#Sell men's wedding band

[ivaluelab1]

Do you keep walking past your jewelry box and wondering, is it finally time to sell your wedding rings? If so, that question is often preceded by, where do I go to sell my wedding rings?

[evita-shelby]

Happy wife, Happy life

Or Tommy gets drunk and assumes his wife is someone else so he sleeps on the floor instead

For @runnning-outof-time with the prompt 34) “I didn’t get your name.”

Gif by @cillianparadise

The sight of Tommy, this new Tommy who is always in control at all times, drunk as hell and stumbling into the bedroom, is a sight for sore eyes.

It is the old him, the one who laughed and loved horses and had ambition but not the sort to get you murdered by the Crown's most evil men.

“Did you have fun tonight, love?” You ask as your husband of four years stripped down to join you in bed.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I am sure you’re a catch, but I got a wife.” He answers, perfectly serious too and lies down on the floor after taking his pillow with him.

You can’t help but laugh and tease him. Not like he’ll remember this tomorrow.

“Oh, so you’d rather sleep on the floor instead of your bed, Mr. Shelby?” you ask letting you arm hang over the edge of the bed and just low enough to bop his nose.

He hates it, and rolls his eyes at your immaturity.

“Yeah, happy wife happy life.” Tommy responds as if it made all the sense in the world.

Good boy, you say and he thanks you for the praise and rejects your advances while he’s at it.

“What if I told you your wife was in bed and can’t sleep without you with her?” you ask while you lightly pester him in ways only you did.

“Mhm, she’d shoot me if she caught me in bed with another woman, especially you.” He turned on his side and you paused as you raked your fingers through his mop of dark hair.

You.

Was there another tramp trying to woo him away from you?

You knew from the beginning that every woman here would sign off on their firstborn to be in his bed, and sell their soul to the devil to be in your shoes.

You were jealous, so much so that when he left for France you told him he could fuck a whore so long as you got to fuck a fella in return.

Your threat saved him from a bout of gonorrhea which Barney got from a whore who gave it to every man in the battalion save for Tommy.

“She doesn’t have to know,” you say keeping up the act so you know which woman you have to scare away from your fucking husband.

Couldn’t these ladies see the wedding band in his finger?

“She will, you aren’t exactly doing yourself any favors working in the pub, Miss. Miss?” Tommy faltered forgetting the name of the mousy barmaid. Looked like Jane Seymour , with that holier-than-thou face that got Anne Boleyn short of a head. “Sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

“Grace. Grace Burgess.” You filled in the blanks and knew you’d make the blonde bitch leave Birmingham and scurry the fuck back to Belfast or your name isn’t Y/N Shelby.

Part 2

[zweiginator]

What if divorced!art gets dragged to a club one weekend by his foundation-buddies and he obviously doesn’t want to but he forces himself and then it turns out that escort!reader is also there with her friends and they see each other outside of «work» for the first time… And her friends doesn’t know about her escorting so maybe they recognize him and maybe she goes to talk to him because her friends says she should «flirt more»🤭 And then ofc he fucks her in the dirty club bathroom

divorced!art upset because he hasn't seen you in weeks. everything has been busy since he hit the ground running with tennis again. practice after practice, signing sponsorship deals, galas and charity fundraising. and you had been busy too. art didn't know this, but you're a student as well. you didn't tell him not because you didn't want to share your life with him, but because it made you feel juvenile. of course, it's university and you're almost finished with your degree after five and a half years instead of the usual four--but you still feel dumb talking about that part of your life with him. for you to bitch about group projects and essays about political science while art is upset about custody battles and petty divorce politics--it feels trivial.

but your friends want to celebrate the semester being freshly over. just a few more summer classes for you and you will finally graduate. you'll finally get to hang up your hat and say goodbye to escorting. to that taboo little secret that's been dragging your eyes into sunken purple holes for the past fourteen months.

and your friends don't know, of course. it's impossible to explain to a group of girls whose parents pay for tuition and books and groceries. gas, clothes and even the designer heels they wear to the club they're standing in right now--that you need to do this. for money. to survive.

no, it isn't ideal. but this is the real fucking world and sex sells.

so they think you're prudish. they've never seen you have a boyfriend or flirt because that's your job every other day of the week. to pretend to be in love. to fuck lonely assholes and pretend to care about their lives. to believe them when they say they aren't a bad husband. that men have needs.

they urge you to flirt with men at the bar. but like always, you're just not interested. and all the men in this shitty tavern-bar-turned-college-club are all the same. middle-aged men who shoved their wedding bands in their back pockets to pick up pussy from a doe-eyed girl in her twenties.

none of them are remotely attractive. and you're thanking your lucky stars that you don't recognize a single one of them.

your friend taps on your shoulder. "there's one hot guy here. you may recognize him. he's kinda famous."

you down the rest of your drink. "oh really? i doubt i'd be interested."

but she points to a man leaning against the bar way off in the corner. sad eyes and salt and pepper hair that was once dirty blond; you've seen his baby pictures. he's tall and in love with you and you with him and you could strangle him right now because he hasn't returned your calls or texts in over five days.

"art donaldson." your other friend sighs. "he's a tennis player and i'd fuck him if i didnt have a boyfriend."

it's then that art turns around. likely feels the eyes of six girls burning into the back of his skull. he's holding a beer bottle and he looks forlorn, his typical woe is me demeanor that makes him so fucking attractive to you. lights up that neanderthal part of your brain that makes you want to fix the unfixable.

and then he smiles. it makes you blush and your friends, not knowing the tendrils of your history together that have now become rooted in the ground beneath you, tell you to go for it.

"he's staring right at you."

you know that. art knows not to make it clear he knows you; it would open up that whole can of worms.

so he waits for you to come to him and you pretend to be nervous which isn't that hard because you are already.

when you get to him, he whispers in your ear.

"they don't know about your job, im assuming?" he wants to wrap his arms around your waist but he refrains.

"they don't. but they know you, and they're very fond of you. they want me to flirt more."

art flags down the bartender. he gets you a gin and tonic, remembering how you liked the one he made for you that first night at his hotel room. you were just trying to make him feel better.

"well im glad im the lucky man." he sits down on a stool and hooks his leg around the stool next to him to bring it closer. he motions for you to sit and your friends are all staring at you but pretending they aren't.

"me too. although i don't know how much you deserve it." you take a sip. "given how you haven't responded to my calls in awhile."

art takes your drink from your hand, sets it down. he rests his hand on your lower back.

"im sorry honey. i haven't been meaning to be an asshole. there's a lot going on with tennis and everything."

you run a hand through his hair. "i get it." you feign a frown. "you just may have to make it up to me." and when you uncross your legs, art can see your thong. he tenses his jaw.

"i do need to make it up to you, don't i?" he takes a swig from his beer. "i'll tell you what." he glances around, at the bathroom door swinging open. "why don't i go to the bathroom to freshen up and you come check on me in a few minutes, yeah?"

he's so close you can smell the beer on his breath. you nod and he goes toward the bathroom.

your friends want to come over and ask you all about it, but then you're knocking on the bathroom door with your special knock. the one that only you and art know.

he pulls you inside, and the bathroom is dingy with a flickering light and graffiti on the walls. drawings of dicks and crude words but art sits on the toilet seat.

"c'mere." he reaches out to you and you go to him. a pavlovian response that makes you so fucking wet to be near him. to be on his lap like you're supposed to be. he kisses you like he missed you because he has. he's not supposed to. his lips trail wet, hot kisses up your throat and he's greedier than usual. dragging your pussy over his throbbing erection. he's only wearing his briefs on his bottom half and you tug at his shirt because you want to see all of him. feel all of him. he does the same to you. panting into your mouth because his cock rests between your folds. nudges against your clit as you grind on him.

"fuckin' ruined pussy for me." he throws his head back and you grab his jaw to kiss him. sloppy and disgusting but you love the taste of him. how your lipstick melds into his saliva. drips down his neck like you're a vampire taking him for everything he fucking has.

"yeah?" you rake your nails down his chest and take his cock out. it's bare against your pussy, your panties pushed to the side.

"nothing turns me on anymore. nothing gets me off. only you. that tight fucking cunt."

he never talks like this. so crude. but you love drawing it out of him. milking those dirty words as you stroke his heavy cock for him. people bang on the bathroom door but neither of you fucking care.

you sink down on him. you do it all at once. you're addicted to how his hips spasm and his eyes roll back and he lets a strangled moan-groan hybrid escape him. he holds onto the flesh of your ass as you fuck him.

the porcelain of the toilet creaks unsteady below you and you're completely on top of him, your feet behind you as you fuck him harder and harder. but he asks for more because he wants you more.

"fuck me--fuck me--" he repeats it over and over. guides you up and down and up and down his cock from base to tip. "your pussy was fucking made for me. i need it, i need it--"

his mouth hangs open and you can't believe he's yours like this. you want him to cum but then again you don't because then he can't be inside you anymore. and that's precisely where you want him.

his jaw is tense and his neck pulses with his heartbeat as he presses his forehead to yours.

