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[yoonbroom]

SEVENTEEN FIC RECS

a list of seventeen fics I really enjoyed! pls go and show these amazing authors some love <3 also if there wasn't a summary on the fic I just included a little paragraph or the request! now onto the recs ↓

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

HELLO TUTORIAL - @97-liners

oneshot, fluff, college au, frat au

it’s your final year of college, and you’ve been elected president of your sorority. this is all great and fine, but as the semester goes on, you find yourself having repeated run-ins with the president of the fraternity next door in a series of unfortunate coincidences (that might not actually be coincidences, as you come to discover). or: in which you’re trying to deal with your crush on seungcheol in a normal way, but the meddling kids are making it harder than it needs to be.

FRACTURED PARENTING, PT.2 - @berriesandjunnie

oneshot angst, fluff, idol au, separated parents au, enemies to lovers

parenting can be an emotional rollercoaster when you’re far from divorced and the flames are far from dying.

YOON JEONGHAN

UNTITLED - @userjuyo

drabble, fluff, est relationship

"i just know than jeonghan would tease his s/o a lot, but whenever they went “hannie :(“ he would literally MELT like he’d just be like “okay sweetheart i’m sorry 🥺” and the members would be like ????? BC HE WON’T LET THEM LIVE but it’s his baby so &lt;;3"

UNTITLED - @wqnwoos

drabble, fluff, est relationship

“what if crabs think that fish can fly?” your question is whispered into the darkness of your bedroom — you gazing at the ceiling thoughtfully, while jeonghan curls up beside you.

OF RAINY NIGHTS AND ROSES - @chenfleur

oneshot, angst, fluff, idol au, est relationship

In the heat of the moment, Jeonghan grows careless with his words. Now, he has to bear the weight of saying things he didn't mean.

DAISIES - @viastro

oneshot, angst, fluff, strangers to lovers

the best type of revenge is to hurt the person that means the most to them. aka, in which jeonghan is in charge of making you fall in love with him, just to break your heart. 

JOSHUA HONG

BEST FRIENDS BROTHER - @chocosvt

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, best friends brother

joshua happens to be your best friend’s older brother. he’s pretty, and he’s got a lot of cool details about him that you pay a concerning amount of attention to, but he’s just a friend (if you could even call it that). still, what does he think of you, anyway? that is—if he thinks of you.

IT TAKES TWO - @/berriesandjunnie

oneshot, fluff, idol au, parent au, est relationship

a family is a little scary when your partner has over millions of fans.

UNTITLED - @/wqnwoos

drabble, fluff, est relationship

"it feels like the sky has only just welcomed the sun when joshua tries to get up to leave."

WEN JUNHUI

HEAVEN COULDN'T WAIT FOR YOU - @/berriesandjunnie

oneshot, angst, idol au

i just couldn’t stand to see you leaving but heaven couldn’t wait for you.

HAPPY ENDING - @junkissed

one shot, angst, fluff, marriage, est relationship

a pointless argument escalates until both of you need some space, but it couldn't come at a worse time.

KWON SOONYOUNG

LET ME TRY AGAIN - @papermatisse

oneshot, angst, fluff, exes to lovers, parent au

Soonyoung had never wanted to live a restrained capitalistic life, forced to work a tiresome 9 to 5, paying taxes until the day he dies. Though in exchange to pursue the other option, that being devotion to a career, he had to pay an unfathomably large price—he had to abandon everything and everyone he's ever loved. can he fit himself back into his former life? one that's changed more than he can possibly imagine? could the ones he loved forgive him for his wrongdoings? could he get the second chance he wants so desperately?

(UN)TRADITIONAL - @neonun-au

oneshot, fluff, wedding au, est relationship

"The digital clock on the hotel night stand flashes the next minute as it passes. A re-run of Law & Order: SVU drones on in the background as you sit at the edge of the bed, staring sleeplessly at your wedding dress hanging on the back of the closet door. "

VOWELS AND VERACITY - @hansolmates

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, teacher au, single parent

after a blind date that makes you feel like a giddy teenager all over again, you’re forced to grow up and take a chance when you realize that special someone is your daughter’s kindergarten teacher.

BE SWEET - @heartkyeom

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, royalty, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers

“Why are you here?” Your tone is resolute, not allowing for even an inch of resistance. “That’s what we need to talk about. We’re getting married,” He lifts the corner of his mouth. You let out a laugh that is nowhere near polite, in fact, you’re nearly cackling at the prospect of this idea. It’s simply so outlandish, so fantastical that every time you look at his face it seems more unfathomable.

JEON WONWOO

FOR THE BOOKS - @trblsvt

oneshot, fluff, teacher au, est relationship

wonwoo's students seemed intent on matching him up with a fellow teacher. he didn't really want to stop them, it was too funny for him to break up their fun. plus, he didn't mind the certain someone he was being "set up" with.

HOW TO FALL - @because-of-a-friend

oneshot, fluff, angst, idol au

"hi!! <3 i love ur acc and i was wondering if you'd be able to write an imagine where you're besties with joshua and he invites you to meet the rest of seventeen for the first time and you instantly fall for wonwoo? maybe some angst but overall fluff? thank you!! no rush!! i love your work!!!"

UNTITLED - @/97-liners

oneshot, fluff, royalty au, friends to lovers, childhood friends

"a royalty au where you’re the heir to the throne and wonwoo is your shy (and lowkey bumbling) royal advisor…. he’s smart and always has his head stuck in a book but he’s also painfully awkward and clueless to how deeply in love with him you are. until your parents decide it’s time for you to get married. and suddenly you’re inundated by suitor after suitor, and wonwoo is quizzing them on their credentials and doubting their suitability for you, this one makes brash political decisions, this one spends too freely, this one has no tact for diplomacy. until one day, you turn to him and ask, “you’ve hated every single one of them. who, then, do you think i should marry?” and wonwoo blushes red and presses his lips together."

SCANDAL, PT.2, PT.3, PT.4- @fantasyescapes17

series, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, regency au

this is part of an extensive series that includes other members! you can check it out ⤳ here

The Viscount's sister with an enormous dowry, beauty and unmistakable talent- you began the London season as the most desired woman in any room. But Jeon Wonwoo (a man who would rather hide in the library than dance at a ball) is beyond your comprehension. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but it embroiled you into a scandal with a man you could never love.

MEET CUTE OF THE CENTURY - @lovelyhan

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, idol au, strangers to lovers

the last thing you expected when you volunteered at your city’s local animal shelter is to meet the hottest cat person in the world. now if only he’d just adopt one of them so you’d stop ogling him every time he drops by.

MARRIAGE - @yikesmary

drabble, fluff, parent au, est relationship

where wonwoo’s nightmare is coming true.

BIRTHDAY SURPRISE - @/yikesmary

oneshot, fluff, parent au, est relationship

where you and nari try to make breakfast and a cake before wonwoo wakes up… if only your daughter knew what the word “surprise” meant.

LEE JIHOON

GUITAR STRING - @leejungchans

oneshot, fluff, angst, royalty au

"“Take me away.” Jihoon’s elegant fingers, previously plucking at his guitar strings, freeze at your words. The soothing, lullaby-like chords he had been playing echo into the inky darkness, carried away by the chilly night breeze."

WE'LL BE OK - @atinykidult

drabble, angst, fluff, idol au, est relationship

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you” for hurt!Jihoon

LIVE - @wondernus

oneshot, fluff, idol au, est relationship

having just finished composing a song a few hours ago, jihoon starts a live on his phone to sing to those who are feeling a little lonely at night. little does he know, your sleeping figure could be seen in the corner of his little livestream, causing his fans to go crazy.

MWHA - @cheolism

oneshot, fluff, est relationship

three times you said "mwah" at the end of a kiss and one time jihoon said it back

IM DATING WOOZI - @jihoonotes

oneshot, fluff, smau, est relationship, idol au

y/n is in a public relationship w/ woozi of SVTZ and decides to make a twitter acc to support jihoon, but SVTZ fans seem to think they're delusional.

JIHOON'S PUPPY - @rubyreduji

oneshot, angst, fluff, college au

jihoon can’t seem to shake the puppy dog who keeps following him around or the teasing he gets for it

HEARTSTRINGS - @wavelikewhat

oneshot, fluff, strangers to lovers, idol au

You help Jihoon meet an unexpected deadline for a song and he wonders why he can’t stop thinking about you. Luckily his members nudge him toward the answer.

LEE SEOKMIN

WARM ME UP ! - @ponkwan

drabble, fluff, est relationship

the one where you’re on your third date with seokmin.

KIM MNGYU

HOT OR COLD? - @jjuniehao

oneshot, fluff, est relationship

when looking for something on his phone, you find an email you didn’t expect…

BOYFRIEND PHOTOS - @babyleostuff

oneshot, fluff, est relationship, idol au

a sunny date spent with your precious boyfriend

XU MINGHAO

THE LETTER - @toruro

oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, brothers best friend, childhood friends to lovers, idol au

in which you’re jun's little sister and have been pining for a man so close yet so out of reach for ages. now, years later, when you see minghao all grown up, famous, and still making your heart flutter, you're not so sure what to do about your not-so-little crush.

BOO SEUNGKWAN

A BEAUTIFUL LIFE - @sungbeam

oneshot, fluff, childhood friends, est relationship

Boo Seungkwan asked you to marry him beneath the shade of an orange tree.

CHWE VERNON

ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE - @suhnshinehaos

series, fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers, arranged marriage, smau

the one where you get into an arranged marriage with your childhood best friend vernon, but neither of you seem to mind that much

UNTITLED - @/wqnwoos

drabble, fluff, est relationship, idol au

“vernon, we need to talk.”

OR, WOULD YOU RATHER IT BE ME? - @thepixelelf

oneshot, fluff, childhood friends to lovers, college au, soulmate au

A detested soulmark, a friendship over a decade in the making, and an unexpected proposal from one friend to another… what could possibly go wrong?

LEE CHAN

SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE - @/berriesandjunnie

oneshot, fluff, est relationship, parent au, idol au

no matter what stage in life you’re at, or after all these years, you can count on his hyungs to still treat him the same.

08:23 AM - @wheeboo

drabble, fluff, est relationship, idol au

in which chan is late to dance practice.

want recs for other groups? check out my navigation → here!

[vivwritescrappythings]

Unfair

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

an au about Joel attending a wedding simply inspired by Pedro's slutty little fit at the SAG awards.

part 2

tw: age gap (late 20s/late 40s), fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, alcohol, she/her pronouns, reader has hair long enough to twist around her finger, Joel is probably poorly written in this, and this whole thing is a little poorly written.

word count: 7.2k

MDNI

masterlist

–

Your mom was smiling as you zipped her into her gown, the chiffon and lace dress gorgeous on her as you fastened the eyelet closed at the top of the bodice. You could feel the lens of the photographer’s camera trained on you both, the woman having been with you the entire morning to document the process of the bridal party getting ready. 

The photographer was fluttering around the room, taking candid photos of you all making small talk and toasting mimosas. The posed photos had been earlier that morning, you all wearing your matching silk robes with your names screen-printed on the back. You didn’t know how much had been spent on the whole production–but it certainly wasn’t cheap. But, to see your mom glowing and her wide smile all morning, every penny must have been more than worth it.

Before you realized, you all wore dresses and bouquets of white flowers with magnificent greenery were being thrust in your hands. The wedding planner was ushering everyone out onto the stone walkway to the barn, women finally meeting men just outside the farmhouse turned wedding venue. The best man looked vaguely familiar to you as you placed your hand in the crook of his elbow to walk down the aisle, he must have been Shawn's eldest brother.

The officiant droned: he just repeated the same platitudes of what it means to love one another and be good spouses. You tried to stay focused, your eyes inevitably wandering. The ceremony space was picturesque: southern live oaks casting shadows in the late autumn sun as they married in front of the barn. It really couldn’t get more Texas than that, especially when you counted the number of cowboy hats in the crowd. 

You could feel someone staring at you for the better part of the ceremony, making you glance out of the corner of your eye as you tried to find the source. Every fiber of you wanted to turn and look in earnest, but you knew that you’d ruin the photos as soon as your body twisted and your happy, grinning face wasn’t facing the bride and groom on the best day of their lives. 

Your grip tightened around the bouquet in your hands as your skin crawled, your focus so jarred that you almost missed your cue to walk out. The cheers and clapping woke you from your reverie before the best man had to. Grasping him by the elbow, you walked back up the aisle between the celebrating wedding guests, the feeling of being watched now fading to the background.

—

When you finally made it to the renovated barn, you were starving and in desperate need of a drink. The photos had run long, the photographers getting you all in a variety of line ups and poses. It was almost time for the plated dinner to begin, guests settling at assigned tables after a cocktail hour and the live band playing quiet music in the corner of the half-inside half-outside space that would eventually serve as the dance floor.

The orange lighting from string lights along the ceiling was soft, mismatched Edison bulbs hanging along zigzagged wires from wooden rafters. It painted the guests and decor in gold tones, making everything look sepia like an old photo.

With your double shot vodka tonic in hand, you found your name written in gold calligraphy on the seating chart. Your mom and her new husband were sitting together at a small table at the front of the room, a faux-neon sign behind them that displayed his last name. Well, their last name now. 

You were at one of the front tables, the ivory table cloth nearly brushing the shiny wooden floor as you plucked your name card off your plate and sat down. There were only a few people you knew at the wedding, neighbors from the neighborhood you grew up in and a handful of your mother’s coworkers. But, they were seated elsewhere. 

Some of the seats on the opposite side of the sprawling white and green centerpiece were occupied with strangers in flamboyant cowboy hats and boots, an obvious sign they were from out of town. You smiled politely as you sat down, taking a long sip of your drink as you checked your phone for the moment of downtime. 

“This seat taken?” A deep, twangy voice made your gaze cut away from the screen and up to the right. You were immediately dumbstruck by how handsome the man was, his umber colored eyes reminding you of the sunlight hitting the tree trunks during the ceremony. A few of his dark brown curls were falling on his tanned forehead, the rest of his hair loosely pushed back. 

You floundered for a moment, lips parting and no words coming out of your mouth. Finally you caught up, blinking a few times. The place card in front of the ornate gold and white place setting next to yours was your saving grace. “Well, uh, if you’re Joel M., the seat is all yours,” you said, looking back up at him.

God, you hoped he was Joel.

He smiled, the lines on his face becoming a bit more defined as he extended a hand toward you. “Joel Miller, nice to meet you…” he trailed off, waiting for your assistance. 

