#by calling my wife a dickhead which is. a thing i do often

[saintbleeding]

16? :3c

16: you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

oooooooo. i think there's this tendency to portray martin/jmart as like... either doing cuteness aggression because of an attraction they're uncomfy with, or just being like... kinda schmoopy in a bit of a flattened out sorta way? and i acknowledge in saying this that this is almost definitely just my personal preferences being strong. but. that's not really the shape of the trajectory to me, and one of my favourite bits about martin especially where it relates to jon IS the bonding through bickering/bantering, in combination with the Actual Big (Even If Petty) Arguments? like within the bounds of the function of the relationship there's this freneticism and like... anxiety/excitement that to me manifests through the way they're bitchy and petty with this clearly genuinely affectionate undertone. idk i just like when they're insufferable in a specific way and i feel like it's rarer than i'd like personally (or, rather, Things That Aren't That are more common than i'd like, perhaps)

[mavigator]

Not rlly a question but can you talk at me about MJ and Peter and what you love about them I know nothing but love hearing information

what i really like about peter and mj is that they both had to mature in order to make getting together feasible. they’ve liked each other a lot ever since they met, but it would’ve been a disaster if they started dating in college. MJ was still putting on her party-girl persona and avoiding vulnerability, and peter was still learning to regulate his emotions and balance his life. a lot of people like to make a gwen vs. mj thing (“who does peter love more?”) but it’s not about that. peter and mary jane had to wait for it to work, and when it did it was great!

they’re very cute. MJ has ambition and drive that keeps peter motivated and grounded simultaneously. she’s got a no-nonsense attitude and will call him out when he’s being a dickhead (which he is, often). peter adores mary jane and truly believes she can do anything she puts her mind to, and when he’s losing hope, the thought of her ALWAYS pulls him back to his feet. think kraven’s last hunt, when peter was buried alive for 2 weeks. he was pretty out of it. he drifted, purposefully not letting himself remember who he was. he wanted to stay down there, where it was safe and he didn’t have to be a person—he didn’t have to be spider-man—but when he remembered mary jane, he suddenly HAD to dig his way out. and he did. he literally busted out of the grave to get back to her

aside from that, they’re just very cute. here are some of my images

i have more on my computer but i’m not home right now so these will have to suffice

basically they’re very married and peter loves his beautiful talented wife . the end

[mifhortunach]

wrt lrb, just bc i felt weird leaving my thoughts all in the tags of that other post, this goes on for ages, sorry—

anyway, agree w op wholeheartedly! there’s no argument being made, there’s no apocryphal stuff being 'corrected'; it’s a run through of the guys life. as w most biogs, unless it’s something you’re already into, you won’t get too much out of it necessarily, but it’s a breeze to read, and it really really does have his voice. i did genuinely like it a lot!

that said, still managed to make me feel the same way i often do with these things. the stuff that’s being elided & eluded is much more juicy than anything that really gets put down lmao— kaylan seems to have a tendency to like, imply or state that he felt a way about something, but then refuse to actually get into that at all? eg, he says that he spent a lot of time by himself as a kid, and much much later says that he kinda projected parental/paternal roles[1] on a couple of guys who managed them (as the turtles) or worked with him (zappa) etc//, but beyond that it's not a text that explores that really - imo at least

as op says that you get a good idea of what he’s like — “smart, a bit obnoxious” etc — which is true!! it reads like you’re literally talking to the guy. but, i also kinda began to run into the idea that he’s not necessarily the most emotionally self-aware (or wasnt), and that he’s probs a lot moodier (or at least used to be) than he’s really talking about.

(eg; the repetition of ‘i was confused’ throughout, esp wrt some of his relationships, or the vague references to points of depression; tho tbf! those are very career focused, lol.) (throughout he also repeats, “i was an asshole.” or “what a jerk!”, which feels very like.. a little, bruh-off-y, like acknowledging so that you can move on, but i ended up reading in one interview/review where he was basically like, ‘yeah, i hadn’t gone thru those diaries since then, and all those refrains are sincere! id forgotten what a dickhead i was’—idk, interesting)

dude also cried a fair bit

i actually ended up reading it in part bc i ran into old forum threads about it, which themselves mentioned how he talks about volman - or more accurately he **doesnt** talk about volman - despite the working together for the majority of the last 50yrs (i was kinda expecting him to be mentioned less actually, given how down they were about it, lol). it is funny how he’s almost always there on the periphery, or literally working with the guy!, but beyond the relatively objective there’s not too much mention. i do think that people often romanticise that aspect of being in a band: the intense relationships & dyke drama of it all, (where’s that insane ed robinson quote when you need it….)[^2] forgetting that ultimately a lot of the time that all ends up being boiled away to coworkerdom[^3] ( :/ )

enjoyable read tho!! will leave you impressed with how many marriages he managed to get through, as well as the sheer amount of name-dropping, but i can’t help but look forward to when someone puts out something more cutting in like 20yrs, or if the diaries ever get published posthumously 🤷‍♀️

---------------

gets mentioned in this interview too ↩︎ 

ed bnl has the wildest quote about stevie p, in an interview i can't find (around the time of the divorce, lol), basically saying that 'you've not in a band, you just wouldnt get it'

seems a little chilly between them ngl, not /bad/ necessarily but yk - from the forums: (x) (x) - there's also a bit in the 90s where kaylan moves out of california, & mentions that volman's wife supposedly rang him & basically was like, 'dude's not happy with you', so idk

4. just including this bc i've been calling them, 'the litigious turtles' in my head all week, but check out the fuckin copyright page on it, omfg

[talesofstyles]

Reconcile

happy christmas eve, you lot! i’ve got a little present for you. enjoy this 10,5k of nearly divorced harry trying to win his wife and bitter nine year old daughter back. oh and i threw in a little baby goat in the mix too since it’s set in the peak district and i just couldn’t resist 🥳

“Penny for your thoughts.”

He turned to look at her, who was giggling as she leaned closer to him. She was most definitely not a giggler sober, but he found out that a copious amount of alcohol could turn her into one. He felt slightly guilty knowing that she was going to be hungover as hell in the morning, but she was having a great time.

And so was he.

“I was just thinking about how great you are, how lucky I am to be sitting next to you right now and that you need to drink more water because otherwise, you’d be miserable tomorrow,” he says with a smile as he twisted the cap and handed her the bottle of water.

That goofy smile of hers turned into a gooey smile of affection. “That’s so sweet,” she murmured, taking a gulp of water and handed the bottle back to him so he could take some too. She then tilted her head, giving him a doe-eyed look and asked, “what else do you like about me?”

“Let’s see,” he put a finger to his chin and tapped. “Well, I love how kind and inclusive you are, how you always care about people and that you always see the good in everyone.” 

Her smile grew sappier.

“Oh,” he gave her a sly grin. “I also love that thing you do with your tongue on the underside of my cock.”

She burst out laughing. But then she leaned even closer to him and whispered huskily in his ear, “I’ll do that very thing when we get back to the hotel.”

His eyes widened and he wanted nothing more than just to drag her back to their hotel suite and take up on her offer. But he’d promised her that he’d show her around Vegas since she’d never been before, and he wanted to keep that promise.

“Wanna know what I like about you?” She turned to him, still with a gooey smile on her face.

“Do I ever,” he smirked.

“I like that you’re hands down the kindest human I’ve ever met,” she began. “You’re genuine, and grounded. Funny too. I truly hit the jackpot with you. I’m the luckiest girl on earth.”

“Oh,” she added as an afterthought. “And you’re really good with your tongue.”

He wanted to laugh, because she always made him laugh. But he was still stuck on the fact that she thought she was lucky to be with him. He felt exactly the same way about her, like this was always meant to be. 

“I wasn’t looking for this,” he admitted honestly. “I know it’s only been six weeks, but I really can’t imagine never having met you.”

“Me too,” her eyes were bright, shining with excitement. “It’s weird, right? Because I swear I’ve never felt such a deep connection with someone this quick.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?” He murmured. “That there’s a perfect person for everyone out there?”

She tilted her head. “Do you think that’s us?”

There was no hesitation in his answer. “I do think that might be us.”

“I think so too,” she said with a tender smile.

This was real.

He was overwhelmed with the understanding that she was his, and he never wanted to let her go. 

So he suggested what any sane, semi-drunk man would at that moment. “We’re in Vegas. We should get married.”

***

Harry

Pulling into the drive of what used to be our holiday cottage, but is now where my wife and children live full-time without me, feels strange to me. There’s that moment of what feels like a homecoming—that sense of belonging somewhere where I feel safe, and I know my happiness is inside.

But now, for the first time in ten years, there’s a sense of detachment that I know I’ve got to put in place. It is why I need to take a moment or two in the car before I walk inside to sort myself out and put on a shield. A shield which lets me walk inside, and be okay with the fact that I don’t live there anymore even just for the holidays. 

This charming little cottage, which can’t exactly be called little since it is quite spacious and has three bedrooms, has always been more of a second home rather than a holiday home for us. We used to come here often, sometimes even only for the weekends. I’ve always loved this place. Now, looking back, I realised that many of the happiest times during our marriage were spent in this home. 

It was where we spent the first few weeks soaking in newlywed bliss after that whirlwind of a trip to Las Vegas when we decided out of nowhere to tie the knot. Then there were the sleepless nights with a wailing newborn, because even though both of our babies were born in London, we always whisked them off here to Bakewell shortly after so we were close enough that both sets of their grandparents could dote on them during the first few weeks of their lives.

After I exit the car, I walk up to the front door and ring the doorbell. I don’t feel comfortable walking in as I respect that this is YN’s sanctuary now. The wait isn’t long, because in just a few seconds, the door is opened and there’s my wife, looking like a breath of fresh air.

It had been eight long months since the last time I saw her. Last time was the night when she asked me to leave our marital home, and I fled to LA first thing the next morning. I talked daily with the kids on the phone, but I didn’t really recall ever getting the chance to talk to her aside from the quick polite greetings before she handed her phone to the kids.

“Hey,” she says, her expression a bit guarded. I’ve missed her so much that it takes everything in me to keep myself from pulling her into my arms and kiss the fuck out of her. “Come in.”

“You alright?” I ask her as I follow her into the house. This may sound like I’m just making a small talk, but I’m not. I’m genuinely curious and I want to know how she’s doing. 

But she doesn’t even respond to my question. All I get is a head-tilt motioning towards the kitchen. “They’re in the kitchen.”

My gaze immediately lands on the accent table that holds a lot of photos and a key bowl. I silently let out a sigh of relief seeing YN hasn’t removed all of the family photos with me in it. It’s a good sign, but I don’t have much hope behind that. Maybe that’s just her trying to keep everything as normal as possible at home for the kids. 

My wife and I never had a big fight when we separated. It had been somewhat rational, but still emotional, discussion. She wasn’t angry, she was just done. And I didn’t fight for her. Instead, yours truly here walked away the next morning and didn’t look back.

I’ve done a lot of dumb things in my life. But nothing ever compares to that. That was pretty fucking stupid on my part, and I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

I’ve accepted that maybe this is my punishment for being a shit husband to a wonderful woman who doesn’t deserve to be treated like a second best. She did the right thing by kicking me to the curb, and I’d never resent her for it. If I could turn back time and change everything, I would in a heartbeat. I’d try harder to be a better husband, a better father, put my family first. But I can’t. Now all I can do is just try not to be a dickhead and make things harder for her than it already is. It’s too late for me to try to be a better husband, but it isn’t for me to try to be the best father that my children deserve. 

I follow my wife through the living room and into the kitchen, and I’d be dead not to check out her arse in those leggings. It’s something I quickly avert my eyes from, though, as I realise both of my children are sitting at the kitchen island, eating scones with their tea. 

George, my six-year-old, is the first to turn his head and hop off from the island stool to jump into my arms. “Daddeeeeee!”

“My Booger Butt,” I greet my little lad with a smile as I squat down to be on his level before scooping him up into my arms. Booger Butt is one of the countless nicknames I have for him, and one that never fails to make him double over in laughter whenever he hears it. He’s also Mr Tadpole Climbing a Beanpole sometimes, and he used to be Sir Screams-a-Lot when he was a baby. He thinks they’re hilarious, and he’d always respond by calling me Baddy Daddy. 

“I‘ve missed you so much, Baddy Daddy,” he says sweetly as he nuzzles his head into the crook of my neck and I swear if I don’t pull myself together right this second, I’m going to cry. 

“I’ve missed you more, mate,” I say as I ruffle his hair and kiss his cheek. “I love you.” 

My daughter doesn’t seem fazed by the father and son reunion behind her and continues munching on her scone without even giving me a glance. With my left arm full of my son, I walk up to her and ruffle her hair just like I did with her little brother. “Hey Silly Putty Pudding Pie,” I greet her with one of her nicknames, hoping to get her to laugh. But she ignores me, taking a sip of her brew instead. 

I don’t want to give up, so I lean to the side and bend to put my face close to hers. I try again, “hello to you too, poppet.”

“Whatever,” she mumbles around a mouthful of scone. 

“Minnie,” YN growls, her tone filled with warning.

This is why I respect YN so much. I hurt her badly, broke her heart, and it would’ve been so easy for her to use Minnie as a pawn and turn my child against me. But every time, even on the phone, whenever she is present, she never let Minnie be disrespectful to me in any way.

My gaze moves to my wife—yes I’m still going to refer to her as my wife since she still is, albeit only on paper—and she gives me an apologetic look. I give a slight shake of my head, telling her silently to let it go. 

She takes the last bite of her scone and puts the dish in the sink, before walking to the staircase without giving me a second glance. I can see YN trying to hold her tongue from further rebuking our daughter, and I give her a small smile, my silent way of telling her ‘it’s okay.’

“Sorry about that,” she mutters, referring to Minnie’s attitude. She grabs a mug from the cupboard, then holds it up in silent invitation. I nod, and she turns to the pot. “I can’t keep up with her mood shifts anymore.”

“It’s alright,” I tell her, willing to take my share of the blame. “I’m sure the shift has everything to do with me.”

“Not true,” she replies as she pours the coffee into our mugs, adding a splash of milk to hers but keeping mine just like that because she knows I take my coffee black. “She’s been like that with me as well and I’m not sure why. She’s only nine but she acts as if she’s thirteen already.”

I can’t help but laugh and turn to my little lad. “Can you be six forever?”

“No,” he says immediately without even taking a second to think.

“Just no?”

“No,” he gives me a toothy grin. “I want a lego city set but mummy said it’s for eight-year-olds. So I cannot wait to be eight.”

I set him on the counter and give him a conspiratorial smirk before I whisper to him. It’s a little too loud to be considered a whisper, but I want my wife to hear it. “Tell you what, we’ll get one of those sets tomorrow on our day out.”

His eyes light up instantly and my wife rolls her eyes jokingly, “I hear that.” Jokingly, because I know for sure she doesn’t mind me spoiling our children. She does it too. 

“Where are you taking them tomorrow?”

“To your mum’s pudding shop for breakfast, then probably fishing, and the toys shop now apparently,” I tell her our itinerary. I have the kids for the whole day tomorrow since it’s Saturday. It’s bittersweet because I’ve missed my children and I can’t wait to spend time with them, but I’m also sad because what I wouldn’t give to turn tomorrow into a family day out instead. I know she would most likely decline, but I can’t help offer her, “would you like to come with us?”

She gives me a subtle shake of her head. “No thanks. Enjoy it, it’s your time with them.”

***

I’m renting a room above The Old Nags Head during my stay here. I plan to stay for a week before I have to go back to London, and even though the thought of having to leave my children again is killing me, I’m trying to cheer myself up by reminding myself that it’ll be Christmas soon enough and I’ll get to visit again.

But then I’ll have to leave again. 

And visit again, but knowing in just a week or two, I would have to say goodbye to them again.

Fuck, this is killing me. I’m a family man through and through, and not being with them physically hurts. I shouldn’t be in this room sulking alone. I should be there in that home with my wife and children, probably helping Minnie and George with their homework or making dinner for all of us.

I was prepared to sulk some more, but then I heard a knock on the door. I was not expecting company so I’ve got no idea who it is, and I’m quite surprised when I see Jamie, YN’s brother as I open the door. 

We were quite close, but now that I broke his little sister’s heart, I can’t tell if this is a pleasant visit or if he’s just here to knock me square on my arse. 

“Got time for tea downstairs?” He asks

Honestly, I haven’t got any appetite. But I could use a few pints so I nod and lock the door behind me, following him downstairs to the pub. 

The Old Nags Head is the oldest and most famous pub in Bakewell. The pub itself is a former smithy dating back to the 16th century, and certainly looks the part; thick stone walls, low ceilings, welcoming log fires and dark timber beams. The pub remains at the centre of the community, as it has been for hundreds of years. It offers the best classic pub grubs, and even has its own ale called the Nags 1577. 

It’s the perfect place to drown my sorrows. 

Except, the current owner of that very pub happens to be none other than my wife’s granddad whom everyone here calls Pop. Out of all members of her family, she is the closest to Pop, so I know for sure that I’m the last person he wants to see. 

We sit at the bar table facing the window, which is good because Pop is behind the main bar, and this way I don’t have to actually talk to him. 

“Ya want owt?” Jamie asks as he does a quick perusal of the menu. I’m not even sure why he bothers, because even I know what he’s going to order. It’s Pop’s signature steak and ale pie. Ten years of being his brother in law, not once I ever saw him order something else. 

“Just a pint,” I tell him. 

It doesn’t take long after Jamie orders his food and our drinks before two pints are placed before us, and we each take a savouring sip.

And then Jamie point-blank asks me, “so what did you do?”

I really can’t tell anything from his expression, because he keeps his face blank. But I give him a bark of mirthless laughter. “It’s what I didn’t do, mate. She didn’t say anything?”

“Not a word,” he shakes his head, “what didn’t you do?”

“I stopped paying attention to my wife. Got caught up in my career. The travelling for tours she understood, but it was when I was home and hanging out more with my bandmates than with my family that she couldn’t forgive. And what little time I had left, I gave to Minnie and George. I think I just stupidly assumed she would always be there for me, no matter what.”

“Was there any infidelity?” He asks.

“God, no,” I shake my head hard. “You know I’d never do that to your sister. I love her, and she’s more than enough for me.”

Obviously, I’m not going to tell him this, but ironically, our sex life didn’t diminish. We were combustible in bed, and my mistake was in thinking that was enough for her. 

I look at the pudding shop right across the street as I take another sip, and I nearly choke on my beer when I see a familiar face walking out of the shop. 

“What in the ever-loving fuck?” I growl. 

That’s my wife, walking out of her mum’s pudding shop. She is not alone. There’s a guy with his hand pressed to her lower back while her head is tipped back, laughing at something he’s saying. I suddenly feel sick to my stomach when the bastard’s palm drops from my wife’s back to take her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. She smiles, all doe-eyed, as they walk to God knows where. 

“What?” Jamie looks at me confused for a second, but then he follows my gaze and he finally sees what’s causing me distress. “Oh, that.”

“You knew about that?”

He nods. “She’s been seeing him for about three weeks now.”

“Fuck,” I mutter and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“She didn’t tell you?” Jamie asks and I shake my head. 

“Three weeks you said?”

Jamie nods again. “He makes her happy.”

“I’m her husband,” I can’t help but say bitterly. “I should be the one making her happy.”

“Look, I’m sorry mate,” he offers, I know he’s trying his best to keep his tone neutral. “Maybe you need to get back in the dating game too. It’ll distract you.”

“I don’t want to fucking date anyone else,” I growl.

“I know it’s hard to get back in the saddle,” he adds sympathetically.

“I don’t want to get out of my current saddle,” I grumble. “I want to keep my current saddle with my wife in it.”

Jamie blinks in surprise, hell I’m even surprised at what I’ve just said out loud because I’ve never admitted this since we split. When YN asked me to leave, I assumed right away that my marriage was over. I didn’t want it to, but I thought there was nothing I could do. 

But now, seeing her laughing at another man’s joke and his hand holding hers, I just know that I can’t let her go without a fight. 

“Have you told her this?” He asks curiously.

I shake my head again. “We haven’t got the chance to have a civil conversation these days.”

“Then I suggest you stop being such a bloody whinge bucket and have a civil conversation with your wife.”

My shoulders immediately sag in defeat. “I know. I need to sit down with her and tell her how I feel.”

“Which is?” He presses.

“That I want her back,” I mutter.

“You’ve got to have a better plan than that,” he points out. “I mean… I’m not a marriage therapist, but I’m pretty sure that you’ve got to be prepared to fix the shit first.”

I can’t help but tilt my head towards the pudding shop where my wife had just walked out the door. “She’s moved on. You said it yourself that he makes her happy. Tell me how to compete with that.”

“Make her happier,” he says simply. I can only let out a heavy sigh, but I know that's solid advice. “Listen, if you really want to save your marriage, you need to make it work. Romance her again. Lots of flowers, nice romantic dinners out. Compliments, chocolates. All that sort of thing.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. “But I do know that you’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t do anything about it.”

***

My emotions are a mixed bag this morning. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to spend the whole day with my kids, but the fact that I have just learnt last night that my wife is currently seeing another man doesn’t sit right with me.

I know Jamie was right. If I want to save my marriage, I need to get my head out of my arse and do something to win my wife back. Sure, I don’t even know where to start since she doesn’t give me the time of day. But I do know that starting today, I’m a man on a mission. It’s Operation Conquer YN: day 1. 

It’s currently 8:40am, which means I’m twenty minutes early. I hope the kids won’t be ready yet, so I’ll get a chance to talk for a little bit to my wife.

When I ring the doorbell, I can hear George pounding down the stairs, yelling, “I got it!”

The door flies open and he jumps into my arms right away. My little lad truly misses me, and it really does warm my heart. Now, I love my children equally, but before I got here yesterday, I thought Minnie would be the one to jump all over me since she’s a daddy’s girl through and through, while George has always been a mummy’s boy since the day he was born. 

But again, I should’ve known. Since YN and I split, Minnie sort of puts herself in her mum’s corner. Every time I actually got the chance to talk to her on the phone when I was still in LA, it was always extremely short before she quickly handed her mum’s phone to her little brother. I try not to take her behaviour to heart, because I guess it’s what nine-year-olds do when they don’t quite understand why their parents aren’t together. They just need someone to blame, and my daughter is way more mature than her age. She’s bloody smart too, which she definitely takes after her mum, and I know that she knows it’s my fault that her mum and I separated.

Now that I think of it, it’s not just my wife that I desperately need to win back. But also my daughter.

“Daddy!” George chirps. He’s got a milk moustache and the sight never fails to get me to chuckle. “You’re early.”

“I know,” I reply with a tender smile. “I just can’t wait to spend the day with you lot.” 

“I’m going to get ready!” He announces excitedly as he squirms in my arms wanting to be put down, and he runs up the stairs before I can even reply.

I look around, and my gaze lands on the sofa, a hazel leather sofa that YN picked out. It’s so comfy and I could nap there forever.

Then there’s the coffee table, where YN, Minnie, George and I sat around and played board games. Catan is our family’s favourite, followed closely by Monopoly. 

The corner where we always put the Christmas tree, right next to the fireplace. And every year it didn’t matter how hard I tried, I could never get the bloody thing to stay straight. 

I miss this little cottage. Sure, the house in South Kensington is our marital house, but this cosy little cottage in the middle of nowhere feels more like home to me. And now I truly get why YN was so adamant to move here permanently after we separated, didn't matter how hard I tried to persuade her to stay in London.

“You’re early,” my wife blinks in surprise, but quickly masks it. “Minnie darling, go and get ready.”

“Do I really have to go?” My nine-year-old whines and I feel a pang. She really doesn’t want to spend time with me.

“Minnie, that’s not nice,” YN reprimands her before I can stop her.

“I’ve missed you, poppet,” I say, wanting to look at her in the eyes but she refuses to meet my gaze. Which hurts, but it’s fine. I know it’ll take some time for her to warm up to me. “I want to spend the day with you and your brother. I promise I’ll try to make it fun for you both.”

“Fine,” she replies, before marching up the stairs to her room. There’s still a hint of sulkiness in her tone, but at least I didn’t get a heavy sigh. I know it’s a small win but honestly, it’s better than none.

“Coffee’s in the pot,” she tells me politely from where she’s sitting at the island. She has her laptop open before her, and I can see her writing an email. I bet she’s working today, even if it’s Saturday, because my wife is such a hard-worker. She works remotely for a consulting firm and I’m beyond proud of her.

I nod and pour the coffee, and I let the silence carry on for a bit before saying, “saw you getting cosy with your new boyfriend last night.”

She instantly looks up from her laptop, giving me a death glare. Her tone is defensive when she says, “that’s none of your business.”

“You could’ve at least told me that you were seeing someone,” I tell her, making elaborate gestures with my coffee mug.

“Why would I do that?” She retorts defensively. “Last time I checked, you didn’t give a shit about me when we were married. Why on earth would I assume you do now?”

Hearing that, it feels like Chuck Norris himself just kicked me in the nuts. I can only mutter, “we’re still married.”

“Not for long,” she replies faintly.

“Don’t say that,” I say, my breath a little jagged. “We can still fix this, darling. I know we can.”

“Are you mad?” She snaps, but then she takes a deep breath, and her tone is a lot calmer when she adds, “Harry, it’s too late.”

“No, it’s not. It’s never too late to get our marriage back on track,” I plead desperately. “Would you at least give me a shot?”

“What do you mean?” She frowns. 

“You can continue to see Mr Wife-stealer-”

“He’s not a wife-stealer,” she snaps, cutting me off. “He’s got a name.”

“Well, he’s stealing my wife,” I grumble like a stroppy child.

“You’re being such a child,” she retorts. “His name is Luke, he’s a decent guy, and he makes me happy.”

“I’m not afraid to go head to head with him,” I say defiantly. 

“Fuck’s sake, Harry, we’re not on a bloody Love Island,” she says in exasperation. “Two children are involved here, this isn’t a game.”

“I know it isn’t,” I reply with a sigh. “Just please give me another shot, darling. Let me remind you how great we were together.”

“You mean the sex?” She demands, one side of her upper lip curls in a sneer.  

I bend my head and murmur, “we were dynamite in the sack, weren’t we?”

I see the flash in her eyes as she remembers, and it makes me want to beat my chest in victory. But the euphoric feeling is short-lived when she says, “a relationship is so much more than just sex. If you don’t understand it then-”

“I do, fuck, I do know that,” I cut her off in a strangled, desperate voice. “At least let me try, darling. Fuck if I’m letting you go without a fight.”

We lapse into silence as she gives me a sceptical look, and I know in this moment that my biggest challenge is to regain her trust, as well as accepting the fact that she has someone else fighting for her attention. 

I know this will be tough, because I let her down over and over again. And worse, I let my children down too, because I was never quite able to make my family my highest priority. It was all my fault, I knew it then, still do now. That’s why when she asked me to leave, I couldn’t even argue. I was a shit husband and father, and I deserved that.

Trying to win Minnie is probably going to be the easiest because beneath this ‘tweenage’ attitude going on, I know she is a sweet girl who loves her daddy. I need to devote more attention to her, maybe take her on some daddy-daughter dates. I know it’ll work because I’ve never given her enough on a consistent basis. 

YN is going to be the most difficult, because I really broke her heart. I’ve been married to her for ten years, so I can say with confidence that I know for sure she would never fall for things like flowers or gifts. I have to show her that I genuinely want to fix our marriage, and that my interest in her is real. It’ll be like starting all over again. 

And on top of that, she’s seeing someone else and she said it herself that he does make her happy. I know she’s not lying about it, as Jamie also told me the same thing last night and I saw with my own eyes how she laughed with him last night. Seeing that killed me, because I don’t have the ability to make her laugh like that anymore, but I couldn’t deny that there was a small part of me that was happy for her.

She may have sneered when I insinuated I’d be glad to remind her of the good times, but I saw it in her eyes. There was still a slight burn, and that might just have to be my angle. 

But then I remember our last time together. It was only two days before she asked me to leave and I remember coming home mid-morning after a meeting with my manager and publicist to find her lying in our bed, clad in sexy lingerie. I had my mouth on every inch of her, a good deal of time between her legs, and after she reciprocated by taking me into her mouth.

The kids were in school, and apparently, she took a sick day because I had told her the night before that I only had one meeting in the morning that day. After, she cuddled in close, and we talked for a while. She seemed happy, but then there was a hint of hesitation in her voice when she suggested, “fancy just spending all day in bed until school pick-ups?”