"i want you--" a moan. "to hit me. i want you to fucking claim me."

so you smack him, and his arms wrap tight against your waist because he's cumming and he wants it to stay like this forever. but if it can only be a few more minutes, that will do too.

[pseudowho]

do you and mr.haitch wear wedding rings? in my family it's uncommon for the men to wear wedding rings but it's frowned upon for the women to remove theirs and it leaves a bad taste in my mouth like it's an ownership thing

if you wear them, can I see? i'm curious :3 <3

Pretty sure you'd have to pry that wedding ring off his cold, dead body.

Not sure if it's come off in years actually? We're 9 years married this Christmas.

To be honest, I always viewed the double-standard (as in your family) as evidence of a demeaning view on women too. The woman is a belonging, to be possessed, as such. It's grotesque.

Ours are very representative of us, I think; @mrhaitch has a ring of silver and oak, and it's all scratched up and the oak is ageing beautifully. Inside, it's inscribed with a quote in runes, from one of our favourite love stories, 'Lisey's Story' by Stephen King; 'I'll holler you home.'

My engagement ring is an antique, but was considered a dud as the diamond has a tinge of yellow (gold band, diamond set in ivy-patterned silver), and my wedding ring is my mothers', who was going to sell her original wedding ring to buy a more fashionable set., but gave one each to me and my sisters instead.

We're both very attached to our rings.

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

[bullet-prooflove]

I know that you hate her but it was never her fault, not really.

For Lee Dutton

Tagging: @kmc1989 @queenslandlover-93 @newyorkrican922 @bryandechartisasmolbean @lovethis-lovethat

Companion piece to:

A Boy from Bozeman - Lee says goodbye to the woman he loves.

The Worry Doll - Lee still keeps the worry doll you gave him.

Wild Fire - Lee tells you the truth about the wildfire.

Experiance (NSFW) - Lee's gained some experiance since the last time the two of you were together.

Blind Date - John puts the word out around town that Lee needs a wife.

Fire Wood - Lee always chops firewood when he's pissed.

Wedding Bells - You and Lee tie the knot in secret.

Until Your Dying Day - You make a promise to Lee.

References to:

The One That Got Away - In light of Lee's recent wedding, John reflects on the one that got away.

The Other Woman (NSFW) - John was never meant to be with Evelyn.

John is waiting for Lee on the porch of the farmhouse when he returns home from his honeymoon. He’d dropped you off at the end of the trail where Kayce had left the VW. You have to be at the conservation centre in Helena this afternoon to discuss the soil samples you took from Pasture 12. Lee intends to meet you afterwards to help you pack up your stuff for your move to the farmhouse.

It's the coffee cup in his father’s hand that pisses Lee off, it’s the chipped one from his kitchen. He can smell that special brand of coffee you like, the one you buy from the farmer’s market. This is John Dutton trying to send a message and Lee reads it loud and clear.

Nothing is yours, it all belongs to the ranch.

Lee doesn’t say anything as he sits down on the opposite side of the steps. If they’re going to talk about this, it’s going to be on equal terms because Lee, he will not stand before this man like a naughty child. He’s done bending to his father’s will.

“You left one hell of a mess for me to clean up.” John says taking a sip of his coffee as he stares out across the pasture.

Lee knows he’s talking about the angry phone calls he’s been receiving from ranchers since the news hit that Lee had gotten married, the ones that were trying to trade their daughters like cattle for a piece of the ranch.

“I never said I wanted a wife.” Lee reminds him as his gaze fixates on the cattle roaming in the distance.

“But you took one anyway.” John points out, his gaze coming to rest on Lee’s silver wedding band.

“I know you hate her…”

“I don’t hate her.” John tells Lee, setting his coffee cup down alongside him. “She’s just not right for the ranch.”

“But she’s right for me.” Lee says tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “She was back then and she is now.”

There’s silence between the two of them for a moment before John sighs.

“I had someone like that.” He says quietly. “A long time ago I had to make a decision between the woman I love and what was best for the ranch.”

“You mean Lou.” Lee says and John tilts his head towards him in surprise. “I saw the two of you together after mom died, I heard what you said about how you loved her, how you’d always loved her.”

Lee has known from a young age that his mother and father didn’t act like other parents. There was always a coldness between the two of them, a practicality. It wasn’t until the night of the wake when he saw his father interact with Lou that he realised why. John hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her during the event, he held onto her hands a little too long when she gave him her condolences and that night after everyone else had left, he’d undressed her in the room his wife hadn’t shared in years.

Lee doesn’t know what happened after that, only his father is now in a causal relationship with Governor Perry  and Lou sells honey at the farmer’s market with her twenty six year old son, Joesph.

“The men in our family, they don’t marry for love.” John says quietly. “We marry for duty and that’s what I need you to do.”

“What are you saying?” Lee asks him, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“When I get back to the house, I’ll have Jamie draw up an annulment, voiding the marriage.” John says clasping his hands together. “After that we’ll pick someone more appropriate, someone whose the right fit.”

Lee can’t speak, his eyes sting as he pulls the keys to the farmhouse out from his pocket and dumps them into his father’s lap.

“I’m not leaving Anna.” He says, his voice raw with emotion as he raises to his feet. “You took twenty years from the two of us, you don’t get to have the rest.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[holylulusworld]

Between a rock and a hard place (1)

Summary: You are in big trouble and in need of money. Two wolves are more than willing to help you. For a price…

Pairing: Mobster!Walter Marshall x fem!Reader x Mobster!August Walker

Warnings: angst, language, power imbalance, debts, scared reader, extortion, mentions of character's death, mentions of a cheating husband, degrading, groping, implied mentions of prostitution

Between a rock and a hard place masterlist

They look like kings sitting on their plush chairs as you tremble in front of them.

In reality, they are wolves, with sharp teeth and claws ready to rip you apart.

One of them with thick and luscious curls and a thick beard, and the other one shares the same features with neatly styled hair and a mustache.

Walter Marshall and August Walker.

Both are equally pretty and deadly at the same time. Gods amongst mere humans. 

Their blue eyes sparkle as you try to find your voice. 

You’re a pitiful sight to them. A broke woman, with no hope, or money left.

All thanks to your useless and unfaithful husband. 

He recently passed away and left more than a hole in your heart. Six digits of debt are now yours to pay.

“I-“You drop your gaze and swallow thickly. You wring your hands, wincing as you miss your wedding band and engagement ring. “I sold my rings and all the jewelry I own.”

“How much do you have for us, mouse?” One of the wolves gets up to stand in front of you. He roughly wraps his large hand around your throat, thumb brushing over your windpipe. “I could easily break you.” He smirks, as your eyes widen in fear. “Maybe I will.”

“August,” the other wolf slowly gets up to place his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We talked about impulse control, brother.”

“Ha! Do you want to tell me something about impulse control? Brother, you are the incarnation of impatience and easily loose control.”

You shrink into yourself. Crowded by both of them you feel even smaller and vulnerable. Your legs are about to give in, and you wince anytime their eyes land on you.

“I sold the car and his golf clubs,” you whisper, not daring to speak louder. “The house…I couldn’t sell it. The bank will take it.”

“You will learn that I hate repeating myself,” August flashes you a devilish grin. “So, how much do you have for us?”

“Eight thousand and fifty dollars,” you sniff. “I know it’s not much, but I’ll pay every buck he owes you back.” Your fingers tremble when you get the envelope with the money out of your pocket.

“Aw, look at her,” Walter coos to mock you. “She’s already trembling for me, brother.” He lifts your chin with his index finger. “Look at me, lamb.” He leaves no room for arguments when he intensely stares at you. “Good girl.” Walter praises when you hold his gaze for a few seconds.

“I wonder what else she has to offer.” While Walter cups your chin to tilt your head, August circles you like prey. “Tell me, mouse.” He whispers in your ear. “Is this cunt tight?”

“What?” You splutter, while tears well up to your eyes. You struggle to breathe. These men treat you like a piece of meat, not a person. All they have in mind is getting their money back. And they don’t care how you pay them back.

“We have a club,” August slaps your ass hard enough to bring more tears to your eyes. “Maybe you can work a dick to pay us back our money.”

“Brother, I don’t think this pussy is worth five-hundred thousand bucks,” Walter tuts, but his eyes drop to your chest. “Maybe she can ride my dick and I give her fifty bucks every time she swallows me.”

“Mouse, what do you say?” August places his hand on your shoulder. “I let you ride dick at my club, and you pay me back my money this way. Or do you want to ride his dick for the rest of your pitiful life?”

“No…” You shake your head. “You can kill me, but I won’t work at your club.” You have a little self-respect left. Even if these beautiful monsters hold your life in their hands, you won’t stoop even lower and sell your body to random men. 

“She’s got some fight left, August,” Walter smirks darkly at your predicament. You try to put a brave face on, but he can see the fear in your eyes. “So, lamb. How do you wanna pay us back our money if you don’t work his customers dicks?”