You slipped your hand into his, his calloused palm engulfing yours as he shook it politely. You introduced yourself, neck craned back so you could look him in the eye. He released your hand and sat down, setting the glass he was holding next to yours on the table cloth. 

“So how do you know the couple?” Joel asked you, his gaze dragging over you. You tried not to squirm under the weight of it, your face feeling hot as you set your phone face-down on the table. The way he looked at you made you feel like a bug caught under a microscope.

“The bride is my mom,” you said, fiddling with the elegantly folded cloth napkins for a moment. You glanced at her briefly, watching her giggle at something Shawn had said. 

Joel nodded, a huff of a laugh following. “No shit, so you’re the stepdaughter?” he asked, an eyebrow raised as a smirk lifted the corner of his lip. One of your eyebrows lifted of its own volition, his reaction catching you off guard.

“Do I have a reputation?” A sip of your drink helped wet your dry tongue, your eyes trained on him over the rim of your glass. There was a spike of anxiety in your chest, the temporary fear that he’d heard something bad about you filling your mind. You held your glass in your hand as you crossed your legs at the ankle, waiting for his response.

Joel paused to take a drink, a hand scrubbing over his beard as he looked back at you. He shook his head, waving a hand in a way that was meant to be placating. “Shawn told me about you, said you just moved back to town a few months ago.” 

“Um, yeah, actually. Moved back from Denver,” you said, bashful that the subject of you even came up. You hadn’t realized that you were important enough in Shawn’s life to mention, especially to his friends. Of course, there wasn’t animosity between the two of you, just what you assumed was limited interest. Most men didn't bother to learn too much about their adult stepchildren.

You were both leaning forward as you spoke, the music and chatter of the other guests making the barn a little too loud to hear one another clearly at a distance. He was looking down at his drink, giving you an opportunity to study his profile. Joel was easily twenty years your senior, the dark beard on his jawline threaded through with patches of silver hair. 

“So—“ Joel started, getting cut off by the shuffle of the last people to their seats and an arm thrust between the two of you. The waiters serving the plated dinner made you sit upright in your chair, the soft fabric of your dress fluttering as you put some space between Joel and yourself. 

You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you took the first bite of your food, a sigh escaping you as your eyelashes batted against your cheeks. Conversation floated around your head, you caught polite questions about Joel’s construction business and half-assed replies.

For some reason your mother had put you at a table full of Shawn’s friends, maybe in an attempt to help you get to know him better.

“So you’re a contractor?” you asked after your hunger had been satiated. You’d gotten a refill on your drink from one of the waiters, nursing a fresh vodka tonic as you looked at Joel.

He chewed his steak methodically, nodding as he turned slightly to look at you. “Been building houses for years, my brother, Tommy, works with me,” Joel said after he swallowed, taking his cloth napkin off his wide thigh to wipe the corner of his mouth. 

“Do you like it?” you asked after a moment of contemplation, tilting your head to one side as you looked at him.

There was something about him that kept you smiling, your lips curved like a bow as you sipped your drink from the straw. You studied his features while you could, his aquiline nose and his full lower lip intriguing. Way too intriguing for someone who was your stepfather’s friend.

“Pays the bills, keeps the roof over me and Sarah’s heads.” Joel finished his plate, picking up his drink and leaning back in his seat. 

Sarah? Your eyes dropped to his left hand, not seeing a ring on any of the fingers. Not even a tan line. He noticed it, making your face burn as he chuckled. “Sarah? Your…”

“Daughter,” he cut in helpfully. Daughter, he had a daughter. You exhaled, relieved. But, did he have a wife? No ring, never mentioned her. He would’ve brought her up by now. She would've attended the wedding with him. You chewed the inside of your cheek for a moment, taking a breath as you rationalized.  

Your mouth opened to ask another question when glasses were chimed and dinner was cleared away. Champagne flutes were passed around, and to your horror you realized it was time for your toast. You stood in a fluid motion, adjusting your gown and your hair before heading toward the microphone next to the table with the bride and groom.

–

You spent the rest of the night getting drunk. Champagne became cocktails and cocktails became shots–all with your mother and new stepfather and family and friends from your childhood. Tipsiness made you remove your heels, kicking them off to the side to a forgotten corner as your aching feet pressed against the polished floor. 

The dance floor was cramped, the band having transitioned partway through the night to someone’s phone with a playlist hooked up to the speakers. You watched your mom laugh as she was spun around by her new husband, making you smile as you nursed your glass of wine. 

“You lost something.” Joel approached, pointing to your strappy heels with a lazy finger. 

You grinned, your teeth digging into your lower lip for a moment as you looked up at him. “Looks like you did, too–a few things actually,” you said, nodding toward his shucked suit jacket and tie. The top few buttons of his white shirt were open, revealing just enough of his tanned chest to feel dangerous. He was more disheveled than before, a chilled beer bottle held loosely in his fingers and his cheeks flushed.

Joel chuckled, taking a step closer to you as he took a long drink from his beer. You watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed, taking a sip of your red wine in tandem.

There was something about this man that had you all kinds of flustered, a giddy lightness in your chest when he focused his attention on you. “So why aren’t you out there dancing?” Joel asked, his warm eyes surveying the dance floor before returning.

You shook your head, a demure smile and a shrug. “Never was much of a dancer.” The last time you really danced was wasted at a frat party in college, the lights low and the music making the house shake. Far from a respectable barn wedding, and definitely not your mother’s respectable barn wedding. 

“That’s a shame,” Joel smiled at you, pressing just a bit closer, “a pretty girl like you should be out there.” 

You were surprised by the compliment, nearly choking on your wine as your eyebrows lifted. Joel was smirking, his whole body leaning toward yours. You were warm to the touch, your entire face burning under his attentions. It felt like you were in high school again, pining after some older boy that you assumed would never look at you twice–but here he was, looking.

“Do you always flirt with your friend’s stepdaughters?” you asked, hoping to come off as hard to get. Realistically, he already had you in the palm of his hand.

Joel pursed his lips, something mischievous flashing in his dark eyes for a moment. “Just the ones that look like you,” he said, his deep voice low. It was almost too quiet to hear over the music, making you shift forward so you could hear him better.

“Joel.” It would've been chastising if it wasn’t for your bright smile. He exuded an easy confidence that was magnetic, it had your nerves on fire as you selfishly hoped that he would do more than just flirt with you. Your gaze was on his lips for a moment, taking in the lines of his full bottom lip and tidy mustache before meeting his eyes again.

“The couple is getting ready to leave!” You both looked toward the door and watched the wedding planner usher guests out the barn doors. Sparklers were thrust in everyone’s hands, the photographer already positioned at the end of the walkway near the rented white Rolls Royce.

Joel’s hand found the small of your back, warm through the thin fabric of your dress as he guided you toward the door. The wedding planner handed him two sparklers, the long kind that wobbled under their own weight. 

The guests had divided into two lines, waiters lighting sparklers on either side of the column created. Joel handed you one as you stood at his side, your bare feet on the warm concrete. You held it out from your body, focused on the bright sizzle of the sparks as they made their way down the lines of powder.

Your mother and Shawn walked through the column of sparklers on cue, laughing and smiling while holding hands. They looked so happy. You could hardly imagine being that happy with someone.

She broke off for a moment to embrace you, making Joel thoughtfully pluck the sparkler out of your fingers so you didn’t burn her. 

Tears pushed at your eyelids, overwhelming joy for your mother finally breaking free of your chest. You whispered ‘I love you’s into one another’s ears and pressed kisses to cheeks as you clung to each other. The photographer’s camera was shuttering nearby, catching every intimate moment.

Finally you let her go, tearful and smiling as Shawn pulled her toward the car that would take them to their hotel. Joel’s large hand found the curve of your waist, bringing you to his side as you watched your mother get into the car. 

You were tipsy enough to allow it.

He was warm, smelling like cigar smoke and whiskey and cologne. You both were quiet as you watched the car pull away, your shoulders fitting in the space between his arm and torso.

“You wanna help me find my jacket? Think I left it around back when I was smoking a cigar with Shawn,” Joel murmured into your hair. His fingers pressed into your waist, his breath on your neck.

It was enough to distract you. You blinked your tears away, fingertips brushing at the corners of your eyes to make sure your makeup was still intact. “Sure,” you whispered, looking up at him after you’d composed yourself.

Your heart skipped a beat when Joel took your hand, tugging you along with him down the path on the outside of the barn. Both of you were tipsy, giggling and stumbling a bit over the paving stones that had been set in the tall grass. The lights faded behind you, the dim glow through the high windows of the barn and the solitary strand of Edison bulbs between the trees just enough to navigate by. 

It all happened so fast, you didn’t even know who initiated it. Joel’s calloused hands were cupping your cheeks and jaw, tilting your head up as your lips met his. He tasted like whiskey and the sweet wedding cake, making you sigh into the kiss as your fingers twisted in his shirt and pulled him close. 

You had to stand on your tip toes to kiss him properly, a few soft laughs escaping the both of you when the hard cartilage of your noses bumped and teeth clashed. 

He took steps forward until your shoulder blades pressed against the side of the barn. Joel crowded you in, one hand leaving your cheek to brace against the wood behind your waist as he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip. You could feel him smiling.

You always found French kissing to be weird, never knowing quite what to do with your tongue. Whenever a guy had initiated it you managed to cut it off quickly, moving on to some other method of making out to spare yourself the embarrassment of letting your tongue sit there like a dead fish.

Of course you’d seen people do it, always seeming like a lot more licking each other than kissing. Nevertheless, the second time Joel ran his tongue along the seam of your lips you found yourself parting them for him.

Suddenly, you understood. Joel’s tongue massaged over yours as he groaned softly. You wanted him to consume you, letting him take control as he explored your mouth. He tilted your head back more, leaning over you with his full height. You flicked your tongue along his, spine arching toward him in an attempt to get closer.

The horn of the hotel shuttle startled you as you broke apart, chests heaving and your lipstick smeared onto Joel’s mouth. 

“You staying at the same hotel as everyone else?” Joel asked, nosing at your hairline as his hands roamed over your dress. He bunched it in his fists, raising the hem above your calves and wrinkling the fabric.

“I am,” you breathed, twisting your fingers in his thick curls. 

Joel smiled against your earlobe, nipping at it. “Wanna continue this in my room? Got a king size bed and everything,” he drawled, pulling back to look down at you. There was a sparkle in his eyes, his smile was breathtaking.

You wiped your lipstick off his bottom lip with your thumb, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “You sure?” you asked, folding your arms over your chest in a form of protection from Joel’s possible rejection. 

He offered, but there was still a part of you that was worried.

He furrowed his brow, a smile still on his face as he looked down at you in the dark. “'Course I’m sure. Go get your shoes, baby, and I’ll see you on the shuttle.” Joel spun you toward the nearest door to the barn, lightly smacking your ass go get you moving.

You yelped, swatting at his hand with a glare. 

“Go on, before I ruin that pretty dress of yours in the dirt out here,” he told you, a smirk on his face as he nodded his chin toward the door. You rolled your eyes, acquiescing to his instructions.

—

It took Joel no time to get you down the hall from the packed elevator and to his room. He clumsily tapped his keycard against the sensor, stamping kisses along the side of your neck as you giggled in the cage of his arms.

Finally he got it to unlock, tightening an arm around your waist as he pushed the door open. Joel took wide, staggered steps on either side of your body as he ushered you inside. 

As soon as the door snapped shut he was already lifting the bottom of your dress, kisses turning into bites on the curve of your neck. “Jo-el,” you whined through giggles as you grabbed the forearm he’d locked around your waist. 

“Unfair that you’re this fucking pretty,” he mumbled, making your face heat up as you tried to protest. Joel shushed you by grabbing a handful of the meat of your thigh, groaning in your ear. 

“How’s it unfair?” you managed to ask, your head spinning from the overwhelming presence of Joel. His rough, calloused hands were groping at your soft flesh, his lips sucking marks on your neck like you were teenagers. 

The room was relatively untouched, his open suitcase on the stand near the large windows on the far side of the room. The curtains were slightly open, moonlight filtering in. “S’unfair that I didn’t meet you sooner,” Joel said, scraping his blunt teeth over the sensitive spot just under your earlobe. You shivered in his arms.

He separated from you just enough to shuck his suit jacket that he had haphazardly put on for the shuttle, tossing it on the little sofa in the room. You turned after stepping out of your heels, linking your hands behind Joel’s neck and pulling him in for another kiss. 

Joel smiled into it, his hands grabbing your waist and holding you flush against his body. “You still wanna do this?” His fingers moved to your spine and played with the zipper on the back of your dress, looking down at you as he waited for your answer. "Don't want you to feel pressured or anything."

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be,” you murmured, carding your fingers in his thick curls.

Joel just groaned, pressing you flush against him as he captured you in another needy kiss. He pulled the zipper of your dress down in one fluid motion, making a shiver prickle up the length of your spine.

“Let me see ya, baby,” he said against your mouth, pulling the thick straps of your dress down your arms. 

You let the fabric pool at your feet, your sheer, skin-colored bra and panties leaving little to the imagination. A wave of insecurity flashed over you, your skin suddenly feeling stretched too tight over your body as your face and neck heated up. 

You were too aware of the parts of yourself that you didn’t like: the dimpled flesh on the outside of your thighs and the hairs you hadn’t plucked away because the wedding was the last place you thought you’d find a one night stand. A wobbly smile formed, your instinct making you bury your face in Joel’s neck to hide.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear his praise. His massive hands ran down your sides, thumbing at the mesh of your bra and panties before he started moving you backwards.

Your calves hit the bed, making you squawk in an unflattering way as Joel lowered you to the mattress. “You’re so gorgeous,” he breathed, his lips trailing down your neck until he was kissing and sucking at your sternum. He nudged your knees apart with his free hand, his other forearm planted on the mattress to hold his weight off of you. He slotted himself in the space between your thighs as his tongue laved over your nipple through the mesh fabric of your bra.

The noise that came out of your throat was embarrassing. Your breath turned into a strangled moan, eyebrows pinching together. The sensation only made your arousal increase tenfold, spine already arching to press your tit against his mouth. 

Joel chuckled, soft brown eyes ticking up to look at your face. “That sensitive?” he said, more of a statement than a question. You found yourself nodding anyway. He thumbed at your other nipple, making it bud against the thin fabric and pulling another whine from your throat. He snickered.

“Don’t tease,” you huffed, wiggling your hips and lightly squeezing his sides with your knees. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” Joel muttered, a smile stretching on his lips as he rolled the pad of his thumb over your nipple again. He placed kisses along your stomach, making you suck in the soft flesh on reflex. His coarse facial hair tickled your skin, making you giggle a bit as he continued to work his way down your form.