I mean, what man in his right mind would say no to that? The kids were gone for at least another five hours, I had a gorgeous wife naked and wanting more of what we just did… 

Yet, I’d said no. “Sorry, doll. I’m meeting the lads at the studio in about an hour.”

I didn’t see it then, but I do now and it’s clear as day. The look on her face had been blank, and there wasn’t even disappointment like she would usually show me. She hadn’t tried to get me to change my mind. There hadn’t been a guilt-laden frown to give me pause.

I realise now what it was.

It was the moment my wife finally gave up on me.

My chest constricts as it finally dawns on me the pain she must have been feeling. I’m not just talking about that day. That had been our life for several years.

No wonder she asked me to leave.

No wonder she’s moving on with Mr Wife-stealer.

No wonder that, at this moment, I realise I’ve got tons of work to do because sex isn’t going to be the answer in winning my wife back.

***

“Will the baby just eat when you give it the bottle?” Minnie asks her uncle Jamie as the four of us gaze at the baby goat in front of us. For the first time since yesterday, I actually see the slight curve up of lips that form a fond smile. Seeing that smile on my daughter’s face, I’m glad we didn’t go fishing and end up going to the barn instead. We were actually already on our way, but Jamie texted me that the mother goat had given birth this morning, and he wanted me to tell Minnie and George. The goats are a new addition to the farm, so they have been so excited to see baby goats. I knew from the look in their eyes that they would have a much better time seeing baby goats rather than fishing. 

It turns out that there’s only one baby goat, because the other one sadly didn’t make it. And the dam isn’t producing milk, so the kid needs to be bottle-fed until the mother is producing again. I can’t help but smile fondly at the baby goat too because it’s adorable. It’s a soft little white goat with a pink nose and ears. The dam is a Pygmy but since it has blue eyes, Jamie thinks she must have Nigerian Dwarf genes somewhere in her.

“It’s a female… a doeling,” Jamie tells her. “And she will if she’s hungry. You want to try to feed her? Look, she’s hungry again.”

We watch for a moment as the baby goat walks on wobbly legs, bleating in hunger. Jamie mixes the powdered formula and makes a bottle for her, then he hands the bottle to Minnie.

But Minnie shakes her head. “Maybe next time. I want to see you do it first.”

“Alright then,” Jamie nods, then turns towards my little lad. “How about you, mate? Wanna feed her?”

“No thank you,” says George as he shakes his head, and then he giggles, “she smells funny.”

“Can I do it?” I ask and Jamie nods as he hands me the bottle. 

I sit down against the wall with my children sitting on either side of me. And as if the goat can sense that I hold the key to filling her empty belly, the doeling starts to prance in excitement and falls over a few times due to what I assume is clumsiness. I love that she can walk normally but still choose chaos—honestly, she could’ve been my third child. There’s no stopping the surge of fondness that swells within me as I watch her little antics. 

“Come here little crumpet,” I coo at the goat.

The little goat scrambles right onto my lap, bleating hungrily. I wrap my arm around her and tip the bottle. She latches on instantly, and Minnie and George are aww-ing and ooh-ing over the way the baby goat’s little tail swishes back and forth so fast in ecstatic happiness as she drinks her milk. 

“You’re a hungry little thing, aren’t you?” Minnie murmurs and the little tail swishes faster as she pushes at the bottle to suck the milk down faster. “What’s her name, uncle Jamie?”

“I haven’t named her yet,” Jamie says. “What do you lot think we should call her?”

“Blue,” George suggests instantly, without looking away from the baby goat on my lap. 

“Ooh, I like it,” Minnie adds. “Like her eyes.”

“Blue it is, then,” Jamie grins. “Now, even though the dam is still not producing milk, we still need to train her to at least try to nurse, so she’ll do it right away when the dam is finally producing milk. Let’s see if we can get her to try to eat from the dam.”

He plucks the baby from my arms, and a series of yearning bleats come from the kid as he carries her to her mother. He places her near the dam’s udders and gives the baby a gentle push.

Much to our surprise, Blue spins away from Jamie and her mother and runs back to me. Although in all fairness, I am holding the bottle she was just drinking from. Jamie attempts three more times to get the baby to try to nurse from her mother, but she’s having none of it. 

Finally, he takes the bottle from me and walks across to the opposite wall. He sits down, holds the bottle out, and calls to the doeling. “Come here, baby. Come eat.”

Blue’s tail gives a few nervous twitches, but she doesn’t move towards Jamie. In fact, she takes a few hesitant steps backwards until she bumps into my legs. I’m amazed as I watch her stare hungrily at the bottle, bleating hungrily, but refusing to go to Jamie.

“Daddy, she thinks you’re her mummy,” says George and both my children burst in laughter.

“What?” I say in astonishment.

“I don’t think that doeling is going to feed from anyone but you,” Jamie adds with a chuckle as he stands up. He walks over and hands me the bottle. Blue jumps directly into my lap.

On autopilot, I offer the goat the nipple but look up to Jamie in panic. “What should we do?”

“Dunno, I’ll just try and do it when she’s hungry again in a few hours,” he shrugs. “But if she still doesn’t wanna eat, I’ll bring her to you.”

Any last vestiges of humour, happiness and downright giddiness over the cuteness of a baby goat fades as I realise I might or might not have just added another task to my list. Heavens help me.

***

“Let’s have a daddy and daughter date tomorrow.”

It’s a solid suggestion, and I really hope she’d say yes. Her little brother has his classmate’s birthday party to go to, so I know it’d be perfect for a little one-on-one time. 

We’re on our way back home after spending a whole day together. It was great, and even though I didn’t have happy-go-lucky Minnie, George had a great time, and it was enough for me. And at least she didn’t ask to go home early, so I’d call that a win.

“No, thanks,” she replies. There’s still not a hint of sulkiness in her tone, but it doesn’t sound technically warm either. 

I glance over through the rear-view mirror as she stares out the window with her arms folded. Her brother is sleeping next to her, and I figured this might be a good time to talk since she’s trapped in the car with me.

Everyone always says that Minnie is a mini-me, while George is a carbon-copy of his mum. Minnie has my nose, eyebrows, chin, even my smile; which is slightly lopsided and has a dimple on one side. I know I’m biased, but she truly is the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever seen.

Where Minnie shines, though, is her personality, which is a combination of her mum and me. She has her mum’s sunny disposition—aside from the days where she’s got a bag on—and always sees the good in everyone. She’s our little ray of sunshine, tender and caring and always trying to make others feel good.

From me, she gets her stubbornness, which even though I know is a good trait to have when she’s older, it made things so much harder when she was a toddler. She also has my terrible sense of humour, but the thing I’m most proud of is her work ethic. I can’t take full credit for that though, because her mother is a hard worker as well.

Ever since she started distancing herself from me, I know which subjects are safe, and which are not. School always falls in the safe category, because she enjoys it and excels. So I figure now that’s where I should start. “How’s school going?”

“Alright,” she replies, still looking out the window. 

Now, this really doesn’t sound at all like my daughter.

“Come on, Min,” I say desperately. “Tell daddy what’s been eating you. I can’t help if I don’t know what it is.”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” she says absently.

“Do you want to go and get some ice cream with me tomorrow?” That was our thing at least once every two weeks and she loved it.

“No, thank you.”

“Ice skating?”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh I know,” I say excitedly. “I’ve got a show in London in a couple of weeks, Jingle Ball. Do you want to come with me?”

Minnie has always been my biggest fan, clapping the hardest and yelling the loudest for her daddy. So it really takes me by surprise when she mutters, “shows, shows, shows… that’s all you care about, dad.”

I twist to peer out my window so she doesn’t see the wince that comes unbidden to my face if she looks through the mirror. That was a direct slam against me. 

That really does hurt, and I rub at the throb of pain behind my breastbone.

“That’s not true,” I reply faintly. 

“Did you care about my last ballet recital?”

Early this year, Minnie had a ballet recital. She was so excited about it because I had just finished my tour in December last year, and I’d already told my management that I would like a couple of months off. There was no reason for me not to attend, so I promised her I’d be there.

Except at the last moment, I realised I had forgot to switch an important meeting I had with the team from the new Manchester Arena. Since I invested in it, we had a meeting every few months because I said right from the beginning that I would take more than just a capital interest. I wanted to be involved in the development, because that was a huge project and I was really proud of it. 

YN was in charge of our schedule and when she reminded me about the recital, which conflicted directly with my meeting, we ended up getting in the worst row we’ve ever had throughout our marriage.

“You’re going to let our daughter down in a way she won’t forgive,” she stated.

I refused to believe that, brushing off her comment with “I’ll take her out for something special later.” But my wife turned and stalked away from me. 

That day, the meeting went great and the construction was almost done a few weeks earlier than intended, so there was an option if we wanted to open sooner. YN sent me a text with a video of Minnie’s performance, and it was beautiful. I was such a proud dad that I showed the video to everyone in that room. 

When I got home, my wife and children cuddled on the sofa, watching a film. George was snoozing with his head on his mum’s lap on the far end, so I plopped myself down beside Minnie. I tugged on her hair playfully, and asked if she wanted to go out to a special daddy-daughter dinner to celebrate her recital.

“No, thank you,” she replied quietly, not taking her eyes off the telly. 

“Come on, poppet,” I coaxed, trying to tickle her in the ribs a little. She only squirmed closer to her mum, not laughing from the tickle but grimacing like she didn’t want to be touched.

YN stared over Minnie with sorrow in her eyes. She gave a tiny shake of her head, but I wasn’t ready to give up. 

“The Ivy?” I tried to tempt her because my kid loves chips, and she’s obsessed with their truffle and parmesan chips.

“No, thank you,” she muttered again, her head resting on her mum’s shoulder and her arm crossed over her middle. YN cuddled her with an arm around her shoulder. It had been clear that they were a unit, and I hadn’t been included.

“Minnie decided she wants to stop ballet lessons, so that was her last recital.”

“Oh,” I’d replied dumbly.

I couldn’t think of another damn thing to say because to do so would be disingenuous. There’s no doubt I killed my daughter’s potential love of ballet by not coming to her recital. I knew that because of YN’s expression of disappointment and Minnie’s dull dismissal. 

Later that night, I walked by Minnie’s room and glanced in as the door was slightly open. I had bought her a bouquet of flowers that I gave her before I left for my meeting, and I saw that they’d been stuffed into the bin beside her desk.

I blink out of that memory, feeling the heavy weight of guilt. “Of course I did, my love. If I knew-”

“But not enough to come,” she replies dully. “And what about my debate competition? George’s piano recital? You showed up to none of them.”

I sigh heavily. “Minnie, a lot of parents have demanding jobs where they’re required to work or travel more than others. Sometimes A&E doctors have to work on Christmas and cannot see their children open the presents. Sometimes, a firefighter has to leave their house at night and can’t tuck their kids in bed.”

“I understand that,” she whirls and looks at me through the rear-view mirror. “Except you’re not saving lives or fighting fires, are you? You just get up on a stage and sing.”

“I’m a terrible dad, aren’t I?” I concede. “I know I’ve done things wrong in the past, but I’m trying to make it up to you, poppet. But I can’t do it if you won’t let me.”

She doesn’t say anything and it’s killing me. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know,” she rushes to assure me and I feel a little lighter. My daughter may act like a tween and have some bitter feelings towards me, but she loves me. 

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” I continue. “Tell me how to make it up to you and I’ll do it. I want things to be good between us again.”

Her eyes flare with shock, and then they dart away as if she’s considering something. I wait expectantly. Maybe she’s going to finally open up and pour out her feelings for me. I’m ready for it.

I’m ready to listen, and validate, and reassure her that she, along with her mum and brother, are the loves of my life. 

Her gaze comes back to me, her expression serious, and I brace.

“Can we get a puppy?”

What? 

There’s no stopping the unlocking of my jaw and the dropping of my mouth because this was the last thing I expected her to say. 

I’m so caught off guard that I can’t even think to immediately tell her ‘no’, which gives her time to launch into all the reasons why we should have a dog.

“Minnie, puppies are a lot of work. You’ve got to potty train them, teach them manners, and they get up for hours at night.” 

“I promise I’ll do all that,” she exclaims.

“Like how you were supposed to take care of Fishy?” I can’t help but remind her. Fishy was her goldfish that we had to throw a funeral for a few years ago because she forgot to feed him. That poor sod died of hunger.

Minnie rolls her eyes. “I was six.”

She’s got a point.

Still, it’s obvious part of her request is manipulation because she threw it at me when I opened myself up to vulnerability. She knows I’m trying, and she’s throwing me a clear bone.

Get her a puppy, and all will be forgiven.

“Tell you what,” I look over my shoulder after I parked the car since we’ve reached home. “I promise to think about it, and I’ll talk to mummy.” 

“Really?” She bounces in her seat in excitement.

“We’ll talk about it,” I reiterate in a calm, even voice. But there’s no stopping her excitement. The fact that I’m willing to consider is a huge victory for her because she knows that when I make my mind up about something, I never change it. 

I open the door for her, and she is quick to unbuckle herself and throws herself at me. 

I’m so surprised at the spontaneous act of affection that I almost don’t hug her back. It’s been so long since she’s shown this to me, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

I squeeze her tight, and I can only hope that my darling girl will always love her daddy the way she does right now. 

George doesn’t even stir as I pick him up, and I tuck him in his bed straight away since I don’t want to wake him up. He must be tired, and good thing I’ve fed them both dinner.

Minnie even gives me another hug before she gets ready for bed, and that results in me having a permanent smile on my face even as I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen to see my wife. 

“She’s chirpy,” YN comments when she sees me walking into the kitchen. “What did you do?”

“Got her to talk to me,” I smirk. 

She looks surprised, and well, I can’t blame her. “Did she?”

“She did,” I nod. “Pointed out all my flaws, and when I asked her how I could make it up to her, she asked for a puppy.”

“What?”

“Exactly my reaction,” I chuckle. 

“Boy, if she’s this good at emotional blackmailing at nine, we’d probably be in deep shit in a couple of years,” she jokes and I can’t help but laugh. 

I’ve missed this.

“Will you go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. 

“I can’t.”

“What? Got a hot date already?” I ask teasingly, but her silence tells me what I don’t want to know. “Oh, you’re going out with him.”

“Mr Wife- I mean Luke asked me out first and I already said yes.”

I shouldn’t be laughing because the fact that my wife going on a date with another man is not funny at all, but it’s hard to hide my smirk when she almost calls him by the nickname I’ve given him, Mr Wife-stealer. 

“Well, fair enough. He asked you first,” I say nonchalantly. “What does he do?”

“He’s an A&E doctor at the Northern General,” she says, her tone lightens a little.

“Smart then isn’t he,” I mutter. 

“Yes. He’s smart, attentive, caring and generous with his time.” 

I keep my expression and tone bland, but she landed a direct blow there and it fucking hurts. “All the things I’m not,” I state, voicing the conclusion she was aiming at.

“Well,” she drawls with a tiny bit of sympathy. “I do think you’re smart.”

I give her a side eye-roll before I decide to be downright nosy and ask, “you can’t have been on many dates then?”

“True,” she chirps, a gleam in her eye as she sticks the knife in. “He is busy and his schedules are unpredictable. But when he’s gone, he makes sure I know I’m always on his mind. He sends me flowers for absolutely no reason other than because he wants to, calls me every day and we text all the time.”

Well, sodding fucking bollocking shit wank. I didn’t think YN would fall for that crap. And I realise… I never thought to do that stuff for her. I was the self-absorbed type of person who figured that my wife knew I thought about her all the time when I was away. I mean we were married, so I just assumed she knew.

I’m a shit head. 

“What else does he do for you?” I ask and she blinks in surprise.

“Why?” She asks suspiciously.

“I told you I want our marriage to work.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, trying to read my tone and see whether I’m being genuine or it’s just bollocks. Finally, she replies primly, “I’m not giving away his secrets.”

What the fuck does that mean? Have they shagged? I would bet a million pounds they had not though, because I know YN and she wouldn’t enter into that deep of a relationship lightly.

Without even thinking twice, I make a sudden step into her. My arm goes around her waist and I pull her body into me. Not a single inch of space between us. Her mouth opens in a gasp of surprise, and I use the opportunity to kiss her.

I kiss the fuck out of my wife.

Her hands slap against my upper arms, and her fingers dig into my sleeves. Even as she’s pushing me away, her mouth opens, and her tongue touches mine briefly. 

When I pull back, I ask, “did he kiss you like this?”

She shakes her head, breathlessly admitting, “we haven’t-”

My jaw drops. “Are you joking?”

“I’m not,” she murmurs.

“How long exactly have you been seeing him?” 

“About four weeks.”

“Honey, he’s rooting for the other team,” I tell her and she slaps my arm. 

“Sod off, he’s not,” she counters.

“Four weeks with the hottest, most gorgeous, shaggable woman and he hasn’t tried to kiss you? I mean not that I’m not grateful because, fuck, I am. But wow.”

“Of course he did try,” she rolls her eyes. “But I’m not ready for that, and he’s okay with us taking it slow.” 

For a second I don’t say anything in response. Instead, I loosen my hold, bringing my hand to her lower back, and cupping her intimately from behind. Moaning, she leans into me. “I’m guessing he hasn’t touched you like this then.”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she lets her eyelids flutter closed as her teeth bite into her lower lip.

Fuck. I could drag her to the floor right now, and we could go at it.

But then she comes to her senses, blinking rapidly, and I release her immediately when she gives me a tiny shove backwards. 

“You’re not playing fair,” she accuses. 

Damn right I’m not. I grab her upper arms, pull her back into me for one last kiss before I let her go just as quickly. “I’m playing to win.”

She takes a step back, brushes a wisp of hair from her temple, and puts on a cool expression. “That’s not going to make me take you back.”

I smirk.

She waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re great with your hands and your mouth, but a lot of men know how to please a woman.”

She’s got a bonus point for trying to make me jealous, but I’m not falling for it. Instead, I give her a devilish smile and dip my head towards her. 

“That’s true, but no one will ever please you the way I can.”

I’m enjoying our banter, and I expect her to come up with a snappy retort that might make me kiss her again.

Instead, her expression is sad when she says, “I wish I could be happy with that.”

My heart squeezes, and I lift a hand to palm the side of her neck. I wait until she meets my gaze. “We’re more than just sex, darling. I know you need and deserve more. I’m ready to prove that to you.”

I lean in, pressing my lips to her forehead. 

She doesn’t respond as I pivot and head through the living room, letting myself out the door. 

All in all, I think that went very well.

***

I’m back at my wife’s cottage, waiting for my kids as they get ready upstairs. Minnie has finally agreed to go on a daddy-daughter date and George is going to an overnight sleepover birthday party, and I’ll drop him off at his classmate’s house before I take his sister out to dinner. I’ll make sure to make it up to him by taking him on a special one on one date too next week. 

There’s a light rap on the door, and my head swings that way. I have no doubt that it’s Mr Wife-stealer who’s going to take my wife out on a date.

I glance towards the master suite, but the door is closed. YN is probably putting on the finishing touches of her makeup. And the kids are still upstairs.

Nothing left to do but let him in.

Forcing a smile, I open the front door. He blinks in surprise to see me standing there, and I know I’ve got two options here; I could either easily dispel the awkwardness by being cool, welcoming and explaining our schedules happened to overlap.

Or… I could use whatever amount of alone time I have with him to instill some doubt inside his head.

That would be a dirty play, but as I have told my wife, I play to win.

Broadening my smile, I stick my hand out. “You must be Luke. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Harry.”

He seems momentarily frozen, but then basic manners take over. When he shakes my hand, it’s a bit limp, perhaps denoting a lack of confidence. After I release him, I bid him entrance with a sweep of my hand. “YN is in the bedroom. She’s still getting ready.”

Luke frowns over the fact that I know YN is in the bedroom. Probably over me even being here to talk to him. But I don’t dispel any innuendo he might glean from that.

I loop an arm around his shoulders, clamp down, and start guiding him to the kitchen. “Come on in and sit for a bit while she’s finishing up. Want a beer?”

Luke moves to one of the island stools, looking completely frazzled. “Uh… no, thank you.”

I shrug, moving to the fridge and opening it. Grabbing a bottle, I say with a sly grin as I close it. “So glad YN still stocks my favourite beer.”

I am so going to hell.

But that’s the truth. It’s my wife’s favourite beer, too, but I don't tell him that. Instead, I let the implication that I come over and have beers often. Luke’s frown deepens.

“YN tells me you work at the Northern General?” I take a sip of my beer, then lean my forearms on the island directly across from him so we’re eye level.

“Yeah… uh, that’s right.” Poor Luke. He seems incapable of carrying on a polite conversation with the husband of the woman he’s dating. 

But I’m going to give him a pass. Setting my beer down, I straighten. “Let me go tell YN you’re here.”

“Um… you don’t have-” he starts to say, but I move past him without a backward glance. Through the living room, down the small hall, and a hard left takes me to the master suite. The door’s closed. I don’t bother knocking because I know YN is dressed.

I find her in the ensuite, her makeup drawer open and she’s huddled over it, touching something inside. 

“Your date’s here,” I announce.

She lets out a yip of fright, shoving whatever it was in her hand to the back and slamming the drawer closed. 

“Damn it, Harry,” she snaps, her palm pressed against her heart. “You scared the hell out of me. And what are you doing in my room?”

“Just running an errand for you. Wanted to let you know your date is here,” I say casually and I give her a mischievous grin. “Don’t worry, I welcomed him in, offered him a drink, and made small talk.”

She rolls her eyes, rising from her vanity chair and moves past me without another word. I start to follow, but then I hesitate and turn back to the drawer of her vanity. Quietly, I pull it open as far as it will go, spotting a picture of YN and me stuffed in the back.

I recognise it. It’s from a trip we took to Anguilla a few years back, just the two of us, and fuck if we didn’t look happy and deeply in love.

Was that what she was looking at when I walked in?

That could be good or bad, but either way, no way to know the answer. I shut the drawer, then catch up to her as she’s moving through the living room. Luke sees her, sliding off the stool. When she holds out her hands, he takes them and leans in to kiss her on the cheek.

Lame.

I sit on the armrest of the sofa, watching. Luke glances over YN’s shoulder at me as he pulls back, smiling victoriously. 

I just smirk back. Because he’d probably lose it if he knew the type of kiss I gave my wife just last night. But I’ll keep that information to myself, though.

YN grabs her handbag off the accent table near the staircase before addressing me. “Make sure Minnie locks up when you leave, and remind George I’ll pick him up at ten tomorrow morning.” 

I give her a jaunty salute. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

In return, I get another eye roll. 

Luke puts his hand on my wife’s back, shooting me a look that says, ‘she’s mine tonight’, and I want to punch his teeth down the back of his throat. I just smile blandly, because, in just a few minutes of talking to him and watching how they interact, I can tell he’s getting nothing more than a friendly kiss when he brings her home.

YN might want to keep pushing at that relationship, but I am willing to bet that it’s not going to go anywhere. I know this, because I’m sure that my wife is still in love with me. 

-

Read part II here!

[babymetaldoll]

Family probation period (Matthew Gray Gubler/ Reader)

Requested: Yes 

Summary: Matthew Gray Gubler meets his girlfriend’s family on Christmas eve. Just one detail: none of them knew she was dating. 

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of abusive relationships 

Category: Fluff

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler/ Reader 

Wordcount: 3,5K

A/N: A late Christmas story, but I think we are still in the holiday season... right? also: requests are officially open

Masterlist 

- 

- "Are you sure about this?"- (Y/N) looked at Matthew and he nodded with a huge grin on his face. They were parked outside her parent’s house. They had driven from Los Angeles to San Francisco to spend Christmas Eve with them. 

- "Why not? I bet they are gonna love me"- he answered with his “Matthew Gray Gubler’s certified to make you drop your panties smile.”

- "I don’t know, I’m nervous"

- "Well missy, it was your idea to drop by your parents and surprise them with the news of your adorable boyfriend, so?"- (Y/N) smiled and nodded. 

- "And you thought it was a great idea, by the way, that's why you are here"

- "Yeah"- Gubler sighed and looked outside- "Why do you still trust my good judgment?" 

- "Well…"- (Y/N) looked at me and bit her lips- "You are very convincing"- he smiled and kissed her lips softly.

- "It's gonna be ok, they love you, I love you, which means we are gonna get along"- she nodded and smiled. 

- "Alright, I'll pretend that makes sense"- Gubler chuckled and kissed her again

- "Let's do this, Bunny".

-

Matthew and (Y/N) had been dating for over ten months. At first, they decided to take things slow, get to know each other better, try to make things work with their crazy schedules. But soon, they realized they had fallen in love, and “taking things slow” was not their thing. 

(Y/N) had decided to wait for the right moment to tell her parents she had found someone. Her last relationship had been a nightmare, and she knew her family (especially her brother) was going to be apprehensive about her new boyfriend. However, she was eager to tell them how happy she was with Matthew and how great he was with her. 

He was, hands down, the best boyfriend she had ever had. He was sweet and thoughtful. Sure, he wasn’t perfect. He would forget many things 'cos his head was in hundredth places at once (she was almost sure he had ADHD). And sometimes it felt she had a boyfriend and a son all wrapped in the same 6 ft adorable manchild she was dating. But still, he was the best boyfriend.

She was hoping her parents and family would see he made her happy.   

-

- “Ok, here we go”- Matthew rang the bell and turned to (Y/N), excited. She laughed and opened the door.

- “I still got my key.”

- “Right.”

- “Hello? Mom? Dad?”- she took a step inside and looked around. Her father stood up from the couch quickly and nearly ran to the door.

- “Peanut! You are home!”

Matthew smiled and held their bags staring at the scene. In all the time they had been together, he had heard a lot about (Y/N)’s parents. She loved them deeply, and he knew she wanted to share their relationship with them.

Her last boyfriend was an abuser, he hit her, and she kept it from everybody for months before breaking up. That’s why he could understand why her family would be apprehensive. And he was ready to show them how much he loved her.

- “My baby is home!”- (Y/N)’s mom appeared from the kitchen and hugged her daughter, who was still wrapped in her father’s embrace. 

- “Guys! I can’t breathe!”- she pretended to be suffocating and giggled. 

- “Too bad! You are never home! So bear with it!”- her father chuckled and kissed the top of her head 

- “By the way, (Y/N), who’s the man standing by the door?”- her mother asked and frowned, looking at Gubler. He smiled and waved, making his best to look as nice as possible. 

- “Guys, I want you to meet Matthew Gray Gubler… my boyfriend.”

And the silence in the room was as thick and uncomfortable as possible.

- “Hello”- Gubler smiled and shook their hands- “It’s a pleasure to meet you, (Y/N) talks so much about you”- but neither of them knew what to say. 

- “Guys, it’s ok, he is a good guy”- (Y/N) wrapped an arm around Matthew, and he immediately kissed the top of her head. 

- “Did I hear my sister has a new boyfriend?”- footsteps coming down the stairs surprised the couple, and (Y/N) wide opened her eyes immediately.

- “Adam!! You are home!!”- she hugged her brother so tight, he couldn’t help but laugh.

- “I’ve got the feeling you missed me.”

- “So fucking much!! When did you get home?”

- “Last night, mom said you’d be coming for Christmas, so I thought I could surprise you.”

- “And where are my nephews? I wanna spoil my babies!”

- “With Emma getting the last few things mom needed from the grocery’s, but they should be here any minute. I missed you, kitty.”

Adam kissed her forehead and looked at her sweetly. It was clear he loved and cared about his little sister. But as soon as his eyes reached Matthew, his whole face changed. 

- “And who is this?”  

- “This is my boyfriend, Matthew”- (Y/N) walked back to Gubler and held his hand- “He is awesome, so be nice, ok?”

- “Nice to meet you, Adam. (Y/N) talks so much about you. I was looking forward to meeting you”- Matthew shook his hand and smiled. 

- “Funny, she never mentioned you.”

- “Yeah,”- (Y/N) explained- “I wanted to give you guys a surprise, and I knew if I told you over the phone, you were going to stress out, so I thought it would be better if you just met him”

Her family nodded but didn’t look pretty convinced. 

- “I know you are all real apprehensive about (Y/N) having a new boyfriend, but I promise you, I’m nothing like her ex, and I wanna show you how much I care for her if you let me.”

Gubler was sincere and upfront. (Y/N)’s parents nodded, but her brother just crossed his arms and frowned.  

- “Adam, be nice”- she warned and grabbed her bag- “Let’s leave these in my room, Gub.”