“I don’t know,” you sniff. “I’ll find a way. Even if it’s not my fault you lend money to my deceased husband. I didn’t know about any of this. He never told me about his problems or that he ate some other bitch’s pussy.”

“Walter, I think we got a cocky mouse,” August wraps his hand around your throat from behind to tilt your head. He forces you to look at him, making you wince in pain. “If I tell you to ride dick, you ask which hole my customer wants to fill.”

“August,” Walter tuts. “I think she’s too mousy for your club.” You hear August sigh deeply behind you. “I like me some shy mouse. They are best at sucking dick.”

“She owes us both, not only you.”

“If she works at the club we will never get it back!” Walter grunts. “If you give her to me, I’ll have a nice kitten to play with.” His features darken and he wraps his hand around his brother’s wrist. “We both know she’ll never be able to pay us back.”

“I’ll pay back every buck,” you croak. “Please…” You start to cry. “It’s not my fault he died and left me nothing but trouble and debts. I would’ve sold the house to give you the money.”

August huffs. He’s not in the mood to waste more time on you. “Have her for tonight. I want her at the club tomorrow!”

Walter glances at your quivering lips. He’s mesmerized by the sight of your fear. In his line of business, people mostly fear him. But he never was enchanted by one of the faceless people he tormented in the past. “No.”

“No?” August cracks his neck and gets ready for another fight with his brother. “Please enlighten me, Walter. How do you intend on getting the money back if you keep her?”

“I was looking for someone to share my lonely nights with,” Walter grins down at you. “She’s not too bad to look at and knows how to shut her mouth. I don’t like the mouthy bitches you wanted to share lately. All they have in mind are clothes, social media, and money.”

“Oh,” August drops his hand from your neck. He pinches your ass, making you jump. “You want to share the mouse?”

“I bet, she will look pretty stuffed with two big cocks,” Walter dips his head to glance at his brother. “Do you remember the cute little thing in Dublin? The one we found at the pub?”

“She squeaked like a mouse when we punched her pussy with our cocks,” August groans deeply. “She was tight but lacked endurance. I bet this one won’t pass out on us when we use her all night long.”

“Right, lamb?” Walter cups your chin again, “You will be a good girl for us. Did you ever cum on two cocks at the same time?”

Your eyes widen, and you feel an icy shiver run down your spine. These men see nothing but a body they can use in you.

You are trapped with them in their territory and scared shitless. Still, your panties dampen at the thought of them using you to their liking.

“She just pressed her legs together.” Walter drops his hand from your chin and steps away. He admires your trembling form for a moment, drinking every micro-expression in. “I bet she’s a little brainless slut.”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[mamaestapa]

joe wanting to leave somewhere but you wanting to stay blurb

Mans Best Friend|| Joe Burrow x reader

•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

•summary: You drag Joe along to a friends purse party and he becomes best friends with the dog

•warnings: none, this is all fluff :)

“Y/n,” Joe groaned as he followed you into the kitchen of the large house. You poured yourself another glass of lemonade, rolling your eyes at Joe in the process. “Do I really have to stay?” He asked, folding his muscular arms over his chest as he watched you fill your glass.

Your best friend from college was hosting a purse party today and she insisted that you come over for good food, fun times, and of course, a new purse. You accepted her invitation and brought Joe along with you. You figured Joe and your best friends husband Andrew would hang out while you spent time with the girls outside, obsessing over all of the cute purses and other accessories. However, when you and Joe pulled up to your friends house, you discovered that Andrew was out with his friends, meaning Joe was stuck at the purse party with you and ten other women—with no other men in sight, well except for Moose the doodle.

“Sorry Joey,” you said, stepping up on your tip toes to place a kiss on his cheek, “you’re stuck here with me.” Joe rolled his eyes and huffed out a sigh of annoyance. He loved you, but he hated stuff like this. “I don’t even care about purses,” he grumbled, following you out of the kitchen and over to the sliding glass doors. You stopped in front of the door and looked up at your husband, giving him your best RBF. “Joe,” you sighed, “do you know how many football events you have dragged me to in the past five years that I don’t care about?”

Joe couldn’t lie, you did have a point. He’s brought you to many football related events that didn’t pertain to you at all. But you still went along with hun to each one, and you stayed the entire time. Even if they bored you a bit.

You reached out and grabbed his left hand, your finger running over his gold wedding band, “I go to those events because I love you and want to support what you love, Joe. Please do the same for me, just this once?” You pushed your bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout as you looked into his soft baby blues. He sighed dramatically, “Fine.” You smiled warmly at him, “Thank you babe.” He grabbed your left hand, bringing it up to his mouth to place a kiss over your diamond wedding ring, “only because I love you so much.”

He let go of your hand, both of you leaning in to give the other a loving kiss. As you pulled away from each other, you gave Joe a gentle pat on his right pec before you opened the sliding glass door and headed back outside to the patio, where your best friend was starting to set up all of the purses she was selling. Joe watched as you walked back over to the table set up outside. A small smile on his face as he watched your face light up when your best friend held up a simple black Kate Spade purse. Joe shook his head in amusement, letting out a sigh as he reached for the door handle to go outside and join you and the rest of the women. However, he stopped when he noticed Moose sitting down next to him. Joe looked down at the dog, a smile making its way onto his face as he reached down to gently pet the sweet doodle. “Looks like it’s just me and you, Moose.” Joe mused to the dog as he looked out at the backyard full of women.

.As you and your friends bought purses, you noticed Joe never joined you back outside. You decided to go back inside to see where your husband had went off to. You walked back into the house, wearing a wide grin and holding a Kate Spade purse. You set the purse down on the counter and called out for Joe.

“Joe!”

No response.

“Joey!”

Still nothing. You frowned slightly at the silence. Joe never ignores you. You hoped he wasn’t upset with you for dragging him to this party… You were about to call out for Joe again when you heard chuckling come from the living room. You walked through the kitchen and toward the living room, a wide smile making its way onto your face as you looked at the sight in front of you.

Joe was sitting against the couch, a grin on his face, chuckling happily as Moose climbed all over Joe. The dog left wet kisses all over Joe’s face as his tail wagged happily from all of the attention he was getting.

“Looks like you found a friend,” you smiled, pointing at Moose. Joe looked up at you, grin still on his face as he said, “Moose and I have become quite good friends while you were busy screaming over purses.” You playfully rolled your eyes as you sat down next to your husband. Moose was now sitting in front of Joe, looking at him with what looked to be a sort of grin. You smiled as you looked at the dog.

“I think he likes you.” You chuckled. Joe nodded, “I think so too.” He looked over you, smiling warmly as he reached for your hand, “You have fun?” You nodded, “I did. Did you?” Joe glanced at Moose as he said, “I did.”

A couple weeks later, you and Joe ended up adopting a doodle that looked just like Moose.

If it wasn’t for your purse party, Joe wouldn’t have found his new best friend.

hey loves!!

second blurb of the night, ah! i thought this idea was sweet to go with the blurb request :) i hope you all liked it!

that’s all the blurbs i’ll have posted for tonight, but please keep sending them! i’ll be doing blurb nights either once a week or multiple times a week. i have a lot to work on, so it’s looking like this will be a multiple nights a week type of thing ;)

thank you to everyone that has sent me a blurb idea! they’re all such great ideas and i can’t wait to write them🥰

hope you’re all doing well🤍🤍

[sparklingmineraltequila]

American Wasteland

Note: Finally, a Cassandra POV. Sorry that it's a tiny bit shorter but I have had one of most emotionally traumatising weeks of my life. Don't worry, next chapter I'm back on my shit with smut and all.

Warnings: 18+, drugs, alcohol, sex work, references to past abuse, domestic violence

Hot afternoons can feel like an impending scream. It's the mundanity about them that has always killed Cassandra. All the filth and despair of wide, yawning night with its neon lights and hookers on pavements and aching solitude is manageable; at least she can focus her misery on something concrete. But these baked afternoons, when the hours bleed into one amalgam of humming fans and beading sweat, plunge her into a white hot light of clarity at just how fucking sad she is. She's indulging herself too. Has been for the past three fucking hours, doing nothing but picking at her nail beds and staring at a stack of Crash's books against the wall and studying them. He dog-ears his pages, she already knows that, and from here she can see that he cracks the spines too, not surprising. Cassandra quickly pushes down the bubbling sentimentality she feels at the closeness of Crash in those simple acts. Harder still when thinking about those ice blues eyes, the absent minded twisting of a wedding band that's no longer there but the memory of an ex-wife that Cassandra knows nothing about but her name, that oily scent of tobacco on his fingers when he pushes them past her lips. The trailer door opens and he comes in: Crash holding a pharmacy bag,

'You're up,' he states, not daring to make eye contact after what transpired last night. Cassandra thinks it's the first sheepishness she's ever seen cross the stoic lines of his face. She doesn't reply.

'I got you some aspirin,' he continues, setting the bag next to the bed, regarding her for a moment longer which she returns with a glacial look.

'I don't have to talk to you,' Cassandra deadpans, not even bothering to sit up.