“Just wanna taste ya, okay?” Joel asked, his broad shoulders between your spread thighs. His thick fingers hooked into your panties, manipulating your legs so he could pull them off and toss them somewhere in the room. He pressed your legs apart before you could snap them shut, a seed of worry taking root in your mind as you looked down at him.

You’d never been so self-conscious during a hook-up before, but for some reason Joel felt different. Your thoughts were preoccupied on how you looked from his vantage point, if you smelled alright and if anything looked weird.

“Been wanting to taste you all night, ever since I saw you standing up there during that damn ceremony.”

He spread you apart with his thumbs, eyes focused on your already wet pussy as a smirk stretched across his features. He just stared, making you want to crawl back into yourself. Then the feeling of his tongue on your clit makes you forget your worries, your face scrunching as you moaned. Joel hooked your leg over his shoulder, your heel pressing against his back as he pushed your thighs even further apart. 

You couldn’t remember a time when you’d been so soaked before, sticky arousal practically gushing out of you. Joel’s wide tongue licked long stripes up your cunt, careful to practically gulp down everything that he could. He was groaning as he ate you out, his big hands digging into your waist to pull you closer. The coarse hair of his beard was rough against the soft skin of your inner thighs 

“Oh–oh god, Joel,” you sighed, propping yourself up on an elbow so you could look at him. 

Your thighs were quaking, pressing against his ears as your hips twitched. Joel’s dark eyes were hazy and half lidded as he lapped over your clit, working with a focus you’d never experienced with any other man. He looked beautiful between your legs, belly-down on the mattress and still dressed in his button down shirt and slacks. 

One of his hands left your hip, snaking up your stomach to reach blindly until he cupped your breast. He pulled at the cup of your bra, revealing your peaked nipple. The bud was immediately pinched between his thumb and forefinger, making you arch your back as you let out another whine of his name.

Joel dipped down to shove his searing tongue inside of you as his nose bumped into the swollen bead of your clit. A bolt of lightning ricocheted up your spine, a gasp leaving you. It felt so good you could almost cry, your chest heaving and hips clumsily grinding toward his mouth. You were already starting to tremble, pleasure sparking in the pit of your stomach as he mouthed at you. 

And then he pulled back.

“Joel!” you yelped, starting to sit up as your gaze hardened into a glare. Your pussy clenched around nothing, neglected and empty with an interrupted orgasm.

He huffed a laugh, looking down at you as he knelt on the bed in front of you. “You’re right, baby, that’s my name,” he teased, his voice deep and smokey. 

He grabbed you roughly by the hips, pulling so you fell to your back again. “You fucker–” Joel cut you off by pressing the backs of your knees until you were bent in half, a brief show of just how strong he was. His calloused hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, readjusting you again so the small of your back was propped up against his quads. You’d never been in this angle before, your pussy the highest point of your body as he pushed his forearms against your thighs to keep you still.

Joel’s hot breath washed over your cunt before he delved back into it, greedy as he started sucking on your clit. With the way you were contorted, you were completely helpless, any attempt to move your hips just made your thighs push uselessly against his arms. You were soaking, your arousal dripping down to your asshole as you whimpered pathetically.

He went at a leisurely pace, taking his time to tongue at you and lick long stripes from your perineum to your clit. Your hands were clenching in the white comforter on the hotel bed, your chest heaving. There was something about being completely at his mercy that made your head spin.

You wanted to be greedy, take everything he would give you; but, Joel was in no rush, languidly pressing his face into your pussy despite your best efforts to get him to speed up. 

It was overwhelming in all the right ways, your head spinning as you watched Joel lick at you like he wanted to consume every part of you. Joel cupped your breast in a hand, strumming his thumb lightly over your nipple to keep it stimulated as you gasped. 

You were delirious by the time he sunk two fingers into you, almost making you scream. Joel took a few breaths, his pink lips swollen and shiny with your arousal as he studied your expression. You could hardly think straight, strings of curses mixed with his name falling from your lips as you panted like a bitch in heat. 

The squelching sound of his fingers lazily pumping into your pussy filled the hotel room, loud enough to make your cheeks burn. You wetted your lips, trying to catch your breath beneath Joel.

“So fucking tight around my fingers,” Joel mumbled, the words muffled and wet because he didn’t pull away. It didn’t even feel like he was talking to you, communing with your pussy instead. The praise went directly to your head, making you tighten around his fingers. You threaded a hand in his hair, keeping his mouth pressed against you. “Tastes just as good as I expected.”

“Oh… oh my god,” you breathed, your climax building toward its precipice. 

Joel wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, just barely speeding up the rhythm of his fingers fucking into you. His thumb on your nipple followed suit, matching the motion as tears filled your eyes. Your fingers threaded into his curls, your brows furrowed as you pulled on his hair. He grunted against you, not letting up as he worked you up toward the edge. 

When you came it was a whole body event. Your legs trembled, hips burning from the awkward angle Joel had bent you into. Your back arched, breath pausing in your chest. Your cunt clenched around his fingers, sucked tight and feeling every inch of them inside you. The pleasure was white-hot as it coursed through you, leaving your nerves buzzing and your ears ringing as your body went limp.

“So pretty when you come,” Joel said, his thick fingers still deep inside you.

You were almost nonverbal, your response a delirious sob as you looked up at Joel with watery eyes. He caressed your cheek, gently stroking your jaw and thumb wiping over your lower lip. You kissed the pad of it out of reflex, the motion making his expression soften for a moment.

Then he started to massage the spongy spot inside of your dripping pussy, making your eyes roll back. “Too sensitive,” you whined, grabbing onto his forearm in a weak attempt to stop him. 

“Trust me, baby, I’ve got you,” he said in that syrupy tone, gaze still locked on your face as you squirmed. He took his hand away from your cheek, holding one of your legs to keep you still as he fucked his fingers into you. “You can do one more for me, right?”

The need to please him made you nod, taking in a deep and shaky breath. You couldn’t do anything but take it, your mouth dropping open and your back arching. The overstimulation made you tremble, your whole body squirming. Breaths kept huffing out of you, your brows pinched tight as you tried to relax. It was hard to think straight, hell, it was hard to even breathe. 

Joel pulled his fingers out of you for a moment to strum over your swollen clit, only touching you with just enough pressure to drive you crazy. He continued until you were straining against him, moaning and sobbing his name. It was like he was carved from stone, hardly giving you any leeway as he kept you in place. The pressure in you built faster this time, it was almost embarrassing how quick he was able to get you to the edge. 

“Joel, Joel, Joel–ohmygod,” you gasped, reaching for purchase against his thigh. His dress pants were soft under your fingers as you squeezed, your body practically vibrating. 

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmured soothingly, pressing a wet kiss to the back of your thigh as his fingers hooked back into you. 

Joel fucked you on them at a ruthless pace as his thumb rolled over the crest of your sex, your mouth opening in a wordless cry as you fell into your second orgasm of the night. You were completely lost, your eyes squeezed shut as your muscles spasmed against the restraint of Joel’s arms. White noise filled your mind, your body melting against Joel’s thighs and the bed as your legs fell open even further. 

He rubbed along the seam of your cunt soothingly, calloused fingers working you through the aftershocks. Your eyes were completely hazed when you looked up at him, splayed on the bed like every bone had been pulled from your body. He looked positively giddy, his wet fingers smearing on your thigh as he rubbed your legs in an effort to help you come back to yourself.

Joel let you off of him, returning your spine to the mattress as he leaned over you to give you a kiss. You hummed into it, smelling and tasting your salty-sweet slick on his lips and facial hair. “Please fuck me,” you begged between presses of his mouth, desperation easy to hear in your tone.

“‘Course I will, baby,” he said, getting off the bed to quickly undress himself. You shakily sat up, unclipping your bra at your back and tossing it aside. 

Joel was impressive, his body rippled with muscles beneath a layer of fat that told you he was eating well. Your gaze dragged down him, mouth watering as you finally saw his cock. It was big, the same tanned tone of his skin with a flushed tip. It jutted from a patch of trimmed, dark hair that was accentuated by the happy trail beneath his navel. You swallowed thickly, pussy clenching at the thought of him fucking you into the mattress.

You kissed him eagerly as he got back on the bed, part of you so desperate to please him. Joel was older than you, so much more experienced, you just wanted him to like you. 

He grunted, curling a hand around the back of your neck to keep you close. His other hand traveled down your body, massaging your hip with his thumb. You were putty in his hands, your own arms in a loop around his neck.

“Lay down,” Joel mumbled against the hinge of your jaw, nipping at the bone. You whimpered, fingers digging into the broad muscle of his shoulders as you complied. Joel ran a hand over you, sliding it down the valley between your breasts and over your soft stomach. 

The backs of your thighs were pressed against his quads as he took himself in his hand, sliding the blunt head of his cock along your pussy. You clenched around nothing, desperate and wanting. “Joel, please.” 

You couldn’t take waiting anymore.

He smirked, notching himself at your entrance and obliging you. Joel pressed and pressed and pressed until his hips were completely snug against yours. He split you in half across the width of his cock, moving slow to give you some time to adjust. It felt like he’d consumed all of the extra space in your body, you even felt him in your throat. 

You breathed brokenly, back arched and hips twitching as you struggled to find a comfortable position. You weren’t a virgin–weren’t anything close to it, really–but it felt just as overwhelming as your first time.

Joel bent over you, his elbows on either side of your head carrying his weight as he ground his hips against yours. His forehead pressed into your shoulder, a heated groan rumbling from his chest. It was hard to make sense of things, rattled breaths filling your chest as your mind whirred uselessly. He peppered kisses over your face, his lips wet and warm as he showered you in affection.

Then he moved his hips, the roll of them slow and syrupy and making you nearly choke. You grabbed at his biceps, an attempt to anchor yourself to him as he started to rut his hips into yours. He made room for himself with every press of his cock, molding you to the shape of him.

Joel collected your leg with a rough hand, pushing your knee toward your chest. He let it come to rest in the curve of his elbow, palm pressed flat to the comforter as he spread you open wider. Your hips protested as he splayed you apart, the discomfort easily taking a backseat to your pleasure.

You keened, mouth falling open as he sank even deeper inside of you. Your breaths came out in little mewls, matching Joel’s grunts as you met each thrust with a weak roll of your hips. His lips were at your throat, sucking more marks into the skin and his facial hair scratching against you. “Goddamn, you’re gonna be the death of me, baby,” Joel groaned into the curve of your neck, still keeping an even rhythm

You let out a breathy laugh–you felt the same way about him. He lifted himself to get a better look at you, dark brown eyes as warm as the summer sun as his gaze drifted all the way down to where his cock was buried in you. He grunted at the sight, pupils dilating like drops of ink in water.

His free hand lifted off its elbow, his weight shifting to one side so he could wet the pad of his thumb with a lick of his tongue. You were making sounds you couldn’t control, each thrust pushing a small gasp from your throat. Then, Joel dropped his hand to your lower abdomen, gently tracing the curve of your belly down into the soft thatch of hair you hadn’t bothered to shave.

A calloused thumb found your clit, swirling over it with a confident pressure in a way that made your eyes nearly roll back in your skull. Joel was pounding into the spot that made you see stars, merciless in his pace. “Joel… oh god…”

You could feel the flutter of your orgasm starting, your legs trembled against his arm and the curve of his waist. You chanted his name like a prayer, overstimulated tears starting to squeeze out of the corners of your eyes and roll into your hairline. He just soldiered on, grinding his thumb over your clit as he worked you higher and higher toward the edge.

A rattling gasp escaped your throat as you pulsed around Joel, your brows pinching and your body stiffening beneath his. You could feel the release from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head, your nails digging into his thick biceps as the flickering pleasure turned into a full on forest fire. You leaned up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down onto the mattress with you as you held him close.

“Fuck,” Joel moaned into your neck. His thrusts became sloppy fast, his discipline gone to the wayside now that he made you come on his cock. You felt him twitch inside you, his breath coming out in hot huffs against the curve of your shoulder. His hand grabbed your hip, pulling you down to match his frantic thrusts as he moaned your name into your skin.

You wanted to pull his head away from you so you could see how his face looked when he finished. The muscles in his abdomen clenched, his hips grinding tight to yours as he came inside of you. You moaned with him, the feeling of being filled up by him satiating a need you didn’t know you had as you dragged your blunt nails on his scalp.

Joel finally collapsed, the weight of his body pressing down on you as you combed your fingers through his hair. His hips were cradled by your legs, sweat slicking your skin wherever it was pressed together. You breathed against one another, pulling each other close as you basked in the afterglow.

You were sharing the same air, pressing loose kisses to each other's warm skin as you melted into each other for an unknown amount of time. It could have been seconds, it could have been hours.

“We should clean up,” you finally breathed, able to come back to yourself. 

Joel nodded against your neck, you felt it more than you saw it. You giggled after he didn’t move, still leaving you helpless and pinned beneath him. He seemed to make himself even more comfortable, arms constricting around you and face nuzzling closer to your throat.

“Joel,” you chastised, lightly shoving at his shoulder. It was half-hearted and meaningless–you were more than content to stay here all night if you had to.

“I like how you say that, Joel,” he said, mimicking your voice in an annoyingly high-pitched tone. It made you laugh, throwing your head back against the comforter as you shook it. 

He hissed, pulling away from you just enough to prop himself up on an elbow. “You clench around me like a fucking vise when you laugh like that, baby,” Joel muttered, swirling his fingertips over your skin. He didn’t move to pull out of you quite yet, the two of you relishing in the intimacy of your embrace.

A slow smirk crossed his face, his dark eyes flickering back up to meet yours. “Plus, what’s the point of cleaning up if I’m not done with you yet?”

–

Needless to say, you were sneaking out of his room when the dregs of sunlight started streaming through the hotel room windows, sore and exhausted, with his phone number typed into your phone and his hickeys all over your skin.

[sjsmith56]

Cold Hearted

Summary: AU one shot. A marriage of convenience between the son and daughter of two CEOS to benefit their companies leads to a friendship between the couple, then more.

Length: 6.7 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, unnamed and undescribed female character. She is occasionally referred to as “Sweetheart” or “Pretty girl.”

Warnings: unresolved emotional trauma, Bucky is a bit of a party boy at first, loneliness, unrequited love, feelings of worthlessness and betrayal.

Author notes: There’s some angst in this but it’s part of the growth process for the couple as they learn to trust and rely on each other.