- “You are not sharing rooms with a boy!”- her brother instantly replied, but she ignored him and walked upstairs. Matthew took the bags from her hands and followed her.

-

- “Sorry”- (Y/N) whispered and closed her eyes, embarrassed. Gubler left the bags on the floor of her room and walked towards her to hold her hands. 

- “Hey, it’s ok, they are just shocked,”- he whispered and smiled at her, trying his best to make her feel better. 

- “I would be shocked too if our daughter walks into our house and tells us she has been dating nearly a year with some guy I’ve never heard about.”

(Y/N) chuckled and sighed. The words “Our daughter” had been enough to make her forget everything that troubled her. The idea of a future with him was too sweet to worry about anything else. 

- “Now, back to what really matters here”- Gubler took a look around and pointed at the walls- “Did you have some kind of obsession with My Chemical Romance growing up, or is it just me?”

- “Eh… nope”- she simply answered and laughed. There were many posters of the band on every wall in that room. 

- “I don’t know, I’m getting the vibe you had a thing on that guy… he kinda looks like a vampire.”

- “Gerard? he was…”- (Y/N) made a pause and looked at the walls- “I had a little crush on him”

- “Little?”- Gubler raised an eyebrow

- “Yeah, just a little, nothing to worry about… I just wanted to marry him, that’s all.”- he chuckled and leaned in to kiss her.  

- “I guess you never know someone until you walk into their teenage room.”

Matthew was nervous, but he was never going to face it. He wanted to make a good impression, and he wanted (Y/N)’s parents to like him. He was in that relationship for the long run, and it was important for him to have her parent’s approval. And clearly, now her brother’s too.

-

- “So, Matthew, what do you do?”- Adam asked him as everybody gathered in the kitchen, drinking eggnog and setting the last few things for the Christmas dinner. 

- “I majored in film directing in New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts"- (Y/N) bit her lips and smiled. She was torn between feeling embarrassed and enjoying the moment.  

- “Film directing”- Adam looked at him and raised an eyebrow. 

- “Yeah, I always loved making movies and telling stories”- Gubler sipped his cup of coffee and smiled. 

- “But, do you have a regular job?”- Adam asked and raised an eyebrow- “Making movies doesn’t sound like a real job to me.”

- “Adam!”- (Y/N) looked at her brother with daggers in her eyes

- “What? I’m getting to know your boyfriend, isn’t that what you wanted?”

- “Yes, but you don’t have to be a dickhead”- the young woman walked a few steps closer to her brother and raised an eyebrow- I haven’t seen you in six months. Can you just be nice?”

Adam meant no harm, but he was worried. He had been the one his sister called after her ex-boyfriend hit her. He had been the one who took her out from that apartment, picked up her things, and took care of her. Of course, he was scared she might get hurt again. 

-

- “And where are you from?”- (Y/N)’s mom asked him as they all walked to the living room and sat down. 

- “Las Vegas,”- Matthew answered and smiled- “My family still lives there, and we visit as often as we can.”

- “So, you’ve met his family”- Mrs. (Y/L/N) looked at her daughter and raised an eyebrow, surprised. 

- “Yeah, they are the best! We spent Halloween with them this year. We took Matthew’s nephews trick and treating. It was really fun!”

Mrs. (Y/L/N) nodded and stared at the scene. Gubler was sitting next to her daughter, holding her hand and looking at her in honest and deep adoration. It was strange and shocking, but at the same time, she could feel he was a nice guy who loved her very much. And that was all she needed to know. 

Meanwhile, Mr. (Y/L/N) started asking Gubler questions about his family, school, and what he did for a living. 

- “Right now, I have an acting job.” 

- “Really?”- (Y/N)’s brother raised an eyebrow, surprised- “TV?”

- “Yeah.”

Adam was about to keep asking about it when his wife, Emma, walked in with their five-year-old twins.   

- “Aunt (Y/N)!!

- “Munchkins!”- the young woman opened her arms and hugged them at the same time as the kids held her legs tight, almost making her fall.

- “You are so big! why aren’t you two babies anymore?”

- “(Y/N)! hey”- Emma walked over and looked at her, but suddenly she just gasped. 

- “What?”- Adam asked, confused- “What is it?”

- “Oh shit!”- she nearly dropped the bag and wide opened her eyes, suddenly- “Why is Spencer Reid in our living room?”

Matthew looked at (Y/N), and neither of them knew what to do or say. So he just stood up and walked over to shake her hand. 

- “Hi, I’m Matthew, (Y/N)’s boyfriend.”

- “No freaking way!”- Emma whispered and held his hand, repeating a little slowlier- “No freaking way”. 

Adam looked at his wife and didn’t understand a word she was saying. His parents didn’t get what was going on, and (Y/N) just bit her lips, trying not to laugh. She never thought that could happen. 

- “I’m gonna put an eye on dinner…”- Mrs. (Y/L/N) said and stood up- “(Y/N), can you give me a hand?”

- “Sure mom”- she said and smiled at Gubler. He winked and watched her walking to the kitchen with her mom. Things were a little weirder than he thought. 

- “Ok, what was that?”

- “What was what, mom?

- “Emma nearly died when she saw Matthew. Why?”

- “‘Cos he is in a tv show and she recognized him, I think”- Mrs. (Y/L/N) looked at her and sighed.

- “Is he good with you?”

- “The best”

- “‘Cos he looks like he is a nice guy”

- “I swear, mom, he is the sweetest. He wanted to come and meet you to show you he is nothing like Bret”- (Y/N) held a bowl with roasted potatoes and smiled at her mother- “I love him”

- “You can tell… and he loves you too, especially if he is willing to put up with your brother”

- “Can you tell Adam to stop being an ass?”

- “I can tell him, but that won’t stop him”.

-

When (Y/N) walked to the dining room, she looked at her boyfriend, who was now sitting on the floor, doing magic tricks for her nephews. She felt her heart was about to burst, staring at the scene. The twins were laughing, and Gubler kept making pennies disappear in front of them. 

She couldn’t stop hearing his voice saying “our daughter” over and over again. It was a dream, and it was too soon to even think about it, but it felt so right. It made so much sense.

- “I like him”- her father’s voice took her from her thoughts and forced her to turn around

- “Really?”

- “Yeah… he’s good with kids, and it’s clear he loves you, that’s all I need to know”- he kissed the top of his daughter’s head and sighed. 

- “Your brother hates him though”

- “I kind of figured”

- “The fact Emma is drooling over him is not making things better”- (Y/N) looked at her father and just laughed.

- “Are you kidding me?”

- “No, he took her upstairs to cool her off”

- “Shit… well, it could be worst” 

- “How?”- she looked at her father in silence

- “Well… Adam hasn’t tried to kick him out”

- “Yet”- Mr. (Y/L/N) chuckled at his own joke and shook his head- “Don’t worry peanuts, Matt is safe”. 

- “Actually, can you not call him Matt, please? bad memories.”

- “Sure, Matthew it is?”- she nodded and smiled. 

- “Thanks dad”

-

- “Dinner is ready”- Mrs. (Y/L/N) announced after half an hour. She walked to the living room where Adam, Matthew, and her husband were talking. 

Gubler was having a good time talking with Mr. (Y/L/N). He was fun and kept telling her funny stories about (Y/N). Adam was still a dick, but at least his father wasn’t paying him much attention, so neither did Gubler. 

- “This smells amazing”- Gubler said as he sat down next to (Y/N)- “I’m guessing this is Mrs. (Y/L/N) ’s signature turkey recipe. (Y/N) talked about it the whole way over.” 

- “She has the recipe, by the way, if you like it, she can cook it for you”- Mrs. (Y/L/N) smiled proudly.  

- “Yeah, just make sure she won’t burn down the house”- Adam joked and felt his sister’s angry eyes on him- “What? I’m making an aimless conversation. Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

- “Shut up”

- “She is a great baker”- Matthew continued talking- “She is actually making me gain weight in the latest months”

- “Sure, like you could get fat”- (Y/N) snorted and looked at her boyfriend

- “Hey, you are making me eat cinnamon rolls, cake, and cookies like three times a week”- Gubler chuckled and looked at her- “My pants almost don’t close”

- “So, Matthew”- Emma said suddenly- “How did you two meet?”

- “He actually said I smelled like cinnamon rolls the first time he met me”- (Y/N) smiled and looked at her sister in law.

- “We met at a party, her friend Ana is dating my friend Charlie. And when I saw her, I knew I had to talk to her ‘cos she has the most gorgeous smile I’ve ever seen”- Emma was nearly sighing at those words.

- “And did you recognize him?”- Adam was embarrassed by his wife’s questions, but he couldn’t stop her. 

- “No, I had never seen the show…”

- “And do you know the rest of the cast now? Do you hang out?”- Adam looked at Emma and frowned- “What? I’m just asking”

(Y/N) blushed and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and felt her boyfriend’s hand on hers, knowing what she was about to say. 

- “So, we are here today because I wanted you to know Matthew. He is the best guy on earth, and he makes me happy every day”- she made a pause and looked at him. 

- “You make me happy too, Bunny”- he whispered and smiled. 

- “Ok, so you are in love, is that what you wanted to tell us?”- Adam said with an annoyed voice.

- “No, we wanted to tell you we are moving in together.”

(Y/N) bit her lips after delivering the news. Her parents looked at each other but didn’t seem mad, just surprised. Adam, on the other hand, frowned immediately. 

- “Before you start freaking out and yell at me,”- Matthew said with a soft voice- “I need you to know and understand how much I love your sister, and I would never hurt her in any way. Never.”

Her family looked at him in silence. Her father nodded and smiled. 

- “It’s clear you are a good guy, Matthew,”- he said, and (Y/N) sighed, feeling relieved to hear those words- “And I know you understand we will always be a little scared something bad might happen to our baby again.”

- “I completely understand. I just want you to know I will never hurt her. I love her, I wanna live with her. I’m here for the long run, and I wish you could all give me a chance”. 

(Y/N) felt like crying when she heard those words. Matthew was telling her family how much he loved her. He was showing them he wanted to be with her. Nothing could be better than that. 

- “And have you thought about where you’ll live?”- her mother asked, smiling.

- “I recently bought a house,”- Matthew explained- “We are planning to move in after the holidays. Meanwhile, we’ve been busy getting a few things we needed”- he looked so happy, no one could doubt he was excited with the plans. 

- “Listen��- no one but Adam, apparently- “If anything happens to my sister, I’m gonna hunt you, I will find you, and I will make you pay.” 

- “Adam…”- she tried to argue, but Gubler smiled at her and nodded

- “I know there is nothing I can say that will make you believe me, so I will just ask you to give me the chance to show you how much I love her.”- but Adam didn’t say a word. 

- “I know what happened to her was awful, and I know you don’t want anyone hurting her, but that’s not what I wanna do. I just wanna make her happy. If she wants me to.”

Adam looked at his sister, who had tears in her eyes. He couldn’t bear to see her cry, though those weren’t sad tears. She looked at Matthew, and he smiled at her, wiping the tears from her cheeks and kissing her lips sweetly for a second. He whispered, “I love you,” and she giggled. 

- “Oh come on!”- Mr. (Y/L/N)- “Even I can see he loves your sister! stop being a dick and be happy for them!”- Adam sighed at his father’s words and stood up.  

- “If you fuck it up, you are dead”- he said and reached out his hand to Gubler- “But I trust you won’t”- and Matthew quickly stood up and shook it. 

- “I know you just want to take care of her, and I completely understand that”

- “You are in family probation period.” 

(Y/N) smiled at her brother, and he winked at her. Finally, she sighed, relieved. 

- “I can’t believe you are gonna move in with Dr. Reid!!”- Emma almost shrieked

- “Please don’t”- Adam frowned and looked at his wife- “Don’t make this harder”

- “You are gonna have to watch the show with me, you are gonna love it. I swear you won’t be able to hate him once you know Reid”

(Y/N) looked at Matthew and whispered in his ear. 

- “Your family wasn’t embarrassing. Mine was. I’m sorry”- he nearly laughed at those words and shook his head. 

- “My friends are embarrassing if it counts”

- “Your friends are my friends, Gubler”

- “Fine, we have embarrassing friends, we are gonna have to live with it”

Gubler moved a little closer, and was ready to kiss her when Adam’s voice stopped him. 

- “Just don’t make out with my sister in front of me while you are on probation, dude!”

- “Sorry!”- Gubler nearly jumped on his chair, and (Y/N) chuckled- “Sorry!”. 

[jamiedc-they-them]

One way ticket (Platonic)

Requested Imagine: An argument with your parents sends you to your best friend, and on a journey of self discovery. 

The door to your house swung open, and a tired you walked in through it. You closed the door, your back resting against it as you closed your eyes. Today had been a hard day, lots of studying and deadlines.

However, part of the weariness now came from being at home. It was something you weren’t exactly thrilled by.

 “Evening, dear.” Your mother called from the kitchen, your step father barely paying you any attention.

 “Hi, mum.” You greeted in return. She gave you a smile. If it was your old dad, he would’ve said something.

 But, they just had to fall out, didn’t they.

 In your room, filled with posters of films and large posters of book covers and your favourite characters, you sunk into your bed, back hitting it first and you exhaled. For once, a moment of peace.

 Your phone vibrated, and your reached for it. You saw the caller ID, and smiled.

 “Dickhead.” She greeted in her usual manner. You could practically hear the smile on the other end.

 “Maeve.” You weren’t as creative with the nicknames, but she didn’t care.

 “Tough day?” She asked, there was some softer part to her tone there.

 You let out a breath, “In a way.” Was your cryptic answer.

 It wasn’t, however, cryptic to her, “Parents again?”

 “They haven’t done anything yet.”

 “That ‘yet’ is the concerning part, Y/N,” As she spoke, you heard the door to her home unlock. She was home too, “If they’re giving you any trouble, you call me, ok? Spend the night at mine. Nothing wrong with taking a break. Or just walking away” She assured you as you heard her keys hit the counter.

 You always were a bit envious of your best friend, how carefree she was. If only your father didn’t cheat, maybe the month long that turned into a forever long break wouldn’t have happened.

 “Yeah, he was a bit of a prick for doing that, wasn’t he?” Maeve’s voice was softer still when she spoke. Seemed you said some parts of that out loud.

 You paused, hearing call up to you from downstairs, “That’s dinner. I’ll call you later.”

 There was silence, she must’ve nodded and then remembered she was on the phone, “Yeah, sure thing.”

“So, son, how was school?” Internally, you cringed at the misgender, but didn’t correct your father. More importantly, neither did your mother. They had made their voices known on that want of yours, to go by something else, something they called a “none entity.”

 “Good, yeah, thanks.” You answered, going back to your food.

 “That it?” He asked, making you look up at him.

 “Is what it?” It wasn’t meant to be a challenge.

 He took it as one, though, staring you down as he spoke, “Was school just, ‘good’?”

 “Yeah, I mean nothing really happened, mum can attest to that.” You answered, trying to be careful with your word choice. Your father’s choice of words explaining his action was what caused the break.

 He looked to his wife, and she nodded, confirming it.

 “You been hanging around with your friends?” You nodded, “They still…preferring to go by the plurals?” Again, you nodded, “Youth of today, doomed, I swear.”

 “Because you don’t like a pronouns?” Ok, you shouldn’t have said that, and you immediately regretted it right after as there was a pause. It was sharp, and it was a direct pause.

 Your father stopped eating and looked to you, “Excuse me?”

 “I’m sorry, I –” You started to apologise. But you knew you had crossed a line.

 You were in your room the next moment, having ran up there yourself to escape your fathers growing wrath.

 You found your phone, dialling the number you needed instantly, “Maeve – I… I don’t –“

 “What’s happened? Are you safe?” Was the first thing your friend asked, concern leaking through the phone.

 “I don’t – I…I think Mum’s calming him down. But--”

 “You know the bridge?” You nodded, and Maeve seemed to know that you had nodded, “Meet me there.”

 “What?”

 “Meet me there.”

 “Can…can I stay the night?” You asked. You heard her door open and close, and her breathing became more laboured as she walked.

 “Of course you can.” She answered.

 “Ok, bridge, right?”

 “Bridge.”

“Ok, see you there.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You had nothing with you, just yourself. You didn’t even have a jacket. You were still in your school clothes, but the night was cold.

 Maeve was there, just as she said she would be. When you saw her, she was smoking, but eyes were scanning the water.

 She heard you approaching, and turned to you. Her eyes softened at your figure. You probably looked lonely, and you looked anxious. You were.

 She approached you when you stopped, bringing your timid figure into a hug. She didn’t say anything, she just held you.

 You appreciated it massively, how she didn’t say anything, just hugged you.

 It lasted a few seconds, but when she released you, you were teary eyed. You were scared, but you weren’t alone. You were scared still.

 She gave you a sympathetic smile, “Let’s go home.” She said, arm looping into yours and bringing you with her to her home. Yours was behind you, not too far away.

 Unlocking the door, she opened it up and ushered you in, closing the door behind the door and flicking on the light and taking off her jacket.

 “Do you want something to eat?” She seemed to just know without ever being told the circumstance you were in. It made you feel for your friend, wondering how she was able to just know what you had gone through.

 She grabbed a spare plate, filling it with the Chinese food she had picked up on the way home.

Together, you both sat on the couch, eating in silence. She didn’t seem to mind, but she did curl up, feet touching your own.

 “Thank you,” She looked to you at your words, “For this, I mean. Thank you.”

 She smiled, “Anytime. I know what it’s like to have shitty parents.” She said, despite the attempt of humour, you detected the sadness that was there.

 “Sorry.”

 She shook her head, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” She told you. You both went back to eating, but she did grab a blanket for you both.

 When you were done, you just started venting. You didn’t even mean to, it just all started to spill out. The whole time, she did not speak, she only let you talk and vent and rage about it all.

 There were tears, your own tears as you spoke. Maeve passed you a new tissue every so often as you spoke.

 “I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am. You can stay here as long as you –”

 “It’ll just be for tonight, I’ll go back tomorrow.” She looked like she wanted to say something, but nodded in granting and respecting your wish.

 “You can have the bed.” She said, and your eyes met her’s in an instant.

 “No, Maeve –”

 She held up a hand to stop you, “I’m not arguing about this, Y/N. I don’t mind you going back tomorrow, but if you’re staying, then you take the bed.”

 “…Why?”

 She rolled her eyes, “Because I know how to be comfy on that sofa. Besides, can’t have my best mate here and have them be uncomfortable, can I?”

 You resigned yourself to your fate, going to the bedroom, but not before you both shared another hug.

 As you went to bed, you saw a piece of paper on the floor. Picking it up, it was a form to be a guardian, but the name was blank as to who it was. So, you just left it.

 You woke up in your school clothes, you hadn’t exactly had time to change. But ‘school clothes’ you were wearing a smarter shirt than usual and some jeans.

 Maeve entered your room, toothbrush in her mouth, “Morning.” She said, even if it wasn’t as clear as it could’ve been, what with the toothbrush and all.

 “Morning.” You said in return, getting out of bed.

 She spat into the sink, before leaning against the doorway, “You can borrow some of my clothes. I’ll make sure they aren’t too embarrassing.” She said, lightly, before going to the drawer to find just that.

 “Might as well go out, right?” You joked, referencing to the opinion your parents had on your identity.

 She laughed, “If you’re up for it.”

 “Mum will say what she says, but I can’t let her define me, try and make her understand it.”

 Maeve just nodded, but there was some conflict there.

 Your mother worked at school, she was a science teacher – it was where her view on your identity came from.

 You had her today on the schedule, you liked science enough, but you knew this would be an…awkward session.

 Maeve had walked with you. She had called Aimee and told her she would be with you today, and the other woman understood, giving you her love. So, arm looped in yours, Maeve and you entered school.

 “First period, you ready?” She asked, putting her head on your shoulder for a moment as you continued going down the hallway to the lesson. You ignored the looks from people in the hallway. Otis had his mother to contend with, now so did you.

 “As I can be.” You answered honestly. As you got the doorway, she gave you a wink, before she went in first. After a few moments, so did you.

 It was to make your mother think anything other than the fact that you had gone to Maeve for help.

 As you went to your seat, you felt your mother’s eyes on you the whole way. When she went back to teaching, you saw that she had a slight darkness under her eyes. She had stayed up. A feeling stirred in your stomach. However, you went back to looking at the lesson.

 You did pay attention, just not all the time. Sometimes, you’d find yourself writing notes or just looking them up yourself in the textbook, just to avoid looking at your mothers gaze.

 However, as the bell rang, you were one of the last to leave. The other, was Maeve. She sat on the desk, legs swinging as she looked between yourself and your mum.

 She never hated your mum, or your dad. They had their flaws, but it was mainly their apathy to who you wanted to be that pissed her off.

 Still, she didn’t voice it, which was something that was unusual for her.

 Your mother looked up at you as you put a book on her desk. You looked nervous, eyes darting a little, but you managed to get the words out, even throwing a bit of humour in with your tone.

 “Parlay?” Behind you, once she approached, Maeve smiled a bit, before it turned a little bit – just a little – more threatening to your mother, a warning.

 As stated before, she didn’t hate your mum, just hated the discomfort it caused you.

 “He’s not angry, not now anyway. If anything, a little impressed.” Your mother said. The little amount of praise, despite it being so little, stirred something within you.

 Maeve saw how your shoulders relaxed a little. How you seemed to almost not expect it, but be deeply appreciative of it at the same time. She made a mental note, and her smile became more sympathetic.

 “Talk about it at dinner?” You asked, your mother nodded.

 “Talk about it at dinner,” She said, standing up and packing her own bag to leave for the teachers lounge, “And I can finally meet this girlfriend of yours.” You sighed, seemed you wouldn’t be able to fully escape their ideas yet.

 As she left, you turned to Maeve with your eyebrows up, but a tired expression on your face.

 “Dinner?” She asked, light smile on your face.

You laughed, putting your hands to your face before moving them around and interlocking them at the back of your head, you smiled at your friend, “Dinner.” You confirmed.

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 You had gone back to Maeve’s place without her. She had something to do with the clinic, which you understood and so she gave you her keys, telling you only to leave the door unlocked for her.

 So, it was just you, alone in the home. You actually looked around it now, seeing the little things, like how the cups were stacked neatly, how the plates had been washed. She took care of this place, she cared for it. It was a shithole, but she stayed and looked after it.

 If she stayed and managed to make this place work, maybe you had hope with your parents just yet.

 Your thoughts went back to them, your parents. Maybe you had been too hasty, maybe they’d just accept you back with open arms. Maybe, for once, they’d be sorry. You had stood up to your father, that was new.

 Maybe you’d still have a place to go.

 The door opened, and Maeve entered, she tossed her bag onto the sofa and took her jacket off, giving you a smile as she saw you getting a drink.

 “Sorry I took so long, Otis held me up.” She said, gently moving you aside and doing the same – getting a drink – for herself.

 “It’s alright, he’s a good guy but can…I don’t know.” You conceded, not really knowing how to explain your other friend – a mutual one of yours.

 “Much?” She filled, you nodded.

 “Please don’t make a scene tonight.” Your friend took a sip of her water and looked at you, almost a little taken aback by your words. You further explained, “I need to go well, Maeve, please. I can’t have it turn into another row. I can’t have another uncomfortable breakfast, again.”

 Maeve stopped you, “Wait, ‘again’? Your staying?!” She couldn’t stop the surprise that one.

 You cocked your head, “Course I am. Why wouldn’t I? They’re my parents –”

 “Not good ones.” She pointed out.

 “They aren’t the worst.”

 Again, she couldn’t help herself, “They aren’t exactly the best either,” She sighed, putting her glass down and approaching you, putting her hands on your shoulders, before using one hand to cup your chin and turn it up to face her, “You are so much better without them, Y/N. They don’t accept you for who you are. I’m sure in some way they love you, just like my mum did. But, you know what I did.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement, you did know what she had done.

 Part of you resented her for having the strength to do it. Still, you insisted, “I can’t just drop them like that, Maeve…How would I fund school? What about rent and –”

 “We’d figure it out –”

 Now it was you stopping her, or more so talking over her at her first word, “’We’?”

 She creased her eyebrows, “Yeah, ‘we’, you think I’d just leave you if you did it?” She almost seemed hurt at the accusation she was now accusing you of.

 “I just – I don’t think I can do that. I don’t even know how.” You confessed, voice sounding tired.

 “I do, I know how,” Maeve assured as she nodded a few times, “It’s called ‘emancipation’.”

 As she went to explain, the alarm on your phone went off. Looking at it, you saw it was a half hour reminder to get to your house for the dinner.

 “Just…please don’t mess this up for me…please.” Was all you asked of your best friend.

 Her eyes softened at the pain, the loss, and the fear that laid within them. She had more on her mind, more she wanted to say, you could see that clear as day. Still, she nodded, and said nothing.

 You stood outside your door with your best friend by your side. You had walked together in silence, both trying to prepare as much as you could for this event. The main thing you had said to the other being that you looked nice. You both did, you in your normal clothes, Maeve in a dress. She had even redone her makeup.

 You saw that hurt in her eye hadn’t fully left, but there was an almost apathetic look now. She was here to help you, not to appease your parents who she had plenty to say on.

 You knocked, the door opening and your father stood there in smart, but causal wear. Seemed he’d put some effort into it too. Out of the pair, your mother had the better job, but it didn’t matter. Job meant nothing to how you were as a person.

 He didn’t say anything, he only moved aside as a silent beckoning to enter. You both did so.

 Maeve took time to look around. She didn’t comment, just looked around. She then met your eyes, a bit of life returning and you saw them soften a little, she raised her eyebrows; “Fancy.” Her gaze seemed to communicate to you.

 You had no idea if she meant it or not, so you just smiled a thin one, trying not to show your nerves. Maeve, however, was good at reading people. So, as you went to the table in silence, she held your hand to provide some comfort.

 However, as you both sat at the table, you saw your mother had seen the hand holding in a different light. Of course she did.

 You saw her have a look on her eyes, almost a proud look. You felt Maeve tighten her hold on your hand, trying to supress a sense of frustration. It did pain you a little, but you tried not to show it. This was redemption with your parents, not a further regress.

 Still, she didn’t say anything, she remembered the promise she made. And Maeve Wiley was not one to break a promise…to the best of her ability.

 “So, you’re the mysterious Maeve we’ve been hearing all about?” Your mother asked as your father put food on the table. No, the irony was not lost on you.

 Maeve looked to you, a silent dialogue going between you two. However, your communication was clear, “I’ve never mention you to them.” She knew it wasn’t in a mean way, just wanted confirmation.

 She nodded, “Yeah, that’s me.” She said, bullshit smile on her face. The smile, however, eased your mother – hell, even doing the same to your father, for once he smiled and it was genuine.

 You envied it. But, as you put your hands on the table, Maeve held one. To your parents, it meant the opposite to what it actually was, she gave your hand a squeeze.

 “One step closer to being a man, my lad.” Your mother hadn’t been lying when she told you your father was proud. Christ.

 You looked at your father with the same distaste you always had for him, but now it was less easy to mask.

 So far, no food had been touched by anyone other than your mother.

 “See? Even got the look.” He seemed to celebrate your hatred. Not revel in it, just celebrate it.

 “’The look’?” You parroted back to him in a questioning manner.

 “Yeah, every man needs –”

 “Y/N doesn’t identify as a man, though.” Maeve spoke up. You moved your hands down to your side, keeping your eyes only on your best friend. You shook your head, begging her not to.

 She, however, only kept her eyes on your father, a challenging and daring look in her eyes, “Y/N is a they –”

 “Not this bollocks again. He got you doing it now, too.” Your father’s tone was filled with frustration.

 “Yeah, I guess they have, haven’t they?” Her eyes squinted a bit, she seemed to be daring for him to try it.

 “Let me guess, you two haven’t shagged either?” He sounded tired. Done.

 Wasn’t quite the bite Maeve was looking for, but she still took it, “Y/N doesn’t feel that way about anyone. They don’t won’t a partner in that way, and that’s just fine.”

 “It’s sick,” Your father looked to your mother, “Isn’t that right, honey?”

 She seemed to just be enjoying her food, but when your father asked, she hesitated. There were a few look in her eyes, fear wasn’t one of them, but shame was as she spoke, “Yes.” Her voice was monotone.

 “I think it’s time you leave.” Your father said, seemingly taking back control.

 However, Maeve stayed put, “Not without Y/N.” She was firm in that.