'I know,' Rust returns, with an equal frostiness that sends Cassandra into indignant fury.

'How dare you take that mild-ass tone with me,' she spits, now shifting to sit up, 'I got fucking drugged and fucked and then made a complete goddamn fool of myself spewing my guts on the side of the road like some fucking teenager.'

'You are a teenager.'

'I'm twenty fucking years old.'

'Oh you think that a couple months, some cussing and hard-ass attitude means you ain't a teenager. You've still got your goddamn baby hairs, Cassandra.'

He's right and it makes her sick. All the things that she's done to shed that oppressive sheath of girlhood to become a woman. Woman: the word always seemed glossy and unattainable to Cassandra. Fuck if she didn't practice at whatever she thought it entailed: learning how to properly inhale, switching from tights to stay-ups, conditioning herself to like beer by forcing herself to order Blue Ribbons when she went out. It would also mean a whole new type of navigation in her relationships with men; the idea of sex now lingering behind every exchange. Sex. It's what has practically defined her life since she went through puberty. Who to do it with, who not to, how to use it, how to make that biker think you want him without ending with your head bashed against the stage when he realises you don't. Cassandra has learnt to keep her desire and attraction to a minimum. Like with dope dealers, the dumbest shit you can do is get addicted to what you sell. Then Crash came along and fucked up her whole plan. In and out of stripping, pay for rent and save up for student debt, get away from dad and stay alive and sane. But no, not since that night that he came in that year ago, hair starting to turn from that golden to the caramel brown that it is now and cut surprisingly short for a biker. He'd sat with Ginger and a few other of the Iron Crusaders, nursing a Lone Star with a look. far more terrifying than the feral cruelty behind his companions' eyes: ice cold impassivity. A man with nothing to lose has a degree of violence to him allowed by his complete detachment to anything and anyone. Cassandra knew this and yet still locked eyes with him every time she saw him watching her on stage. Never a lap dance, though. She'd tried once and his disgust had made her feel smaller than any of the copious insults dolled out by her father,

'No.' Crash had said firmly, pushing her off with a surprising gentleness.

'It's fine, y'know. It's my job,' Cassandra had tried to reassure him, sitting next to him. He'd turned to look at her and had asked,

'How old are you?'

That had made her arch her eyebrow,

'19. Why? You like 'em older?'

To a less observant person, Rust's jaw muscle twitching would've gone unnoticed,

'Yeah, I do,' he'd said, shoving a twenty dollar bill in her panties' waistband, Cassandra noticing how he'd chosen to place it on her hipbone, 'Clear off, baby.'

'Want me to send over Rose? Red-head, real pretty.'

As Cassandra had said this, a burly Iron Crusader had called her name from across the club, making her turn,

'Yeah, baby?'

'Come bring that pretty, lil' ass over to daddy's lap,' the man had slurred, making Cassandra wince and start to head in his direction. That was until Rust had grabbed her wrist, halting her,

'Easy, Thunder,' he had called over to his fellow Crusader, 'I haven't decided whether to take this one for a spin, yet. She any good?'

'The best, Crash,' Thunder had cackled back, raising his beer in salute to him. With that, Crash had pulled her down into the booth next to him, lighting and a cigarette with complete disregard towards a confused Cassandra perched next to him. When she'd tried to straddle him again, he'd pushed her off,

'Listen, I have a quota to make so do you want a fucking lap dance or not?' She had huffed with a slight agitation in her voice that she hadn't yet learned how to conceal. In those days, she was hungry for it: money, sex, attention, security. Too hungry to learn how to manage it when it spilled over and tinged her tone in desperation.

'What's your quota?' Rust had asked through an exhale of smoke, seemingly uninterested.

'Around 50 dollars, at least.'

He'd arched his eyebrow at her,

'You tryin' to do one over me?'

'I'm desperate, not stupid. If I was trying to scam someone, I'd have picked some liquored up truck driver who hasn't gotten some since Missouri,' Cassandra had stated dryly, making Rust's lip quirk up momentarily.

'50 dollars, at least, by the end of your shift, huh?' he'd drawled, cigarette pinched between his fingers.

'Yeah.'

'What time's your shift end?'

'About another hour.'

'How much money are you on?'

'Straight floor work? About 40.'

Rust had reached into his back pocket and pulled out a tattered, leather wallet before putting down 5 ten dollar bills,

'50 but you stick with me until you're done.'

Cassandra had eyed the bills with suspicion and Rust dryly stated,

'Don't be an idiot, Cassandra. Take the fuckin' money and just sit your ass down.'

'You know my name?'

He had jerked his head towards a huddle of Iron Crusaders in another booth,

'You're popular.'

'Oh.' she'd nodded, slightly deflated by the implications. Rust had picked up on the tinge of shame in her eyes,

'Ain't no shame in it, baby.'

'You don't have to be nice about it.'

'I ain't nice.'

Cassandra had regarded him for a moment longer, thrown off by his apparent self-discipline,

'So, you're stuck with me for an hour. What do you wanna do?' she'd asked, tucking her knees onto the booth. Rust had barely spared her a sidelong glance,

'What're you drinking?'

'Jack and coke.'

He'd scoffed at that,

'You're nineteen.'

'And you're a biker running meth so who's breaking the law more, here?'

That had gotten a proper look from Rust, almost turning his head in her direction before handing his glass,

'How's straight whiskey?'

Cassandra had taken the glass from him and taken a straight gulp while being watched by an impassive Rust,

'What's your name, baby?' she asked in a saccharine tone, a slight tilt to her head.

'Drop the act.'

'I don't have a fucking act. This is how I talk.'

Rust had hummed at that,

'Crash.'

'Crash, huh?'

'Yeah. Crash,' Rust had replied, fixing her with a cold stare. Cassandra had nodded, slightly intimated,

'Ok, Crash.'

A schoolgirl crush had morphed into a worrying codependency that had left her strewn on his mattress, in a semi-catatonic state. Worst part is: Cassandra cannot bring herself to hate him. The sickest part of her is even hoping that he kind of finds her attractive like this: at her rawest, most ugly state. She doesn't know how much longer she can keep the jig up; this near constant state of self surveillance is weighing on her heavily and this lacquer of practiced indifference is eroding. Fast. Even now, as Crash places a glass of water, a carton of Marlboro Golds and a bag of those plasticky powdered donuts by the mattress, she can feel her resolve faltering; trying to ignore the small disappointment that he cares so little to concede her her cigarettes. The grit in her wants to right-hook him hard and run away from this place, but she can't and she won't. She doesn't have anywhere left to run and the humiliation of having to ask to crash with one of her fancy college friends gnaws at her. She notices him staring at her, crouched by the mattress. Burying her head in the pillow, she mumbles,

'Stop it. Please stop it cause, I swear to god, that I'll cry if you don't.'

'Cry, then,' Rust mutters, 'Ain't no shame in it.'

'Yes, there is. A lot. Crash, I'm-I'm a whore,' Cassandra chokes out in a sob.

'Hey-Hey, you never fuckin' say that ever again. You hear?' Rust says, voice raising slightly as he clasps her jaw with his hand, 'What happened last night was me, all me. You were high out of your fuckin' mind and, even if you weren't, you couldn't had said no if you wanted to.'

'But I liked it.'

Rust ignores the heat that pools in his gut at those words,

'That don't make no fuckin' difference.'

Cassandra brings her hands to her face, trying to conceal her tear streaked cheeks. A futile endeavour, given the heaves of her sobs,

'It ain't even that. I've been a stripper since I was eighteen. Eighteen, Crash. What the actual fuck is wrong with me?!'

'You were a desperate, little girl with a daddy who beat her and no other choice in this cesspit of a fuckin' world other than to strip for men like me.'

'Not for men like yo-'

'Yes, Cassandra. For men like me. Stop making fuckin' excuses, you're smarter than that,' Rust borderline snarls, her chin still grasped in his hand as he shakes it slightly, emphasising his words.

Cassandra stares at him for a moment before she gives Rust the type of embrace that she hasn't given since she ran up to the police officer who pulled up, just as her dad burst out of the house with the jagged end of a bottle of malt liquor in hand. She buries her nose between the seam of his leather jacket and his faded t-shirt, inhaling deeply: sweat, Camels, beer, faint scent of deodorant. She moves her head up to thank him in the only way she knows how to and starts to kiss his neck. Rust gently grasps her shoulders to pull her away,

'Not now, baby. Tomorrow but not today.'

'I can-'

'You ain't in the right state of mind. I can see it. You ain't my Cass, right now. You're that scared little girl tryin' to reconcile the fact that her daddy has hit her for the first time and that it ain't gonna be the last.'

Cassandra flinches at that,

'Why the fuck would you bring that up?'

'To remind you that you should be scared.'

'Of you?'

'Of any man.'

Cassandra eyes him narrowly as he stands up,

'You heading out?'

'I'll be back, tonight.'

'Can you hand me a book?'

'Which one?'

'Something relatively chill.'