🥂 🏥 🐚

It was just a business deal according to my father. I marry the son of his biggest competitor and they signed an agreement to split the market between them. It sounded like something a mob boss would ask of their daughter, but my father wasn't in the mob, at least not so far as I knew. He was the CEO of a billion-dollar company, just like the competitor was and both of them had spent almost two years fighting to corner the market for a stupid product that would be outdated in a year, two at the most. Then someone, a VP or maybe my father's mistress (same person) suggested a marriage of convenience. After all, you wouldn't screw over family. So, here I was, standing in a church next to a total stranger, both of us facing the minister as he droned on and on about the sanctity of marriage.

We each said I do, when it was asked of us, then put a ring on each other's left hand, while not once making eye contact. When it was time to kiss, he looked at me then and kissed me hurriedly on my cheek; his blue eyes looking quickly away as if I was something unexpected. We signed the register, were introduced as Mr. and Mrs. James Barnes, then he offered me his arm and we stepped down the aisle towards the open doors at the end of the church. All I had to do was pull away from him, sprint through the doors, hail a cab and I could run away. But I didn't. I took the long walk, stood in the receiving line, shook hands with my father and my new father-in-law's business colleagues then was told it was time to leave. My husband offered me his hand, led me out the doors, past the people throwing rose petals at us and into the limousine. Our wedding party piled into the second vehicle. At least it was quiet in there and as it pulled away; he looked behind us then let out a breath of air, seemingly glad that was over with.

"You thirsty?" he asked. "I think there's water in the mini fridge."

Without waiting for an answer, he opened it, took out two bottles and uncapped one, offering it to me before he opened his, draining half of it almost immediately. I sipped mine several times, then placed the cap back on.

"What did you father offer you to do this?" he asked.

I looked at him. "Nothing, just said I better do it if I wanted to still be part of the family and get my inheritance."

He frowned. "That's cold. My dad offered me $10 million. I talked him up to 25."

I looked out the window. Swell. My husband had to be paid to marry me.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I guess that sounds crass. You seem nice but I'm not the faithful type. I like my freedom."

I looked at him. He was a handsome man and in real life would never look at someone like me. He was all nightclubs, parties, exotic vacations and I was a quiet, shy wallflower, who had only ever had a handful of boyfriends. At least he was honest, if telling me he wasn't the faithful type meant he was probably going to cheat on me.

"James, you know the contract stipulates grandchildren, at least two."

"I know. I thought we could use IVF. I wouldn't expect you to sleep with me." He was quiet for a moment. "Call me Bucky. It's my nickname. James is what my father calls me when he's about to chew me out about my lifestyle."

"Okay. So, we'll have separate bedrooms?" He nodded.

"If you want but I won't bring anyone home," he said. "I wouldn't embarrass you like that and I'll be as discreet as I can." He frowned. "Your dad say anything about the divorce agreement in two years?"

I looked at him. "No, what divorce agreement?"

"You get $100 million as a settlement plus a house and a car, child support. I saw the papers and you signed it."

My mind went blank for a moment. There were so many documents that I signed when this was proposed, and I just put my signature where the lawyer said. Why wouldn't they make it known I had a divorce agreement?

"I can ask my lawyer, if you wish," he said. "I mean, you are my wife now, and your wellbeing is my concern. I'm not a complete cold-hearted asshole."

I smiled at him, and he squeezed my hand then he drank some more of his water. We pulled up to the reception venue and waited for the driver to open the door. Bucky got out, then offered me his hand to get out. There were several flashes from the paparazzi, as Bucky was well known in certain social circles, then we hurried inside and made our way to a private lounge for our formal wedding pictures. As the pictures of me and my attendants were being taken, I noticed Bucky talking animatedly with a man. He seemed bothered at what the man was explaining then when he was called for our pictures he turned to him.

"Get it done," he said. "It's not fair and I'll expose the whole thing right now if it isn't fixed."

He smiled at me as he approached, then stood where the photographer told him, right behind me. As the photographer directed the others into position he leaned towards my ear and spoke in a low voice.

"My lawyer said you signed over the proceeds of the divorce agreement to your father. I told him that was false, as you didn't even know about the agreement. If they don't fix it, we'll get an annulment and he'll get nothing. Since I already got paid by my dad, I'll give you half. It's only fair." My mouth was open, and he placed his hand under my chin, closing it, as he grinned. "I told you, I'm not an asshole, well, at least not to those who are my friends."

My smile during the photographs was genuine. It had been a long time since I had anyone that stood up for me; certainly not my parents or any of my siblings. My grandmother, before she died, was the last person who ever advocated for me, and I had forgotten how good it felt to have someone in my corner. When the pictures were done, Bucky went over to a table filled with liquor bottles and poured out shots for everyone. I looked at him dubiously, as I wasn't much of a drinker.

"Come on, it's your wedding day," he smiled. "Open your mouth, pour it in and swallow."

I did as he said, feeling it burn down my throat. He laughed then did his own shot, before pouring another. With his encouragement I drank that one, then another before the wedding planner came in to say we had to make our entrance. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me out the door and waited for the rest of the wedding party to go in as they were introduced. Then it was our turn and he looked at me, then smiled.

"You ready, Mrs. Barnes?"

I nodded and we danced our way into the reception room, as the guests clapped in time to the music. As we passed my family's table, I noticed my father was glaring at me. Bucky noticed too and leaned in close to me.

"Kiss me," he said. "Let your dad know that we're fucking with him."

"He'll be angry," I answered.

"So? Let him. He's arranged this so that only he benefits from this marriage. You deserve a piece of the action."

He twirled me around until our lips were just inches apart, then with an almost evil grin, he kissed me, and I kissed him back. As the guests hooted and hollered, we gave them a good show, then he stood up and pumped his fist in time to the bass beat in the song. I looked at my dad again and he was livid. Before the wedding, I would have been terrified of my dad being like this but maybe the three shots, the kiss, and the encouragement of my fake husband changed something because I suddenly didn't care what my father thought. Pumping my fist and jumping in time to the music I joined Bucky as we continued our entry dance around the room, before finally collapsing into our seats at the head table. He pushed my water glass to me, while he drank his then leaned close to me again.

"The trick to partying is to stay hydrated," he said. "Always drink water when you drink alcohol. It takes care of the hangover as well."

The evening went way too fast as we ate, drank, danced our first dance (Perfect by Ed Sheeran), then cut the cake, threw the garter and the bouquet. Every time my father tried to come over to me, Bucky whisked me away to dance or to meet some of his friends. When it was time for us to make our getaway, he picked me up, threw me over his shoulder and carried me out to the limousine, making me laugh. As soon as we got inside, he told the driver where to take us, then took my hand and kissed it. If I hadn't known better, I would swear that this was a man that really loved me. By the time we got to the hotel, I was quiet again, realizing that everything that Bucky did that night was a lie. It was fun but it was still a lie.

We checked in, went up to the hotel room, where our bags had already been dropped off, and Bucky tipped the bell boy before locking the door. Then he sat on a couch and patted the seat beside him. I didn't come over right away and he looked at me with puppy dog eyes, so I sat next to him.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Are you always this good of an actor? You had me believing for a moment that you ... that we were real."

"We are legally married," he answered. "I wasn't acting. I had a good time tonight. At first, I thought you were kind of a stick in the mud, but I realized that you just haven't really lived. You've been kept on a pretty short leash by your family, haven't you?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" I sighed. "I don't like confrontation and I tend to let people have their way."

He nodded his head. "Like me. I'm sorry. I was just trying to get you to have a good time. You did have a good time, right?" Bucky was right about that as I did have a good time. I nodded. "Look, if there is anything good to come out of this arrangement one of them will be you allowing yourself to have fun. No matter what happens, I kind of like you, so if we become friends from this, I'll be very happy. Finally, getting you what is due to you is the top priority. I'm not going to let your father cheat you out of what was negotiated."

I smiled at him, then bent over and undid my shoes, slipping them off. Bucky gestured to his lap, and I changed positions, so my feet lay on top of his legs. Gently, he took one foot in his hands and began to massage it. I groaned and made a face as he hit every spot that was sore, making it feel so much better. When he was finished with that, he did the other foot. When I withdrew my feet from his hands, he got up and went to the bathroom, coming out drying his hands on a towel.

"I've drawn you a bath," he said. "Take your time, play your favourite playlist and I'll get set up out here."

"I thought ...." I looked at him, puzzled.

"What kind of husband would I be if I abandoned you on our wedding night? We won't have sex, but we can sleep in the same bed. I'm tired and it's been a long day."

Opening my bag, I took out my toiletries and pyjamas. He grinned at the pink elephants on them, then showed me his pyjama bottoms, with cookies on them. I chuckled, then went to the bathroom and closed the door. When I came out half an hour later, Bucky was changed into his bottoms and a plain white T-shirt, there was soft music playing and a bottle of champagne was open. On top of the bed was a plate of chocolate covered strawberries. Patting the space next to him, he offered me a hand as I crawled on, then poured me a glass of champagne. Holding our glasses up he made a toast.

"Here's to having a good time together, not a long time," he said. "Hopefully, we come out of this as friends because good friends are rare, and you can never have enough good friends."

We sipped the champagne, then he held a strawberry for me as I bit into it, before popping the rest of it in his mouth with a cheeky grin. For an hour we talked about ourselves, growing up in families that were focused on business more than anything else. I learned that Bucky lost his mother at a young age when she died of cancer. He went to boarding school, which he admitted could have made him bitter, but he formed some deep friendships and found some adults to have a meaningful substitute parent relationship with. His college years were spent mostly partying, but he did enough work to get his degree in finance and understood enough about business to agree that this marriage arrangement would keep both of our father's companies from inflicting fatal blows on each other. As I told him about being the quiet child in the family who seemed to always be ignored and forgotten when decisions were made, he frowned and held my hand, kissing it from time to time.

It was easy to talk to him and I cried a little that night. But he comforted me and when my yawns started coming more, he insisted I get under the covers. We curled up and faced each other in the dark. Before I closed my eyes he whispered.

"Sleep tight, pretty girl."

No one had ever called me pretty before.

For the next month, Bucky was pretty attentive. My father finally succeeded in cornering me to ask what the hell I was trying to do by bringing up the divorce agreement. Maybe being so much in Bucky's presence had rubbed off on me because I asked him why the lawyer thought I signed the money over to him. He grabbed my wrist and began to twist it when my husband walked in and quickly grabbed my father's wrist, surprising him with the strength of his grip.

"You don't ever touch my wife like that again," said Bucky, gritting his teeth a little. "I brought up the divorce agreement and was shocked that a father would be so cold-hearted to his daughter to literally try to pick her pocket before she even had any money in it. You want this deal to go through? Then you restore the agreement to what I signed; the money belongs to her. Otherwise, we get an annulment, and you get nothing."

"You can't annul the marriage," huffed my father. "You were together on the wedding night."

"We were but we didn't consummate the marriage," replied Bucky, throwing daggers at my father with his bright blue eyes. "Make sure you amend that divorce agreement and I want to be there when my wife signs it. You got that?"

He released my father, put his arm around me and led me away. We signed the amended agreement two days later that stipulated the money, house, car and child support, when we divorced, would go to me and only me.

Once a week, Bucky went out with his friends, partying. He always wore his wedding ring when the paparazzi took photographs of him and for quite a while he was careful, as there were no pictures of him going off with another woman. I knew he was seeing them, because he would come home smelling of their perfume, before he showered, put on his funky pyjama bottoms and slipped into bed, usually spooning behind me, something that he said he liked even though we had separate bedrooms.

Since the marriage agreement called for two children, Bucky arranged for us to visit the IVF clinic and we both underwent testing. He must have paid the doctor and staff there a lot of money to keep their questions to themselves because none of them ever said anything about why two healthy individuals who just got married didn't make a baby the old-fashioned way. I had to undergo shots to stimulate my ovaries so they could harvest multiple eggs. Then Bucky provided them with semen to fertilize the eggs in preparation for insertion into my uterus. Over the next few months, none of them implanted and I began to develop anxiety about it. He was great, never once blaming me. There were even a couple of occasions when he didn't go out with his friends and stayed home to comfort me when my period started, dashing our hopes once again.

Somehow, somewhere along the way, I realized something, about how I felt about him. It wasn't something I expected, falling in love with a man who made it clear from the start that friendship would be the most he could offer me. For as long as I could, I kept it to myself, not wanting to appear needy to Bucky. He had been wonderful and so kind to me. But after that realization, every time I saw him get ready to go out and knew that he would return smelling of someone else, it was inevitable that I finally said something.

"Don't go out," I whispered, one night, just as he came out of his bedroom, dressed in one of his Armani suits. "Please."

He looked at me as if I was joking then saw the pain in my eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sitting next to me.

"Stay home," I answered. "Don't go out with your friends tonight."

"I have to," he said. "We're on the VIP list at a new club opening. I'll be back before morning. After a little sleep-in we can spend the day together, maybe take a drive out to the coast." He smoothed my hair, then kissed my forehead. "Sleep tight, pretty girl."

He left without a backwards glance, and I cried. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last, especially when the paparazzi succeeded in acquiring a picture of Bucky and a starlet kissing each other. He apologized but the crack between us was there, and it would only get worse. The night it was the worst was the night I almost died.

We were supposed to be at a charity event together, but he texted to say he was running late, and he would meet me there. Of course, when I showed up without him, I was swarmed by photographers, all of them asking where Bucky was and who he was with. Ignoring them as best as I could I entered the venue and was shown to my table, seated with several other wives of prominent individuals. Even though I had improved my social skills and learned to have more fun, these women weren't inclined to be friendly and after enduring their whispered comments with no word from Bucky I decided to go home. A car service had dropped me off but expecting Bucky to arrive in his car we didn't book a return trip. There were no taxis available, so I began to walk, trying to hail one as I walked. Somewhere, along the way, I began to cry like the pathetic little individual I always knew I was. Funny how quickly I crumbled, when I figured that even Bucky had enough of me.

I woke up in the emergency room, with a bright light glaring down on me, a collar around my neck, a tube down my throat and IVs in my arms. A doctor leaned over me until I looked at him then began asking me questions, but I couldn't speak, not with the tube blocking my voice. He told me I walked out into traffic without looking and was hit by a car. My heart stopped twice but they brought me back. Was there anyone they should call? I tried to point at my wedding ring as Bucky was the only person I wanted to see, but my arms were splinted as apparently, I thrashed around too much when I was out. He figured it out and held up my phone. Painfully, I signalled the code numbers with my fingers, and he unlocked it then phoned Bucky. Returning a moment later he bent over me again.

"He's on his way. Hang in there, okay? Nothing's broken but you do have internal injuries."