 “Get out, now, or I will call the police,” He then looked to you, “Is that why you brought her, to get it all out in the open these beliefs you have about yourself?” His tone was cold.

 “N-No.” You managed to stutter out.

 “If you lay one hand on them –”

 “Him, and I won’t. I’d never hit my boy, I just need it to get through to him that he can’t think the way he does.”

 “So, verbal then?”

 “If you want to be a snowflake, then yes, verbal.” He seemingly had no problem with saying that.

 So, Maeve stood up, and she gave you a pat on the shoulder and an apologetic look. Then, with a click of the door, she was gone.

 Silence permeated the room, and now your father had his hands on the table and his chin resting on them.

 “I don’t want you seeing her again.” Your father said, “Go to your room, I’ll bring some food up in a few minutes.”

 You didn’t say anything, only getting up from the table, “Phone.” Your father said. You brought the item out of your pocket and gave it to him, before going upstairs.

 You laid on your bed, closing your eyes and letting out a sigh. Could’ve gone better, but it definitely could’ve gone worse.

 You heard a knock at your door. You gave yourself a moment to try to get rid of the tears that were pooling in your eyes and told whoever was there to come in.

 It was your father, who was carrying a tray with a plate of food on. He placed it on the floor, before he stood at the door.

 “You know I just want what’s best for you, right?”

 It was bollocks, but you nodded, “It’s just…there are two ways of being. I’d rather you be Trans than be…this.” Harsh, but it was more honest, more controlled.

 Again, you nodded. You hated the words he said, but you nodded.

 “We’ll talk again, tomorrow.” He then left, closing the door more softly this time.

 You picked up the tray, apathetic look on your face as you ate the food. It wasn’t too bad, to be honest.

 This was your life, one filled with pain, but two parents that gave you a roof over your head.

 You heard a knock at your window, turning, you saw the last person you expected to see. It was the face of someone else who gave you a roof over your head.

 She waved to you. You put your empty plate down and looked to the door. He never did say you couldn’t leave. Then again, he also said you couldn’t be how you felt inside. So, you know.

 Quietly, you made your way to the window, opening it with her help. Neither of you spoke, but she didn’t need to, she only offered you a hand – and a silent question along with it.

 You looked to the door one more time, one that – outside of it – held only misery.

 You took the hand that was offered.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She held your hand the whole way home, leading the way. However, this time you worked with – an admittedly – shaky confidence.

 She opened the door, going to her bed room to get her dress off. You, meanwhile, got a glass of water and sat down. You knew your dad still had your phone, but that was ok.

 Maeve re-entered, now with pyjamas on, “What’s on your mind?” She asked, seeing a look on your face that told her you had a plan.

 “Mum’s gonna be at school tomorrow. But, I’ve made my choice, I’m done with them. We just need to do that…what’d you call it, ‘emancipation?’”

 Maeve nodded, “Ok, we’ll need some papers for the court. Plus, I have this,” At ‘this’ Maeve held up her phone and hit ‘play’ it was a recording of the meal.

 It was proof.

 “Ok, you got my back?” You asked.

 “Always.” She swore.

 So, off to school you went to execute your plan. You walked to the school grounds, talking and – for once, in your case – being happy and having a sense of agency.

 You had made your request to the court and made some calls to friends, now you just had to hope your parents wouldn’t try and stop it.

 “Otis and everyone else agreed? Just like that?” You asked, only having spoken to Eric while Maeve called everyone else.

 “A noble cause worth fighting for.” She said with a smile, parroting your own one.

 You believed those words, and you believed in your own course too, you believed in your own freedom.

 Going to science, you saw your other friends now sat there, awaiting you. It started out as normal, just with you in a more positive beat.

 That was, until the bell rang and your mother asked you to stay behind. Without having to ask, your other friend stayed as well.

 “So, you’re applying for emancipation?” She asked, tone flat.

 “That’s right.” You answered, sure of your choice.

 “You know we’ll fight it, right? There’s no way you can take care of yourself out there. You can barely handle us. Besides, who else is going to take care of you?”

 You felt a presence next to you, it was Maeve. However, you felt the others behind you.

 “They will.” You said, standing strong, “And, yes, it’ll cost us, but we’ll fight it. Because it’s worth it. You were toxic to me, mum. And, I think I deserve better.”

 With that, you and your new family walked out.

  It had been a long battle, one filled with ups and downs, but the others stood by you, chipping in however they could.

 Plus, Maeve found herself with a new sibling, so that was something. It felt nice, to be validated, to have your pronouns respected and your thoughts taken on board.

 As you returned home from school one day, Maeve had left a bit earlier. You opened the door, going in and throwing your bag to the floor and laying on the couch, “Good day?” She asked, stirring the coffee she had made.

 You looked to her with a smile, “Yeah, good day.” You confirmed.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Stab Me In The Front Part 4: Captain Asshat.

Intro: Steve’s being an asshat…and Katie isn’t standing for it. Throw in some alcohol and the return of America’s Asshole…and there’s trouble ahead!

Warnings: Bad language. Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So this brings the KO XO to an end. I hope you’ve enjoyed this little side path. Huge thanks to @angrybirdcr​ for her edits and banners

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Part 3

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

  “Steve…” Katie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before she removed her glasses and rubbed at her eyes “Why are we even having this debate?”

“Oh, it’s a debate?” He folded his arms. “Here was me thinking you were just point blank refusing to listen to me.”

“Oh I’m listening.” She glared up at him from where she sat behind her desk. “You’re just talking shit.”

“I’m talking shit?” He fumed, blowing a breath through his nostrils. “The guy is an absolute dick, and you just voluntarily invited him to your gala?”

“Yes, because this is about the Charity.” She looked at him. “And like it or not, dick he may be, he gave a substantial donation. It’s only right.”

Steve felt the nerve in his jaw twitch “Right?”

“Yes, right. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

“Are you forgetting what he said to you?” Steve looked at her.

“No.” She shook her head “I’m simply saying that I don’t care.”

“You don’t care?” His mouth fell open “You don’t care that he basically-”

“No, I don’t.” Katie cut him off firmly “And if I don’t anymore then neither should you.”

“Ok, so despite the fact that he disrespected my wife, and said some pretty disgusting things about you, I should just let that slide?”

“Yes.” Katie said simply, standing up as she turned off her computer screen before she looked at him “Because believe it or not I don’t actually need you to be offended on my behalf Steve. Now either let it go or don’t bother coming.”

“Fine, if that’s the way you feel then maybe I won’t.”

“And you call me a brat!” Katie snorted, as she walked past him towards the door of her office “You’re so full of shit.”

“I’m full of shit?” Steve snorted, and she stopped, turning to face him “You’re the one that is insisting on inviting that ass hole…I mean, even Natasha thinks you’re crazy.”

“Natasha?” Katie frowned, “What’s Natasha got to do with this?”

Steve hesitated and grimaced inwardly as Katie’s face rearranged into a look of understanding and she let out a scoff.

“You spoke to Natasha before me?”

“She asked me what was bothering me so I told her.”

“Damnit Steve!” She shook her head “Why is that you go running to other people about stuff before me? We’re supposed to be married.”

“Oh but it wasn’t an issue when you told her before me about what HYDRA did to you?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and no sooner had he spoke he saw Katie’s face slip. “Shit, Katie, I-”

“That was a low blow Steve.” She swallowed, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“Fuck you.” She looked at him, before she turned and walked off.

Steve let out a groan of frustration, looking up at the ceiling as he cursed himself. That really had been unfair, the two issues weren’t even comparable. He hated when he spat out stuff like that, because even when they were in the middle of an argument he loved his wife beyond life itself, and hated seeing her upset or hurt. But damnit, sometimes she just riled him so fucking much. With a deep breath he pinched the bridge of his nose and turned from the office, shutting the door behind him, the automatic lock sealing the room.  He made his way back towards the main common room, finding Sam pouring himself a drink.

“S'up Cap?” he asked, looking at Steve “You look like you lost a fifty and found a ten.”

“Oh, nothing, just had an argument with Katie.” he replied heavily “Said something pretty shitty.”

“Like what?” Sam asked. So Steve told him, and watched as the man raised an eyebrow and shook his head “Yeah, that was pretty fucking low Steve.”

“I’m well aware of that Sam.” he sighed, “Fuck.”

“Maybe you should swerve the Gala.” Sam shrugged “Give her time to cool off. I can’t see her forgiving you for that one so easily.”

“Forgiving him for what?” Natasha asked and Steve groaned, just what he needed.

Before Steve could stop him, Sam filled him in and Natasha looked at him, her face stony.

“Wow.” she shook her head. “What the fuck, Rogers?”

“I know, I know.” he said, holding his hands up.

“Thanks for dragging my name into it.”

“It’s me she’s pissed at, not you. And before you say it, with good reason…”

“I wasn’t gonna say that.” Natasha protested as Steve looked at her sceptically. She looked up at the ceiling “Ok, maybe I was.”

Steve rubbed at the spot between his eyes, he could feel a headache coming on.

“I suggest you go apologise.” Natasha looked at him.

“And pray.” Sam added “Because, damned, she aint gonna let you forget this one in a hurry.”

After thanking them, sarcastically, for their moral support to which Natasha snarked back that he didn’t deserve any, Steve wandered back to their living quarters. He knew his was a big thing for Katie, the night upon which SIP’s 6 monthly Fundraising efforts for the Women’s Charities they were partnered with ended, and he was so fucking proud of her for everything she’d overcome to get to this point. But he had basically thrown that in her face with his comments before. He was being a jerk, he knew that. He shouldn’t have let the fact she was inviting that dickhead rile him as much as it did, it was her event, her decision after all. 

Steve took a deep breath before opening the door to their quarters and looked around, his sharp hearing picking up no sounds. He headed into the bathroom, the shower had clearly been used recently, and he found her absence odd as she’d told him earlier that her hair was getting done for the event, and normally Franco came to her. He pulled out his phone, gave her a quick call but no sooner had it rung than it cut to voicemail. 

She’d red buttoned him.

*****

It was about an hour later when Katie walked into the apartment, her hair set in an elaborate braid which swept from the right side of her temple over to the left before the rest of her long locks were curled and fell over her left shoulder. She shot Steve a filthy looked and stalked straight through to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Steve’s head fell back against the sofa cushions, before he took a deep breath and decided it was time to face the music. He pushed himself up, walked into the room and found his wife sat at her vanity unit, digging out her make-up.

“Sweetheart,” he began tentatively, sitting on the bed “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

She glared at him in the mirror, but other than that made no acknowledgement that she had heard him.

“I was out of order.”

Still nothing.

“Katie, come on darlin’, don’t ignore me, please.“

"I’m ignoring you because if I don’t I’m gonna end up screaming at you.” she replied simply “And I’m not letting you spoil tonight for me.”

“Spoil tonight?” Steve frowned “That’s not what I want.”

“Well, you kinda already did in a fashion.” she shrugged “Now if you don’t mind I need to get ready. And your presence is not required. Either in this room, or the gala.”

Steve felt his face fall at that and he looked at her in the mirror as her green eyes locked on his “You don’t want me to come?”

“No." 

"Ok.” he swallowed, fighting to keep his voice calm. “Then I respect your wishes.”

With that he stood up, and left.

As soon as he had shut the door behind him, Katie let out a sigh, her face falling into her hands as her elbows rest on the vanity unit in front of her.  Steve’s face when she’d told him she didn’t want him at the gala had made her heart ache, he’d looked like a little puppy she had just given a harsh kick to. But she was so angry at him, she didn’t even know where to start. He was being an absolute dick over something that really wasn’t that big an issue, and then his dig about comparing him speaking to Natasha about what had happened to her…well, that was as low a blow as you could possibly get. At the time she’d been upset, angry even…now she was almost just shocked that Captain America had it in him to be so damned nasty.

Wanda had been astounded when she had told her what he had said, giving her that as a reason as to why Franco was going to be doing their hair in her room, not Katie’s apartment. Then, when Natasha had turned up, the Red Head had told Katie she had informed Steve he was out of order, but also that he seemed genuinely contrite as well when he had been talking to her and Sam.

Katie knew he was sorry, she didn’t need Natasha to point out that Steve had said what he had it in the haste of an argument. She knew only too well herself that in the heat of the moment people said things they didn’t really mean. But he wasn’t getting off so easily. He accused her of being a brat often enough and here he was acting like one.

So, with that in mind, she’d told him to stay behind. She knew full well that he would show up anyway after an hour or so of brooding, with another apology which she might be ready to accept at that point. But until then, he could fucking stew a little, think about what he had said some more

Raising her head she looked at herself in the mirror before she set about doing her make-up. It took her about 30 minutes to perfect the look she was going for, a dark smoky eye effect with bright rub red lips, another thing she knew drove Steve wild, before she stood up and grabbed her dress out of the wardrobe. It was a skin tight deep red mermaid style Dolce number, which sat off her shoulders with a small v neckline. She knew she looked good in it, which was why she had bought it in the first place along with a matching tie for Captain Asshat. Once she was in, she struggled with the zip which was at the back and after getting it most of the way up, instead of asking said Asshat for help she decided she would get Wanda or Nat to fix it. She stepped into her trusty gold Jimmy Choos before giving herself the once over. Satisfied with the results, she opened the door and walked down the hallway to the living room.

Steve looked up as Katie strode into the living room and felt his jaw drop. He really shouldn’t be surprised anymore at how stunning she managed to look when she was dolled up, but she still took his breath away every time he saw her. She looked great all the time in his eyes anyway but…damned.

She sauntered past him, without so much as a glance in his direction and he took a deep breath. To comment or not to comment now was the big question. Whatever he did or said he was going to be wrong in her eyes so…

Oh fuck it, in for a penny.

“You look stunning.” His head turned to watch her as she walked passed him heading for the door.

“Thanks.” She said, her tone clipped. But that was more of a response than he had expected. He hesitated for a second, about to offer to walk her down to the Marquee, even though she would likely refuse, but he stopped as he saw the back of her dress wasn’t quite done up.

“Honey, your zip.”

“I know.” She opened the door as he crossed the room towards her. “I can’t quite reach it…”

“Why didn’t you just ask?” He sighed, his hand going to help but she jerked away and spun round.

“I’ll get Wanda or Nat to do it.” She said simply.

“Oh, now you’re just being ridiculous.”

Her eyes flashed dangerously and he knew why. That was the single worst thing he could say to he when she was in this type of mood but he was beyond the point of caring now. She was being ridiculous.

“Look, I know I was out of order, but I’ve apologised. What else do you want me to say?” he asked, looking at her.

“Don’t wait up.” Her voice was steely, and with that she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

He debated for a second if he should go after her, but his own anger won out. Instead he turned round and walked straight to the cabinet they kept their liquor in. Finding what he wanted, a bottle of that Asgardian dynamite stuff Thor had left, he pulled it out, grabbed himself a tumbler and headed back to the couch.

*****

For the next hour or so Katie was too busy to even give Steve a second thought. She welcomed the guests and the limited press that had been invited, Evans and Sam providing her back up checking off the guest list, for which she gratefully thanked them both. She was just at the bar talking to one of the Charity Organisers when she felt a gentle touch on her elbow. She turned and beamed at the man stood in front of her.

“Harlan!” she smiled, as he leant down to gently kiss her cheek “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” he smiled back. “How are you Mrs Rogers?”

“Good, thank you.” she nodded “It’s been busy but definitely worth it.”

“Well the predicted figures look good.” he nodded “You’ve raised a lot of money.”

“Yeah, it’s gone better than I could have ever hoped.” she agreed “I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

Harlan waved away her comment and looked back over his shoulder. Katie followed his gaze and saw the man that had caused all the trouble between her and Steve, leaning at the bar. He was dressed in a smart, pin striped suit, his hair slicked back and his jaw clean shaven as ever.

“He came then.” she said, and Harlan turned back to her giving a low chuckle.

“Yes, you made quite an impression on him. I’ve never heard of him donating money to a charity before.” he mused

“Probably guilty he behaved like an ass hole.” she said, before she shook her head “Sorry, that was rude.”

“No more than he deserves.” Harlan sighed “The sad thing is, he’s not a bad man underneath it all. I see a lot of myself in him, just wish he would apply himself better to something. I’ve even tried to get him involved in the publishing company but he just isn’t interested. Suppose you can’t polish a turd.”

Katie let out a huge snort of laughter at the phrase tumbling from the old man’s lips and he gave her a large grin from behind his white beard as she shook her head “Now that’s a quote for your next book.”

Harlan chuckled again before Tony appeared by her side with a glass of champagne.

“Mr Stark.” Harlan shook his hand as Tony smiled at him.

“Mr Thrombey, pleasure.” he said, before he turned to Katie “Where’s Spangles?”

“Busy.” she said simply. Tony arched an eyebrow at him and she gave him a look, which he met with one of his own.

“Doing what?”

“Stuff.”

“Wow, yeah, that stuff…it’s…a pain…” Tony said, and Katie gave him a glare before she glanced around and Harlan struck up a chat with Tony about the latest Stark Industries initiative into wind farms. Natasha caught her eye and she excused herself and wandered over but as she was crossing the room, Ransom stepped into her path.

“Mr Drysdale.” she looked at him “No tatty sweater?”

He gave a huff of a laugh “No, I only wear the cable knit on special occasions.”

“Good to know.” she raised an eyebrow.

“So where’s your guard dog?” he asked, looking around.

“If you mean Steve, he’s otherwise engaged.” She said, shrugging “No doubt he’ll be along later.”

“Well in that case can I get you a drink?”

“It’s a free bar.”

“Yes, but I can still get you one.”

“I’m good thanks.” she waved the half full flute in her hand. “Now if you’ll excuse me for a second, I need to speak to someone.”

“Oh, Doll, I thought we left things on better terms.” he sighed, placing his hand over his heart, looking at her. Katie cocked her head to one side, before she flashed him a grin.

“I doubt you’re capable of leaving it on good terms with any girl you cross paths with.”

“Never had any complaints.” he smirked. At that Katie snorted.

“Well you can’t be meeting with the right women.” she said simply, and with that she moved past him, and headed over to Natasha who was beckoning her over.

“Everything ok?” she asked and Natasha nodded.

“Yup.I just got you a surprise.” she smiled.

“A surprise?” Katie frowned.

“Seeing as its a special occasion.” Natasha continued, linking her arm through Katie’s. She led her through to the entrance of the Marquee where a familiar face was stood talking to Evans, Sam and Wanda,

“S'up Nova?” Clint grinned at her as she gave a laugh and threw herself at him.

“What are you doing here?” she spluttered as he released her, stepping back slightly.

“Couldn’t miss your big event.” he smiled “You look great. Where’s Cap?”

“In the dog house.” Nat spoke before Katie could. Katie sighed and shot Natasha a look before she turned back to Clint.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” she shook her head. “Now, come on, fill me in…how are the kids? Laura?”

She didn’t miss the look that Wanda, Sam and Natasha shared but chose to ignore it as she steered Clint towards the bar for a well overdue catch up.

*****

Steve drained his glass and poured himself another measure. Katie had been gone for just under two hours now and his mood was rapidly growing worse. More so because deep down he knew this was his own stupid fault. Because of his inability to keep his, albeit in his opinion justified, issue about Ransom fucking Drysdale to himself, his wife was now going through probably one of the biggest nights of her life without him there. And what made it worse was that smarmy bastard was there, probably eyeing her up, like he had done at the last gala, making some dickhead comment or other which he would no doubt weasel his way out of by sending another cheque for a ludicrous amount. Steve hated that, people that thought money made everything ok. And what was worse, it seemed to have placated Katie as well. He took a mouthful of his drink, the burn in his throat pleasantly distracting him for a moment, before he stared at the TV.

No, fuck this… this was his wife, his damned compound.

Necking his drink he stood up, the liquor giving him a pleasant buzz, before he strode into the bedroom, stripping off his sweater and jeans before he pulled his suit out of the closet. Slipping his arms into his shirt, he buttoned it up before expertly tying the tie Katie had bought him in a double Windsor, before grabbing his jacket. Once one he straightened his hair, slipped on his shoes he headed out of the door, making his way out of the side of the building, striding over to the marquee which was buzzing with people.

“Oh here he is.” Sam grinned at him “You’re a brave man, Cap.”

“Shut up Sam.” he said, rolling his eyes.

Sam chuckled as Evans raised an eyebrow. “Should I check he’s on the list?” he drawled, his Texan accent thick.

“I think Katie crossed him off.” Sam teased.

“Hilarious.” Steve deadpanned, stepping past them into the Marquee. His eyes quickly roved the crowd and he did a double take as he saw Clint with Natasha and Wanda at the bar. He’d had no idea the archer was coming, but right now he was looking for his wife, the reunion could wait. He continued to scan the Marquee and he spotted her and then felt his jaw clench as he saw she was stood with him. As he watched he saw her say something and she tipped her head back in genuine laughter, and touched his arm before she shook her head, and turned to someone else who had attracted her attention. Giving a nod she looked back to Ransom and he nodded, as she walked away.

“Spangles.” Tony greeted appearing at his side. “What’s going on?”

“Ask your sister.” he said, his voice stony. “I need a fucking drink.”

With that he strode over to the bar. Ordering himself a large scotch he turned to look for Katie again, but there was no sign of her. With a nod of acknowledgment to the guy behind the bar he took his drink and turned to look back over the room. He spotted a few familiar faces from the compound and the tower, nodding towards Pepper as she smiled at him. Tony looked at him again before he turned away, and then his eyes fell on Ransom who was stood with his grandfather. Ransom grinned at him, and Steve simply glared back, before he turned to greet Clint who had now appeared behind him.

“Hey Cap.” Clint smiled, and Steve returned his grin, shaking his hand.

“Hey Clint, didn’t know you were coming.”

“No one did, bar Nat. Thought it would be a nice surprise for Nova.”

“Sure she was thrilled." 

"Am I sensing a little trouble in paradise?” Clint asked, and Steve scoffed.

“You could say that.” He shrugged, before he sighed “I said something before, that was out of order and now she’s giving me the cold shoulder. Told me not to come actually but…”

“But here you are.” Natasha said, leaning on the bar besides him “You’re either dumb, got a death wish…or maybe both.”

“Romanoff, just don’t.” He turned to look at her, and she smirked before ordering herself a martini. “How long has Drysdale been here?”

“Who?” Clint frowned.

“The smarmy looking asshole in the pinstriped suit.” He said, nodding towards him.

“About an hour.” Nat shrugged.”I’m not sure.”

“An hour too long.” Steve muttered, taking a mouthful of his drink.

“Are you seriously that bothered by him?” She turned to look at him. Steve didn’t reply.

“Clearly.” Clint said, “Who is he?”

“Harlan Thrombey’s Grandson.” Natasha explained “Harlan wrote the book that the SIP published and donated all the profits to the Relief Fund.”

“And you don’t like him?”

“They had a little run in Boston…” Nat smirked. “And then at the Launch…”

“It wasn’t a run in.” Steve shook his head “He was absolutely vile to Katie…”

“And she’s over it…” Natasha sighed

Steve didn’t reply, he simply watched Drysdale for a second before he turned his attention to the stage where Tony was now tapping the microphone. The Marquee fell silent and Tony grinned out.

“And once again I find myself the centre of attention.” he grinned, and the room chuckled. “But tonight isn’t about me, for once, yes I know, I know…”

He continued to talk for a few minutes, thanking everyone for coming before he grew serious and took a deep breath.

“As you will all know, the past 6 months Stark Independent Publishers has been working, in partnership with a number of Women’s Charities which are close to all of us in and around Stark Industries, and the Avengers for personal reasons as you will be well aware. We are seconds away from announcing our final fundraising total, so without further ado I’d like to hand you over to my little sister, who’s been the brains behind this from the very start. Kiddo, the stage is all yours.”

As he stepped back the Marquee erupted into applause and Katie walked up the steps to the stage, her face beaming as Tony swept her into a hug. She grinned at him as he kissed her cheek and she headed to the microphone.

“Thanks Tone.” she smiled, “That was short and sweet and actually very to the point, for once.” a few chuckles rang around and Steve simply watched his wife as she started running through what they’d been doing and how they’d been raising money, her passion and enthusiasm shining out of every inch of her body. As he stood still, he felt all the anger eb out of his body and instead it was filled with an overwhelming sense of pride. Katie finished her speech before she stepped back and turned to take an envelope from Happy who bent and kissed her cheek.

“So although I know the sales figures from our book, the rest of this is a surprise to me, as much as it is to you.” she smiled, and then her eyes locked with Steve’s. She gave a little surprised frown, and then her face softened slightly as he smiled at her and she gave him the faintest of smiles back, before she averted her gaze and grinned as Tony let out a loud yell.

“Drumroll please….”

Katie laughed as the tent was filled with the sounds of people banging on things, and stomping their feet. Steve watched as she opened the envelope and pulled out the card. Her eyes widened as she read the total and her mouth dropped open.

“Shit.” she spluttered, and the Marquee chuckled whilst she composed herself. “Sorry but…my God this is…” she swallowed and looked at Tony for a moment before she shook her head “According to this, the donations, sales…we’ve raised over fourteen and a half million.”

“Holy shit!” Steve heard Natasha splutter as his own mouth dropped open, and he joined in the cheering.

“This is amazing, but this also isn’t the end of it. Stark Industries will be doubling this total and all profits from the sales of "The Colour of Revenge” will continue to be donated.” She sniffed slightly and Steve could see she was getting emotional. He set down his glass on the bar and started to make his way over to the stage. "This money will save lives, give women a safe place to go when they’ve no one else to turn to. Thank you, thank you all for your overwhelming generosity. Now, please enjoy the evening and the entertainment and if any of you want to give us any more money, please feel free.”

At that she stepped back and Steve waited for her at the bottom of the stage steps, the applause ringing in his ears. He offered her his arm and she paused for a second.

“Oh come on, sweetheart” He pleaded gently. She allowed him to help her down before she turned to him

“I told you not to come.”

“Honey, this was your big night. I didn’t want you to do this alone.”

“There’s a marquee of people.”

“You know what I mean.” He said gently “I’m sorry, you know I am. Please don’t let’s fight now, I hate it.”

“I don’t want to do this here” she said, her tone soft “Not now Steve.”

"Ok.” he said, leaning down to give her a soft kiss. She didn’t turn away, which he took as encouraging “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you.” she smiled softly, “Now, sorry, but I have to go give an interview but…”

“Sure, come find me when you’re done.”

She nodded, and headed away from him towards someone he didn’t recognise, presumably some journalist. His eyes still on her back as she walked away, he felt slightly buoyed by her seemingly thawing towards him, so with a slight spring in his step he headed back to the bar. He ordered another drink, and had just taken it when a familiar voice drawled at him, and he instantly felt himself bristle.

“She’s one hell of a woman your wife.”

“What do you want Drysdale?” he asked, turning to the man.

“Nothing, I was just paying her a compliment.”

“Well don’t” he glared at the man “And if you value your life, keep your eyes and your damned hands to yourself.”

Ransom let out a snort “What you gonna do, throw me over the bar again?”

"Don’t tempt me.”

“We both know you’re not gonna make a scene here, not with all these people around, because that really would piss your wife off.” he leaned on the bar, looking around. “And then she’d have to send me another coat and a crate of snacks.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve frowned.

“Oh dear, didn’t you know?” Ransom smirked “Yeah, after I sent her the cheque and her knife back, she responded with a very nice coat and a couple of months supply of cookies.”

Steve’s nostrils flared as he looked at Ransom, then over to his wife and back again. “Are you shitting me?”

Ransom shook his head. “And they tasted all the more sweeter coming from her, if you know what I mean.”

“You smug, son of a bitch…” Steve stepped forwards, and a hand settled on his arm.

“Cap.” Sam spoke “Don’t…”

“Yeah Cap...” Ransom drawled, sipping his drink.

Steve shrugged Sam’s hand off his arm and glared at Ransom, the look on the man’s face was infuriating him. “Make one more wise crack I swear to God…”

“I don’t believe it.”

Steve’s head snapped to the side and he saw Katie glaring at him.

“Katie…”

“You just can’t help it can you?” she shook her head. “And I thought you were genuinely sorry.”

“To be fair…” Sam began to defend Steve but she held her hand up.

“I don’t wanna hear it.” she said, shaking her head. “I’m done…”

With that she turned and strode away.

“Oops.” Ransom said simply, picking up his glass. With a final look at Steve, he headed off back towards his grandfather.

“Well played.” Sam said, sarcastically, clapping Steve on the shoulder. Steve took a deep breath before he drained his glass and turned, leaving the tent.