Rust goes to his stack against the wall, runs his hand down and stops at a book before lifting up the ones above it and slotting it out. He hands it to her,

'First bit of philosophy I ever read. I think most of what he preaches is placid bullshit but it ain't too intense a read.'

Cassandra takes The Stranger from Rust's hand and briefly flicks through the pages before landing at the first one. She squints to read some pen scrawl,

Houston, 1987,

For all those sleepless nights and to kickstart those philosophy courses that you've been mentioning,

From Claire to Rust

Cassandra's head snaps up, brow furrowing. She recognises one name, not the other. Her voice is gelid as she ask,

'Who the hell is Rust?'

[lizisodd]

All the flying limbs and severed hands, many with wedding rings. I learned in marketing class that Western men started wearing wedding bands in World War II — a way to sell two rings instead of just one.

[sjsmith56]

The Right Time - A Private Man, Chapter 14

Summary: Bucky and Tracey share their news with everyone. Matt and Foggy advise Bucky that his settlement offer has been made.

Length: 4.8 K

Characters: Bucky, Tracey, Rebecca, Janice, Matt, Foggy.

Warnings: Residual anger against Thaddeus Ross, Val de Fontaine and others who threatened Bucky.

Author notes: Mostly a good news chapter. The Story of Ferdinand is one of my favourites, even though it tells the story of a barbaric sport that still exists in some parts of the world. In a way, it is symbolic of Bucky for me, because like Ferdinand, he just wants to live a quiet life, smelling the flowers, enjoying the shade, and being where he is happiest.

<<Chapter 13

That morning, when Tracey accepted Bucky's proposal he went back into the house with her and told Rhodey he would entertain the idea of being an Avenger if it allowed him to live a meaningful life with his sister and his wife in Brooklyn. Standing there, holding Tracey's hand while he said it, the reaction from everyone else at first was confusion, then awareness dawned on Sam's face.

"You asked her to marry you just now?" he asked.

Bucky nodded then looked at Janice. "I'm not asking your husband for his blessing," he said. "I would like yours."

"You have it," she replied, then she stood up and kissed him on the cheek before hugging her daughter.

That seemed to break the ice and everyone offered their congratulations. Bucky excused himself to go into his bedroom, coming out with a small worn round box. Rebecca beamed as he stood in front of everyone, gathering his words.

"Rebecca has had this ever since our mother died in 1970," he said. "Dad proposed to her in 1915. He was a soldier, not terribly well off but he bought what he could afford. During the Depression they came close to selling it several times but something always came up that allowed her to keep it. Being vintage it's worth a lot more now and the jeweller assured me that he could duplicate the design for the wedding band. It would honour both me and Rebecca if you accepted this ring as a symbol of the promise between us."

He opened the box and held the ring towards Tracey. With her eyes glistening she took it. "Bucky, it's beautiful," she said. "It would be a privilege to wear your mother's engagement ring."

She slid the ring with the round cut diamond and engraved band on her ring finger, then kissed Bucky, placing her palm on his face as she did. Once again there were congratulations with hugs and kisses from everyone. Despite the desire to stay and celebrate the three flying men prepared to leave. Rhodes pulled Bucky aside, away from everyone else.

"I want you to know that I will do all I can to make being an Avenger a full time job," he said. "The government can't expect any of us to sit around, waiting for a mission, and not have a regular source of income to rely on. If that doesn't happen then I won't blame you if you choose to turn it down. You stepped up to take care of Rebecca because she was your first priority, and I respect that, very much. We'll talk about what you need for this plan to be successful. That's my promise, Buck."

"Thanks," replied Bucky. "When you fell in Germany and we heard you were paralyzed I felt such guilt for your injury, that it was my fault." Rhodes began to object but Bucky persisted. "Then you showed up in Wakanda and there was no blame from you, no sign of anger or resentment. You treated me like a fellow soldier and that meant a lot."

"In those two years I learned what you went through and I couldn't fault you for trying to protect yourself, and to stop those who would exploit you," replied Rhodes. "They were ready to kill you because they didn't know the man you really were. You proved yourself as a man of honour in Wakanda and against the Flag Smashers. My accident was just that, an accident, a shot gone wrong. I had enough years in the Air Force to know that those things happen. We'll figure it out, Buck. I know we will."

He gave Bucky a heartfelt hug then returned to the living room where Sam and Joaquin were waiting. Together the three of them stepped out into the yard then raised themselves into the air. Rhodes used his suit to contact Wong and a portal opened for each man, which they disappeared into, leaving Bucky, Rebecca, Tracey and Janice behind.

"You don't see that every day," said a voice and they all turned to see Kalyna entering the back yard. "I guess I missed meeting the flying men. I saw them on TV yesterday and wanted to meet them. At least I got a picture of them for my husband."

"They'll be around again sometime," smiled Bucky. "Maybe not all at the same time. I better get ready for work."

He carried Rebecca back into the house and entered his bedroom to get his work clothes on. Tracey followed him, sitting on the bed and watching as he got changed. When he was ready to go, he held his hands out to her, pulling her into his arms.

"Share our news," he said lovingly. "Today is a great day and I want everyone to know that you're going to marry me. I'm a lucky man."

"And I'm a lucky woman," she replied, looking up at him with a soft smile. "Believe that."

They kissed fiercely, then pulled themselves apart breathing heavily. When they went out to the kitchen Kalyna blocked Bucky from leaving.

"What is this news that Mrs. Rebecca says you have?" she asked.

"I asked Tracey to marry me and she said yes," replied Bucky. "Now, I really do have to go. Ladies."

He kissed Tracey and Rebecca quickly then headed out the door before Kalyna could say anything else but she did look at Tracey who showed her the engagement ring. With a smile the Ukrainian woman hugged Tracey.

"You must have the reception at the volunteer centre," she said. "Several of the others are putting forth a proposal to start a non-profit catering service, one that offers foods from different cultures and countries."

"You know, that's not a bad idea," said Rebecca. "It would certainly be different."

"I promise you we will talk," said Tracey. "Now, I'm going in to work today as I think we got everything done yesterday, didn't we Mom?"

"That we did," replied Janice. "I'm going to wash the sheets that our three flying heroes used and remake that bed downstairs."

"Kalyna, do you know if Amina is at home today?" asked Tracey. "I have some spices that I picked up for her but didn't get back in time to give them to her yesterday."

"Yes, she has today off," replied the other woman.

Tracey got dressed, packed her bag, picked up the spices and headed over to Amina's house. She was just seeing her children off to school and smiled broadly at Tracey as she came up the sidewalk with the spices.

"Miss Tracey," she said. "We saw that horrible man be arrested on TV after the three flying heroes showed up. Kafeel was ready to jump on his bicycle and go over to offer his help. Is it over? Is Mr. Bucky safe?"

"He is," replied Tracey. "Mr. Ross has been relieved of his duties and was returned to Washington to be questioned by the President. I've brought the spices and a little piece of news for you."

She held up her left hand, showing the engagement ring to Amina. A broad smile formed on the Sudanese woman's face.

"Truly?" she asked. "You and Mr. Bucky?"

Tracey smiled and nodded. "He asked me this morning and gave me his mother's engagement ring. I'm going to marry him, Amina. I don't know when, but it would give me great honour if you came to the wedding, along with some others from the newcomer centre. I think you've known all along we were meant for this."

"My first American wedding," said Amina. "I will be there to witness your marriage. What are your American customs for weddings? We have many in Sudan, most of them will not have meaning to you but it would give me great honour if you would allow me to place henna on your hands. We do it at a party with just women."

"I've seen that," said Tracey. "I think it's a very beautiful custom but there are some people that would think I'm taking something beautiful from your culture to use for my own pleasure."

"Really?" asked Amina. "My goodness. I wouldn't want you to get into trouble for that. Would you be offended if I still wore it, in celebration?"

"I would be honoured if you did," replied Tracey. "Samira, as well. It's part of her culture, isn't it?"

Amina nodded and it was decided between them that those whose culture it was part of would partake in that wedding custom.

"We do have bridal showers in America," said Tracey. "We'll have one and you and the other ladies can come to that. Kalyna already suggested that we have the reception at the newcomer centre. Since that's really how I began to know Bucky better it seems like a good idea. I still have to talk to him about it."

"Oh, you must," exclaimed Amina. "So many of us there are, what is the expression, invested in you and Mr. Bucky's happiness. Am I permitted to share your news?"

"Yes, share it with everyone," smiled Tracey. "He really is a good man."

"He is," agreed the Sudanese woman. She stepped forward and took Tracey's hands in her own, holding them for several moments. "He will be a very good husband."

With a smile Amina released Tracey's hands and wished her a good day. As Tracey drove to her office she felt lighter in her mind and body. It must have been noticeable as she entered the building because the supervisor came out of her office with a smile on her face.

"Well, you look extremely happy," she said. "I wondered if you were coming in after watching all that business on TV. Is everything going to be okay?"

"We think so," replied Tracey, "but something wonderful happened this morning." She held up her left hand, showing the engagement ring and was surrounded by the other staff. "He asked me to marry him. This is his mother's engagement ring. It's over a hundred years old."

