-Chief. He's just sort of paved the way for what one pundit recently characterized as a sort of race-to-the-bottom. No corruption (cone of silence? nifty office furniture? wipe our environmental health? Big Pharma gets another bye?) is too small. Or, of course, too large. None of this is terribly new, just the way it's all melded into what the cancer biologists call a syncytium. There are no winners and losers in all this. Just a lot of organelles swimming around and causing havoc at our expense. Just a bunch of top-level narcissists and then, under them, a phalanx of careerist stronzi streaming out of academic backwaters and think tanks to grab their fifteen minutes of ... what? Surely not fame, unless you're looking for a spot on an SNL cold open. Microphone time maybe? Let's call out a few of them. Fifteen minutes, max, by the way. The turn-over in government, especially, in the federal executive, is many times that of any previous administration. Everybody seems to be trying to find their own inner Scaramucci. For now, it seems, it's just all one great big scandal. Adam Serwer in The Atlantic: "there is only one scandal." While the Chest Thumper-in-Chief runs around doing what he does best--sullying the western world and laying down cover for his army of swampy miscreants--the careerists continue to run up a debt whose bill will surely come true. Of course by then, so many of them will have cashed out. Guess who'll be left to pay the tab. You, me, our sickest, our poorest, and Mother Earth. In the private sector it may take years for the ins and the outs to get in and then back out. But of late in both Big Pharma and in Health IT, both the revolving door and the Invasion of the Body Snatchers (aka baleful effect of activist investors and hedge funds) have taken their toll and we pick up the pace. Most recent casualty: Bush family scion and alleged wife-beater Jonathan B, thrown out of possibly the most innovative, but not quite profitable enough, athenahealth EHR company he once founded. Offed just now by the Elliott organization, which is headed up in turn by ultra-right political donor Peter Singer. (Here and here and pretty much everywhere--don't get stuck in his cross-hairs.) Ah, yes, these are the glory days for the Big Families. Donorship gets you a whole party of your own. The Prince-DeVos family, the Koch family, the Uihlein family, the Mercer family. And Las Vegas Gambling Tycoon Sheldon Adelson, who almost single-handedly handed Binyamin Netanyahu an unearned win in Jerusalem. Their common goal: effacement of government, Ron Reagan's great "problem child," in favor of its replacement the Great Dismal Swamp.  (In fact much of the real GDS, out of North Carolina, was actually bought up by Betsy DeVos's brother Erik to train Blackwater mercenaries.)  So now, on to the Great Dismal Swamp of outsourced everything. Outsourcing, along with the revolving door and the Anechoic Effect, these form the inner dynamic, the secret history of what's happening now. Outsource security. Outsource VA health care. (See my earlier blog on a secretary's attempt to resist that.) Outsource public education. Outsource, or at least deregulate, clinical trials of unproven drugs. Privatize, don't shade your eyes (apologies to Tom Lehrer). (Note that in the course of all this privatizing the common weal, these Big Dogs not infrequently can turn on each other. Singer turns on Bush. Koch the Elder turns on Koch the Younger. The dollar is king and the beat goes on and Throw Momma From the Train.) Other major features of this secret history:

The Scorching of the Earth. Both literally (health consequences of climate change), and figuratively: the flaming rhetoric of the careerists. The most glaring recent example, albeit outside of our health purview, White House National Trade Council Director and temporary-in-from-the-cold academic Peter Navarro, awarding "a special place in hell" to Canada.  (Canada?!?) Why? Because it dared to cross his new boss. Cross the boss, thump the chest. Ten points for the thumper, zero points for the country. We'll learn later this year, and again in 2020, whether there's enough of the vaunted "base" left to be snookered by all this guff. The chest-thumpers may discover a special place in hell meted out to folks closer to home.

The Swamp-Ooze of the Careerists. Navarro's one high placed example. Another newly high-placed with a more direct impact on health care, and also flaming the air waves, is National Economic Council Director and former CNBC correspondent Larry Kudlow. In the recent presidential travels Kudlow did not speak cosmologically of heaven and hell, but only politically. He called Canada's measured response "betrayal." On health insurance, he's agin it. It kills jobs, per Mr. Kudlow. And he ought to know how things really work, right? In 2007 he famously predicted the continued success of an earlier deregulatory GOP economic policy suite in that once-great organ National Review. William Buckley turned over in his grave. The headline read: "Bush Boom Continues." The following tag line: "you can't call it a recession." (Emphasis his.) The date: December 10, 2007. (Despite which, get well quick Larry. Maybe find a less stressful job would help.)

Health and the Environment. Ah, yes, and in environmental health we have Scott Pruitt heeding HMV while lining his own pockets and lobbying for his wife's Chick-fil-A franchise (honest I can't make this stuff up), all the while dumbing down any expertise on health. This dumbing down and anti-science motif pervades the Great Dismal Swamp. Never before has there been such a dearth of scientific, pedagogical, or health expertise in any of the departments that so direly need those capabilities. Interestingly, the small-bore corruption of these characters seems more prominent in the upper, Pruitt-like, echelons than in the Small Fry. Or are we just not hearing about the little guys?