******

It was pushing one in the morning when Katie got back to their living quarters. Steve was sat outside on their patio, the bottle of Asgardian shit on the table in front of him but thanks to his super hearing he knew she’d entered the room. Standing up, grabbing the drink, he moved into the doorway, leaning on it as she shut the door, shoes in her hand. She turned around and stopped when she saw him, eyeing him for a moment, taking in his appearance. His tie was loose, his shirt sleeves rolled up and she could tell from the look in his eyes he was drunk.

“You came back then?” His words were slightly slurred.

“Where else would I go?” She snarked back.

“I dunno, maybe to order Drysdale another coat or some cookies.” He necked the drink that was in his hand before he set the glass down on the dining table that stood in front of him.

“Seriously, that’s…that’s what all that was about?” she shook her head “God you’re an asshat.”

“An asshat.” He mused, pouring himself another measure of drink.

“Yes, an asshat.” she said, swaying a little on the spot. Fuck she was drunk as well, she’d ended up doing shots at the bar with Clint and Evans, never a wise move.

“Well I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment.”

“Oh fuck off Steve.” She sighed, “I’m going to bed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, and she stopped, turning round.

“What about?”

“Your present to Ransom?”

“Because I didn’t think it was important, it was just a joke.”

“Fucking hilarious.”

“No, you know what is hilarious? This.” She gestured to him, a little unsteadily “You getting all fucking het up about a damned coat and some cookies. Now who’s being ridiculous?”

“I saw you.” He said, “When I first got there, you had your hand on his arm, laughing at him…”

“Oh Jesus Christ Steve!” She groaned. “I was talking to him, he was telling me something about his uncle!”

“You were all over him”

“Do you want me to go and fuck him or something?” Katie asked, “Because if that’s gonna make you happy, just to prove a point.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid.”

“Well shut up then!” She yelled back. “Sometimes I wonder what the hell goes on in your head. I love you, you know I do. I don’t want or need anyone else but at times you irritate the shit out of me.”

“The feeling is mutual, Doll.”

“Good, glad we agree on something.” She shook her head. “I’m going to bed. You carry on drinking yourself into a stupor. And you can sleep in the spare room.”

“Like fuck I am!”

“Fine, I’ll sleep in the spare room then.” she shrugged

“You’re such a fucking brat.”

“Me?” she laughed “I’m the brat? You’ve behaved like a prize prick Steven, and I’m so fucking pissed at you I can’t even…”

With that she turned and headed towards the bedroom.

“Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you.” He followed her.

“Or what?” She spun round, “What you gonna do…”

“Oh Doll, you have no idea how much you’re pushing me tonight.” He hissed, his voice low.

“Really Steve, how many fucking buttons am I pushing? Hmmm?” She leaned against the wall. “Do enlighten me.”

“You know it’s no wonder Ward cheated on you. If you were like this with him then…”

Whack!

Something sharp hit him in the temple and he dropped the glass he was holding, staggering back slightly. He glanced at the floor and saw that she had launched her shoe at him, her aim impeccable as ever. He raised his hand to his forehead, feeling the wet trickle of blood under his finger. It wasn’t a lot, she’d only nicked the skin but it was enough to sober him up slightly, and the words he had just spitefully spat at her echoed in his head.

“Katie…”

“You are the biggest fucking…” She spoke, her chest heaving, “Actually I don’t even have a word to describe what you are right now.”

“You hit me with a shoe.” He said simply.

“Yeah, want me to do it again?” She asked, waving the one that was still in her hand.

“Don’t.” He shook his head.“Look, I’m…”

“Oh save it.” she said, turning and walking into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Steve’s hands fell to his hips, as he looked down at his feet. What the fuck was wrong with him? That was twice today he’d said something so despicable it made his toes curl even thinking about it. He’d been a grade A asshole, and he needed to make this right.

“Katie…” he strode after her, and headed into the bedroom. The en-suite door was shut and he could hear her sobbing in the bathroom. Fuck. “Honey I’m sorry.”

“Piss off.” she sniffled.

“Open the door, please.”

“No…”

“Don’t make me break it down. You know how precious Tony gets about us breaking things”

His joke fell flat as she remained silent. "Sweetheart…”

“Where did you learn to be so spiteful?” She yelled back through the door.

“I don’t know.” with a sigh he leaned against the door “I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of those things…”

“But you did.” she sobbed, and Steve felt the tears prick his eyes “Why?”

“I was angry, and…” he took a deep breath “I guess I wanted to piss you off as much as you pissed me off.”

“I pissed you off?” she snorted “Steve you came at me before with that comment about fucking HYDRA and now Ward…could you be any more nasty?”

“I know, I know…” he said, “Honey, I’ve no excuse. Please, open the door.”

There was a sniffle on the side and he heard her the swish of her dress as she moved. The lock on the door clicked and it opened a chink. He pushed it further and look at her, her mascara was streaked down her cheeks, her hair was messy from where she had clearly been fisting her hands in it and he instantly felt the pang of guilt and regret in his chest tighten even more. “Oh baby girl…” his voice cracked “I’m so sorry…I really am.”

“How could you even think for one minute that I’d even look at that jerk in that way?”

“I don’t not really” he said, shaking his head. “I’m an ass hole, a jealous ass hole…I just, sometimes I can’t believe…” he stopped, and shook his head “You know what, it doesn’t matter. I was out of order.”

She paused and looked at him, sniffing. “You can’t believe what?”

“Honestly, it doesn’t matter.”

“For fucks sake, Steve!” she spluttered “Stop it!”

“I can’t believe that you, well that you chose me you know?” he sighed, his hand running through his hair “I just…”

“You’re a dick.” she shook her head. “I married you, you ass hole.”

“I know, and I wonder why sometimes.”

“So you’ve been a spiteful bastard because you feel insecure?”

“No, well, partly…” he sighed “Look, seeing you before with him and then he he told me about the box and stuff…I just saw red.”

She looked at him and shook her head “That is not an excuse.”

“I know it isn’t.” he looked at her “I know.”

She looked at him for a moment before she shook her head and walked out of the bathroom, over to her vanity table, sitting down. She pulled out the wipes and began scrubbing at her face, removing her make-up. He sat on the edge of the bed, in the same position he had a few hours ago and simply watched her. Eventually, when she was happy her face was clean she looked up and he saw her eyes travel over his reflection before she frowned.

“You’re bleeding" 

"Well, you’re a damned good shot” he shrugged. “And those heels are sharp.”

She stood up and turned, stepping into the space between his legs.

“Honey it’s…”

“Shut up” she instructed.

Knowing he had pushed his luck already he did as he was told and she gently wipe at the cut on his temple, his hands falling to her hips as she did so. He was pleased to see she didn’t push him away. He watched her intently as she cleaned his face.

“I think you’ll live” she said gently, tossing the wipe into the waste basket. His hands flexed on her hips and she looked at him.

“I really am sorry.” he said again “I love you, so fucking much. At times I just don’t know how to deal with it.”

“By not being a cunt.”

“Wow.” he snorted “Did you just drop the c-bomb?”

“Justified.” she muttered, her hands falling to his shoulders “Damned it Steve!”

“I know, I know.” he said his hands, smoothing down the back of her thighs.

“I love you too, so much it hurts at times.” she shook her head “You know the amount of women that look at you in such a way I know what they’re thinking but…I get over it, you know? Because you married me and…” she let out a deep breath. “You go ballistic whenever I question how you feel about me compared to Peggy and yet you come out with the stuff you said today.”

Steve looked down at the floor, his hands still curved around her legs “I know. My ma would be ashamed.”

Katie took a deep breath before she moved her hand and tilted his face up to look at her. His eyes were shining with tears and she let out a sigh, dropping a kiss to his forehead as her hand slid round the back of his neck, nails dragging over his skin.

“I love you.” she muttered “You big, dumb idiot.”

They stayed silent for a moment and Steve looked up at her, smiling softly.

 "You know you really looked amazing tonight. I’m just sorry I didn’t get chance to appreciate it more.“

"Well…” she took a deep breath. “I know I didn’t let you help me into my dress…but you can help me out of it if you want?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, a smile flickering across his face “ Yeah?” he asked, gracefully rising to his feet.

She nodded, biting her lip. He leaned down to give her a soft kiss before he whispered against her mouth “Turn around.”

She did as she was told and Steve reached for the zip on her dress, sliding it down gently, his fingertips brushing her skin as he did so, allowing the dress to fall at her feet and he let out a soft moan as he glanced down, seeing that she was braless. His hands gently guided hers up so they reached back around his neck, and he swallowed at the sight of her presented to him. One hand moved down, splayed on her stomach, pulling her back into him as the other swept her hair out of the way as his head dipped, trailing kisses across the back of her shoulders, before he made his way up her neck, his teeth softly grazing her ear. She let out a soft sigh, her head tilting to one side as his lips continued caressing her soft skin, the hand that was on her belly started slowly to make its way downwards, sneaking beneath the waistband of her panties. His fingers gently parted her folds, and she gave a little gasp as he began to coax her softly, his other hand reaching up to caress her breasts, gently kneading before he pulled on her hardening nipple. She arched her back into him slightly, a breathy gasp escaping her as he continued to tease her, his mouth hot on her neck.

“Like that?” his own voice was raspy, his arousal evident in his tone and she gave a nod.

“Don’t stop…” she begged, and his fingers began to work faster against her nub, the hand on her breast also picking up the pace slightly.

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispered and she moaned and writhed in delight at his praise and his actions as he worked her over. With a quick flick of his wrist, he pushed two fingers into her and curled them against her spot and her head fell back even further into him as she let out a soft whimper of his name, his hands upping their pace slightly as she began to buck into his touch. She arched her back, her mouth fell open and then her head rolled forward as she came, knees trembling, her hands pulling at his hair. He held her up in his strong arms and whilst she was still in the after throws of bliss he nipped at her neck, drawing a soft groan from her mouth. Steve gently turned her round and lifted her up, placing her gently on the bed, kneeling over her as he discarded his shirt, tie by which point she had recovered slightly and sat up, her hands pulling at his belt buckle.  He leaned down to capture her mouth in a deep kiss, and he grinned against her mouth as she whipped the belt from around his waist, tossing it to the floor before she undid the button on his pants, pushing them down over his hips along with his boxers.  Once he had shimmied out of his remaining clothes, he fell over her again, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her hard, using his leg to part hers. With a sharp thrust that made her cry out, he sank into her, his lips back on hers, as he stilled for a moment, grinding up against her. Her head fell back against the pillow and he started to drive into her, his thrusts hard, deep and he moved his mouth down to kiss and lick and suck all along her shoulders, knowing full well he would leave marks there for the morning but neither of them cared as their moans grew louder as his thrusts grew more desperate.

“Fuck.” he groaned, both hands now on her hips as he continued his movements, looking down at her as her breasts bounced as her body moved with every slam he made into her. Her hands moved from where they had been gripping at his biceps to bracing herself against the headboard, causing her to push back against him, allowing him to push deeper. As her breathing adopted the tell tale staccato rhythm, he moved one hand  to the back of her head and he used it to make her look up, her eyes locking onto his as he felt her body start to quiver.

“Come on doll…” he practically growled “let go for me…”

It wasn’t like she had a choice. She never did when it came to this. Her pupils were blown now with lust and desire and after another 3, 4 hard thrusts her back arched and her hands flew to his back, nails scratching at his skin. He hissed at the bite of pain, dropping his mouth to capture hers as she moaned again, this moan broken as she bucked upwards and clutched at him desperately.

“Stevie…” she moaned and her walls tightened on him as she came hard, and the feel of her tightening and pulsing around him tipped him him ferociously over the edge after her, his hips stuttering as he gave into the wave of pleasure with an incoherent babble of her name, before he tipped forward, falling onto her, his face buried in her neck.

The pair of them lay still, the only sounds in the bedroom now were the deep, ragged drawings of breath. Katie gently ran her hands through his hair, as she always did, relishing his weight on top of her. This was the only way she could ever lift Steve, his body on top of hers rising and falling through the movements of her deep breathing.  Eventually he raised his head and pressed their foreheads together, his nose sliding up and down hers gently.

"I love you.” he whispered “You know that, right?”

“Of course I do.” she sighed, looking at him “But Steve, you really did behave like a jerk.” “I know, and I’m sorry.” he said, his hands moving to brush her hair back. “I really am.” “I know you are.” she said, her hand gently running down the back of his neck, and he closed his eyes slightly, allowing her touch to relax him even further. “I don’t understand why you think I would even want anyone else.” “Well, I guess you can take me out of that little kid that got his ass kicked all over Brooklyn, but you can’t take that little kid out of me.” he sighed, his head hanging slightly as he shook it letting out a deep sigh.

She considered him for a moment before she leaned up and gave him a soft kiss “I love you, Steven Grant Rogers, not Captain America.” “I know Doll.” he nodded “I know.” With a gentle movement he pulled out of her and pushed the covers of the bed down, before he rolled onto his back, as she scooted over to him, her head laying on his chest, one of her legs pushing through his as she snuggled closer. He pulled the duvet over them and reached over to hit the switch which would cut the lights in the room.

“This doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you.” she said softly as his hand carded through her hair, his chest warm against her cheek as it gently rose and fell with his breathing.

“I wouldn’t dream of suggesting it does.” he chuckled slightly kissing her head “I’m not that stupid” “Jury’s out.” she yawned slightly, the arm that was draped around his waist gave him a squeeze and he pulled her closer nuzzling into her hair.

It wasn’t long before he felt her relax and he glanced down, just able to make out in the dim light that her eyes were shut. He watched her face for a moment, the face he could draw from memory, and had done as a matter of fact several times, an let out a deep breath. She was right, he was an ass hole, and at times he knew he didn’t deserve her. But she loved him and wanted him, and damned it he’d try and be worthy of that love and want every damed day for the rest of his life.

“I love you so much doll.” he whispered into her hair.

“Love you to Soldier…” she muttered back, her face pressing further into his chest. With a smile he dropped a kiss on her head, closing his eyes as he felt the tendrils of sleep pulling at him, happy that they were going to be ok, not that he doubted that for a second not, really They’d come through far worse after all, and like his Ma always used to tell him.

Tomorrow is another day after all.

***** Chapter 28

**Original Posting**

[iron--spider]

tattered and torn

The steel door swings open with a high-pitched squeal and Tony knows what’s gonna happen. Again. 

 His heart leaps into his throat and he can’t fucking do this, not again, not with these assholes. Not with any assholes, really, but these in particular are getting on his last fucking nerve. He and Peter just have to hold out a little bit longer, because Tony knows somebody is coming for them, he knows they have to be. Both Sam and Thor saw them get snatched, and leaving the savior of the fucking universe and Spider-Man himself with some enhanced thugs for more than twenty four hours isn’t really a good luck.

 But these guys know Peter is Spider-Man now. They captured him as Spider-Man, took off his mask and looked at his face, and Tony hates them and calls them morons when they’re around, but he figures their higher ups have enough technology to run facial recognition through a couple databases. That puts May in danger, that puts the kid’s girlfriend in danger and all of his friends. That’s the kinda shit Tony’s been striving to avoid since day one. 

 But, at the current fucking moment, they only seem to be using the fact that Peter is Spider-Man to knock him around a shit ton.

 Which, of course, isn’t cool with Tony.

 “It’s okay,” Peter says, looking at him when the door opens, the two of them huddling in the corner. “Tony, it’s fine.” There are still open wounds on his face and neck. A broken blood vessel in his eye. The assholes ripped off his webshooters and took his mask, and the suit is tattered and torn.

 Tony has to protect him. That’s all he’s good for and he has to be good for that.

“It’s not fucking fine,” Tony says, as the two dickheads that have been giving them problems step inside their cell. “It’s not goddamn fine.” 

 He had only been flying the fucking quinjet—he didn’t have a suit. He had the nano housing unit but not on him, and he feels like he makes more mistakes nowadays, after the snap and the near death and all that bullshit. He’s made up of mistakes and missed opportunities and a constant ringing in his ears. He’s all broken things, mismatched. He’s not Iron Man anymore. Not really. He’s an old man, by superhero standards, but sometimes he goes along on missions when he knows Peter will be in danger. But then he’s a distraction because Peter’s worried about him. He should always wear a suit, always, no matter what the fuck he’s doing. This proves it. Quinjets crash, people get fucking kidnapped. Always wear a suit. 

 “Tony, it’s okay—”

 Both guys are wearing masks, one red and one black, and they loom over them. 

 “No, it’s not,” Tony hisses, and he throws his arm out across Peter’s chest, like that’s gonna fucking do something. He grits his teeth. “If you’re gonna hurt one of us, hurt me! Say you beat the shit out of Iron Man, that’ll do something for your reputation—”

 Black mask laughs. “Spider-Man’s more our speed—”

 “Beating up on a goddamn child, that’s cute, that’s real cute.” He doesn’t say he could kill you if you didn’t restrain him because he doesn’t want to give them any ideas about how strong Peter is. He has visions of experiments and torture and he doesn’t even know what this is, but he needs it done, now.

 Tony tries to keep shielding him, but it doesn’t take much for them to reach around him and grab Peter up. Peter barely fights, just lets himself get dragged away. 

 “Tony, it’s fine! It’s fine, I promise!”

 “No, goddamnit,” Tony growls, feeling sick and dizzy, and he throws a punch that connects with red mask’s jaw. He tries to retaliate but Tony slips under it and hits him again, trying to rush after black mask pulling Peter out of the room. “Kid! Kid!”

 Red mask punches Tony once while he’s distracted, knocks him back against the wall. “Stop your bullshit or we’ll kill him and leave his body in here with you. How d’you like that, huh?”

 He doesn’t wait for an answer, just quickly runs out the door and pulls it shut behind him. Tony rushes it, and slams on it hard, over and over, wishing he’d let the doctors take his arm now, wishing they hadn’t left him so weak and scarred and fucking useless. He could have figured out a prosthetic, he could have made something strong, he could have choked those two assholes out before they even touched his kid. Mistakes, missteps. Wrong, wrong, wrong. He saved the world but it keeps turning, and guys like this keep getting the upper hand. 

 Tony doesn’t want to yell Peter’s name, because he doesn’t want to give them any more clues to who he is in case they haven’t figured it out yet, but he continues to slam on the door until he feels like his arm is going to break off, until he feels like he did after he snapped, torn in half and burned and broken, being rushed off the battlefield by everyone he’d ever met and then some, carrying him like some cardboard cut-out Christ figure. 

 He remembers Peter’s tears. He remembers him whispering hold on, Tony, hold on. They were reverent with him. His kid, his team, his wife. That’s the last thing he remembers before the darkness, before everything changed. He didn’t have any thoughts in his head, couldn’t think about anything even if he wanted to.

 This helplessness feels like that. It’s almost been a year and he’s still struggling. He wants to explode. 

 Tony paces back and forth in this goddamn steel box room and knows he doesn’t deserve the reverence they treated him with. He doesn’t deserve praise and billboards and national prayer. He doesn’t deserve that subreddit with all the morons talking about their favorite Iron Man memory. He doesn’t, because that should be him out there dealing with these assholes, Not Peter, Not Peter. Peter deserves ice cream sundaes with too much caramel, he deserves his favorite spot on the couch and dance parties Morgan initiates where they both make Tony dance. Tony doesn’t fucking dance anymore but whenever they drag him out onto the carpet he’ll do it because they’re his kids. He’ll dance to Whitney Houston for his kids. He’ll do whatever his kids want and then some. 

 Anything.

 “Goddamnit,” he whispers, voice breaking somewhere in his throat. “God fucking dammit.”

 This was Peter’s mission. He’d finally figured out where the Sinister Six were planning their next attack and those assholes are Spider-Man’s villains and nothing scared Tony more than looking at their rap sheets and knowing they were after his kid. 

 But then it went wrong, as these things often do, and Tony hates the idea of guilt swirling around in Peter’s head along with each crack across his cheek. 

 The waiting is agony. Agony. Seconds, minutes, hours, years, millennia. Tony paces until his feet hurt. He wears a path in the ground. 

 Tony, it’s fine. It’s fine, I promise.

 “It’s not fine,” he whispers to himself, getting angry all over again, and wondering why Peter was so sure. Peter is strong, yes. He’s very strong. Out of this world, the best superhero Tony knows. The kid always thinks he’s larger than life but he’s still breakable, he can still be taken, and Tony knows that firsthand. Remembers the spot where he once was, a howling void next to him wherever he went, wherever he didn’t go, louder in the silence. Peter can still be killed, no matter how many hits he can take. 

 Tony stomps back over towards the door and resumes the banging. 

 “Fuck you, morons! Come get me, I’ll give you a run for your fucking money. I’m an old man now, sure, but I’m the reason you’re alive so you owe me. Gimme a good fight. I bet some of you were dust. I could have left you that way! My decision, pricks, all mine, get it fucking straight. Let’s go, cowards, come on, I’m ready for you! I’ll rip you a—”

 The door starts to open and Tony takes a couple steps back. “Yeah, alright, good. I’m fucking ready, are you—”

 Peter steps inside. He’s got a few more cuts and bruises on his face and he’s holding a set of keys. “Wow, that was—that was a lot of cursing. You’re really mad.”

 Tony’s brain glitches for a couple seconds before he’s able to latch back on to reality, and he strides back over to Peter, taking his arm. “What’s going on? How much time do we have?”

 “Probably a good amount of time,” Peter says, swallowing hard. He opens the door wider and looks back over his shoulder, and Tony follows his gaze—there are about six or seven dudes out there, splayed out on the ground, most of them webbed together. Some are webbed to the ceiling. 

 “Jesus,” Tony says, feeling a little guilty that he didn’t immediately imagine Peter getting the upper hand. “I couldn’t hear anything. None of this.”

 “I could definitely hear you,” Peter says. He clears his throat and cracks his neck. “I wanted them to keep taking me out because I was getting a good look at where everything was—the computers, my webshooters, the keys—they’ve literally got a map on the wall. I just wanted to be—prepared for when I actually broke us out. And now I know where Steve and Clint are being held so we can grab them too on our way out. I think Thor is coming, that’s the only thing I’m not sure about. They’re tracking something approaching and it’s not one of theirs. But it’s still a good ways out.”

 Tony sighs, staring at him for a second. “You’re too reckless with your own wellbeing.”

 “But now we’re out, yeah?” Peter asks, blinking at him. “So. All good. Good things.

 “You’re hurt,” Tony says. He takes Peter’s chin gently and turns his face, and he can tell they were hitting him with brass knuckles. It makes his own cheeks burn with rage. “Not a good thing. A bad thing.”

 “I’m okay,” Peter says, reaching up and covering Tony’s hand, pulling it down and squeezing it. “And now we can get out, we’re prepared, we can go chase down Electro and the others and finish what I started. Finally. Get them sent to the Raft, keep everybody safe.”

 Tony nods at him, trying to breathe. “I wanna back you up, but I don’t have—”

 “Oh,” Peter says. He tugs Tony out into the main atrium and drops the keys on a table, picking up the nano housing unit. “I found it too. I don’t even think they knew what it was.”

 “Morons,” Tony says. Peter holds it out to him and Tony takes it, blowing out a breath. “Alright,” he says. “I’m gonna do better out there than I did in here. Swear. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you—”

 “And right back at you,” Peter says, smiling. “Because we’ve got Morgan’s recital this weekend and then Pepper is making the scalloped potatoes and neither one of us are missing either one of those things.”

 Tony nods at him, feeling particularly emotional right here in the middle of this fucking enemy lair. He nods, swallowing over the lump in his throat, and brushes some of Peter’s hair out of his eyes. He hopes they can reclaim the quinjet or steal another vehicle so he can tend to some of the kid’s wounds. 

 “Alright, bud,” Tony says, too proud for words almost all of the time, when it comes to Peter. “Lead the way.”

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #494

Top Ten Supporting Characters in the MCU

One thing I’ve been doing this year, on and off, is re-watching the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe. There are a few films on here I’ve seen a whole bunch – The First Avenger, Guardians of the Galaxy, Iron Man 3 – and a whole lot more I’ve only seen the once (including The Incredible Hulk, which I saw at a press screening before it was officially released, and then never again since!). But one thing I’ve noticed as I’ve been going through the films – one of the things that makes the MCU such a success, in fact – is the high quality of supporting turns.

Whether it’s a hero’s best friend, a fine piece of comic relief, or just some bugger that winds people up (or often a combination of all three!) supporting characters are the backbone of the MCU. Not only do we get some really great performances, but these are characters who enrich our heroes and really contribute to the overall success of the films.

In compiling this list I’ve done my usual thing of making up arbitrary rules. Generally speaking, I’ve eschewed romantic interests or villains, even if technically I guess you’d say those are both supporting; this is because I think if a character has a really good love interest – Pepper Potts, say, or M.J. – then they start to function almost as a co-lead, in a way, a strong part of what makes the films special and an important part of the MCU in general. And villains, well, the MCU has long had a problem with villains, and whilst the last few years have started to correct this (I’m looking at you, Thanos) I still think a villain should anchor a film as much as its hero. Regardless, I just think love interests and bad guys don’t class as a supporting character. Then we have a couple of people in the MCU who I guess are technically supporting, but whose roles feel so large that it would be weird including them in this list; the likes of Nick Fury or Peggy Carter (who’s also a love interest, but then also the star of her own TV series, which may or may not be in continuity any more). I’ve also, basically, discounted almost anyone who could be an Avenger; I mean, not exactly, as you’ll see, but even without sharing the title in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, I’d never have put Bucky or Sam in this list, because although they’re definitely supporting roles in the Captain America films, they’re definitely heroes, right? Like Fury, they’re too big to be second bananas. Even, er, if they were second bananas. Can you have two second bananas? Wouldn’t it be second and third bananas? I’ve said banana too much now.

Anyway, that’s enough waffling, let’s just get to the list. Oh, and just so you know – this was hard. Really, really hard.

Korg (Taika Waititi, Thor: Ragnarok, 2017): he’s a big pile of rocks with a heart the size of a planet. He’s a bit dopey, very easily led, but he can still kick a lot of arse. He’s also consistently hilarious and I love him to bits. He is not – not – a dickhead. And “piss off, ghost” is probably the best gag in the MCU.

Talos (Ben Mendelsohn, Captain Marvel, 2019): he starts out as the type of sneery middle-management baddie Mendelsohn excels at, but really he’s a freedom fighter just trying to get home to his wife and daughter. There’s a lot of heart and warmth there, but also he’s really bloody funny. And I think it’s the juxtaposition of the Mendelsohn-villain and the soft-voiced comedy nice guy that wins me over.

Darcy Lewis (Kat Dennings, Thor, 2011): a supremely snarky counterpoint to the sci-fi seriousness of Jane Foster and the otherworldly weirdness of Thor himself, Darcy offers a refreshingly deadpan take on MCU shenanigans. Giving her more depth and agency in WandaVision was a great call, as was teaming her up with Agent Jimmy Woo, who is fantastic and not quite on this list, so let’s say he’s honorary joint third with Darcy, okay?

Luis (Michael Peña, Ant-Man, 2015): okay, they’re all comedy turns so far… but outside of Korg, Luis is the funniest. Like Korg, he’s just a nice guy, so charming and smiley and wanting to help, but what really earns him his place here is his rapid-fire stream-of-consciousness way of telling stories.

Okoye (Danai Gurira, Black Panther, 2018): almost feel like Okoye is skirting the edges of leading-lady-superhero here, but at the moment I’m happy calling her “support”. She’s a supreme badass who kicks a lot of butt, true; but she’s also got a nice line in truth-to-power snarky humour.

Ned Leeds (Jacob Batalon, Spider-Man: Homecoming, 2017): Korg and Luis might be funnier, but no one is a more dependable friend in the MCU than Ned. Spider-Man’s confidante, he’s always there for our hero, offering all kinds of aid as well as being a shoulder to cry on as Peter inevitably goes through the wringer. Also has a sweet Lego Death Star.

Happy Hogan (Jon Favreau, Iron Man, 2008): talking about “best friends”, Happy is a delight, a stressed-out bodyguard-slash-bodyman who just wants to look after his boss. There’s a lot of pathos wrapped up in Happy, a man eager to please and prove himself, but who is more than capable in multiple situations. And he’ll get you all the cheeseburgers you want.