"I told you when you got that arrangement of roses that he really loved you," said the one young nurse. "How soon do you think before you get married?"

"I don't know but it's going to be quite the party when we do." She smiled at everyone. "Thanks for all your support this past month with everything that seemed to be going wrong. It's nice to have something go right."

After a few more close looks at the engagement ring everyone went back to their desks. Tracey logged in and pulled up her schedule for the day, assembling the files on her clients. An hour later she said goodbye to everyone and drove out to begin her rounds.

At the dock Bucky received more attention and comments on the arrival of Captain America, War Machine and Falcon to the rescue. He took it all in good fun, accepting the good natured ribbing then he shared the big news that he asked his girlfriend to get married. Most of them noticed Tracey on the news broadcast two nights before and told him she was much too good for him.

"I agree she is, but she still said yes," laughed Bucky.

"Well, marry her quick then before she changes her mind," joked Rick, the supervisor. "You do have vacation time coming to you."

There was some more joking thrown around then the supervisors all got down to business with their crews and began working. The day flew by quickly for Bucky. On the walk back home he stopped off at a florist and bought a bouquet of flowers.

When he arrived at the house he was pleasantly surprised to see a work crew there, pouring concrete supports for the ramp. They even dug up the plants that were on that part of the house so that they could be transplanted elsewhere. Bucky stopped to talk to their supervisor and learned that the work order was given from a high level federal government account with a RUSH priority. They would begin the actual construction in a couple of days and hoped to have it finished by the weekend. With a wave to the crew Bucky headed inside and was greeted by three smiling women, Rebecca, Tracey, and Janice. Presenting the bouquet to Tracey he kissed her affectionately then looked at all three.

"So, has something else happened that I should be aware of?" he asked.

"Matt just phoned," said Rebecca. "He and Foggy are coming over with a settlement offer for you from the government. It was delivered to them about 20 minutes ago. You saw the ramp construction started?"

Bucky nodded. "I did. You make one call to the President and it seems like everything just falls into place."

He went to shower and change while the flowers were put into a vase. By the time he came out Matt and Foggy were already waiting for him in the living room. After shaking their hands he pulled a dining room chair over to sit across from them.

"Well, thanks to a certain person phoning the President herself, and Colonel Rhodes passing on some of the information we had about Ross and Fontaine it appears an order was given to expedite your settlement," said Matt. "It's a generous offer, has likely been topped up because of the events of the past two days and it's my recommendation you accept it. Foggy, show it to Bucky."

The blond man pulled a paper out of the folder that lay on the coffee table and handed it to Bucky. Expectantly they all watched him read it then look up at them with what can only be described as disbelief.

"That much?" he said. "There's no way I earned that much. I was lucky to get $100 per month as a sergeant and a Howling Commando."

"It's not just the back pay," said Matt. "It's an admission of failure to protect you from torture, prolonged imprisonment, and conspiracy to keep you enslaved as an asset. So, the first million is for your back pay, adjusted for inflation, and interest added. Ten million is for the physical damage done to your person. The serum changed you, and although you enjoy good health, increased strength, and a prolonged life span from it, it was still medical experimentation performed on you against your will. The final ten million are for the emotional damages, the PTSD, loss of family and friends, and an acknowledgement that you suffered greatly. The back pay has already been taxed. The damages portion is tax free. It's all yours to do with as you please."

As Rebecca began to cry, Bucky swallowed then looked at her in a bittersweet manner before looking at Matt emotionally.

"Thank you," he said, in a voice barely above a whisper. "It's very generous and I'll accept it but I want it known I would have rather come home from the war with nothing but my reputation and the clothes on my back. Even though I have Rebecca and Tracey now, I'll never get those years back. I was robbed of a normal life."

"We know that," said Matt, calmly. "So does everyone who cares about you."

Bucky sat next to Rebecca and enclosed her in his arms, listening to her sob in a combination of happiness for him finally receiving his due, and sadness that it took so long. Pulling out his handkerchief he gently dabbed the tears from her eyes before kissing her on the forehead. Then he looked at Tracey, his face alight.

"That New York minute just got a lot closer," he said. "Should we make it official before the end of the year?"

"What am I missing?" asked Matt, turning his head in confusion.

"Bucky asked me to marry him, and I accepted," smiled Tracey. "I think we should get married as soon as we can."

"Kalyna said you should have the reception at the newcomer centre as they're starting up a non-profit catering service," said Rebecca. "It seems like everything is coming together at just the right time, Bucky."

"Then let's do it," said her older brother, reaching his hand out to Tracey. "Let's get married."

"Well, congratulations," said Matt, standing up and extending his hand. "I'm very happy for you both. If you'll sign off on this offer, we'll make sure it gets to the right person in government. Apparently, your cheque should be couriered over within a couple of days."

After declining an offer to stay for dinner Matt and Foggy left, leaving Bucky and the three women in the house. Janice clapped her hands together.

"Why don't we go out for dinner, my treat?" she said. "There has to be a nice Italian restaurant nearby that we can go to."

Bucky looked at the hopeful faces of the women and nodded. "There is something a few blocks away. I should phone and make sure there's a table for four."

While they got ready he called and reserved a table for four. It wasn't until they were almost at the restaurant that he realized he didn't bring his gloves. At first he wanted to run back to the house to get them but it was Janice, of all people, who wouldn't hear of it. Grasping his metal hand in hers she placed her other hand on his cheek.

"Bucky, don't hide yourself," she said gently. "You're a good man with a big heart. This isn't the hand and arm of your jailers or a killer. It's the hand and arm of a free man, a gentle man."

"Still, it might bother some people," he answered, looking down at the ground.

"Then that's their problem, not yours," she replied. "You have nothing to be ashamed of and I'll stick up for you if anyone says anything. You're going to be my son-in-law soon. I'm proud to be your future mother-in-law."

Tracey beamed at them both as this was something new from her mother, part of her spreading her wings after so many years of being held back. Nodding his assent he took Rebecca's walker out of the trunk and set it up for his sister. Together they walked into the restaurant and he gave them the name of the reservation. The hostess glanced at his hand then smiled.

"Our pleasure, Mr. Barnes, please follow me."

Picking up four menus she led them to a very nice table and assured them their server would be there shortly. The only people who said anything about his metal hand were kids, and he didn't mind them because their questions came from curiosity, not disgust or fear. They had a very enjoyable meal and began making wedding plans. When Janice went to pay the bill, Bucky stayed her hand.

"Please, let me," he said. "I can do that now."

"But I offered," she protested.

"I know, but I want to, please," he insisted.

With a nod she handed the bill to him, and he paid, giving a sizeable tip to the server. As they got up to leave the manager came forth and told them they were welcome anytime. Several children said goodbye to Bucky, and he returned their words to them, waving as he left the restaurant last.

On the drive home Bucky received a text message from Sam. He read it several times, not quite believing what he was reading.

"What is it?" asked Tracey, from the driver's seat, looking at him through the rear view mirror.

"A text from Sam," he said. "Val de Fontaine has resigned, so has the Secretary of State, and Thaddeus Ross is facing federal charges for trying to take me. They're calling it an attempted abduction, plus charges of violation of my civil rights, violation of Rebecca's civil rights, property damage ... several more charges to cover what he did to us. Sam said it's on the news right now."

Tracey sped up a little and they arrived home in minutes. While Bucky carried Rebecca in Tracey brought her walker inside. The TV was turned on and all the channels showed special news bulletins detailing this development from Washington. They watched for some time, not quite believing the turn everything took. It looked like the President had decided to come down hard on the three people. Fontaine was filmed leaving the White House but didn't talk to reporters. The Secretary of State stated he had only tried to serve United States interests and was unaware that Mr. Barnes was being threatened by Ross and Fontaine.

"Bullshit," snapped Bucky. "He's lying. I can read it as plain as day on his face."

Ross, to his credit, admitted he had taken a hard line in trying to recruit the former Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes to his task force, but felt given his service to HYDRA that Barnes would jump at the chance to serve his country. Bucky almost hit the TV when Ross said that. Right away, he received several texts from people saying that Ross was a lying piece of excrement, although the word they used was much cruder. The doorbell rang at that moment and Bucky looked out the small cutout window in the door. He turned back to the others.

"There are a bunch of news crews out there," he said.

"I'm calling Matt," said Tracey. "Do you want me to talk to them?"

"No, I'll tell them I have no comment at this time," replied Bucky.

As he opened the door there were all sorts of shouts of his name, bright lights, and flashing lights as newspaper photographers snapped his picture. Bucky stood in the doorway for a moment, frozen. Janice grabbed the phone from Tracey and jerked her head towards Bucky. Tracey's place was by his side. She joined him at the doorway and put her hand in his. He turned to her then turned back to Rebecca, who nodded her support. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out onto the top of their front steps.

"Bucky Barnes, no doubt you've heard of the development in Washington," said the closest reporter. "What are your thoughts on this matter?"