I moaned since there was really no other way to communicate. I must have fallen asleep or passed out because when I woke up again, I was in an ICU hospital room, there were the sounds of several monitors, and Bucky was sitting on a chair, with his head in his hands. He looked up at a sound I must have made and immediately came to my side, placing his hand on mine. All I saw in his eyes were guilt and sorrow.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he said. "This is all my fault. I was supposed to be there with you, but I let others distract me and before I even realized that I had missed the whole event I got the call from the doctor."

I closed my eyes, feeling the tears streaming down from them. His apology, though sincere, really meant nothing. He promised to be my friend and instead, he did what my family had done my whole life, ignored me. To me, it was proof that I was truly meaningless in this world, that I was insignificant. I felt a cloth on my face and opened my eyes to see Bucky wiping my tears away with a washcloth. Painfully, I turned my head away from him.

"Please, don't," he begged. "Don't be angry with me. I fucked up. I know I did. I thought we could get through the two years and be friends, but I haven't been a good friend to you."

I still didn't look at him. I wasn't angry but I was disappointed. He tried to take my hand in his, but I pulled it away, bringing a distressed sound out of him. It must have affected me because a nurse came in to check the monitors and suggested that Bucky go home and come back in the morning. He put up an argument, but she convinced him that I needed to rest. Reluctantly, he agreed and bent over me, kissing me on the forehead.

"I'll do all I can to make it up to you," he whispered. "You were the last person I ever wanted to hurt."

He left then and I eventually fell asleep. Those first few days he was there from early in the morning until late at night. His father visited the second day, and I was aware of a fairly emotional whispered conversation between him and Bucky. None of my family visited. Three days in they took the tube out of my throat, confident that my bruised lungs and ribs were strong enough for me to breathe on my own. It still hurt to speak, almost as much as I was hurting emotionally. Bucky watched me with glassy eyes after the doctor and nurse left, seeming almost afraid to say anything. I looked at him, and the tears began to fall again, in earnest this time. Even though my body hurt I sobbed, and he was right there, his chair pulled up to the edge of the bed, kissing my hand.

"How can I make it better?" he asked. "Please, tell me."

"You won't," I answered, my voice raspy. "You made it clear from our wedding day that you weren't the faithful type. We can't be friends anymore."

"No, please, don't say that," he pleaded. "I need you. Don't you know that?"

I shook my head. "I don't know anything anymore; except every time you walk out the door to be with someone else it hurts so much. Loving you wasn't supposed to happen, but it did."

"You love me?" he asked, not quite believing what I was saying.

I looked away, then nodded my head. "You were nicer to me than anyone I ever met. Then suddenly you were gone more and then you didn't show up last night."

I covered my face with my hands and wept. The edge of the bed dipped slightly as he sat there, then he was carefully lifting me up in his arms to hold me.

"I'm sorry." He stroked my hair. "You know there are times I wake up at night and you're talking in your sleep. Strange, weird stuff, about kangaroos and jungle roads, and stuffing your face with hot dogs at a ball game. One night, I spoke to you, and we carried on a weird conversation. When I finally said you should go back to sleep, you said okay. Then you said good night and that you loved me. Just the way you said it I knew you were telling the truth. It frightened me because I'm not a good person. I party and sleep around too much, I spend money like it will never end, and I never once told anyone other than my mother that I loved them. She died, and it got into my head that if I loved someone, I would lose them someday." He touched my wedding ring, running his fingertip on it. "Then I almost lost you and I never once told you that I was falling in love with you, a love that I was scared to feel."

"You don't love me," I scoffed.

"I love that you listen to me and follow my lead, even when you really don't want to at first. I love your goofy pyjamas and how cuddly they make you feel when you're sleeping in my arms. I love that I would rather ... be here in the hospital begging for your forgiveness and love, than partying with people who only want to ignore the real world. With you, I have real fun, where I laugh and feel good about helping you and being there for you, because that makes me feel good about myself."

"That's not love," I murmured.

"Maybe not but I know that I don't want to be anywhere but near you."

I looked at him, truly looked at him and saw a man with bags under his bloodshot eyes, his hair was sticking out at odd angles because he had fallen asleep in the armchair of the hospital room, and he had several days of beard stubble on his face because he hadn't shaved. This from a man who took pride in how he looked. He wasn't dressed well, like he normally was when he appeared in public. He looked like a mess, and it was because he loved me, and thought he had lost me.

"Do you think we could start over?" he asked, those puppy dog eyes suddenly prominent, even in their bloodshot state. "After you get better, we can go away and just be ourselves, without any family or the business bothering us. I don't care where and it doesn't have to be fancy or expensive. I just want to be with you."

"No more partying with your friends at nightclubs?" I asked. "No more sleeping with other women? Just you and me?"

"Just you and me," he repeated. "The only person I want to sleep with is you, when you're ready."

I couldn't help it. I sobbed again and began to cry. Immediately, Bucky began to kiss my face. Then he looked in my eyes, placed his hand on my cheek and kissed me for real, a soft and sweet kiss that said I was the most important person in his world.

He was as good as his word. Once I was released, he leased a guest house on the coast. It was quiet, far enough away from the other houses on that stretch of windswept beach that we could pretend we were alone. We visited farmer's markets, picking up fresh food for meals that Bucky cooked for me, trying but not always succeeding in his attempts. It didn't matter because we were together and that was the real reason we were there. We walked; short distances at first as I got my strength back, then longer where we would take our time and pick up interesting shells and rocks on the beach. Sometimes we kept them, sometimes we tossed them back into the ocean. Not once did he look at his cellphone. In fact, the charge ran out and he left it on the kitchen counter as a reminder that he wanted all of his attention on me. At night, we curled up in front of the fireplace until I fell asleep, and he would carry me in his arms to bed, helping me into my comfy pyjamas, before changing into his own and spooning behind me.

One night we had a storm, with pounding waves, thunder and lightning, and a wind that rattled every window in the house. He held me until I fell asleep. When I woke up, I looked at his sleeping face, admiring his straight nose, defined cheekbones, and the cleft in his chin. He must have sensed I was looking at him because he opened his eyes, those blue grey eyes that seemed to change colour like the ocean did whenever it was peaceful or angry. There must have been something in my eyes that morning because Bucky kissed me differently, then looked at me in a way he never had before. As his hands moved under my top, and caressed my skin, he shifted so that he was looking over me. I nodded yes, and he smiled softly, before kissing me again and pressing his body against mine.

As pieces of clothing were discarded, we explored each other's bodies, responding with soft sounds as we awakened our sensuous side. It was lovemaking that started out slowly, then built in intensity as Bucky showed me physically how much I meant to him. I had never been that intimate with anyone before, even though I thought I had with the few boyfriends of my limited experience. None of the others made me feel what he did and any last doubts I may have had about his devotion to me were erased. I was in love, truly in love for the first time and so was Bucky.

For six weeks we lived in this bubble where only we existed. Then Bucky plugged his phone in, and all the notifications sounded, one after another for almost an hour. He deleted the ones from his partying friends. They were part of his past now. There were a couple from my father, demanding to know where we were. Then there were the others from his father and lawyers. As he read them, he sighed then looked at me and sat in an armchair, pulling me onto his lap.

"When you were in the ICU, I asked my father for a favour," he said. "I asked him how we could take over your father's company."

"Why?" I asked. "Our marriage was the agreement to keep the competition equal with him, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was but when I demanded that your father amend that divorce agreement, he did something stupid and frankly, unethical. He entered into a secret agreement with an overseas company and contracted with them to provide him with the same product at a fraction of the cost. They aren't the same quality, but he is selling them for a bit less than ours, and he makes more profit on them. It's cut into our profits. We'll be alright because Dad's R&D division are already testing the update that would have been brought out at the end of the two years when we were originally going to get divorced. Of course, now, we're not getting divorced."

"We're not?" I asked, my heart racing a little.

"Nope. You've got me for life." He shrugged. "But it means you don't get your 100 million, although you do get a house and car. They were my late wedding presents to you." He cleared his throat. "Do you know how your father has his company structured?"

"No, I assumed he owns and runs it himself," I said.

"Well, he is CEO, but he doesn't exactly own it, at least not all of it," said Bucky. "It's actually shared between your dad, your siblings and yourself. He's never paid you dividends or anything from the company, has he?"

"No, I didn't know any of it," I said. "I feel stupid now, but I always assumed he had total control."

"I think you were kept in deliberate ignorance of it, and he used some shady tax loopholes to keep the money that was yours out of your hands. It doesn't appear he did the same thing to your siblings which led me to wonder why he has always seemed to be so cold-hearted to you."

It was true, my dad never really liked me. I was aware of that from my earliest memories. Bucky's hand on my mine drew my attention back to him.

"He's not your dad." I opened my mouth then closed it. "He was married to your mother when you were born but your father was someone else. The company was her's and he had no choice but to declare you as his daughter at your birth. When she died, she left the company divided up between all of you."

"My mother's not dead," I said.

"She's not your mother, she's your stepmother," he replied. "Originally, she was your dad's mistress. He married her a month after your mother died, when you were two years old. Since then, your father has cheated you out of everything that should have been yours."

"What do I do?" I asked.

"You could launch takeover plans of your own, but I think it would expose you to investigation and possibly prosecution if the full story of how your father operates becomes public." That wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing considering how he cheated me. Bucky smiled a little. "I think you should turn him in. Report him to the FBI, the IRS, and any other regulatory agency that oversees corporations. They'll freeze all the assets of the company while they investigate and once they confirm what my dad found out; you won't be a subject of investigation. You'll be recognized as a victim of a long-term plan to swindle you out of your inheritance. You can even bring a private civil suit against him. At the least it will expose your father and your family to some pretty intense public scrutiny. There might be some criticism about you, but I'll be with you while this happens, and I won't let anyone associate you with them."

I considered his words. For someone who said he barely passed his university courses he sounded pretty sure of himself and of what we should do. Just at that moment I felt like I had to throw up and I ran from him to the bathroom, emptying my stomach. His hands were on my hair, gently pulling it back so it didn't get soiled. Then he gave me a glass of water as I sat on the floor. A strange but satisfied smile was on his face.

"You haven't had a period since we first got here," he said.

I stopped drinking the water and looked up at him. "Do you think I'm pregnant?"

He shrugged then kneeled down to play with the ends of my hair. "Maybe. We can pick up a pregnancy test on the trip back to the city."

Something occurred to me. "The grandchildren clause ... who asked for that?"

He smiled. "My dad. I'm an only child so he wanted to make sure that I had heirs before I died because of my partying ways. If you are pregnant, I'll be happy and so will he. I'm going to be more involved in the company but not to the extent that you feel left out. In fact, my dad thinks you might be a good fit for the Board of Directors. We can work together and take over managing it when he retires."

"I don't know anything about business," I protested.

"I'll teach you," he smiled. "Say yes, to staying as my wife, the mother of my child, and partner in business. There's no one else I want to have it all with."

I agreed and his smile lit me up inside. When we returned to the city, the lawyers that his dad retained helped me turn my father and siblings in for the irregularities of how they ran my mother's business. Like Bucky said, several agencies became interested, and they confirmed that I had been cheated out of tens of millions of dollars worth of income and compensation. There were many shady deals they engaged in, and even the ones that weren't shady, like the marriage arrangement between Bucky and me, weren't always honoured. It took a long time for the whole thing to wind its way through the legal system but when it did, it was my company, and mine alone, as the Board of Directors fired my father and siblings after they were forced to divest their holdings in order to pay years of back taxes on the income they didn't declare. When Bucky's father, George Barnes, proposed a merger I accepted, being offered the position of Chief Ethics Officer in the combined companies.

There was something else that happened. On the way home from the coast, we stopped and picked up a home pregnancy test. The next morning, we waited as the stick processed the urine sample. The word Pregnant appeared and we accepted that our life was going to change. Bucky left behind the party lifestyle completely, becoming the partner in life I had always dreamed of. When our son was born, he was hands on as a father and stayed that way with each child we had, four in all. Some people said we lived a charmed life, but it wasn't always that way.

I never felt truly loved until I survived my accident and confessed my love to my husband. Bucky, who had dealt with his own trauma of his mother's death and being sent to boarding school at a young age, had lived a life of shallowness, afraid to truly be intimate with anyone, until he almost lost me. Our sham marriage ultimately brought him and his father closer together, healing the rift that had kept them apart. With the trust we built between us we formed a new family, made richer by the birth of our children. Although my biological father was dead, he did have children, born after his affair with my mother. We got along well, and they became my new siblings. Whatever cold-hearted life I suffered before I agreed to marry a man I didn't know didn't matter, as Bucky and I showered our own family with all the love we could muster. Above all else, we were happy.

One shots masterlist

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[piningintrovert]

Why Didn't Yak Wear Purple?

My theory: Yak has never been sure about Dee's feelings for him until that final scene at the beach.

Walk with me.

Yak's primary love language is words of affirmation. That's why baby boy holds people to their word and is so big on promises. Dee has been showing his feelings for Yak through his actions (i.e. acts of service, which is his primary love language) and although it's clear to us and everyone else in their lives, that he has fallen in love with Yak, he has not verbally expressed this to Yak. And when he does get close to saying something, he makes a joke and/or backtracks (e.g. the scene where he refused to admit that he missed Yak after driving two (2) hours to see him). That is why Yak is wearing blue even after Dee asked him to be his "real" boyfriend. That moment, although a nice public display of affection, lost a bit of its seriousness and failed to provide the security that Yak has been looking for because Dee made it seem like he wasn't going to mention him (>_<).

From a color theory stand point, in Yak and Dee's relationship blue is purple without the presence of pink/magenta, without the presence of love. Although he's almost always bathed in purple and pink light while in Dee's apartment, Yak has never felt secure enough in Dee's feelings for him to actually wear Dee's purple. He knows that Dee likes him, but there is still doubt in his mind so he's only comfortable enough to wear Dee's more ambiguous blue.

The one and only time that Dee has been verbally straightforward and concise about his feelings, his love for Yak was when he finally returned Yak's "I love you" at the beach. Unfortunately for us, that was the final scene so we did not get to see Yak in purple. I half expected an extra scene after the credits like they usually do, but even I have to admit that the drone shot of them kissing next to the "HAVE A GOOD DAY" written in the sand was too good of a final shot to pass up.

Note: The blue and yellow at the wedding don't count because they are Cher and Yei's colors, respectively.