Wong (Benedict Wong, Doctor Strange, 2016): super-strict librarian and guardian of the Sanctum, Wong is all business, except when he’s not. An absolute badass wizard (sorry, sorcerer), he’s capable of recruiting everyone in the galaxy in your hour of need, even if he’s less capable of paying for his own tuna roll.

Dr. Abraham Erskine (Stanley Tucci, Captain America: The First Avenger, 2011): against a backdrop of totalitarian power and grim military force, Erskine stands alone. A man who told Hitler to do one, and then managed to find the right man at the right time despite the protestations of almost everybody in the US army. A touching, charming, delight of a character who – like the skinny kid he picks to be Captain America – is a good man.

Maria Hill (Cobie Smulders, The Avengers, 2012): a tough-as-nails agent who’s ready to get her hands dirty in defence of the nation, but who is also unwaveringly loyal (at least if you’re name’s Nicholas J. Fury, at any rate). Absolutely someone you’d want on your side in a crisis and – if Infinity War is anything to go by – has a decent taste in knitwear, too.

Like I said before, this one was a nightmare. As well as poor old Jimmy Woo, I had to leave Kraglin on the cutting room floor, and I just know he’ll take that personally. And Friday! Good old Friday. I hope we haven’t seen the last of her. Well, heard the last of her. You know what I mean.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spanged Banner: Stab Me In The Front

Part 4- Captain Asshat

Intro: Steve's being an asshat...and Katie isn't standing for it. Throw in some alcohol and the return America’s Asshole...and there's trouble ahead!

Warnings: Bad language. SMUT (NSFW, No UNDER 18s!!!)

Pairing: 

Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: This was supposed to be a Kinks one shot, only my mind went somewhere else and I got carried away and here’s Part 4 of the Knives Out cross over.. Yeah...so now I have to write another one shot from the original prompt from @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​. Oh well... Hope you enjoy, this is a long one...it’s also really loosely proof read so apologies for mistakes but this is SO HARD to do on my phone!!!

"Steve..." Katie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before she removed her glasses and rubbed at her eyes "Why are we even having this debate?"

"Oh, it's a debate?" He folded his arms "Here was me thinking you were just point blank refusing to listen to me."

"Oh I'm listening." she glared up at him from where she sat behind her desk "You're just talking shit."

"I'm talking shit?" he fumed, blowing a breath through his nostrils "The guy is an absolute dick, and you just voluntarily invited him to your gala?"

"Yes, because this is about the Charity." she looked at him "And like it or not, dick he may be, he gave a substantial donation. It's only right."

Steve felt the nerve in his jaw twitch "Right?"

"Yes, right. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

"Are you forgetting what he said to you?" Steve looked at her.

"No." she shook her head "I'm simply saying that I don't care."

"You don't care?" his mouth fell open "You don't care that he basically-"

"No, I don't." Katie cut him off firmly "And if I don't anymore then neither should you."

"Ok, so despite the fact that he disrespected my wife, and said some pretty disgusting things about you, I should just let that slide?"

"Yes." Katie said simply, standing up as she turned off her computer screen before she looked at him "Because believe it or not I don't actually need you to be offended on my behalf Steve. Now either let it go or don't bother coming."

"Fine, if that's the way you feel then maybe I won't."

"And you call me a brat!" Katie snorted, as she walked past him towards the door of her office "You're so full of shit."

"I'm full of shit?" Steve snorted, and she stopped, turning to face him "You're the one that is insisting on inviting that ass hole...I mean, even Natasha thinks you're crazy."

"Natasha?" Katie frowned, "What's Natasha got to do with this?"

Steve hesitated and grimaced inwardly as Katie's face rearranged into a look of understanding and she let out a scoff.

"You spoke to Natasha before me?"

"She asked me what was bothering me so I told her."

"Damnit Steve!" she shook her head "Why is that you go running to other people about stuff before me? We're supposed to be married."

"Oh but it wasn't an issue when you told her before me about what Hydra did to you?" the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and no sooner had he spoke he saw Katie's face slip. "Shit, Katie, I-"

"That was a low blow Steve." she swallowed, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, I didn't..."

"Fuck you." she looked at him, before she turned and walked off.

Steve let out a groan of frustration, looking up at the ceiling as he cursed himself. That really had been unfair, the two issues weren't even comparable. He hated when he spat out stuff like that, because even when they were in the middle of an argument he loved his wife beyond life itself, and hated seeing her upset or hurt. But damnit, sometimes she just riled him so fucking much. With a deep breath he pinched the bridge of his nose and turned from the office, shutting the door behind him, the automatic lock sealing the room.  He made his way back towards the main common room, finding Sam pouring himself a drink.

"S'up Cap?" he asked, looking at Steve "You look like you lost a fifty and found a ten."

"Oh, nothing, just had an argument with Katie." he replied heavily "Said something pretty shitty."

"Like what?" Sam asked. So Steve told him, and watched as the man raised an eyebrow and shook his head "Yeah, that was pretty fucking low Steve."

"I'm well aware of that Sam." he sighed, "Fuck."

"Maybe you should swerve the Gala." Sam shrugged "Give her time to cool off. I can't see her forgiving you for that one so easily."

"Forgiving him for what?" Natasha asked and Steve groaned, just what he needed.

Before Steve could stop him, Sam filled him in and Natasha looked at him, her face stony.

"Wow." she shook her head. "What the fuck, Rogers?"

"I know, I know." he said, holding his hands up.

"Thanks for dragging my name into it."

"It's me she's pissed at, not you. And before you say it, with good reason..."

"I wasn't gonna say that." Natasha protested as Steve looked at her sceptically. She looked up at the ceiling "Ok, maybe I was."

Steve rubbed at the spot between his eyes, he could feel a headache coming on.

"I suggest you go apologise." Natasha looked at him.

"And pray." Sam added "Because, damned, she aint gonna let you forget this one in a hurry."

After thanking them, sarcastically, for their moral support to which Natasha snarked back that he didn't deserve any, Steve wandered back to their living quarters. He knew his was a big thing for Katie, the night upon which SIP’s 6 monthly Fundraising efforts for the Women's Charities they were partnered with ended, and he was so fucking proud of her for everything she'd overcome to get to this point. But he had basically thrown that in her face with his comments before. He was being a jerk, he knew that. He shouldn't have let the fact she was inviting that dickhead rile him as much as it did, it was her event, her decision after all. 

Steve took a deep breath before opening the door to their quarters and looked around, his sharp hearing picking up no sounds. He headed into the bathroom, the shower had clearly been used recently, and he found her absence odd as she'd told him earlier that her hair was getting done for the event, and normally Franco came to her. He pulled out his phone, gave her a quick call but no sooner had it rung than it cut to voicemail. 

She'd red buttoned him.

*****

It was about an hour later when Katie walked into the apartment, her hair set in an elaborate braid which swept from the right side of her temple over to the left before the rest of her long locks were curled and fell over her left shoulder. She shot Steve a filthy looked and stalked straight through to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Steve's head fell back against the sofa cushions, before he took a deep breath and decided it was time to face the music. He pushed himself up, walked into the room and found his wife sat at her vanity unit, digging out her make-up.

"Sweetheart," he began tentatively, sitting on the bed "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said what I did."

She glared at him in the mirror, but other than that made no acknowledgement that she had heard him.

"I was out of order."

Still nothing.

“Katie, come on darlin’, don't ignore me, please."

"I'm ignoring you because if I don't I'm gonna end up screaming at you." she replied simply "And I'm not letting you spoil tonight for me."

"Spoil tonight?" Steve frowned "That's not what I want."

"Well, you kinda already did in a fashion." she shrugged "Now if you don't mind I need to get ready. And your presence is not required. Either in this room, or the gala."

Steve felt his face fall at that and he looked at her in the mirror as her green eyes locked on his "You don't want me to come?"

"No." 

"Ok." he swallowed, fighting to keep his voice calm. "Then I respect your wishes."

With that he stood up, and left.

As soon as he had shut the door behind him, Katie let out a sigh, her face falling into her hands as her elbows rest on the vanity unit in front of her.  Steve's face when she'd told him she didn't want him at the gala had made her heart ache, he'd looked like a little puppy she had just given a harsh kick to. But she was so angry at him, she didn't even know where to start. He was being an absolute dick over something that really wasn't that big an issue, and then his dig about comparing him speaking to Natasha about what had happened to her...well, that was as low a blow as you could possibly get. At the time she'd been upset, angry even...now she was almost just shocked that Captain America had it in him to be so damned nasty.

Wanda had been astounded when she had told her what he had said, giving her that as a reason as to why Franco was going to be doing their hair in her room, not Katie’s apartment. Then, when Natasha had turned up, the Red Head had told Katie she had informed Steve he was out of order, but also that he seemed genuinely contrite as well when he had been talking to her and Sam.

Katie knew he was sorry, she didn't need Natasha to point out that Steve had said what he had it in the haste of an argument. She knew only too well herself that in the heat of the moment people said things they didn't really mean. But he wasn't getting off so easily. He accused her of being a brat often enough and here he was acting like one.

So, with that in mind, she'd told him to stay behind. She knew full well that he would show up anyway after an hour or so of brooding, with another apology which she might be ready to accept at that point. But until then, he could fucking stew a little, think about what he had said some more

Raising her head she looked at herself in the mirror before she set about doing her make-up. It took her about 30 minutes to perfect the look she was going for, a dark smoky eye effect with bright rub red lips, another thing she knew drove Steve wild, before she stood up and grabbed her dress out of the wardrobe. It was a skin tight deep red mermaid style Dolce number, which sat off her shoulders with a small v neckline. She knew she looked good in it, which was why she had bought it in the first place along with a matching tie for Captain Asshat. Once she was in, she struggled with the zip which was at the back and after getting it most of the way up, instead of asking said Asshat for help she decided she would get Wanda or Nat to fix it. She stepped into her trusty gold Jimmy Choos before giving herself the once over. Satisfied with the results, she opened the door and walked down the hallway to the living room.

Steve looked up as Katie strode into the living room and felt his jaw drop. He really shouldn't be surprised anymore at how stunning she managed to look when she was dolled up, but she still took his breath away every time he saw her. She looked great all the time in his eyes anyway but...damned.

She sauntered past him, without so much as a glance in his direction and he took a deep breath. To comment or not to comment now was the big question. Whatever he did or said he was going to be wrong in her eyes so...

Oh fuck it, in for a penny.

"You look stunning." he said, his head turning to watch her as she walked passed him heading for the door.

"Thanks." she said, her tone clipped. But that was more of a response than he had expected. He hesitated for a second, about to offer to walk her down to the Marquee, even though she would likely refuse, but he stopped as he saw the back of her dress wasn't quite done up.

"Honey, your zip..." he said as he walked towards her.

"I know." she said, opening the door "I can't quite reach it..."

"Why didn't you just ask..." he sighed, his hand going to help but she jerked away and spun round.

"I'll get Wanda or Nat to do it." she said simply.

"Oh, now you're just being ridiculous.."

Her eyes flashed dangerously and he knew why. That was the single worst thing he could say to he when she was in this type of mood but he was beyond the point of caring now. She was being ridiculous.

"Look, I know I was out of order, but I've apologised. What else do you want me to say?" he asked, looking at her.

"Don't wait up." she said, her voice steely, and with that she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

He debated for a second if he should go after her, but his own anger won out. Instead he turned round and walked straight to the cabinet they kept their liquor in. Finding what he wanted, a bottle of that Asgardian dynamite stuff Thor had left, he pulled it out, grabbed himself a tumbler and headed back to the couch.

*****

For the next hour or so Katie was too busy to even give Steve a second thought. She welcomed the guests and the limited press that had been invited, Evans  and Sam providing her back up checking off the guest list, for which she gratefully thanked them both. She was just at the bar talking to one of the Charity Organisers when she felt a gentle touch on her elbow. She turned and beamed at the man stood in front of her.

"Harlan!" she smiled, as he leant down to gently kiss her cheek "I'm so glad you could make it."

"The pleasure is all mine." he smiled back. "How are you Mrs Rogers?"

"Good, thank you." she nodded "It's been busy but definitely worth it."

"Well the predicted figures look good." he nodded "You've raised a lot of money."

"Yeah, it's gone better than I could have ever hoped." she agreed "I'll never be able to thank you enough."

Harlan waved away her comment and looked back over his shoulder. Katie followed his gaze and saw the man that had caused all the trouble between her and Steve, leaning at the bar. He was dressed in a smart, pin striped suit, his hair slicked back and his jaw clean shaven as ever.

"He came then." she said, and Harlan turned back to her giving a low chuckle.

"Yes, you made quite an impression on him. I've never heard of him donating money to a charity before." he mused

"Probably guilty he behaved like an ass hole." she said, before she shook her head "Sorry, that was rude."

"No more than he deserves." Harlan sighed "The sad thing is, he's not a bad man underneath it all. I see a lot of myself in him, just wish he would apply himself better to something. I've even tried to get him involved in the publishing company but he just isn't interested. Suppose you can't polish a turd."

Katie let out a huge snort of laughter at the phrase tumbling from the old man's lips and he gave her a large grin from behind his white beard as she shook her head "Now that's a quote for your next book."

Harlan chuckled again before Tony appeared by her side with a glass of champagne.

"Mr Stark." Harlan shook his hand as Tony smiled at him.

"Mr Thrombey, pleasure." he said, before he turned to Katie "Where's Spangles?"

"Busy." she said simply. Tony arched an eyebrow at him and she gave him a look, which he met with one of his own.

"Doing what?"

"Stuff."

"Wow, yeah, that stuff...it's...a pain..." Tony said, and Katie gave him a glare before she glanced around and Harlan struck up a chat with Tony about the latest Stark Industries initiative into wind farms. Natasha caught her eye and she excused herself and wandered over but as she was crossing the room, Ransom stepped into her path.

"Mr Drysdale." she looked at him "No tatty sweater?"

He gave a huff of a laugh "No, I only wear the cable knit on special occasions."

"Good to know." she raised an eyebrow.

"So where's your guard dog?" he asked, looking around.

"If you mean Steve, he's otherwise engaged." she said, shrugging "No doubt he'll be along later."

"Well in that case can I get you a drink?"

"It's a free bar."

"Yes, but I can still get you one."

"I'm good thanks." she waved the half full flute in her hand. "Now if you'll excuse me for a second, I need to speak to someone."

"Oh, Doll, I thought we left things on better terms." he sighed, placing his hand over his heart, looking at her. Katie cocked her head to one side, before she flashed him a grin.

"I doubt you're capable of leaving it on good terms with any girl you cross paths with."

"Never had any complaints." he smirked. At that Katie snorted.

"Well you can't be meeting with the right women." she said simply, and with that she moved past him, and headed over to Natasha who was beckoning her over.

"Everything ok?" she asked and Natasha nodded.

"Yup.I just got you a surprise." she smiled.

"A surprise?" Katie frowned.

"Seeing as its a special occasion." Natasha continued, linking her arm through Katie's. She led her through to the entrance of the Marquee where a familiar face was stood talking to Evans, Sam and Wanda,

"S'up Nova?" Clint grinned at her as she gave a laugh and threw herself at him.

"What are you doing here?" she spluttered as he released her, stepping back slightly.

"Couldn't miss your big event." he smiled "You look great. Where's Cap?"

"In the dog house." Nat spoke before Katie could. Katie sighed and shot Natasha a look before she turned back to Clint.

"Don't wanna talk about it." she shook her head. "Now, come on, fill me in...how are the kids? Laura?"

She didn't miss the look that Wanda, Sam and Natasha shared but chose to ignore it as she steered Clint towards the bar for a well overdue catch up.

*****

Steve drained his glass and poured himself another measure. Katie had been gone for just under two hours now and his mood was rapidly growing worse. More so because deep down he knew this was his own stupid fault. Because of his inability to keep his, albeit in his opinion justified, issue about Ransom fucking Drysdale to himself, his wife was now going through probably one of the biggest nights of her life without him there. And what made it worse was that smarmy bastard was there, probably eyeing her up, like he had done at the last gala, making some dickhead comment or other which he would no doubt weasel his way out of by sending another cheque for a ludicrous amount. Steve hated that, people that thought money made everything ok. And what was worse, it seemed to have placated Katie as well. He took a mouthful of his drink, the burn in his throat pleasantly distracting him for a moment, before he stared at the TV.

No, fuck this... this was his wife, his damned compound.

Necking his drink he stood up, the liquor giving him a pleasant buzz, before he strode into the bedroom, stripping off his sweater and jeans before he pulled his suit out of the closet. Slipping his arms into his shirt, he buttoned it up before expertly tying the tie Katie had bought him in a double Windsor, before grabbing his jacket. Once one he straightened his hair, slipped on his shoes he headed out of the door, making his way out of the side of the building, striding over to the marquee which was buzzing with people.

"Oh here he is." Sam grinned at him "You're a brave man, Cap."

"Shut up Sam." he said, rolling his eyes.

Sam chuckled as Evans raised an eyebrow. "Should I check he's on the list?" he drawled, his Texan accent thick.

"I think Katie crossed him off." Sam teased.

"Hilarious." Steve deadpanned, stepping past them into the Marquee. His eyes quickly roved the crowd and he did a double take as he saw Clint with Natasha and Wanda at the bar. He'd had no idea the archer was coming, but right now he was looking for his wife, the reunion could wait. He continued to scan the Marquee and he spotted her and then felt his jaw clench as he saw she was stood with him. As he watched he saw her say something and she tipped her head back in genuine laughter, and touched his arm before she shook her head, and turned to someone else who had attracted her attention. Giving a nod she looked back to Ransom and he nodded, as she walked away.

"Spangles." Tony greeted appearing at his side. "What's going on?"

"Ask your sister." he said, his voice stony. "I need a fucking drink."

With that he strode over to the bar. Ordering himself a large scotch he turned to look for Katie again, but there was no sign of her. With a nod of acknowledgment to the guy behind the bar he took his drink and turned to look back over the room. He spotted a few familiar faces from the compound and the tower, nodding towards Pepper as she smiled at him. Tony looked at him again before he turned away, and then his eyes fell on Ransom who was stood with his grandfather. Ransom grinned at him, and Steve simply glared back, before he turned to greet Clint who had now appeared behind him.

"Hey Cap." Clint smiled, and Steve returned his grin, shaking his hand.

"Hey Clint, didn't know you were coming."

"No one did, bar Nat. Thought it would be a nice surprise for Nova."

"Sure she was thrilled." 

"Am I sensing a little trouble in paradise?" Clint asked, and Steve scoffed.

"You could say that." he shrugged, before he sighed "I said something before, that was out of order and now she's giving me the cold shoulder. Told me not to come actually but..."

"But here you are." Natasha said, leaning on the bar besides him "You're either dumb, got a death wish...or maybe both."

"Romanoff, just don't." he turned to look at her, and she smirked before ordering herself a martini. "How long has Drysdale been here?"

"Who?" Cint frowned.

"The smarmy looking asshole in the pinstriped suit." he said, nodding towards him.

"About an hour.." Nat said, "I'm not sure."

"An hour too long." Steve muttered, taking a mouthful of his drink.

"Are you seriously that bothered by him?" she turned to look at him. Steve didn't reply.

"Clearly." Clint said, "Who is he?"

"Harlan Thrombey's Grandson." Natasha explained "Harlan wrote the book that the SIP published and donated all the profits to the Relief Fund."

"And you don't like him?"

"They had a little run in Boston..." Nat smirked. "And then at the Launch..."

"It wasn't a run in." Steve shook his head "He was absolutely vile to Katie..."

"And she's over it..." Natasha sighed

Steve didn't reply, he simply watched Drysdale for a second before he turned his attention to the stage where Tony was now tapping the microphone. The Marquee fell silent and Tony grinned out.

"And once again I find myself the centre of attention." he grinned, and the room chuckled. "But tonight isn't about me, for once, yes I know, I know..."

He continued to talk for a few minutes, thanking everyone for coming before he grew serious and took a deep breath.

"As you will all know, the past 6 months Stark Independent Publishers has been working, in partnership with a number of Women's Charities which are close to all of us in and around Stark Industries, and the Avengers for personal reasons as you will be well aware. We are seconds away from announcing our final fundraising total, so without further ado I'd like to hand you over to my little sister, who's been the brains behind this from the very start. Kiddo, the stage is all yours."

As he stepped back the Marquee erupted into applause and  Katie walked up the steps to the stage, her face beaming as Tony swept her into a hug. She grinned at him as he kissed her cheek and she headed to the microphone.

"Thanks Tone." she smiled, "That was short and sweet and actually very to the point, for once." a few chuckles rang around and Steve simply watched his wife as she started running through what they'd been doing and how they'd been raising money, her passion and enthusiasm shining out of every inch of her body. As he stood still, he felt all the anger eb out of his body and instead it was filled with an overwhelming sense of pride. Katie finished her speech before she stepped back and turned to take an envelope from Happy who bent and kissed her cheek.

"So although I know the sales figures from our book, the rest of this is a surprise to me, as much as it is to you." she smiled, and then her eyes locked with Steve's. She gave a little surprised frown, and then her face softened slightly as he smiled at her and she gave him the faintest of smiles back, before she averted her gaze and grinned as Tony let out a loud yell.

"Drumroll please...."

Katie laughed as the tent was filled with the sounds of people banging on things, and stomping their feet. Steve watched as she opened the envelope and pulled out the card. Her eyes widened as she read the total and her mouth dropped open.

"Shit." she spluttered, and the Marquee chuckled whilst she composed herself. "Sorry but...my God this is..." she swallowed and looked at Tony for a moment before she shook her head "According to this, the donations, sales...we've raised over £14.5 million."

"Holy shit!" Steve heard Natasha splutter as his own mouth dropped open, and he joined in the cheering.

"This is amazing, but this also isn't the end of it. Stark Industries will be doubling this total and all profits from the sales of "The Colour of Revenge" will continue to be donated..." she said, sniffing slightly and Steve could see she was getting emotional. He set down his glass on the bar and started to make his way over to the stage. "This money will save lives, give women a safe place to go when they've no one else to turn to. Thank you, thank you all for your overwhelming generosity. Now, please enjoy the evening and the entertainment and if any of you want to give us any more money, please feel free."

At that she stepped back and Steve waited for her at the bottom of the stage steps, the applause ringing in his ears. He offered her his arm and she paused for a second.

"Oh come on sweetheart" he said gently. She allowed him to help her down before she turned to him

"I told you not to come."

"Honey, this was your big night.I didn't want you to do this alone."

"There's a marquee of people."

"You know what I mean." he said gently "I'm sorry, you know I am. Please don't let's fight now, I hate it."

"I don't want to do this here" she said, her tone soft "Not now Steve.”

"Ok." he said, leaning down to give her a soft kiss. She didn't turn away, which he took as encouraging "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you." she smiled softly, "Now, sorry, but I have to go give an interview but..."

"Sure, come find me when you're done."

She nodded, and headed away from him towards someone he didn't recognise, presumably some journalist. His eyes still on her back as she walked away, he felt slightly buoyed by her seemingly thawing towards him, so with a slight spring in his step he headed back to the bar. He ordered another drink, and had just taken it when a familiar voice drawled at him, and he instantly felt himself bristle.

"She's one hell of a woman your wife."

"What do you want Drysdale?" he asked, turning to the man.

"Nothing, I was just paying her a compliment."

"Well don't" he glared at the man "And if you value your life, keep your eyes and your damned hands to yourself."

Ransom let out a snort "What you gonna do, throw me over the bar again?”

"Don't tempt me."

"We both know you're not gonna make a scene here, not with all these people around, because that really would piss your wife off." he leaned on the bar, looking around. "And then she'd have to send me another coat and a crate of snacks."

"What are you talking about?" Steve frowned.

"Oh dear, didn't you know?" Ransom smirked "Yeah, after I sent her the cheque and her knife back, she responded with a very nice coat and a couple of months supply of cookies."

Steve's nostrils flared as he looked at Ransom, then over to his wife and back again. "Are you shitting me?"

Ransom shook his head. "And they tasted all the more sweeter coming from her, if you know what I mean."

"You smug, son of a bitch..." Steve stepped forwards, and a hand settled on his arm.

"Cap." Sam spoke "Don't..."

"Yeah Cap..." Ransom drawled, sipping his drink.

Steve shrugged Sam's hand off his arm and glared at Ransom, the look on the man's face was infuriating him. "Make one more wise crack I swear to God..."

"I don't believe it."

Steve's head snapped to the side and he saw Katie glaring at him.

"Katie..."

"You just can't help it can you?" she shook her head. "And I thought you were genuinely sorry."

"To be fair..." Sam began to defend Steve but she held her hand up.

"I don't wanna hear it." she said, shaking her head. "I'm done..."

With that she turned and strode away.

"Oops. " Ransom said, simply, picking up his glass. With a final look at Steve, he headed off back towards his grandfather.

"Well played." Sam said, sarcastically, clapping Steve on the shoulder. Steve took a deep breath before he drained his glass and turned, leaving the tent.

******

It was pushing one in the morning when Katie got back to their living quarters. Steve was sat outside on their patio, the bottle of Asgardian shit on the table in front of him but thanks to his super hearing he knew she'd entered the room. Standing up, grabbing the drink, he moved into the doorway, leaning on it as she shut the door, shoes in her hand. She turned around and stopped when she saw him, eyeing him for a moment, taking in his appearance. His tie was loose, his shirt sleeves rolled up and she could tell from the look in his eyes he was drunk.

"You came back then?" he said, his words slightly slurred.

"Where else would I go?" she snarked back.

"I dunno, maybe to order Drysdale another coat or some cookies." he said, necking the drink that was in his hand before he set the glass down on the dining table that stood in front of him.

"Seriously, that's...that's what all that was about?" she shook her head "God you're an ass hat."

"An ass hat." he mused, pouring himself another measure of drink.

"Yes, an ass hat." she said, swaying a little on the spot. Fuck she was drunk as well, she'd ended up doing shots at the bar with Clint and Evans, never a wise move.

"Well I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment." he shrugged.

"Oh fuck off Steve." she sighed, "I'm going to bed."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, and she stopped, turning round.

"What about?"

"Your present to Ransom?"

"Because I didn't think it was important, it was just a joke."

"Fucking hilarious."

"No, you know what is hilarious? This..." she said, gesturing to him, a little unsteadily "You getting all fucking het up about a damned coat and some cookies. Now who's being ridiculous?"

"I saw you." he said, "When I first got there, you had your hand on his arm, laughing at him..."

"Oh Jesus Christ Steve..." she groaned. "I was talking to him, he was telling me something about his uncle!"

"You were all over him"

"Do you want me to go and fuck him or something?" Katie asked, "Because if that's gonna make you happy, just to prove a point."

"Don't be fucking stupid."

"Well shut up then!" she yelled back. "Sometimes I wonder what the hell goes on in your head. I love you, you know I do. I don't want or need anyone else but at times you irritate the shit out of me."

"The feeling is mutual doll."

"Good, glad we agree on something." she said, shaking her head. "I'm going to bed. You carry on drinking yourself into a stupor."

"I'm not done."

"And you can sleep on the sofa."

"Like fuck I am!"

"Fine, I'll sleep on the sofa then." she shrugged

"You're such a fucking brat."

"Me?" she laughed "I'm the brat? You've behaved like a prize prick Steven, and I'm so fucking pissed at you I can't even..."

With that she turned and headed towards the bedroom.

"Don't walk away when I'm talking to you." he said, stepping into the room.

"Or what?" she spun round, "What you gonna do..."

"Oh Doll, you have no idea how much you're pushing me tonight." he said, his voice low.

"Really Steve, how many fucking buttons am I pushing? Hmmm?" she leaned against the wall. "Do enlighten me."

"You know it's no wonder Ward cheated on you." he slurred, "If you were like this with him then..."

Whack!

Something sharp hit him in the temple and he dropped the glass he was holding, staggering back slightly. He glanced at the floor and saw that she had launched her shoe at him, her aim impeccable as ever. He raised his hand to his forehead, feeling the wet trickle of blood under his finger. It wasn't a lot, she'd only nicked the skin but it was enough to sober him up slightly, and the words he had just spitefully spat at her echoed in his head.

"Katie..."

"You are the biggest fucking..." she spoke, her chest heaving, "Actually I don't even have a word to describe what you are right now."

"You hit me with a shoe." he said simply.

"Yeah, want me to do it again?" she asked, waving the one that was still in her hand.

"Don't."  he said softly, shaking his head "Look, I'm..."

"Oh save it." she said, turning and walking into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Steve's hands fell to his hips, as he looked down at his feet. What the fuck was wrong with him? That was twice today he'd said something so despicable it made his toes curl even thinking about it. He'd been a grade A asshole, and he needed to make this right.