He swallowed then looked out over everyone and decided he was going to say something. "I'm only going to say this once. My service, as Thaddeus Ross, so casually referred to my imprisonment, torture and enslavement by HYDRA, was involuntary. It was forced on me. I fought it for over 70 years. I wasn't treated as a person, or as an individual, or as anything other than an asset to be controlled and unleashed on people who disagreed with those Nazis. Ross has threatened my liberty, ownership of the house I share with my sister and fiancée, he has threatened to have senior's benefits that my sister is entitled to stopped and cancelled outright. That doesn't sound like a man who wants me to volunteer to serve my country willingly. That sounds like a man who wants to control an asset and unleash it on people he deems dangerous. In other words, he sounds just like HYDRA. I fought Thanos, was one of the decimated, and when I returned, I took up arms against Thanos again to help bring him down, on American soil. I made amends to all the families of the victims of the Winter Soldier. Along with the current Captain America, Sam Wilson, I investigated and helped prevent the Flag Smashers from killing people and imposing their narrow view of governance on the world. If the Avengers is reformed, I pledge to serve my country as one of them, working within the law, at the request of those people or governments that need our help. I will never work for an organization that may be formed to violate the sovereignty of a country, specifically Wakanda, who has done so much for the world, without advertising it, without thanks, and without expectation of repayment."

"Wait, are you saying that Ross was looking to form a black ops unit against an American ally?" asked the reporter.

"Ask him, or Val de Fontaine, or the former Secretary of State," replied Bucky. "I can't confirm or deny that because I don't have the clearance to know it for sure. But whatever group Ross was forming, you can bet it wouldn't be legal. Not when he already hired people who used to work for the Japanese mafia. That is a fact."

Several other reporters yelled out questions but Bucky returned into the house, closed the door and turned off the porch light, while Janice drew all the curtains. Tracey hugged him, feeling him shaking as he fought off the adrenaline coursing through his body. She rubbed his back, watching him intently, until he looked down at her and smiled.

"I'm better," he murmured. "Thank you for standing with me."

"You did good," she replied. "I'm proud of you."

"So am I," said Rebecca. "Matt was listening to you speak as they showed it live. He said you did good. You didn't need him to face them."

They watched the news reports for a time then Rebecca finally said she was tired and wanted to go to bed. Pulling herself up onto her walker she walked by herself to the bathroom, telling Tracey she could go herself. As they waited Tracey went into their bedroom and came back out with a store bag.

"I stopped at a bookstore to find a new storybook for Rebecca and found this," she said. "It's original publication date is 1936 so I figured it might be one that Rebecca remembers from when she was a kid."

Handing the bag to Bucky he pulled the paperback book out and smiled fondly at it. "I remember this. I read it to her more than once. It's still in print, imagine that."

The bathroom door opened and Rebecca came out and looked at all of them as they looked at her. "What?" she asked, jokingly as she looked behind her. "Do I have toilet paper on my shoe?"

"No," answered Bucky. "Just a new book for you. Call me when you're ready and I'll come read it to you."

With a smile Tracey went to to help get her ready for bed and Bucky flipped through the story, remembering the times he read it to his sister. It was funny how until he saw the cover those memories weren't there but seeing the bright red cover of The Story of Ferdinand brought it all back to him. Janice watched him, at the soft look on his face as he looked at the book and came towards him. She looked at it then at him and patted him on the shoulder.

"You're going to be a good father someday," she said. "You're a protector but you're also a big softie inside. I saw how you were with the kids in the restaurant. You were so patient with them and their questions. Did you want to be a dad back in the 40s?"

"I was too much of a ladies man to think about that," he said. "I always thought I would get married eventually and have a family but I was too busy chasing skirts to stop and find the right one. Then your daughter found me." He looked down the hallway towards Rebecca's bedroom. "I'm no ladies' man anymore. Tracey is everything to me. I'll never raise a hand to her or our children, Janice. That's my promise to you."

"I know," she replied.

Tracey came out of the bedroom and beckoned to Bucky. Taking the book with him he went to the bedroom and Janice sat in the living room listening to Rebecca's cry of recognition when Bucky presented the book to her. Then she heard his voice read the story.

"Once upon a time in Spain there was a little bull and his name was Ferdinand," began Bucky.

As he read to Rebecca, tears began to stream out of Janice's eyes as she listened to this wonderful man that her daughter found, a man who had experienced terrible pain and suffering, but whose love for his sister and her daughter was absolute. His calm but expressive voice was full of love as he read his sister this book from their childhoods. She watched Tracey as she leaned against the door frame, at the love from her face and she felt glad that her daughter found someone like Bucky. All this drama that had happened recently to them wasn't enough to shake their love and she could hardly wait for their wedding so they could officially begin their life together.

Chapter 15>>

Series Masterlist

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[ivaluelab1]

Do you keep walking past your jewelry box and wondering, is it finally time to sell your wedding rings? If so, that question is often preceded by, where do I go to sell my wedding rings?

[nysocboy]

The Kelvin/Keefe wedding rings are back

Remember the rings that Kelvin and Keefe wore on their "wedding band" fingers in Season 2? Plain silver for Keefe, filigree for Kelvin. Fans argued like mad. Wedding rings? Chastity rings? God squad rings? I finally decided that they weren't significant, since no one commented on them or even zoomed in on them: you had to blow up a screen shot to notice.

Well, they're back in Season 3: matching men's silver wedding bands with black diamond inlay (the real thing sells for over $4000), on the ring finger of Kelvin's left and Keefe's right hand. That's the opposite of the hand they favor, which is important if the actors have to keep putting them on and taking them off.. And in universe, they'll come together when the guys hold hands -- romantic.

For the first few episodes, they are not emphasized in any way. Kelvin displays his quite often, but Keefe's is hard to see due to the staging or Cavalero's presentation (he deliberately hides it during the break-up scene, so why put it on in the first place?). One scene where it's obvious was cut -- to not give away too much?

. In Episode 3.6, Keefe’s is gone -- he must have returned it -- and Kelvin keeps fiddling with his and taking it off and putting it back on. They are obviously symbols of the relationship. Which means that the guys exchanged them for that purpose. Which means that for all his talk of dude-bros and best dude friends, Kelvin knew exactly what their relationship meant. I'm not putting "wedding rings" in quotation marks anymore.

[milliesfishes]

SHE SELLS HER WEDDING RING AND SHES THRILLED ABOUT IT BUT THEN SHE MAKES SOME PASSING COMMENT THAT HER FINGER FEELS EMPTY NOW AND IT KEEPS MAKING HER ANXIOUS AND HE DOESNT HESITATE TO GO BUY HER SOME SUPER SIMPLE BAND TO WEAR ON HER FINGER

she teases him that he has to get on one knee to ask her but he’s rolling his eyes and telling her like “not that kind of ring, darlin’”

THIS IS SO CUTE and also they can pose as a married couple sometimes which works easier when they need to get a room somewhere and it’s cheaper to just get one. He also likes that it wards off some men who wouldn’t be as distant if she didn’t have it on. Or if Billy wasn’t the one next to her

[topguncortez]

I want to know what Jake and Athena would have gotten up to on their wedding night in an alternate universe where they aren’t dead.

ahah who said they were dead??? anyway

Rafael went all out not wasting any expenses when it came to the reception for Jake & Athena. He had hired the best chefs from around the world to come in and make the meals, imported in the best wine from France, a band to play music while they ate. Athena would change out of her wedding dress, into something that was much more suitable to walk around and showboat her new found title to some of the highest ranking mafia men in the world. Jake would celebrate his wedding, and his new found alliance with the Santiago family. He also uses their wedding night as a chance to try and sell his guns and drugs to other mobsters, sharing the best Cuban cigars and Scottish whiskey with them.

After the reception, Jake planned on taking Athena to a private island off the coast of Greece. They would first stop in Italy, so Athena could show Jake her mother's grave and the vineyard she used to run around in as a child. Then they would jet to Athens, spend the night there before traveling by boat to the island that Rafael had gifted them.

It would be two weeks, just the two of them, the only communication being done between his brothers and the guards that watched over the island. Jake didn't want to be bothered while he had his wife to himself. He knew that the moment they got back to the States, it would be full steam ahead into business as the Seresin and Santiago houses are now fully joined.

And in all honesty. . . I wouldn't be surprised if a Seresin heir was conceived during those two weeks. . .

but all that is a dream cause they are dead.

or are they. . .

[amarantine-amirite]

No Hypotheses

It all started when I got distracted sneaking out of the house.

I was on the bus and I looked out the window to see a sign outside Costco that read: WARNING - unattended bags will be taken into parking lot and detonated. Persons will be reported to law enforcement should detonation of unattended belongings result in loss of life or damage to property. I missed my stop because I couldn't stop giggling at the sign.

This is not my first time getting lost on the bus. I know better than to wait around at the bus stop if the next bus isn't gonna arrive within the next five minutes. I know to keep an eye on my watch. I know to check schedules. I know not to go too far away from the bus stop.