Hope this bring y'all some peace of mind @slayerkitty @mysterygrl20 @babyangelsky @respectthepetty (Petty, I sent you an ask about this but idk if it actually went through. If it did, feel free to ignore~)

[heygerald]

Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 5

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. When he has good news, but no one to share it with, Parker invites him along to her brother's birthday party. A moment of weakness, or a moment for him to prove he's more than just his Hollywood ego?

read the story here: prev / next

"—and Jody said she was going to wear something simple, maybe jeans and a t-shirt, but I'm not really sure I want to match that vibe or go for something a little more, you know, fun. Maybe I could finally break out the bucket hat tonight," Colt's voice droned on from the phone tucked indelicately into the crevice of her neck and shoulder. Parker was only half listening, as was the usual when it came to her brother's incessant rambling about anything related to the pretty blonde camerawoman, and while he talked, she made work of slowly peeling strips of painters tape from the freshly painted wall. The ball in her hand was nicely sized by this point of the conversation. "So, anyway... uh, wait, what was the point?"

"Was there a point?" she mused aloud. "I stopped listening when you started talking about some pony she rode once at her twelfth birthday party."

She heard him snap his fingers. "Right—the birthday party."

"Hers or yours?"

"Mine! Listen, I know that you all put a lot of work into planning this shindig—"

"Shindig? God, you're old!"

"—but I would really appreciate if you told me what to expect tonight. Just a hint will do. I'm not trying to show up wearing dress shoes to a disco if you know what I mean."

Parker stuck another piece of tape onto the ever-growing ball with a blithe snort. "I never know what you mean."

"Park," he whined, much like a child, and not the thirty-something year old man that he was. Was this year number thirty-seven or thirty-eight? She should probably figure that out before putting candles on his cake. "Come onnnnnn. Just tell me. Just a hint!"

"And ruin the surprise? No way, Jose."

"But it's my birthday surprise! You can spoil it for me. I mean, realistically, no one would blame you if, maybe, you accidentally let the surprise slip. It'd be expected coming from you, actually."

She frowned. "What do you mean it would be expected coming from me?"

"Well, you know, you can't keep a secret to save your life."

Parker tossed the ball of tape into the trash and picked up the broom with an indignant scoff. "Excuse me, I am a very good secret keeper."

A long winded and high-pitched whine followed, and she winced at the volume of it. Parker switched the phone to her other ear, certain that between her brother and Melissa she had permanent hearing damage.

"Oh, so now all of the sudden you're a locked vault!" he blathered on. "Where was this dedication to silence when I got sick at Macy Lindwigs wedding and you spent the entire evening telling everyone you could find?"

An image of Macy Lindwig, dressed to the nines in a beautiful handmade wedding dress, staring in horror as her brother puked in an azalea bush three minutes before the ceremony started came to mind.

"Oh, I totally forgot about that," she snickered, the memory almost too sweet to ignore now that it had been brought back up. "You ruined her heels that night, you know. What was I supposed to do? Not tell everyone?"

"For starters. Or, at the very least, you could have refrained from blabbing about it at Christmas," he muttered petulantly. "Grandma never looked at me the same way again. She still won't let me near her rose garden."

"Cause and effect," Parker chirped. "You drank one too many tequila shots the night before, and thus, you have to suffer the fate of Grandma judging you every Christmas Eve."

"Miami Vice premiered the night before!" he argued, shouting, in what she suspected was a deranged manner. Parker hoped he was somewhere public; perhaps a grocery store or laundromat. "Just another example of how you can't keep a secret for the life of you, not even when your brother's good name is at stake. Your only true sibling, might I add."

"And here I thought I was an orphan found in a box."

She could hear Colt kicking something, palm clasped over the speaker as he whined, before he was back. "You're worse than Judas, you know. You ruin lives just for the fun of it, no silver needed."

"Are you offering silver?"

A cough. "Uh, I mean, I'm a little tight on silver at the moment. I think I have a free sub from Publix somewhere around here."

"A coupon. Wow. So generous."

"It's a punch card, and those aren't easy to fill out, you know," he huffed indignantly, obviously put out that Parker wasn't going to accept his lackluster offer. "What if I say pretty please?"

"Ha! Nice try. I happen to like Jody, so even if I wanted to tell you what we're doing tonight—which I don't—I'm not going to. She was really excited to help me plan this year."

Some spluttering followed her resolution, before he was kicking something again. Apparently, whatever he kicked was harder than he thought, however, and the next moment her brother was wheezing in pain.

"Jesus, take it easy, alright? You're going to need your toes for tonight."

In a breathless voice, he weaseled, "tonight at...?"

But Parker was no novice when it came to keeping secrets from her brother, and so she didn't fall for the trick. "Ha, nice try," she snorted while stooping to sweep her pile of dust and paint chips off the ground. Shades of green and white stained her hands, but she didn't bother to clean them off. It would be a pointless endeavor, after all, considering what they had planned for Colt's birthday party later that evening. "I'm trying to stay on Jody's good side."

"Both of her sides are good sides," was his immediate response, something wistful coloring his tone. "She's gorgeous. If you haven't noticed."

"Trust me," Parker deadpanned with a blithe glance at her own disheveled appearance, "I've noticed."

"Do you think I should bring her flowers?"

"To your birthday party?"

"Girls like flowers. Plus, she's planning the whole thing."

"I helped!"

"I'm not bringing you flowers to my birthday party, Park. It's not about you, you know."

"Right, of course, how could I have forgotten?" she deadpanned. However, despite his disinterest in showing her any gratitude, Parker smiled at the concept that there was a man out in this world so infatuated by a woman, that he not only spent all his time talking about her, but he also wanted to bring her flowers for no good reason. If only she could find someone like that who wasn't her brother. Wishes and wants, she supposed. "As nice of a thought as that is, don't bring her flowers tonight. They'll end up wilted by the time she gets back home from the party. If they aren't totally trashed first, that is."

His tone pitched higher, eagerly. "Trashed? Why would they be trashed? Are we doing some floral vandalism tonight? Oh!" Colt cried, hands clapping together. "Are we going to a wreck-it room? I've always wanted to do something like that. You know, somewhere that wasn't on a set, anyway, where I'm being beat up for a living with props."

Parker covered the speaker of her phone to curse at herself. While she hadn't ruined the surprise, Colt was like a dog with a hambone, and was not likely to let it go anytime soon.

She cleared her throat and attempted indifference. "Not even close," she said, but it didn't sound super convincing, and with an exasperated huff, she threw her hands up. "Jesus, Colt, you're going to get me into trouble! Just chill out. Jody should be picking you up soon, anyway."

"Picking me up soon for...?"

Colt's whining was interrupted by the tinkle of the front bell, and as she switched her phone back to her right ear, Parker took a moment to scoop up the paint-splattered tarp sprawled across the floor.

Melissa had been on to something with her suggestion to repaint the store, and while they had only gotten the walls finished over the past two and a half weeks, the mossy green color with gold accented picture frames really gave some life back to her shop. It still had that musty smell, as well as a pair of flickering lightbulbs from the janky electrical sockets, but they were definitely taking a step in the right direction. The color made everything feel cozier, and once they coated the bookshelves with shades of blue and yellow and replaced the overhead fluorescents with something warmer, she thought it might look like an entirely new store for the price of a few gallons of paint.

Not to mention the color stood out from the recent tan and brown trend that had swept across Hollywood hills. Win, win.

"Ugh! Stop trying to spoil your own surprise and let it happen, alright? You're going to love it," she pacified half-heartedly while booting a stool out of the way. Too deep of a breath had the smell of laquear and paint fumes killing off some braincells, and Parker dropped the tarp along with the rest of the paint materials with a cross-eyed huff. "Plus, it was all Jody's idea, so if you hate it, I would keep that to your..."

Parker paused halfway up the aisle.

On the far end of it, a brown and black colored dog sat patiently wagging its tail at her. Its tongue was sticking out of the side of its mouth, but despite Elon Musk's predictions about the existence of intelligent life in the galaxy, she was pretty sure that the local population of Hollywood mutts had yet to grow opposable thumbs capable of opening a door.

She blinked at it.

"Er, listen," she muttered into the phone, gaze darting past the dog, but not seeing its owner. "I have to go. There's a dog situation that I need to take care of."

"A dog? I've been asking you for years to get a dog, and now you finally decide to get one on my birthday! That's so totally fu—"

Parker hung up before he could complain any further, and slowly tucked her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. The dog barked at her, as if excited to finally have her attention.

"Er—hi. Did you—how did you get in here?" she asked.

It responded by tilting its head to a ninety-degree angle. She stared, waiting, as if the language barrier would suddenly disappear.

Unsurprisingly, it didn't. The dog barked a second time.

"I don't have any treats on me," she said again, not sure else what to say, but certainly feeling like she should say something. It trotted towards her, and though it seemed friendly at first, when it stuck its head into her crotch to take too deep a sniff for comfort, Parker jumped backwards. "Ah—fuck! Buy a girl dinner first, huh?"

She sidestepped the dog, hands splayed out in front of her like she was a robbery victim, and did her best to avoid being felt up as the dog followed her towards the storefront. It nosed her rear end, and Parker let out an undignified squeak.

"Jesus! I know the humane society is underfunded and all, but this is a little ridiculous, don't you think?" she asked it.

The dog darted in front of her, nose going right back for the crotch, and Parker just barely managed to leap onto Melissa's sunken reading chair when an increasingly familiar head of blonde hair stepped out from behind one of the bookshelves.

"Talon, Jean Claude," he said, and as though the dog hadn't just been harassing her, it plopped down onto the floor right beside him. Dog and owner blinked at her in bemusement. "Don't seriously tell me that you're afraid of dogs."

Parker shot him a disgruntled glare in response, but Tom didn't seem to mind the heat packed behind it. Instead, he smirked at her, crossed one arm over the other, and languidly leaned back against the front counter.

It was obvious he was laughing at her, and not with her, and Parker added it to the list of all the things she couldn't stand about Tom Ryder. Worse though, she couldn't help but subconsciously smooth a hand over her hair, because where Jody was effortlessly gorgeous, Parker required quite a bit of effort not to look awful. And right now, with paint-stained pants, a half-assed pair of dutch braids, and miscolored converse, she was certainly not showing him her good side.

If she even had one, that is.

"I should have known you would have a pervy dog," she said while looking down her nose at him. Literally, too, considering she was still standing on the chair. Parker flushed a bright red at the realization and none-too-glamorously clambered down onto her feet. "And French, too. I think that's stereotyping, Ryder."

Despite the distrustful look she shot the dog, he seemed a whole lot less pervy and rabid now that she knew he had an owner, and when she approached it, its tail flapped back and forth excitedly.

"Insulting an entire country?" Tom harrumphed as she started to scratch the dog between its ears. "Maybe you should sit through PR training with me next time Gail hosts a session."

She blew a bland raspberry as she read the dog's name tag.

Jean Claude. Huh. Cute.

He let out a low whine when she hit a particularly sensitive spot, and in delight, he rolled onto his back with half-lidded eyes.

"Is this the one you were talking to the other day, or do you have any other expat mutts that I should know about? I can only be felt up so many times before I file a harassment complaint."

"Jean Claude isn't a mutt," he corrected her, disdain at the very idea of owning a mutt. Parker supposed adopting a kennel-dog was likely below him, being a superstar and what not. "He's an Australian Kelpie, pure-bred, and he certainly wasn't fucking cheap. His parents are award winning cattle dogs in the Australian circuit."

"That's an award category?"

"Hmph. Laugh all you want, but I'd bet he's better trained than you are. He's even trained to attack someone in the balls on command."

"So am I," she sassed while making kissy faces at Jean Claude. "Oh, he's cute. Yes, you are. Yes, you are," she cooed.

He ate it right up, tail flapping in every direction, and when she spared Tom a glance, she could feel the jealousy rolling off him that someone else was getting more attention. Dog or not. Parker snickered.

"Sorry you're stuck with this one," she added, jerking a thumb over her shoulder to gesture in Tom's general area. "But trust me, you're way cuter, and probably lower maintenance than he is."

Tom cleared his throat. "Are you done?"

"Jealous?"

"Of a dog?" he deadpanned, rolling his eyes beneath a pair of expensive Ray Bans—not at all disproving the theory—and Parker smiled at her private joke. "Hardly."

She leaned closer to Jean Claude, and spoke in a stage whisper, "I think he's jealous."

And—yup—that seemed to do it.

Tom pushed off the counter with a sharp huff, unamused by her teasing, and make a command in French. Jean Claude bounded onto his feet, trotted to where Tom was, and curled up between his legs.

Parker stood and planted her hands onto her hips. "Real mature."

"I can always show you his attack command," Tom threatened. "I doubt you'll find him as adorable when he attacks you. It's always a hit at parties, watching someone get their balls bitten off."

"I think I'm missing a critical component for that trick to work," she pointed out with a dry smile. "But, anyway, what are you doing here? If you came to return my books, they're yours, considering how much you paid for them the other day."

He shrugged. "Maybe I want my change."

"You came all the way here, through traffic, to get your change?" she echoed, clearly disbelieving his piss poor excuse. Under her stare, Tom shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. "Hm. I thought I was supposed to be the penny pincher between the two of us."

"Maybe it's not the money I care about. It's the principle of the whole thing."

"Ha! You expect me to believe that you have principles?"

Tom huffed, but she caught the crooked upturn of his mouth. Still, he played the victim—always acting, this one. "You're right. I don't just deserve change. I should get a full refund, considering how awful your book recommendations were. Not to mention the books practically fell apart when I touched them. Clearly, you sell cheap products."

"Clearly," she muttered, while flipping the sign on the front door from OPEN to CLOSED. There wasn't much going on outside, anyway, and she doubted she would be missing any customers by taking the day off early.

"You want to tell me what you're really doing here? Because we both know you liked my recommendations," she said matter-of-factly, moving to the cash register now. She had made a few sales throughout the day, more than a typical Friday, and so she carefully began stacking her receipts. "I mean, who wouldn't? Those are good books I gave you. Contact is in my top ten."

Tom leaned on the counter. "Books I bought."

She waved him off, stack of receipts in hand, as she locked the lower cabinet. Tom could complain all he wanted, but she did know that he liked her book recommendations. He had finished them all within a week, when he likely should have been spending more attention devoted to practicing for his audition. Granted, it was a sci-fi movie he was auditioning for, but—

She startled.

"Oh, duh!" Parker sprung to her full height with a curious look. "Did you get the part?"

Tom smirked.

It wasn't bashful or pleasant or soft like authors typically described their tall, dark, and handsome characters, but it was so very him that she hardly minded it. In fact, Parker sort of liked it. It crinkled the soft lines by his eyes, loosened the tension in his shoulders, and made him look younger. Nicer. Cuter.

"Of course I did," he sassed. "I told you I was going to get it."