"Katie..." he strode after her, and headed into the bedroom. The en-suite door was shut and he could hear her sobbing in the bathroom. Fuck. "Honey I'm sorry."

"Piss off." she sniffled.

"Open the door baby, please."

"No..."

"Don't make me break it down. You know how precious Tony gets about us breaking things”

His joke fell flat as she remained silent. "Sweetheart..."

"Where did you learn to be so spiteful?" She yelled back through the door.

“I don’t know.” with a sigh he leaned against the door "I know, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of those things..."

"But you did." she sobbed, and Steve felt the tears prick his eyes "Why?"

"I was angry, and..." he took a deep breath "I guess I wanted to piss you off as much as you pissed me off."

"I pissed you off?" she snorted "Steve you came at me before with that comment about fucking Hyrda and now Ward...could you be any more nasty?"

"I know, I know..." he said, "Honey, I've no excuse. Please, open the door."

There was a sniffle on the side and he heard her the swish of her dress as she moved. The lock on the door clicked and it opened a chink. He pushed it further and look at her, her mascara was streaked down her cheeks, her hair was messy from where she had clearly been fisting her hands in it and he instantly felt the pang of guilt and regret in his chest tighten even more. "Oh baby girl..." his voice cracked "I'm so sorry...I really am."

"How could you even think for one minute that I’d even look at that jerk in that way?"

"I don't not really" he said, shaking his head. "I'm an ass hole, a jealous ass hole...I just, sometimes I can't believe..." he stopped, and shook his head "You know what, it doesn't matter. I was out of order."

She paused and looked at him, sniffing. "You can't believe what?"

"Honestly, it doesn't matter."

"For fucks sake, Steve!" she spluttered "Stop it!"

"I can't believe that you, well that you chose me you know?" he sighed, his hand running through his hair "I just..."

"You're a dick." she shook her head. "I married you, you ass hole."

"I know, and I wonder why sometimes."

"So you've been a spiteful bastard because you feel insecure?"

"No, well, partly..." he sighed "Look, seeing you before with him and then he he told me about the box and stuff...I just saw red."

She looked at him and shook her head "That is not an excuse."

"I know it isn't." he looked at her "I know."

She looked at him for a moment before she shook her head and walked out of the bathroom, over to her vanity table, sitting down. She pulled out the wipes and began scrubbing at her face, removing her make-up. He sat on the edge of the bed, in the same position he had a few hours ago and simply watched her. Eventually, when she was happy her face was clean she looked up and he saw her eyes travel over his reflection before she frowned.

"You're bleeding" 

"Well, you're a damned good shot" he shrugged. "And those heels are sharp."

She stood up and turned, stepping into the space between his legs.

"Honey it's..."

"Shut up" she instructed.

Knowing he had pushed his luck already he did as he was told and she gently wipe at the cut on his temple, his hands falling to her hips as she did so. He was pleased to see she didn't push him away. He watched her intently as she cleaned his face.

"I think you’ll live" she said gently, tossing the wipe into the waste basket. His hands flexed on her hips and she looked at him.

"I really am sorry." he said again "I love you, so fucking much. At times I just don't know how to deal with it."

"By not being a cunt."

"Wow." he snorted "Did you just drop the c-bomb?"

"Justified." she muttered, her hands falling to his shoulders "Damned it Steve!"

"I know, I know." he said his hands, smoothing down the back of her thighs.

“I love you too, so much it hurts at times.” she shook her head “You know the amount of women that look at you in such a way I know what they’re thinking but...I get over it, you know? Because you married me and...” she let out a deep breath. “You go ballistic whenever I question how you feel about me compared to Peggy and yet you come out with the stuff you said today.”

Steve looked down at the floor, his hands still curved around her legs “I know. My ma would be ashamed.”

Katie took a deep breath before she moved her hand and tilted his face up to look at her. His eyes were shining with tears and she let out a sigh, dropping a kiss to his forehead as her hand slid round the back of his neck, nails dragging over his skin.

“I love you.” she muttered “You big, dumb idiot.”

They stayed silent for a moment and Steve looked up at her, smiling softly.

 "You know you really looked amazing tonight. I'm just sorry I didn't get chance to appreciate it more."

"Well..." she took a deep breath. "I know I didn't let you help me into my dress...but you can help me out of it if you want?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, a smile flickering across his face " Yeah?" he asked, gracefully rising to his feet.

She nodded, biting her lip. He leaned down to give her a soft kiss before he whispered against her mouth "Turn around."

She did as she was told and Steve reached for the zip on her dress, sliding it down gently, his fingertips brushing her skin as he did so, allowing the dress to fall at her feet and he let out a soft moan as he glanced down, seeing that she was braless. His hands gently guided hers up so they reached back around his neck, and he swallowed at the sight of her presented to him. One hand moved down, splayed on her stomach, pulling her back into him as the other swept her hair out of the way as his head dipped, trailing kisses across the back of her shoulders, before he made his way up her neck, his teeth softly grazing her ear. She let out a soft sigh, her head tilting to one side as his lips continued caressing her soft skin, the hand that was on her belly started slowly to make its way downwards, sneaking beneath the waistband of her panties. His fingers gently parted her folds, and she gave a little gasp as he began to coax her softly, his other hand reaching up to caress her breasts, gently kneading before he pulled on her hardening nipple. She arched her back into him slightly, a breathy gasp escaping her as he continued to tease her, his mouth hot on her neck.

"Like that?" his own voice was raspy, his arousal evident in his tone and she gave a nod.

"Don't stop..." she begged, and his fingers began to work faster against her nub, the hand on her breast also picking up the pace slightly.

"You're so beautiful…” he whispered and she moaned and writhed in delight at his praise and his actions as he worked her over. With a quick flick of his wrist, he pushed two fingers into her and curled them against her spot and her head fell back even further into him as she let out a soft whimper of his name, his hands upping their pace slightly as she began to buck into his touch. She arched her back, her mouth fell open and then her head rolled forward as she came, knees trembling, her hands pulling at his hair. He held her up in his strong arms and whilst she was still in the after throws of bliss he nipped at her neck, drawing a soft groan from her mouth. Steve gently turned her round and lifted her up, placing her gently on the bed, kneeling over her as he discarded his shirt, tie by which point she had recovered slightly and sat up, her hands pulling at his belt buckle.  He leaned down to capture her mouth in a deep kiss, and he grinned against her mouth as she whipped the belt from around his waist, tossing it to the floor before she undid the button on his pants, pushing them down over his hips along with his boxers.  Once he had shimmied out of his remaining clothes, he fell over her again, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her hard, using his leg to part hers. With a sharp thrust that made her cry out, he sank into her, his lips back on hers, as he stilled for a moment, grinding up against her. Her head fell back against the pillow and he started to drive into her, his thrusts hard, deep and he moved his mouth down to kiss and lick and suck all along her shoulders, knowing full well he would leave marks there for the morning but neither of them cared as their moans grew louder as his thrusts grew more desperate.

“Fuck.” he groaned, both hands now on her hips as he continued his movements, looking down at her as her breasts bounced as her body moved with every slam he made into her. Her hands moved from where they had been gripping at his biceps to bracing herself  against the headboard, causing her to push back against him, allowing him to push deeper. As her breathing adopted the tell tale staccato rhythm, he moved one hand  to the back of her head and he used it to make her look up, her eyes locking onto his as he felt her body start to quiver.

“Come on doll…” he practically growled “let go for me…”

It wasn’t like she had a choice. She never did when it came to this. Her pupils were blown now with lust and desire and after another 3, 4 hard thrusts her back arched and her hands flew to his back, nails scratching at his skin. He hissed at the bite of pain, dropping his mouth to capture hers as she moaned again, this moan broken as she bucked upwards and clutched at him desperately.

“Stevie…” she moaned and her walls tightened on him as she came hard, and the feel of her tightening and pulsing around him tipped him him ferociously over the edge after her, his hips stuttering as he gave into the wave of pleasure with an incoherent babble of her name, before he tipped forward, falling onto her, his face buried in her neck.

The pair of them lay still, the only sounds in the bedroom now were the deep, ragged drawings of breath. Katie gently ran her hands through his hair, as she always did, relishing his weight on top of her. This was the only way she could ever lift Steve, his body on top of hers rising and falling through the movements of her deep breathing.  Eventually he raised his head and pressed their foreheads together, his nose sliding up and down hers gently.

"I love you." he whispered "You know that, right?"

"Of course I do." she sighed, looking at him "But Steve, you really did behave like a jerk." "I know, and I'm sorry." he said, his hands moving to brush her hair back. "I really am." "I know you are." she said, her hand gently running down the back of his neck, and he closed his eyes slightly, allowing her touch to relax him even further. "I don't understand why you think I would even want anyone else." "Well, I guess you can take me out of that little kid that got his ass kicked all over Brooklyn, but you can't take that little kid out of me." he sighed, his head hanging slightly as he shook it letting out a deep sigh.

She considered him for a moment before she leaned up and gave him a soft kiss "I love you, Steven Grant Rogers, not Captain America." "I know Doll." he nodded "I know." With a gentle movement he pulled out of her and pushed the covers of the bed down, before he rolled onto his back, as she scooted over to him, her head laying on his chest, one of her legs pushing through his as she snuggled closer. He pulled the duvet over them and reached over to hit the switch which would cut the lights in the room.

"This doesn't mean I've forgiven you." she said softly as his hand carded through her hair, his chest warm against her cheek as it gently rose and fell with his breathing.

"I wouldn't dream of suggesting it does." he chuckled slightly kissing her head "I'm not that stupid" "Jury's out." she yawned slightly, the arm that was draped around his waist gave him a squeeze and he pulled her closer nuzzling into her hair.

It wasn't long before he felt her relax and he glanced down, just able to make out in the dim light that her eyes were shut. He watched her face for a moment, the face he could draw from memory, and had done as a matter of fact several times, an let out a deep breath. She was right, he was an ass hole, and at times he knew he didn't deserve her. But she loved him and wanted him, and damned it he'd try and be worthy of that love and want every damed day for the rest of his life.

"I love you so much doll." he whispered into her hair.

"Love you to Soldier..." she muttered back, her face pressing further into his chest. With a smile he dropped a kiss on her head, closing his eyes as he felt the tendrils of sleep pulling at him, happy that they were going to be ok, not that he doubted that for a second not, really They'd come through far worse after all, and like his Ma always used to tell him.

Tomorrow is another day after all.

[juderoths]

what’s poppin , el here. i’m 21 & from the uk.  i go by she/they. this shit got erased cause my laptop died so heres a shitty summary i’ll write a better one someday i apologise in advance. but anyway heres my himbo child,  J U D E  &  if you would like to plot with him, give this a like.  tw  for  abandonment  &  learning  difficulties

⌜ZETHPHAN SMITH GNEIST, CIS MAN, HE/HIM⌟ welcome to chatsworth academy, JUDE ROTH. it says here, that you are TWENTY, in SECOND year and that you’re here for your ATHLETIC skills? is it true high school you were voted most likely to WIN THE LOTTERY AND LOSE THE TICKET , well, that’s interesting.╱ awkward love poems scribbled on toilet paper , late night phone calls with his family after feeling homesick , a bin full of energy drinks ╳

STATS

full  name  :  jude  roth

age  :  twenty

hometown  :  berlin  ,  germany

gender :  cis  man  -  he / him

sexuality  :  heterosexual

BACKSTORY

karl zimmerman met eudora roth on a business trip while she was waitressing yada yada yada. BOOM. dating. then BOOM babies. specifically : jude & mona.

KARL IS A MAJOR DICKHEAD. turns out the dude was already married with kids. and also richer than he made out. eudora found this out and went to his wife with this. as you may have guessed, both women dumped the man on his ass. don’t let the door hit you on the way out, karl. hate him.

eudora, the angel that she is, let him visit for mona’s sake cause she was a lil baby gremlin at the time. but nooooo mr business is everything over here had to go fucking ruin things again. he stopped visiting, he stopped the money. he fucked off like the lil piss baby he is.

money was tight for ages after this. his sister was often sick and constantly in and. out of hospital. his mum was working relentlessly. jude was struggling with dyslexia. but the three of them had each other. it wasn’t much but they loved each other SO fucking much.

fuck school. that’s all i’ve gotta say. being a kid with learning difficulties at a shitty school is never fun. but sport helped him through that a lot. he felt his PE teacher was the only person who hadn’t given up on him yet. 

college was out of the question for him in his mind. he’d pick up some job somewhere, probably at the local tech store fixing phones. he didn’t see himself making any money doing sport which SUCKED ASS. but, he’d rather help out at home than waste money on some degree that probably won’t mean shit cause the unemployment rate is so high for graduates.

but by some miracle, a rep of chatsworth was at one of his football games at school and he was approached with an offer. what jude didn’t know was that his lil piss baby father was the one that arranged it, cause the bitch felt guilty. the dude he swore he’d never get any help from getting into a prestigious college. not a dick move, but also dickish at the same time

don’t get me wrong. jude felt like a fish out of water his entire first year at school. it was only at his mother’s insistence that he accepted.

I HAVE PLANS TO FUCK THIS UP THO. turns out his half siblings also go here. basically their mum was a model & karl had become a CEO eventually. so obviously they got in. he didn’t really talk to them in first year so didn’t know them. but jude doesn’t know they’re his siblings but they’ve recently discovered that they’re his siblings. and they know about their father’s role in getting him in. it’s all very confusing i know. i like convoluted plots like that.

EXTRAS & HEADCANONS

you can find his pinterest here & playlist here (will put in links later cause neither is finished)

my guy is a soft jock himbo with slight fatherly abandonment issues. he doesn’t like to admit how much it affects him. just wants to prove he can do shit without help ya know. 

fluent in both german and english, but speaks with a berlin accent

no common sense

honestly just wants to chill 

bin is always full of energy drinks

he’s on the football team and on the runners

surprisingly good with tech. will fix ur phone if u need it. when u break ur phone like three times a week it comes in handy

he’s a hopeless romantic. will write love poems at 3 am on toilet paper cause he’s misplaced actual paper

has always had an unhealthy obsession with parkour

calls his family up at least once every couple of days

hufflepuff. nuff said.

CONNECTIONS

gonna keep this short and sweet cause i’m a broken human being right now, but i’d love to see like his number one ride or die, best friends, crushes (dude loves people), unrequited CRUSHES cause i’m an evil bitch like that, sport team mates, someone who tutors him, frenemies, enemies (maybe in the form of elitists at the school) tho he tries to keep it to none if ya get me he doesn’t like having enemies what’s the point why not get along, comfort buddies, buddies that just comfort and shed tears together (he makes for a great cuddling pillow), and of course, his half siblings cause i’m a sucker for pain. but, honestly i’m open to anything you throw my way. 

@chatsworthinfo​​  

[redbeanboi]

if you have the time,id like to req some giorno hcs related to BbP!! uwu i cant get enough of the golden boi,and i absolutely ADORE ur work

Thank you so much for the adoration (towards my work), my dear friend! I appreciate it very much. Giorno is indeed Golden Boi™, and as you requested, here are some Business Before Pleasure related Giorno/Reader hc’s. Most will be taking place shortly after their wedding, aka… the awkward phase. Giorno is about 21 years old at this point and so is the Reader (takes place 5 years post canon).

A very big thank you to my sweet boyfriend for always being supportive of my writing and being the best muse for Giorno that I could have asked for. He helped me out with these hc’s, and some of them are things that he’s done himself.

Giorno/F!Reader Post-Wedding HC’s

If you’re new to my work (linked above), the gist of this is that Giorno and F!Reader are wedded through an arrangement proposed to Giorno by Don Vittorio Andolini, the Boss of the Sicilian mafia, and—as you might have guessed—the Reader’s adopted father. Reader and Giorno are actually not upset about the marriage (both know it’s practical and give full consent to the match) but they’re not in love. Yet.

Giorno and his wife (You!!) return to Napoli two weeks after the wedding. You spent your honeymoon in Bali but immediately settle into your new lives as husband and wife.

For the most part, Giorno is very distant. He doesn’t want to bother or trouble you, so he mainly does it so you have your privacy.

On the other hand, he notices that you’re not particularly happy being away from your home or family for the first time in your life (very quiet and distant behavior has sirens and alarms going off in his head), and after making a few concerned calls to his father-in-law asking for advice, Giorno decides to try a little bit harder.

Every week, he’ll buy a bouquet of flowers and has the maids put them in a vase in your room. He makes note of which ones you like and makes sure to get a different variety in each week. Every time he does it he just gets better at picking!

Usually gets gifts. Not every week, like flowers, but if he finds something that reminds him of you, he’ll get it. Usually will get accessories and most of it is jewelry. He won’t get you clothes because he thinks you have good taste already, so unless one of the bodyguards let slip that you’ve been staring at a dress from “so-and so’s boutique,” he won’t be getting you any new clothes. He will, however, let you buy whatever you like and knows you’re responsible enough to not waste any money.

For dates, he’ll often stick to dinner at a restaurant. Giorno is particularly fond of the Spanish Quarter of Napoli, so expect to eat at a variety of establishments in that area. It’s also worth mentioning that a lot of the business owners in that area practically love your husband, so you’re usually treated to free dessert, or sometimes a whole meal! They always insist on giving you the best wine available as well, free of charge.

Will sometimes take you with him to see a variety of performances, either at the Teatro di San Carlo or at the Conservatorio di San Pietro a Majella. Usually it’s at San Carlo, either to see the orchestra perform. If it’s at San Pietro a Majella, it’s most likely a prodigious music student giving a recital. “High society stuff,” if you will. Being the daughter of Don Vittorio Andolini means you’ve been to quite a few fancy places yourself and have at least learned a little more about music history and such. Your father is appreciative of instrumental and vocal music and expected you to also share his sentiments towards it! 

Of course, Giorno doesn’t realize that taking you here actually makes you miss your father more, and it’s mostly due to you quietly thanking him for taking you. Better than staying at the house at night and awkwardly having dinner in the dining room…

Either way, he’ll usually take you for a walk around the city afterwards. He doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable though, considering you’re both still strangers (funny how that works, haha! arranged marriages, am I right?). With that being said, he wants you to feel comfortable, so you both usually walk around without any guards nearby, but Giorno is obviously still concerned for your safety, so he will make sure that some of his more subtle and covert men are tailing you. 

Despite his efforts, you actually notice them right away—c’mon, you’ve been followed around by bodyguards all your life! of course you’d notice—but interpret this as a thoughtful gesture on Giorno’s part and pretend not to notice. Evening usually ends with you thanking him, bidding him goodnight as soon as you get home and smiling politely as Giorno presses a kiss to either your knuckles or your cheek. And yes, if you were wondering, it’s awkward as hell. You still appreciate his effort, of course.

Giorno tries to take you out once a week, only because he wants you to feel comfortable with him, both inside and outside the house. Also thinks it’s a great opportunity to get you acquainted with Napoli (though you’re actually quite familiar with it, considering your previous engagement to Don Elio from Chapter 5, aka Don Dickhead).

Only does it once a week by the way. No more than that because he’s not entirely sure if you really like spending time with him alone, so he doesn’t want to impose on you any more than he already is. And—he is absolutely against forcing you to go out with him every other day or so. 

Part of him secretly hopes that things will get better, but who knows? He’s not sure what needs to happen to bring you two together, but he is determined to at least make you happy. You did give him the most coveted business tie in the world by linking him to the boss of the oldest crime organization in the world. It’s only right that he try to do it!

A/N: Ahhh!! I really want to get to work on some Post Wedding spinoff fics that I had lined up…. If I have time later on in the semester—or maybe around summer time—I will get to them. I’ve actually sprinkled in some ideas from those into these headcanons, so you may or may not recognize them when I finally publish those spinoffs in the playlist series! 

And thank you for sending this request in, my dear friend. I love writing for this fic/series, so this was a really fun request to do. I may have gone a little overboard with it…. But I guess that’s kind of my style, haha! If anyone wants more, just keep them rolling in. xx

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

The Senator from Montana

CHAPTER THREE: Victory Lap

Featuring Sen. Jon Tester (D-MT)

All was well on this Wednesday morning in Great Falls, Montana after the AP called the senate race in favor of Jon Tester. He was on the top of the world, winning his third term in the U.S. Senate by beating Republican Matt Rosendale in a race that was too close to call until Wednesday morning. Jon walked around the convention floor with his chest stuck out surrounded by family, myself and supporters as he announces his victory.

“Look, we did it,” Tester said to a roomful of supporters at a Holiday Inn in Great Falls.

He congratulated Rosendale on a hard-fought campaign. Tester noted the president’s four visits to the state to campaign for Republicans as well as several trips by the vice president, the president’s son and several other high-ranking Republicans.

“You beat ‘em all!” Somebody from the crowd shouted.

Locking on to Sen. Tester’ eyes which always made me horny, I thought of our last encounter a month ago. Going over and over the sensation I felt when I took his big cock into my mouth. The feel of his cock pumping in and out of me. When I looked back into his eyes, he was thanking his wife, Jean and three sons followed by his staff. He winked and smiled a warm friendly, knowing smile. I wonder what was on his mind as I just smiled back. After he finished his speech, Sen. Tester went though the crowd, thanking them. Once again he looked in my direction and winked. I was thinking what a cute little flirt he was.

He spent the day wrapping up a few things here in Great Falls including an interview with CNN’s Anderson Cooper. They talked about a variety of things including the firing of Jeff sessions to this morning’s election results.

I opened it to find those sexy blue eyes looking at me has he flashed that warm smile again.

“Jack, let’s go over the questions for my interview with CNN.” He said loud enough to sound business like.  

“Yes Senator.”  I replied just as loud, stepping back so he could come in.

Jon did a quick check up and down the hall before he stepped in and closed door in a single motion.  Almost immediately, we fell into an embrace, sharing a long passionate kiss as we began frantically pulling off our clothes. It has been over a month since last time we fucked, so I didn’t know if he was eager or just didn’t have much time to “fraternize with his assistant” before continuing on with his duties. But he wasn’t waiting for any conversation and I certainly didn’t mind.

I quickly dropped to my knees and took his dick in my hands. His rod had a thickness that filled my mouth nicely as I slid my lips over it and took it in down to its base. Jon exhaled slowly as he stood there with his hands on my shoulders. I could smell that old fashioned cologne again along with his natural musk. My tongue worked his fully erect shaft as I moved slowly up and down. I pulled up again to look at his knob before I started working my tongue around again. My other hand was feeling the hair on his balls as I thought about what his load that was brewing in them.

“Fuck yes.” Jon said as I took his dick in my hands, stroking up and down as I worked my tongue to down under his nuts.  

I gnawed gently here and there, slowing the pace of my stroking on his dick. He moaned a bit, then a bit more. After a delicious minute or two he  suddenly exhaled, “No!”

Then suddenly he pulled me up to my feet. I figured he was getting too close, too soon so I paused and waited for his cue. Whatever he wanted next, I was going to do my best to please him; not that I didn’t have ideas of my own.

"I want you to make love to me.” Jon said as I looked up at him and saw an inviting smile on his face.

“You mean that you want me to fuck you?” I asked him excitedly.

“Why not?” He replied. “You can see that it’s horny for you.”

I looked down at his still stiff dick and put my hand around it. Jon quickly dropped to his knees with my rock hard cock hitting him on his cheek before he started licking my balls. Then he ran his fat tongue down my shaft to my tip before closing his mouth around it. He started sucking on it with such enthusiasm, like this was his first ever sex act with another person and the memory of it would be burned into his brain forever. Even though we were fucking for weeks before the tail end of his re-elect campaign, Jon was never this into sucking my cock. Going further down my cock, he started to gentle fondle my balls with his weathered workman like hands.

“Like it.” I asked as I watched him work my cock.

I slowly work myself to the near by bed, not letting Jon’s hot mouth off my stiff pick. He was now on all fours running his tongue up and down my cock as I leaned back, spreading my legs wide allowing him better access. Holding my cock in his hands, he again work his tongue around my dickhead. Then he started running his hand up and down my cock as he worked his tongue to down under my nuts before gnawed gently here and there.  

“Oh yeah, the balls.” I said as his tongue hit them.

“Yeah, get right between those nuts.” I added, holding my cock aside to see him lap up my balls.

Wanting more, I grabbed him by the head and pushed it down pass my nuts. I started slapping my cock atop his flattop as I looked down his broad back to him now stretched out on the floor.

“Oh yeah, work in there. Fuck yeah.” I said as I pulled my legs up and scooted my ass towards him. Without hesitation, Jon push his tongue up my ass.

I was going crazy as Jon worked his tongue deeper and deeper into me causing my dick to jerk uncontrollably. After awhile, Jon jumped up, quickly removed his pants which still around his ankles before started taking his boots off.

“Keep them boots on.” I said as I slowly worked on my cock.

When he was done, he just stood there, letting me admire his husky body.

“Oh, sweet ass.” I said as he spun around.

“I’m going to own it.”

Earlier in the day I’d fantasized about what it’d be like to fuck him. Those fantasies were about to be realized as Jon turned around, knelt on the bed with his butt facing me and told me to fuck him. I took one look at his big ass with his balls and cock hanging down between his legs, I set in quickly on eating his ass. Making my tongue wide and flat, I covered his hole and licked long, broad strokes up and down his crack. Starting low against the back of his balls and on up to where his crack ended at his tailbone. I continued slowly moving up then down again as he moaned deep and low. I could tell he was enjoying it as he squirmed a bit, pushing his ass back into my face.

I slid my tongue in to his warm canal and continued to work my way in until I couldn’t get my tongue in any further. He continued moaning as I worked my tongue in and around. I felt him start to relax even more as he leaned forward laying his forehead on his folded arms, tipping his ass up a bit.

He was breathing heavily when I finally stood up. He looked back without saying anything, but his sexy blue-eyed gaze told me he was ready for my cock. I reach over to my overnight bag, pulled out some jelly pack and ripped it open with my teeth. Spreading the gel on my cock and his ass, I set the tip against his hole and paused: wanting this moment to last forever.

As the head of my dick slipped in he gasped. He was pretty tight and I thought I was going to shoot off before I could get my cock into Sen. Tester. I felt his ass start to relax as edged my dick in more. Keeping it all rather shallow, began to slowly fuck him. I worked it back and forth, in and out as his tight ass relaxed further. And when Jon rose up, pushed his ass back and down on my dick, I knew it was time to go in all the way. I listened to his long slow intake of breath as I slowly pushed until my bush was pressed flat against his ass.  

“Yes,” he moaned as he reached back to pull me against him, making sure I was all of the way in.

I pulled out and pushed back in. Out and back, making the slowest of rhythms. He turned back to face me again and I leaned forward to kiss him. We held a kiss as I worked his ass. He turned back to the wall and moaned as I continued, now moving a bit quicker. Every so often he would squeeze my dick with his ass muscles. He rocked left and right, spreading his legs a bit wider as I continued to pick up the pace. My fucking worked up to a solid rhythm with my balls occasionally slapping against him. He began moaning low, very quietly at first, but with an encouraging note.  

As I continued to fuck him, his moaning grew louder. His ass felt so good that I knew I couldn’t hold back much longer. So I quickly pulled out his hot ass, holding my cock at the base.

“What’s wrong?” Jon asked as he quickly look back at me.

“Nothing wrong. Just that ass is so good.” I said as I flipped him over on the bed, holding up his legs high in the air as I pressed the swollen red head of my cock against his tight asshole.

This time my entry was easier as the lube and my cock had stretched his hole enough that it would never be as tight again. And the moment my entire 8" cock was fully inside him, I fucked like a wild man, which I could see clearly on his face was very pleasurable. For the next 10 or so, I fuck his ass the way he would have fucked his wife. Each time I pumped deep inside Jon, we both moaned and groaned with great ecstasy. I leaned over and kissed him as my cock repeatedly drilled his ass. was begging me to fuck him harder.

By this time, I knew I was getting close and Jon was begging me to fuck him harder. He was spreading his legs wide apart, giving me full access to his ass. His thick cock was leaking all over his belly and I knew from the look on his face that he was getting close himself. So I double my effort and fucked his ass even harder, angling the entry direction to smash against his butt nut. That did it.

"Oh, shit!" He cried as he grabbed the bed sheets.  