The next bus wouldn't pull in for another 45 minutes. The stop was right in front of this shop in Chinatown. I stuck my head in the door and discovered that the shop sells cursed stuff. They have a doll that trashes your other toys if you don't play with it, some jewelry that makes misfortune happen to you, and brandy that makes you have nightmares if you're mean to people.

I looked toward the back of the store and saw a curtain. The sign next to it read: Lethal goods - No children under the age of 18 past this point.

The clerk took one look at me and rolled her eyes. "If you're looking for gremlins, we don't sell them. Yes, even though we were featured in the movie Gremlins, we don't sell gremlins," she said, hoping she wouldn't have to deal with yet another dumb teenager who thinks movies are real. "That was a movie."

"Well, good to know, but that's not why I'm here." I chucked, "I have a bunch of people on my shit list, and I need something to seriously teach them a lesson." I noticed the clerk's name tag read: MaryBeth.

MaryBeth seemed intrigued. She pulled out a set of silver cufflinks with blue enamel studs. "Well, we have these cufflinks," she said, "These will guarantee every pigeon in town will use you for target practice."

My eyes widened. "That'd be perfect for Virginia," I know you don't get cufflinks for a girl, but she can pull it off. Besides, Virginia seriously pissed me off.

At the end of last year, she approached me, demanding that I share my swimming goggles. I clutched them to my chest, visibly overwhelmed, and told her to back off. A teacher overheard the commotion, stepped in, and insisted I give her the swimming goggles. The teacher said, "She lost hers and just wanted to borrow them to find hers."

I gave Virginia the goggles, but I never got them back. I didn't find out she stole them until I spotted her using my goggles the following day. She pretended that she lost mine and bought new ones. She had at least three different stories of how that happened, none of which were believable. In the end, I had to buy new ones.

I felt my phone vibrate. I saw a text from Dad. "Hey, are you at that weird store in Chinatown that sells cursed stuff?" he asked.

It surprised me that Dad heard of this place. "Um, yes," I texted back. I couldn't figure out why he didn't demand I leave.

He replied instantaneously. "Can you see if they have any cursed wedding bands for men that look like this? We need it for your sister's wedding". Next to the message was an image of a man's wedding band that looked like two gilded blades of grass.

I recognized the design. My sister Mairead was getting married because her boyfriend Rand would die in exactly three months. I helped her purchase rings for both her and her fiance.

Our parents thought it was stupid of her to marry Rand when he was going to die in three months. "It's like buying a Ferrari that you're only going to drive once," they'd tell her. She never listened. She was in love with this guy.

They tried to split them up. They tried. Nothing worked. All they could do now was do something to stop the wedding.

I purchased the cufflinks and left. On the bus ride home, Dad texted me again, asking for the phone number of the store that sold cursed items. He told me that if I gave him the number, both he and Mom would look the other way at me sneaking out of the house. I gave him the number, which turned out to be a stupid stupid decision.

The wedding went ahead as planned. Mairead walked down the aisle to the song "Foolish Games" by Jewel. I have no idea why she picked that song because that is totally not a wedding song.

I thought they had laid off and just let her marry the guy. Their arguments never made sense and seemed cold-hearted. I hoped they had accepted that no wedding is a waste of money if you're marrying the person you love.

That is, of course, until after Rand put his ring on. Somebody said under his breath, "But all of them have been deceived, for another ring was made."

At first, everybody thought it was some joker in a hobbit costume who thought it would be funny to crash the wedding and quote Lord of the Rings. They looked around, but we failed to see any idiots cosplaying as hobbits. Then we thought it was probably a stupid kid who thought it would be funny to quote Lord of the Rings during the ceremony. That seemed more believable.

I felt myself die inside. I was the only one who knew the truth. That's no kid, I thought to myself, that is my dad.

After I gave Dad the phone number for the store that sold the cursed stuff, he called them and ordered that ring that would kill the person wearing it. The ring Rand had been given wasn't the one Mairead and I picked out. It was the dupe he bought at the cursed store. The curse on the ring would kill Rand within the hour. Once Rand put it on, he only had one hour left to live.

Neither Rand nor Mairead had any idea. They still said I do. The minister still pronounced them husband and wife. Rand still kissed his bride.

We took the bus to EndZone Sports Bar for the reception. The curse kicked in 30 minutes after the ceremony. The bus driver kicked everybody off the bus because Rand threw up. It took the bus driver 15 minutes to get Rand off the bus. In those 15 minutes, Rand couldn't move, couldn't even breathe, and eventually died.

The bus stopped halfway between the chapel and the restaurant. People gathered around as the driver changed the banner to read: call 911 emergency alert police. The people in the area had no idea what happened but suspected there was a story. The emergency was Rand dying on the bus.

Even though we were nowhere near the ocean, Rand's autopsy report listed his cause of death as cone shell poisoning. Nobody suspected any foul play.

[42lolita]

SOME BASIC KNOWLEDGE FOR LOLITA NEWBIES

If you are new to Lolita and want to step into this special street fashion, you need to get familiar with some basic knowledge before that. Otherwise you may do not know what other Lolitas are talking about, and can easily make jokes in Lolita fashion.

JSK: jumper skirt. Skirt with shoulder straps, sleeveless dress, vest dress all can be called JSK. Since it’s without sleeves, it usually matches with an inner blouse to wear. For some JSK design, Lolitas also only wear the JSK, without an inner blouse, which is beautiful as well. For example, the following “Dream in Cage” JSK from indie brand Alice Girl is a standard JSK design.

OP: short name for one-piece. It especially refers to a sleeved dress. There can be short sleeves OP or long sleeves OP. The following two long sleeves dresses are very good example of what an OP means.

SK: skirt. The normal match for a skirt is a top shirt. A SK may be designed with shoulder strap or without.

BNT: short name for bonnet. The western ancient women often wear decorative hats with large eaves. The bonnet is usually decorated with beautiful ribbons or flowers or other beautiful themes. It can make the full Lolita coordinate more beautiful.

KC: Katyusha. Headdress and headband that matches with a Lolita dress.

FULLSET: short name FS. It means the complete Lolita costume which usually include headdress (KC/ headband/ bonnet), wig, choker or necklace, shirt, dress, petticoat, tights, shoes, umbrella, bag, wrist cuffs, etc. The wig, umbrella, wrist cuffs and bags are not necessary for all Lolita coordinate, but the headdress, choker or necklace, JSK or OP, petticoat, tights, shoes are necessary for a Lolita fullset. Usually these components need to be the same or similar color scheme or have some designed elements echoes each other.

Choker: clavicle chain, short necklaces.

Ouji: a similar fashion with a more masculine appearance, usually worn by men, but some female Lolitas also wear Ouji, so some Ouji set has size for both female and male.

If you like Chinese Lolita indie brands, you may encounter some Chinese terms in Lolita community. The following ones are mostly mentioned among Chinese Lolitas.

小物: accessories. This usually includes accessories such as headwear, wrist cuffs, necklace, earrings, etc.

小萌款: popular style. The "little cute style" in the Lolita group is also the "pop style" in our ordinary wearing style. It refers to the large number of people who buy this Lolita dress, and the demand is very large, which is very popular with Lolitas.

再贩: Lolita dresses are usually pre-ordered. There are rarely ready to ship stocks and if miss the pre-order, you have to buy second hand ones. However, popular models (non limited) are very likely to restart the reservation after a period of time, which is called 再贩.

柄图: the print on the Lolita dress.

花嫁: bride. In Lolita, it refers to the wedding dress.

素鸡: shirring, some kind of elastic band which is used to adjust the size of the skirt, making it more comfortable wearing.

地球人: people who don't wear Lolita dresses. Because a long time ago, some people in the forum said Lolita dress is too exaggerated and called the girls who wear Lolita dress as "Martian". Lolitas began to use this word 地球人 to call ordinary people "earthman", which is now a neutral word.

山: imitations. Never buy imitations, never wear imitations to tea parties or formal parties.

穿山甲: people who wear fake Lolita dress.

知山穿山: Lolitas know it is fake Lolita dress and still buy and wear it. Never do this. When you buy a Lolita dress, please always be careful to avoid the fake ones. Plese only buy from the brands official store or trustworthy resellers, such as 42Lolita, as we promise that we only sell authentic Lolita dresses from the original designed indie brands.

切替: Japanese transliteration, similar to the meaning of splicing style, refers to the style with different patterns and different fabrics connected to form local discontinuous patterns. Generally, it refers to the Lolita dress with solid color on the upper body and printing on the lower body.

H价: Selling the secondhand Lolita dress at a higher price than the original price.

Thank you for reading this, and welcome to share your ideas with us on 42Lolita site. We do hope each girl can find and wear your desired Lolita dress, and hope Lolita dress can make you more confident and beautiful. 42Lolita provides both popular and newest released Lolita dresses from trustworthy Chinese indie brands. We also provide kinds of coupons from time to time that can be found on https://www.wethrift.com/42lolita , so please do not miss them. Let’s shop happily and save happily. 😊

Best regards,

42Lolita team