She ignored his blatant peacocking to punch him in the shoulder. The action seemed to shock him, and Tom clutched the spot with his other hand—as if she had done some real damage—while Parker grinned. "Holy shit, that's great! I mean, sure, you were a shoo-in or whatever, but this is a big deal. Right? It's a big deal? You must be jumping off the walls right now!"

Tom gave a bemused huff, eyes darting over the length of her face, and nodded. "Biggest movie I've gotten yet," he said. "My first sci-fi film too, so, that's going to get my name out there even more than it was. I mean, if I thought I was well known before... after this, everyone will know who Tom Ryder is."

"That's awesome!"

Tom rolled his eyes at her enthusiasm, clearly not buying into it, and though Parker was so excited on his behalf, Tom seemed like he was fighting off indifference to the news. "Yeah, well, a role's a role, you know."

"Well, yeah," she hedged, waving a hand at him, "but this is your first sci-fi role, and it was one that you even told me you wanted to get. You must be at least a little excited for it. Sci-fi is so interesting, I bet filming it is gonna be a ton of fun."

"Sure," he echoed dryly. His smirk had returned, and though she wouldn't necessarily classify what his face was doing now as a smile, it was certainly close. "Fun. That's what I'm aiming for in my career: fun."

"Oh, please," she clucked her tongue at him, receipts shoved hastily into their folder. "You can be a huge movie star and still have fun doing it. I mean, isn't that the point? Doing something you love and all that. I'd imagine it's going to be a whole new experience for you, stepping into a sci-fi set."

He hemmed, mouth twisting between a smile and a frown. "I guess."

He didn't sound all that convinced. In fact, when Parker thought about it, she seemed to be far more excited about the role than he did. She tilted her head at him suspiciously. "Alright, well... what are you doing to celebrate?" she asked. "A vacation? Buying yourself a new car? Oooh—Legoland?"

He furrowed his brows at her in surprised. "Legoland?"

"It's what I would do," she shrugged. "Probably, anyway. I've never been because the tickets just don't seem worth the price, but if I had just landed a giant role in a giant blockbuster, I think buying a ticket would be the least of my worries. You could probably even write it off on your taxes."

He blinked at her. "Poor people are so sad to me."

She stuck her tongue out at him, and took delight in the way that he huffed in amusement. "Well? Come on—make me jealous—what are you doing?"

Tom shrugged. "Gail's throwing a big party next week to announce the role. She always does that. Invites her producer friends and talent agents and that sort of stuff. There'll probably be some sort of attraction, singers or a zebra or something."

"Casual," she snorted.

"She has a weird thing for exotic animals, I don't know."

"Seems like it. But that's what she's doing, what are you doing?" she needled further. "I mean, I assumed you would do a big party with your friends before then. You know—cops get called, party crashers—the whole scene."

Tom hesitated to answer, and when he did, he didn't sound all that much like himself. "Well, I can't really do that—she controls when I make go public with the news—has the whole timeline figured out, and manages all the press for it. She doesn't let me tell people ahead of time."

"I'm people."

He rolled his eyes. "You're a nobody," he said. Not to be mean; no, Tom was very clear in his words when he intended to be mean. Instead, he had said it nonchalantly, as if it was a universal truth that everyone understood. And, in all honesty, Parker got it. "I mean, who are you going to tell that would care, you know?"

"Okay, ouch," she muttered still, before barreling on. "Don't you have any non-work friends that you can go get drinks with?"

"All my friends are work friends."

"What about people that don't know Gail?"

Tom huffed and waved a hand at her. "That's the same thing, you know. She introduced me to everyone I know in the industry. Other than some set hands, we have the same circle."

Parker sank onto her heels, feeling slighted on his behalf, but knowing that she didn't really have a right to. Surely, Tom Ryder would have stood up to Gail if he didn't like her hands-on, helicopter parent approach to managing his life. And clearly their work relationship was beneficial to them both. He certainly didn't need a nobody like her feeling sorry for him.

And yet, she did.

Because, as she listened to him talk, it felt like he had to give up everything just to be a somebody in Hollywood. And while it might have been the norm for him, it was absolutely not the norm for everybody.

Did he even realize that?

"Fuck that," Parker said before she could think better of it, emotions getting the better of her. Colt always joked that she had a bleeding heart, but she had never thought there was anything wrong with that. "Come hang out with me, then."

Tom arched a brow at her, mouth parted dumbly. "...what?"

She shrugged, feeling a little like a specimen beneath a microscope, and struggled to explain herself. "I mean, you just said that Gail doesn't want you telling anybody that matters, and I only hang out with people that don't matter in the grand scheme of Hollywood politics. I'm getting ready to head to Colt's birthday party after this, and if you're not doing anything else, you may as well come with me. It won't be a celebration for you, obviously, but... it'll be fun."

He blinked at her slowly, surprise written in the fine lines of his face.

"We're not going to murder you," she huffed indignantly.

"I—I never hang out with Colt or those guys."

"Yeah, for good reason. They all sort of hate you for being an asshole on set to them. Like, all the time. I wouldn't want to hang out with you outside of work either, if I was them."

He scowled. "Oh, well, when you put it like that," he huffed. "Obviously, they're not going to want me to come. And, I may be an asshole, but I try not to gatecrash birthday parties."

She waved his concern away with a paint-stained hand. "First off, you won't be gatecrashing, I'm literally extending an invite. And secondly, they only hate you because you're a prick on set. What better way to prove that you're not a prick, by coming to Colt's birthday party, and—you know—actually being nice for once. Just don't be a dickwad. Or an asshole. Or any sort of thing that you usually are on a normal day."

"I think the saying is 'always be yourself'," he deadpanned.

"That absolutely doesn't apply here."

"Smartass."

Parker nudged him in the shoulder with an exasperated look. "Come on! What else are you going to do? Do some irresponsible spending and buy everyone a round of drinks. I bet they'll think differently of you after everybody is a few beers in."

Tom didn't seem too convinced with her logic. "Crashing his birthday party doesn't seem the best way to get on Colt's good side. I didn't even know it was his birthday."

"Now you do," she shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal. And—well—her brother was probably going to bitch about Tom's presence at the party, but Parker also believed that after a few shots of liquor, everyone would get over the issue fairly quick. Not to mention the party itself was designed for stress relief. Bringing Tom may actually make the night. With a conniving wiggle of her brows, Parker tried again. "I know for a fact that there's room for one more. Jody and I planned the whole thing together, and if she's allowed a plus-one, so am I. Jean Claude can even come. Colt loves dogs."

Tom seemed to sway a little further with her reasoning, and with a slow nod, he finally agreed. He certainly didn't look happy about it though.

Parker punched the air. Oh, Colt is going to love this.

"Awesome! Give me a minute to lock up, and then we can go."

"Fine," he huffed, not too unlike that of a sulky toddler. "But I'm driving."

Parker smiled. Her car was a piece of shit that barely worked on a good day. She was going to insist he drive in the first place. Plus, now, she could get really drunk.

"Fine by me," was all she said, not eager to give away that piece of information just yet. "Just promise me you won't be an asshole. I won't be able to keep my reputation of favorite sister if you ruin the night."

"I'm not going to ruin the night," he snarked with a petulant glare. Parker shrugged, grabbing her things, as he asked, "...wait, I thought you were his only sister?"

"Exactly. Now, come on, I want to get there before they start assigning teams."

The bell rang as she stepped outside, Jean Claude trotting with her, and Tom hesitated for a brief moment before what she said caught up to him.

"Wait," he called, jogging after her. "What do you mean teams?"

---

Tom's presence did not go unnoticed. In fact, it had taken a mere three minutes before Jody was elbowing her to the side, a stern, disbelieving look furrowing her brows. She had let it go in a huff, however, when Parker pointed out that Tom had promised to be on his best behavior, as well as promised to buy the first round of drinks once the game was over.

That had been a lie, of course, but she supposed she could deal with that tantrum later.

Colt, on the other hand, hadn't been so easily placated, and as the twenty odd players stood in a circle, listening to the instructor drone on about safety, he weaseled next to her with a glare.

"I can't believe you brought Ryder," he hissed for the third time that night, hot breath on her face. She would have shoved him away if the instructor hadn't already reprimanded then twice for being distracting. "I mean, seriously Park, I can't stand the guy."

"Oh, really? I couldn't tell."

"Really!"

"Well, I'm sorry," she shrugged, although the apology was half-hearted at best, and Colt seemed to know this as he narrowed his eyes at her irritably. She huffed. "What was I supposed to do? Leave him behind?"

"Yes," Colt whisper-yelled. Dan glanced over his shoulder at the pair, and in perfect Seavers' sibling unison, they plastered fake smiles onto their faces with a friendly wave. He shook his head at them, but likely didn't think they were worth whatever trouble they caused, and faced forward once more. "That's exactly what you should have done!"

"It's not that easy," she argued, hissing as well. "He looked so sad! Like a little abandoned puppy dog that had just been kicked. It was a moment of weakness!"

"Oh, really?" Colt drawled. Together, they glanced over at Tom to find him ignoring everyone in the group with his head stuck in his phone. When a fly buzzed too close, he swatted at it with an icy glare. "That? You couldn't say no to that?"

"I said I was sorry!"

Parker's voice hitched higher than she intended, and the instructor paused in his speech to glare at the duo. She gave him a weak smile in return, mouthing, a guilty, sorry!

The man only got two words back into his speech, however, before Colt started whining again.

"Look, I'm totally stoked about the surprise party, okay? You did a stand-up job on it and the guest list. So how could you fuck it all up so close to the finish line?"

"What the hell does that even mean?" she asked in bewilderment. Parker shook her head. "Seriously, you need to update your sayings."

"Update my—?" Colt bit off a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose to take a long, overdrawn breath. "Why was he even at your bookstore? Since when did you two become friends? What happened to the whole—asshole, asshole, asshole—bit you had going on?"

"I still think he's an asshole," she shot back. But, well, when she caught Tom's gaze across the grass, she faltered. Did she think he was an asshole at his core? Or had he simply become someone she was beginning to understand—a dog that lashed out when someone got too close? Parker rubbed circles into her temple. "And we're not friends. And, even if we were, you have no one to blame but yourself."

"Myself?" he echoed in disbelief. "What do I have to do with this?"

"You're the one that gave him my phone number."

Colt snorted, shaking his head at her. "Fat chance of that," he said. Parker, thinking he was joking at first, fell silent when he caught the look in his eye. But, if Colt hadn't given Tom her phone number, then who had? she wondered, mentally counting down the list of people it could have possibly been.

Bigger fish to fry, she reminded herself when the list made her go cross-eyed.

"Whatever. We're not friends or buddies or whatever you think we are, so you can stop worrying about that."

Colt snorted. "Oh, sure you're not. He just happens to hang out around your bookshop and you share recommendations and, oh yeah! You bring him as a plus-one to my birthday party!"

Parker scowled. "I made the guest list, I think I have a right to bring someone along with."

"Sure, someone. Not Jaws over there."

She frowned at him, thrown off by the random insult. "Jaws?" she echoed, crinkling her nose distastefully. "What does a shark have to do with this?"

Colt sighed. "No, not the shark, the James Bond villain."

"That's a stupid name for a villain."

"I didn't write the damn thing."

"Okay, well, maybe he has the arrogance of a James Bond villain, but at least pick one from this century."

"Silva?"

"Nah. Whose the the one with the weird eye?"

Colt hummed thoughtfully, gaze darting over towards Tom. "Le Chiffre?"

Parker snapped her fingers and pointed at him. "That one!"

"Yeah, alright, I'll give you that," he conceded, nodding. "He does give off Bond villain vibes with the sunglasses and hair-do."

"Right? Oh you should have seen these glasses he was wearing last time. They were huge, and yellow tinted; like Tony Stark would wear. They were so ridiculous."

Colt snickered for a moment, enjoying mocking Tom with his sister, before realizing that he was currently mad at her. He threw his head back with a subtle groan. "Stop doing that! I'm still mad at you!"

Parker gave her brother a blithe look. "I think you're looking at this all wrong."

"Wrong? What other way should I look at it?" he snarked. "With my eyes closed?"

Resisting the urge to smack him, Parker instead gestured to their instructor, the paintball gun in his hand, and then towards Tom. "You literally get the chance to chase down and shoot, Tom Ryder, bane of your existence or whatever. Shoot him. Think about all the welts and whining and, maybe, if you're lucky, the tears you can get out of this experience. Legally. Without getting fired or arrested. What's better than that, huh? It's your very own personal rage room."

Colt considered all of that silently. He swept his gaze from the large pile of paintball guns set off to the side, to the acres of arena in front of them with inflatable obstacles, and then to his blonde alter-ego sulking at the edge of the group.

He slung an arm around Parker's shoulder with the boyish grin. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

Parker snorted, amused by his mood swings. "Not nearly enough. It's all Jody this, and Jody that anymore."

Jody, having finished listening to the instructor's demonstration, peered around Colt's shoulder to blink at the siblings. "What about me?"

Colt and Parker shared a silent look.

"Nothing," she said, whilst he cooed, "just talking about how pretty you are."

Jody blushed a bright rouge instantly, and Colt obviously took pleasure in that when he slung his other arm around her shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he let out a happy sigh. "My two ladies. Paintball. The smell of tears and blood on the horizon. What better way to spend a birthday?"

Parker glanced at Jody, expecting her to roll her eyes, but the camerawoman instead just smiled with something soft in her eyes.

Parker responded by wiggling out of Colt's reach. "Ew, blegh, that's disgusting. They say cooties are contagious you know."

"What on Earth are cooties?" Jody asked.

"An STD," Colt replied, only half joking, and though Jody appeared mildly disturbed by his joke, Parker had known her brother long enough to appreciate his odd ball sense of humor. "And they're not contagious if you have a shot."

Jody, not wanting to know if he was serious or not, let it go as the group slowly filed forward to get their guns, face masks, and coveralls. They followed shortly after, snickering like kids the entire way through.

In the end, Colt and Jody both got white, while Parker and Tom were given black ones.

Karma, she supposed, is that she wouldn't be able to shoot the asshole after all.

"Somehow, this is a step up for your usual clothes," said asshole chirped, pinching the baggy material hanging at her waist between his forefinger and thumb. Parker swatted him away, only for Jean Claude to bark at her. "Easy, you want to get taken down before the game even starts?"

"Please, you're lucky we're on the same team," Parker teased. He didn't seem to buy it if the blithe look he shot her was anything to go by, and she huffed at him. "I bet I could have gotten the first hit on you if we weren't on the same team. I have mad skills at paintball, Ryder. Seal Team Six type stuff., you don't even know."