Lesser Careerists. You can't have a syncytium without both big and little organelles. The little guys are actually among the more damaging, as they tend to be true believers with claimed expertise that goes poof when examined closely. Among the most famously wrong-minded recent ones we have the Press Secretary herself, Ms. Sanders, who from the depths of her health policy experience pronounced last fall that “I can’t think of anything worse than having the government be more involved in your health care instead of less involved.” Oh, Miss Sarah, I can. Even more peculiar is the role of the rather more obscure Ms. Katy Talento, of the White House Domestic Policy Council. She gets to act as conduit and house pundit for the new HHS secretary Alex Azar. It's fascinating. In several easily-reached venues she's described, by self or others, as "an epidemiologist." Harvard's master of science (not MPH) degree in epidemiology and public health can be obtained, as she did, in something between three and twelve months. Not exactly a board certification. Then she went on to build her career in ideological rightist causes and organizations, including anti-abortion campaigns and one notable set of pronouncements on the supposed link of birth control to miscarriage. Came the time for Azar to prep his new boss on last month's Big Speech on reducing drug costs, Talento broadcast the news that "no ox would be gored." Said she, "This is a fearless president and he doesn't know or care why things have always been done. It's not like your typical Republican authorizing committee that protects this model that they helped write for decades...." Wait, one little thing. It didn't happen. The big play available, as I said in a previous post, would've been having Medicare bargain for prices. Instead--and clearly Azar could've tried and failed to get this--the Caregiver-in-Chief declared that drug prices in the US should come down by having other countries pay more. What so strange about this is not merely the absurdity of such a statement, coming from a former Pfizer top exec. It's the fact that here's a lower-level careerist who went straight into RNC speech writing and working for a right wing southern Republican (Tillis, NC), Hold the phone. Among all the young staffers willing to sell their souls to get the Big Show on their CVs--don't they know it's a shabby little show?--what about the wonderful lady who dissed the ailing John McCain as inessential (he's just now incredibly essential), because, after all, he's going to die soon? Out the door she went, but of course her Republican friends got her a soft landing. Her name is Kelly Sadler, a real comer. Or goner.

The Rise of the Druggists. Last but not least, part of the secret history that, now I see it, has really got the dander way up, is how in health care and health policy, Pharma's now fully the tail-that-wagged-the-dog. CVS is moving into health care--see Dr. Poses's recent posting on just how well that organization understands their responsibilities. Actually having pharmaceutical and pharmacy folks elbowing out health care professionals who understand professionalism, it's not a new thing. Philadelphia Big Donor Leonard Abramson founded U.S. Healthcare and made a mint when he discovered how easy it was to make Managed Care actually Denied Care, then, with this proof-of-concept, cashing out and selling to Aetna. That goes way back. More recently, though, the pace of They Come at Night has picked up, viz. the firing of David Shulkin MD at the VA and the hiring of Alex Azar at HHS. These clearly result from both the privatization motive and the Pharma tail wagging the dog. At least two of the three branches of the federal government understand the business model of Pharma. They don't come anywhere near understanding the professional ethics of doctors--even while relying on their personal physicians to exercise such ethics.

Business ethics in medicine, as practiced by Pharma, have been laid out in many, many places in this blog. I and others have laid the blame for a big chunk of the opiate crisis at the door of Purdue pharma and the Sackler family. I regret to remind that the early Sacklers were physicians. But they were first and foremost business folk, possessed of a truly novel business model, which may be called outright dissimulation. (For a fascinating and harrowing description of one high-functioning Ivy-League opiate addict's experiences at Yale, with all its Sackler money and Oxy pills traded on the New Haven Green, see this Guardian piece.) Actually, I've talked to a lot of pharma execs and they're often quite ethical and responsible. They have their hands full fighting off the PBM companies. They get singled out for their K Street spending, but many of them actually have rather low budgets for that, the recent Novartis scandal notwithstanding. Other execs blush at this Novartis nonsense and want nothing to do with it. I say all this mainly to point out some dreadful outliers. It's not just the brand name drug makers, either. Teva, the Israeli generics giant, is allegedly a real problem. As I write this, good old Ron Wilson, the Wisconsin Republican who just keeps on giving his gifts, is blocking his Ranking Member Claire McCaskill from obtaining information Teva's contributions to the opioid crsis. He's saying leave it to the courts.

OK, as I just hinted, I agree with you. None of this recent stuff is really secret. Not even really novel. It's just coalesced like never before into into a dismal swamp. (Orwellian doublespeak: yes, we've seen the swamp drained. Of what? What was he promising to drain? Yes, drained, if that meant getting rid of people ("Deep State"?) who know stuff. So people who don't know stuff can get on with the business of ripping us off.) Hence in my current rant I just wanted to point to those commonalities that are, right about now, more egregious than ever. Honestly, they are. When the history is written, it will prove me right. Oh, wait, Alexander Hamilton wrote it already, hundreds of years ago.

When a man unprincipled in private life desperate in his fortune, bold in his temper, possessed of considerable talents, having the advantage of military habits—despotic in his ordinary demeanour—known to have scoffed in private at the principles of liberty—when such a man is seen to mount the hobby horse of popularity—to join in the cry of danger to liberty—to take every opportunity of embarrassing the General Government & bringing it under suspicion—to flatter and fall in with all the non sense of the zealots of the day—It may justly be suspected that his object is to throw things into confusion that he may “ride the storm and direct the whirlwind.”

Article source:Health Care Renewal