Suddenly his cock spewed married cum all over his chest and stomach. His body convulsed with each spurt as he emptied out his seed onto his body. Some of which hit me full force in the face. I opened my mouth as wide as I could, trying to get a good helping of his salty-sweet cum all over my tongue. Then contraction of his ass on my pistoning dick while he went through his orgasm brought my own climax. With no intention of pulling out, I made one final, hard lunge into his ass and spewed my seed deep into this Big Sandy farmer’s guts.  

Needless to say, the rest of our stay in Great Falls was memorable.

[thrashton]

Soaring light (chapter 1)

thank you for your lovely comments and messages for the prologue!! here’s the first chapter!

Name: Soaring Light

Fandom: Skam france

Pairing: Lucas Lallemant/Eliott Demaury

Tags: assassin!au, falling in love, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: Do not get attached, do not waste time, do not engage in any physical contact… The list of rules were long, but Lucas had never been the one to follow orders. In fact, he might have broken all of them in just a week, all because of the piercing blue eyes staring at him from the assignment in his hands, and the charming, mysterious boy they belonged to.

Chapter summary: Lucas tries to be very subtle as he online-stalks Eliott. It doesn’t go too well.

——--

(prologue can be found at the soaring-light tag at my blog, just click on the tag on this post. tumblr don't wanna show my post in the search tag if I put in links... and on ao3 with the username thetimeisnow)

CHAPTER ONE Why were storms a thing? Who invited storms? Lucas was going to find out and kick his ass. It was stupid, the rain covering his sight was stupid. The way he can’t see in front of the road he’s driving on was stupid.

The whole day was stupid.

Lucas had spent five hours trying find Eliott Demoury, but there was no one at his apartment, no one at his registered working place and no one at his two favorite coffee shops. He had googled his name and regretted it in a second, because dousins - no, hundreds - of model photos of the perfectly sculptured face and the piercing deep blue eyes stared back at him and Lucas had let his laptop fall close with a groan.

He can’t be attracted to his assignment to kill. Well, technically, he could. It wasn’t in the rules. The contract just said he wasn’t allowed any physical contact with his targets, mostly to hide all traces of DNA. And to make sure he didn’t get attached, which was another rule. Well fuck him, just the picture of this man got his knees weak.

Lucas hesitated a moment, then sent a text.

-

To: Manon D.

Change?

-

Change of contract, that meant. Manon would know that. In their work of line you had to keep yourself short and never, absolutely never, give out any information over the phone. Especially not their private phone. Lucas knew he’d most likely get his brains blown out if he said too much and he would never risk one of his closest friends and colleagues life as well. His phone buzzed. Manon, quick with a response as always.

-

From: Manon D.

No thanks, got my dream man ;)

-

To: Manon D.

Ugh. Fine. Drinks tonight?

-

From: Manon D.

That’s a yes, thanks. I’ll tell Mika and Emma. See you at 8?

-

To: Manon D.

Lol, sure. Bringing the boys if they’re up. See you, sunshine.

-

From: Manon D.

Dickhead.

-

Lucas rolled his eyes. His ever the lovely friend and colleague, Manon. They had worked in the same business for two years before they realised they were both carrying the same burden. They had been on the same funeral, a funeral for an older man whose two sons were the target of Manon, and his new wife was assigned to Lucas. He remembered it like it was yesterday as they stood gaping, staring at each other in the church when the priest did his thing.

A smile appeared on his lips at the memory. Back then, it had been the shock of his life but now it was a fun thing to remind him how small the world was. They were going to meet at their usual bar, and Lucas had actually seen a few pictures of the blue eyed God in just that bar when he googled his name, so maybe his luck would turn tonight. He could use that as an excuse to get pissed drunk.

Perfect. Just what he needed.

He parked his car exceptionally well considering the storm raging outside. It was only 6pm, but the sky was pitched black. He gave the car window a good, long stare before he forced himself to get the door open. The few meters from the car to the door of the building he lived in felt like a mile and his clothes was drenched in rain as he stumbled inside, muttering angrily to himself.

Stupid ass weather. He was going to kick its ass.

His older neighbour greeted him from the stairs and Lucas threw up his hand in a reply, he didn’t really feel like speaking until he was in comfortable, warm, dry clothes. And a beer in his hand. Maybe a joint between his lips. Ah. Perfect.

Pulling on his sweatpants like his life depended on it, he hurried towards his bed. Where the magic happens, as his best friend Yann dramatically put it when he visited Lucas new apartment for the first time. Well, where his hand happened. Or, another correction, where his hand was supposed to happen. But how no matter how much he tried, what type of porn he put on, he couldn’t get those stupid fucking blue eyes out of his head long enough to concentrate on jerking off, and there was no way he was going to pleasure himself thinking of his next assignment to kill.

Fucking hell.

Eliott really got the best of him. He needed to get rid of this guy fast, so he could get back to his normal routines, so his body could see some hot, big tits chick on his phone screen and think that’s hot! and not but it’s not him. How was this even possible? He hadn’t even met the guy!

In conclusion, his visit to the bed was unsuccessful. Lucas groaned loudly, burying his face in his pillow. He couldn’t wait to get drunk. A week from now Eliott would be dead and Lucas would be rich and he’d get the fuck out of Paris. He’d bring Yann, Basile and Arthur and they’d go to Amsterdam, or something. Find a nice penthouse apartment where they could throw the best parties in Netherlands, bring the best people and smoke a ridiculous amount of weed.

Lucas phone rang. He glanced over at the screen the name of his best friend staring back at him. Yann would know if he ignored him, that guy could read him like a book.

“Yep”, he answered as he put the phone to his ear.

“We going out tonight?”

“Uh-uh. Manon, Mika and Emma too.”

Yann went quiet for a moment. “Emma?”

“Dude. It was years ago, pull it together.” He gave out a light chuckle.

“Fine”, Yann sighed loudly, “only so you get get your lonely ass out there.”

Lucas laughed at him and got up to a sitting position on his bed. “Do you know a Eliott Demuary?” he asked. That wouldn’t hurt, Yann didn’t know he did for a living. Lucas wanted to tell him badly, but he wasn’t going to risk his best friend’s life only to have someone to talk murder with, that would be dumb. Yann wasn’t stupid though, and Lucas suspected he had a slight suspicion of what he did during his days; not that he’d ever tell him, or that Yann would ever get it confirmed.

“Of course”, Yann replied and Lucas almost choked on his own spit.

Okay. That wasn’t the answer he expected at all. It took a few moment for him to pull himself back together and hide the sudden excitement in his voice as he tried to sound as carefree as possible. “Aha”, he said and shrugged, “how’s that?”

“Why are you asking?” Yann was hesitating.

Fuck. Maybe he didn’t sound as carefree as he thought. “You know, just saw a picture of him.”

“Yeah, he went to our school…”

Lucas frowned. “What? No?”

He imagined Yann nodding from the other line. “Yeah, he did. Literature, I think, not sure. Don’t you remember, everyone was talking about him?”

Lucas did definitely not remember, because there was no way he could forget a face like that. “Are you for real?”

“Yeah!” Yann exclaimed, “are you? Ladies were fighting to get into his pants.”

“Shit.” How did he manage to miss this? Lucas shook his head, no, it didn’t matter. Now he had a way in to complete his assignment and he should be very happy for that since Eliott apparently didn’t want to be found. “Cool. Awesome. Nice. I mean, have you met him recently?”

Yann was silent for a moment. “Are you crushing on Demuary?”

Lucas gasped. “Excuse me? I am not!”

“I don’t blame you. He’s hot and- Oh, sorry, forgot you’re still hiding in the closet.”

Lucas pouted and wished Yann was standing in front of him so he could shove a middle finger up his face. Yann knew he was - or maybe was? He wasn’t really sure himself - gay. A little gay. Just a tiny little bit. Like, dick is nice and all and titties isn’t as nice. Which, in conclusion meant; a little gay. “Unfair”, he told him, “was just asking.”

He could hear Yann moving around. “Well, haven’t met him in a while but I’ve seen him in town a few times. Seriously Lu-Lu, you didn’t know he went to our school?”

“I didn’t, I swear! I wouldn’t forget a face like that. I mean, Yann, have you seen him?”

His best friend laughed. “Yeah, I have. How about you spend some time crying over a picture of Eliott and I come over with some beer?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Great. I’ll be over in 45.”

Lucas ended the call without saying good bye. He had no time to waste when he only had 45 minutes to google some more information about this mysterious man, who apparently went to their school. Did that mean Eliott knew who he was? No, that would be impossible. If he hadn’t seen Eliott, Eliott hadn’t seen him.

He found an instagram account. With a stupid fucking riddle to solve. It took Lucas longer than he chose to admit to figure out the name of Eliott’s second account, but when he did; it was absolutely worth it. A majority of his posts were black and white art. It looked like doodles but there was real talent behind it.

Too bad he was going to kill the guy, he would really want to hear the stories about the numerous posts of raccoons. A short video caught his attention; Eliott in a black hoodie, staring into the camera with his lips pressed together and his hair in a soft mess on his head. He zoomed slowly until there was nothing else than his left eye covering the screen. Lucas found himself sighing, feeling like an absolute jerk about having to end this, clearly well liked and talented young man’s life.

Most of Lucas’ targets were old men. Rapists, embezzlement criminals or other scandals more often than not involving money. He’d never really felt bad about killing them, a lot of them deserved to die. Lucas never stayed to see if his job was finished after poisoning his targets; he learned early on that it was way easier to get caught that way. Instead, he showed up a few days later, or watched the news if his target was someone famous or well-known.

But Eliott. He couldn’t believe this man had done anything to deserve to die. 50k was a lot of money and the higher the prize, the worse the crime. That’s how it usually went, anyways.

And in that moment, trying to pause the video just when Eliott zoomed in on his eyes, Lucas fucked up. He liked the video. Panicking, he yelped, a high pitched noise he’d be embarrassed to even try to describe, and got up from his bed fast enough to make his vision blur. As a first reaction his brain thought of the brilliant idea to throw the phone away from him to keep him from making more mistakes, but then he realised that shit, he need to unlike the video before Eliott noticed. He stumbled after the phone, tripping over a shirt on the floor and hit his toe in the foot of the bed at the same time. Ignoring the pain radiating through his body, he reached over the bed in panic and clicked on the red heard so fast and intensely that he accidentally disliked and liked it again.

Lucas wanted to scream. With an surprisingly steady hand, he finally managed to to unlike the video and sank down on the floor with a loud groan of disappointment. Shit. What the hell. Being subtle wasn’t his best personality trait, obviously.

Eliott had a lot of followers, someone liking his video wouldn’t matter, right? That was, of course, if his theory that Eliott didn’t know who he was, was correct. Lucas considered blocking him but quickly threw that idea aside; the video was worth seeing a few more times.

The doorbell rang. Yann. Had it been 45 minutes already? Apparently it had, because Yann was standing with a big grin and beer in both hands as Lucas opened the door, still sweaty and his heart beating like crazy in his chest.

“You look like you just ran a marathon. Which I know you wouldn’t.”

“Fuck you”, Lucas smirked at him, giving him a helping hand with the beer. “I accidentally liked one of Eliott Demaury’s posts on instagram. It was stressful.”

Yann let out a snort. “When he sees it, he’ll show up with flowers and a ring and propose right here, I’m calling it.”

“I unliked it. And liked it again. And then unliked it again.”

“Even I am slightly embarrassed for you now”, Yann laughed, “let’s drink to forget about it.”

Lucas smirk grew, it sounded like a good plan. Little did he know, forget about  it was the least he would do that night.

[scripted-dalliances]

Rest In Peace: Chapter Eight

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 8

Summary: A part of Faithless Fairy Tale, a more in depth look at how they brought Laura back to life. Appearance of old faces, creation of new ones and if you’re looking for canon, it left a long, long time ago. If you squint you might be able to see some pieces from the book.

“Fear no more, says the heart...” -Virginia Woolf

+

Mad Sweeney pushes himself up off the floor, pissed for several reasons, top three being the fact he has just face fucked the floor, that Laura had ruined what was turning out to be a fan-fucking-tastic dirty dream and worst of all, he was clearly sporting a stiffy.

“Fuck you, dead girl, I was sleeping!”

“Yeah, and now you aren't. Come on, get up and get dressed, ginger bitch. We have a long drive back.”

That gets his attention, “Back where?”

“Back to Indiana. To find Anubis and Ibris. I have questions and I want them to answer them. I mean. Odin is dead now, so even if they had a deal it should be fine to just ask what it was.”

“You sure that's smart? They might take one gander ‘atcha and decide your trial period of second life is over. I might not be able to pluck that coin outta you, but Anubis might.”

“Then I will do a lot more than smack his hand if he tries.”

Sweeney gives out a dry chuckle, he doesn’t deny that he kind of wants to see it. An ancient god of death getting slapped silly by little Laura Moon. It was a painful experience, that he was familiar with but that didn't mean he had sympathy for anyone else who was on the receiving end of it.

(More so if he thought they deserved it)

“Fine, give a man some fucking privacy to get dressed.”

Laura looks down her nose at him, still on the floor, hidden by the bed.

“You got a boner, don't you.”

He feels his fucking ears burn, “Out!”

She leaves, but he is distinctly aware of her smug knowing smile.

He most certainly does not jack off to that same smug smile at all.

+

They decide to take one of Ostar's cars. It's the least fancy and brightly colored of her harem of cars, just a black SUV that has tinted windows and enough space for Sweeney’s long legs, so it's possible she'll never even notice or care. They argue for hours on who gets to drive it before a light bulb bursts right above his head, proving soundly that his luck is still fucking shit and they're more likely to survive if she drives.

Before they leave, Sweeney hunts down one of Ostara's many fluffy friends and picks it up by the scruff of the neck to bring the rabbit to his face.

“Oi, tell your old lady we'll bring the car back after we've paid a little visit to Anubis.”

The rabbit’s black nose twitches and Sweeney rolls his eyes.

“If anything happens to the fuckin' car you can have Shadow fuckin' Moon be the one to fuckin' pay for it. Its his damned dead, asshole wife!”

“Ex- asshole wife.” Laura calls out, climbing into the driver's seat.

Sweeney drops the rabbit, “Whatever, call it alimony then.”

“I had a better paying job than Shadow and owned a house, if anyone is paying alimony it would be me.” She says as he gets into the passenger side and she adjusts the car seat. Bringing it up as close as she can to the wheel. Meanwhile, he rummages through the bag at his feet that he brought, until he finds a stack of air fresheners.

He unwraps three lemon shaped ones and throws them in her lap. Laura looks down at them with a sneer while shoving on a pair of sunglasses.

“Really.”

“Shadow might not care for lemon scented you, but I sure as hell pick it over molding corpse.”

+

The first few hours of their drive isn't bad. Its not like they aren't used to sharing small spaces for impossibly long distances. This time she has the ability to aim all the air conditioners in her direction while he keeps the seat warmer on his side on high.

It also helps that he brought a blanket and a very pink fuzzy hat.

“Not a fuckin’ word outta of you dead girl.” He pulls it on and crosses his arms like a grumpy child. As if she was the one who made him wear it.

Laura keeps her face carefully blank, “I didn't say any thing.”

“You were thinkin' it.”

She struggles to hide the uptick of her lips.

“You do look pretty in pink.”

“Fuck you, dead bitch.”

“Fuck you back, Suibhne.”

+

“I spy with my little eye something that begins with the letter ‘C'.”

“It better be cat.”

“It ain't.” Sweeney says with a delighted smirk.

Laura slams her feet on the brakes and Sweeney hits the dashboard with enough force to warrant a crunch.

“You’re an asshole, dead girl.” He hisses at her. Blood from his busted nose runs down his face and into his beard. She grins and continues their little game.

“I spy with my dead eye, something that begins with the letter D.”

Sweeney sniffs wetly, but then after a beat of silence asks, “Is it dickhead?”

“Bingo.”

+

The drive goes by faster than before. Probably because the SUV is naturally more efficient than an old ice cream truck, it helps too that neither of them need to stop for much. At most it’s a quick bathroom break, but Sweeney isn't the type of man who cares where he pisses so more often than not its just the side of the road.

On one such occasion, Laura gets out too just to stretch her limbs. There is a hint of stiffness in her that makes her worried that rigor mortis is a real possibility if she doesn't keep moving. It makes sense as much as it doesn't, her body moves but her insides don't.

There's no blood, every vein clogged and more than one of her organs stapled shut. Twice in some, while others are completely missing. Making her feel like a doll with no stuffing, nothing keeping her together but a gold coin and thread.

Except when she kissed Shadow and felt her heart beat…

Except when she touched Sweeney and felt her blood race…

Above her, a bird cries out. Laura covers her eyes to better see it fly over head. It circles twice, enough for her to fear it might be a damned vulture before it lands atop the car's hood and she realizes its far too small.

It's a hawk, and it opens its mouth to yell at her.

“What the fuck is this.” Sweeney comes up behind her, smoking and glaring at the bird as it continues it’s angry squawking. “What’d you do to piss it off?”

“Why do you think I did anything?”

“I might have shit luck, but even I’d still bet on those odds, darlin.”

“Go!” A new voice shouts.

“…Did that bird just tell me to go?” Laura questions, mostly at the bird.

“There you have it. Even the local wildlife is telling you to piss off.”

The hawk spreads its wings and lets out a sharp gutted cry; could be anger or indignation, fuck it could be a happy sound. All Laura ever owned was cats, she knows fuck all about birds.

“Go with!”

Laura has been having a really weird after life, all things considering, so stopping to talk to a hawk on the side of the road is just…well it is what it is. Fucking weird, but she does it.

“You…want to come with?”

The bird ruffled its feathers, puffed up and started earnestly bopping it's head. Laura shrugs and opens the passenger door, but quick as a lightning , Sweeney is pushing her hand aside and crawling in.

“I call FUCKIN' shot gun, the talking chicken nugget can sit in the fuckin' back.”

Laura slams the door closed, Hard enough to catch the tall idiot by the elbow and moves to open the back door instead. Gesturing to the bird to get in.

“Sure you want a lift? I mean you've got wings and this idiot never shuts the fuck up. I know which one I'd choose.”

The hawk flies into the back.

“Great.” She closes the door and walks back to the driver side. Mad Sweeney is glued to the radio, the bird is perched on the seat. Every now and then picking at something between it's claws and chewing.

“So, a dead woman, an unlucky leprechaun and a talking bird go on a road trip. Set up for a good joke, right?” She says, strapping herself in.

“And by good joke. You mean fuckin' awful, right?”

A new voice from the back pipes up, “Actually, I'm a God.”

Both of them scream in reply.

+

The bird who is not a bird at all, sits casually and as both Laura and Sweeney spit and sputter out curses in shock.

“Fuckin hell! Give a fella some sort of fuckin' warning you trickster asshole!” Sweeney puts a hand to his chest, where his heart is trying to escape his ribs. He will die of a damn heart attack before the end of this trip. He can feel it in his bones.

“Normally I wouldn't agree with him for anything, but holy shit yeah.” Laura looks at the man. He's handsome, dark skinned and naked. Really, really naked. “Also…maybe clothes? I’d like to at least know your name before I know what your balls look like.”

Sweeney glances back. Regrets it instantly.

“At least cup yourself, lad. This ain't our fuckin' car and I ain't paying to clean your dick sweat from it.” He tells the guy but there is no reaction from him. No shame.

Mad Sweeney looks harder at the man and sighs. He knows that look.

“Oh fuck me…” He glares at the dead woman beside him. “You just had to do it, didn't ya. You just had to let the bird in.”

“He asked!”

“He is fuckin' mad as shit! LOOK INTO HIS FUCKIN' EYES, WOMAN. HE IS BATTY AS A FUCK-” Sweeney glanced back to point, only to find he couldn't, “..he is a fuckin’ bird again. Fuck.” The hawk was back and blinking at them both. “Why the fuck is he a bird again?”

Laura shrugged, “How would I know? Maybe all your stupid yelling scared him.”

The hawk flapped it's wings.

Sweeney glared, “You’ll have a lot more to fear from me than the tone of my voice if you don't fuckin' change back, you mad feathery fuck, and tell us what the fuck you want.”

There is no pop, no dazzle of magic. Just one moment there was a bird, the next the man was back.

“I'm not scared of you.” The man says simply.

Before Sweeney can fling himself into the back and start a fight, Laura catches him by the shoulder.

“Stop trying to fight naked bird boy. I do not have the energy to properly workshop all the insults I could make from it right this second. And I'd really like to give it my all, so maybe hold off?”

“He wouldn't win.” The man says, as if stating a fact and nothing else.

“Wanna fuckin bet, bird brains?”

The man tilts his head, either confused by the insult or Mad Sweeney in general. Either way, Laura clocks the blankness in his eyes and acknowledges that whoever he is, he isn't playing with a full deck.

“Hey, so. Hello. I'm Laura.”

“I know.”

Taken slight aback, she waits for him to continue. When he doesn’t, she pushes on. “Any chance you can tell me your name or perhaps the reason why you suddenly decided to join us?”

The man blinks at her, processing for a long time before answering.

“I am called Horus. I know you are going to my brothers. I wish to come with.”

“…Okay.” Laura accepts this best she can. Horus as far as she can tell, is also an Egyptian god. So that makes sense…at least in the context of where he is traveling to. “Still gotta wonder. Wouldn't flying as bird be quicker?”

Horus doesn't answer, only looks at her with mournful dark eyes. Laura is shocked to see a second later a tear runs down his dark cheek.

“Hey, listen its fine. You can come with.” She awkwardly attempts to back track. She isn’t good with people, and knows it. But so far this God hasn’t done anything to her except ask for a lift and within seconds she has made him cry. That's a record even for her.

“Shit. There is probably some shitty karma coming my way now isn't there? For making some innocent god cry?”

“Ain't you, dead girl.” Sweeney tells her, voice lowered. He hands the weeping god his blanket and even an opened pack of peanuts. Which seems to cheer Horus up considerably. As he quickly stops crying and  starts to pop them into his mouth to chew. “Chances are he has been a bird so long, everything up there is scrambled eggs. Doubt he remembers what his brothers look like let alone what street they live on.”

He knows, after all, just how little it takes to lose your mind. What it's like to be a bird and lose everything that you were and not even notice until its too late. The ability to turn back into a man fades every time you take flight, that's what they don't tell you.

Even now, sometimes he has days he wishes he could spread his wings and take off. Leave everything behind, just to feel the wind and the air hold him again, to be free and light as only a bird can be.

“But he knew who I was. Knew I was headed to them…”

Horus, having finished all his treats, leans towards them.

“The ravens told me.”

Laura glances at Sweeney, who growls and bangs his fist against his knee. “Okay, does that mean something or is that crazy bird code?”

“Huginn and Muninn. Odin's pet ravens. They've been following us for so long, I sort of forgot. Figured with Odin dead they'd fuck off. Either they've gained a sense of self or someone else has given a job to the lil bastards to keep tracking us.”

Horus frowns, “They were always meant to leave him. Even he knew that. If they work for someone new, it was always meant to be.”

Horus holds out his hand. And it takes a second for Sweeney to realize he wants a treat. With a heavy roll of his eyes, he bends to pull out another bag of snacks from his bagged horde. He pops it open and hands it over, watching in disgruntled amazement as the god upends it all into his mouth at once.

Laura starts the car and pulls it back onto the road. She doesn't exactly remember the way to the funeral home, other than a vague general direction she should head to and can only hope there is a sign for their business when they reach the state.

“So, Odin has a few minions still roaming about. Does it matter?”

“Does it matter she asks,” Mad Sweeney repeats, voice mocking. “Of course it fuckin matters. You, dead girl, killed him. In front of a group of holy witnesses at that. Now Shadow and Miss Spring might not say anything, but you can bet Media and Techdick will. I have no doubt they were watching from afar.”

There had been too much going on, afterwards to notice for sure, but Laura didn't doubt it.

“Never mind what feathery dumb and dumber are up to, by now there will probably be a whole new war gearing up. All against the dead girl who decided to go highlander on their big man. Fuck, there's no telling if they're teaming up or not either, old gods and new.” He chuckles, “Ain't nothing brings people together like a common enemy.”

Laura frowns, “I don't know why you're laughing. If they come after me, you're just as fucked.”

“Aye. Not much changed for me then is it?”

Laura stays silent, he's been eerily right for most things and she hates the idea he might be right about this.

>

[andkaboodle]

My Home, My Marriage

I was asked the other day how I make my marriage ‘work so well’.

I laughed it off with some politically incorrect attempt at a joke about keeping him in line but it honestly made me think.

Now, I’m no veteran at marriage; I’ve been doing this wife gig for nearly four years which hardly makes me an old hat. In saying that though, I often get the #couplegoals hashtag thrown at my photos or people ‘wishing’ they had a relationship like mine.

I honestly think people are stupid when they say stuff like that. I want to grab them, shake them and scream ‘do you know how insane that man makes me sometimes?!’

We’ve had our fair share of blues and then some. Thanks to the sleep deprivation caused by pregnancy and a newborn, we spent the majority of 2018 arguing and apologising to each other. So why didn’t I leave? Why didn’t Jarrod just up and bail?

This thought has lead to one of my infamous analogies:

YOUR MARRIAGE IS YOUR HOME. (I’ve seriously just come up with this so bare with me)

You should treat your marriage, every aspect of it, like you would the place you live. 

How Other People See Your Marriage/Home

Say you have guests coming over and your toddler draws all over the wall in thick, black sharpie just as they’re about to arrive. What do you do? If it’s family or close friends, you’ll laugh it off and say ‘look what our darling little cherub did’ and move on with your day together. If it’s someone who you feel the need to impress, you’d shove a toy-box or a big teddy in front of it and try to fix it after they leave.

This is how you should treat your marriage in regards to how others see it. People close to you are allowed to know ‘yes we had a bit of a tiff’ but then you move on with your day. Others who have no business knowing what marital arguments you’re going through can have some fake smiles until the event is over.

As long as, when the guests leave your home (i.e you leave the party) you move the toy-box and work together to remove as much of the sharpie as you can (i.e you work through the issue that started the fight).

Don’t Move Out Because the Bedroom Door Came Off

This part of the analogy hits close to home. Not only because our bedroom door is broken, but because I accidentally broke it in the first place... in an argument!

I can’t even remember the trivial argument we were having at the time but I’d slammed our sliding bedroom door and then I couldn’t open it again. Being as claustrophobic as I am, I panicked and just ripped it off. Once I was in the safety of my hallway, the ordeal of being trapped in a bedroom with no food or water for a whole minute made our fight seem silly. Jarrod called me a dickhead, we laughed about it, brushed our teeth and went to bed for cuddles.

I’m not saying go and rip off a door to fix an argument. I’m saying that we still have that same door now, months later. We just fixed it. The point is to not give up on a marriage after something as small as a few arguments. I feel like people give up too easily when things can be fixed and I wonder if they would up and sell their house if a door broke or the oven stopped working or the garden hose was playing up.

Of course, if all these things kept happening, over and over; you fixed them and replaced them... and still your house seemed to be falling apart, then you have to question whether or not the house is worth fixing. But it is best to test the structural integrity of a house before you marry buy it.

Not Liking Everything

My actual house, has a tiny kitchen (no analogy correlation to any of Jarrod’s body parts, I promise). I honestly, don’t like it very much. It does me just fine, is fully functional and - to most people - is a good kitchen. But the spoiled brat in me wants a bigger kitchen, with an island bench, more storage and a walk in pantry. Does this mean I don’t like my house and want a new one? No!

You’re never going to like everything about your home/partner! If you do, good for you but that’s weird and I bet you have a combined Facebook account...

Jarrod drives me up the wall sometimes! He falls asleep so fast even if I’m talking to him, he cannot pay attention to anyone if the TV is on (even if it’s Herbie’s baby shows!) and he never makes his own lunch. The spoiled brat in me wants him to give me massages nightly, wants him to wake up to the kids every Saturday to let me sleep in and wants him to serve me up a three course meal every now and again.

But then I have to ask myself, do I want a husband or a servant? (Don’t answer that)

It’s unrealistic! There are plenty of things Jarrod wishes I didn’t argue about but no couple is always going to agree on everything! Even the combined-Facebook couples argued over who’s name went first, guarantee it!

________________________________________________

In the beginning, relationships are as fun as finally being moved into your new house! It’s an accomplishment. But when the celebration fades, you start to see the holes that need patching, the leaking tap, the creaky floorboards.You realise that your partner can be really lazy (I’m talking about myself with that one) or that they leave hair literally everywhere (again, me).

You can either fix the issue or learn to live with it. But never move out before doing your renovations.