Tom rolled his eyes at the same time that Colt reappeared, face mask propped on the top of his head, looking just a tad too comfortable in his onesie. Jody and Dan flanked him, and Parker didn't like their smiles one bit.

"What?" she asked.

"You suck at paintball," Colt egged. "Remember Tallahassee? You were covered in welts for weeks!"

Tom snorted, and Parker considered him the greater threat considering the fact he was standing closer to her than Colt was. She glared at him to state, "I'm not joking. I could literally take you out. Any of you," she added with a stern point of the finger sweeping through the group. "All of you!"

Not a single person believed her.

Tom went so far as to snicker at her. "I don't buy that. for a second. You're a total klutz."

She gasped. "Am not!"

Colt raised a hand. "Are too. Remember when you broke your ankle trying to play hopscotch?"

"Just—stay out of this!"

He did not, in fact, stay out of it. "What was it you said, Park? Cause and effect? You suck at sports, and the effect of that, is you're about to go down on the course."

She blew a rather wet raspberry at her brother. "Please, if you and Tom were on the same team, I would smoke both of you."

They bickered for a moment, amusing some, but boring Tom, and the A-lister broke up their argument with a long-weary sigh. "Oi! Whose to say either of you could get a shot on me?" he taunted.

The siblings turned to face him.

"Is that a challenge?" Parker asked, hands planted on her hips, whilst Colt raised his brows.

Tom shrugged, unconcerned.

"In fact, I bet I'll make it a whole round without getting shot once," Tom tacked on, ego puffing his chest out as he smirked at the group standing around. Dan rolled his eyes, while Jody coughed into her hand to hide an obvious laugh at his showboating. "I'm serious. First one to hit me gets five hundred dollars—"

Thwack! Thwack!

Tom gaped at his chest, now dotted with one yellow and one blue splatter. Parker and Colt stood in front of him, guns still smoking, and while his eyes widened in anger, the pair of siblings were more concerned with claiming the prize to notice.

"First!" Colt cried.

"What? No fucking way," Parker argued. She waved at the yellow paint splatter haphazardly, almost taking out Jody as she did so. "I was so first. Tom! Tell him!"

Tom, now even more unamused by their bickering, blinked in wide-eyed disbelief at them both. "Are you fucking serious?" he shouted. "The game didn't even start yet!"

"But you just said—"

"I meant during a match. Christ, Parker, we're on the same team," he blustered, attempting to wipe off the paint, but only managing to smear it further down his chest like a bad Jackson Pollock painting. "Fuck!"

Colt, sensing a blow-out was coming, swung his gun behind his back with a wide eyed, innocent look. "Hey man, it was all her," he started. "Totally uncool. And immature. And, really, if you need me to smack her around a little after this I totally can."

Tom glared at Colt, effectively shutting him up in seconds, before turning to Parker. Everyone watched in baited breath, nervous what he might do, and while Parker hadn't been on set long enough to know what his meltdowns looked like, the ones most familiar with Tom were left stunned by his reaction.

Or, really, how utterly tame this one was to the hundred others they had seen.

"Are you happy now?" he asked.

Parker hemmed and hawed for a moment before deciding that honesty was the best policy. "I mean, I'd be happier if you gave me my five hundred dollars."

"I'm not paying you shit."

"Oh, come on," she rolled her eyes, popping a hip as she did so. "It's not like you're cash poor or anything. You're just upset that I shot you."

Tom gaped at her in disbelief. "No shit!"

Parker, shifting her gun over her shoulder, waved the other at him blithely. "You'll get over it once the game starts. It's—heh—surprisingly therapeutic."

"Shooting me is therapeutic?"

She paused, caught up in her own statement. "Er, well, not you exactly. Just someone, in general, you know." Parker swallowed when Tom continued to stare at her. Awkwardly, she laughed. "Just... wait till you get out there, and you'll see."

Tom remained silent, blinking at her for a long, tense, moment before he rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh. And—

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

His gun went off before anyone could stop him, and Parker gaped at the trio of yellow paint that was now splattered across her chest. "Fucking ow!"

Tom smirked at her, blowing the muzzle of his gun for extra flare, before swinging it over his shoulder. "Huh. I guess you're right. I do feel better."

"Asshole!"

"Yeah, well, takes one to know one, right?" he snarked.

And—oh.

She could kill him. Really, seriously kill him.

But, well, the longer she stared at him and he stared at her, eyebrow cocked and a daring smirk in place, Parker realized above the hatred simmering in her chest, she felt something kindred and wanting flutter like butterflies. Something amused by the curve of his smirk, flushed by the scorching burn of his gaze, and—dare she think—understanding at the retaliatory strike. She had, afterall, shot first.

He had only lowered himself to her level; played by her rules.

And with a strong suspicion that Tom Ryder wasn't so much an asshole as he was just looking for someone to understand him, Parker's only response to that was to throw her head back and howl in laughter.

Despite this, no one else moved for a long moment, too busy darting their gazes between Parker and Tom in case they needed to intervene, but in an even more surprising turn of events, he laughed as well. Not so outright, and not nearly as loud, but he did. Prompted by his positive reaction, it wasn't long before Colt started to laugh, and then Jody, and then suddenly everyone was knelt at the waist in laughter.

It wasn't until their instructor honked a blow horn at them, none too amused with the pre-game warfare, that they calmed down. He honked the horn a second time at Parker and Tom, threatening to kick them out if they kept breaking the rules, and while they managed to stay straight-faced, the moment he turned his back on the group, they shared matching grins.

Maybe, she thought as they got into place, it hadn't been such a bad idea to bring him along.

And maybe, her brother thought at the exact same time, Parker and Tom being friends wasn't the end of the world.

[fleshqounds]

TIL’ FREEDOM DO US PART

1 / ?? — VIEL OF LIES

“ It's an American wedding. They don't mean too much, But we were so in love. “ — Mick, a rookie operative, is trapped in a forced marriage with Adler, a cold but seasoned CIA operative. What begins as a means to an end soon blurs the lines between duty and desire, as Mick grapples with his feelings for a man who sees their union as nothing more than a strategic movement.

cw : forced marriage, power imbalances, emotional manipulation, heavy age gap, unhealthy coping mechanisms (from Mick), dubious consent, coercion, probable eventual smut(?)

The room was suffocatingly quiet, save for the steady tick of a clock on the far wall. Mick stood near the window, arms crossed, glaring out at the rainy D.C streets. His jaw clenched, creaking lightly as he heard Adler’s chair scrape against the hardwood floor behind him.

“So, this is it, huh?” Mick muttered, his voice dripping with defiance and irritation, dwelling in a mixing pot. “You think throwing a ring on my finger is gonna magically fix whatever fucked-up plan you’ve got in mind?” He finally turned, meeting Adler’s cold gaze.

Adler leaned back in his chair, lighting a cigarette with almost maddening calmness. He exhaled slowly before replying, his voice low and deliberate. “It’s not about fixing anything, kid. It’s about survival. You want to walk out of this alive? Then you play the part.”

Mick scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah? And what part do you play in this, huh? The loving husband?” The words were laced with venom, but the flash of hesitation in Adler’s eyes told Mick he wasn’t the only one questioning this.. arrangement between the pair.

Mick clenched his fists, eyes narrowing as he looked at Adler. “Survival, huh? You really think this is the only way out?” His voice shook with a mix of anger and disbelief. “This whole thing’s a fucking joke. You think a piece of paper and a ring are gonna protect us? From what, exactly?” He shook his head, pacing back and forth in the dimly lit room.

Adler remained unshaken, exhaling another puff of smoke, his eyes never leaving Mick’s figure. “You don’t get it, do you?” He leaned forward, his tone sharper now, more.. irritated. “The world doesn’t give a damn about what you think is right. If we want to come out of this on top, we have to do what’s necessary.”

Mick shot him a bitter laugh. “Oh, so now you’re the martyr? The big savior who’s going to sacrifice everything for the greater good?” He took a step closer to Adler, daring him to argue back. “You’re full of shit. You think this is about some big noble cause? Your making me your fucking puppet, and I gotta play along like a good little soldier. It’s disgusting.”

Adler flicked his cigarette into the ashtray, his eyes hardening. “Call it what you want. It doesn’t matter. The moment that ring goes on, it’s game over. There’s no walking away from this, Mick. You’ll see that soon enough.”

The air in the room was tense, suffocating, as the officiant droned on, his voice muffled by the pounding of Mick’s heart in his ears. He stood beside Adler, the cold weight of the ring in his palm feeling like a betrayal. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Adler, too furious, too confused, his mind a warzone of disgust. The words from the officiant drifted in and out, but it was the question that made Mick’s stomach twist painfully.

“Do you, Mick Gore, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Mick’s heart hammered in his chest. The room felt smaller, almost suffocating. His breath hitched. He wanted to scream, to refuse, to run out of the damn building and run far, far away from Langley — Back to Kansas. But he knew better than that. Adler’s hand was steady on his shoulder, and Mick felt the heavy weight of his gaze burning into the side of his face. “Do it,” Adler murmured under his breath, almost too quietly for anyone else to hear, but it was enough to make Mick’s blood run cold.

Mick’s throat went dry, but he forced the words out, two words tasting like bile in his mouth. “I do.”

The officiant nodded, oblivious to the tension pulsing between them, and turned to Adler. “And do you, Russell Adler, take Mick Gore to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Adler’s gaze shifted toward Mick, locking eyes for a moment before he spoke. “I do.”

The officiant beamed, clearly pleased with the simpleness. “I now pronounce you husband and husband.” The words hit Mick like a punch to the gut, and he barely took into account the rather polite applause of the two witnesses stationed in the corner—both operatives, of course. It wasn’t real. None of it was. But the weight of the ring on his finger told a different story, one he knew he couldn’t escape from.

Adler didn’t spare him a glance, his attention already shifting to the folder on the nearby table that contained the forged documents they needed to sell this charade. “That’s it,” he said, his tone as detached as ever. “We’re done here.” He stepped away, leaving Mick standing at the altar, staring down at his hand, the gold band gleaming under the harsh overhead light, fist clenching lightly.

Mick swallowed hard, something sour pooling in his gut. “That’s it?” he mumbled, more to himself than to Adler, but the older man caught it anyway.

Adler paused, his back to Mick, and took a moment to light a cigarette. “What else were you expecting?” he asked, his voice sharp, though not unkind. He exhaled a plume of smoke, finally glancing over his shoulder. “This is a means to an end, kid. Nothing more. Don’t make it something it’s not.”

Mick’s jaw tightened as he’d look back as well, a flash of hurt breaking through his thinly veiled mask of anger. He didn’t respond, couldn’t trust his own self to. Instead, he looked down, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Adler turned back, already halfway to the door.

“Get your head straight,” Adler called out as he reached for the handle. “We’ve got work to do.” And just like that, he was gone, leaving Mick standing alone in the silent room, feeling like he’d signed away a part of himself for nothing more than another one of Adler’s games.

Mick always thought that he’d marry someone for the sake of love, that he’d found the one as so many people would say — but Mick didn’t think he’d end up here, marriage forged by a contract instead of love.

Mick wished he could call his dad — tell him the “good news”, about the “lucky guy”, about their honeymoon and whatever else — but he was sure his dad would scoff in his face. Only leave behind the stench of cigs and hurt.

Maybe he was a fool, but he’d be damned if Adler played him like one.

[zmasters]

Greeting Death, with a Smile

Based on this post by u/lesbianwriterlover69 on Reddit

Sasha tasted blood. She was certain that she was shot at least once, it was the pain that hasn’t registered yet.

The squadron of alien invaders surrounded the poor woman. Sasha was just a small town farmer for a lunar colony turned militia member. She had no idea why the fakarians even bothered attacking a backwater town on a backwater colony. She had no idea why this race of rat-like xenos even attacked a human world in the first place. A show of power? A preemptive strike? Just for the fun of it? She didn’t know, nor care. But after all the raiding, the towns and villages burnt to the ground, and friends and family either killed or enslaved, Sasha knew what she would do to these bastards.

The closest soldier slammed their boot into her stomach, screaming something that vaguely sounded like eldiv. Fuckers couldn’t be bothered to translate the right language to insult her in. They stomped their foot again, blood flying out of Sasha’s mouth and tears rolling down her face as she search her pocket.

The kicking and insults provided a good enough distraction. She had managed to find the thing she was looking for, adrenaline and thankfulness that the alien wasn’t kicking her in the chest being the only things keeping her alive at this point.

The alien raised their foot to stomp again, but Sasha grabbed their foot, using the last of her strength to keep them close. The alien screamed at her in an unknown language as their comrades raised their guns, but everyone froze when they heard beeping.

One of the soldiers tracked the beeping, coming down to their human prisoner and removing her jacket. They discovered that strapped to Sasha’s chest was an improvised explosive.

The seconds felt like hours to Sasha. The alien in her grip barked orders as some of their men tried to pry him out of her death grip. Others readied their weapons, hoping to kill her before she detonated. The poor idiots didn’t know it wasn’t a detonator, but a dead man’ switch. Others made a break for it, hoping to escape the blast radius, comrades be damned.

Sasha’s mind raced. Everything and everyone she loved, everything and everyone she lost, flashed before her eyes. Her mom, dad, siblings, girlfriend, dog, coworkers, friends, neighbors, all gone. All dead. She was the unlucky one to survive the initial orbital bombardment. She was the unlucky one to survive the raids and the random bombings. The sniper attacks. The drone strikes. She survived entire towns being executed, and bombed into rubble. After all of that, Sasha was tired. She was alone. She had nothing to live for, except one thing. That’s why she was smiling. That’s why she willingly volunteered for this mission. The boot of Captain Shilis was in her hand. The man who personally killed the love of her life was mere seconds from death himself.

“Look into my eyes, fucker!” Sasha laughed in perfect fakari, echoing what Shilis said Zari a year ago to the day. “I want to see you die!”

Zari. Zari flashed across her mind. That cyan-scaled drac was one of the refugees who fled fakarian expansion, eventually finding a job at the same farm Sasha worked at. The coworkers quickly became friends, and after five years, the two were engaged. The wedding was planned for a nice sunny day. The anniversary of when the two first met. A year later, it’s the anniversary of Zari’s execution.

One last tear rolled down Sasha’s face as her grip loosened. It was enough for Shilis to break the grip, but it was too late to escape. Sasha will be with Zari again, watching and laughing at this bastard in hell.

[girlactionfigure]

🔅Wed morning - ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting to Israel in Realtime

( Update 1 of 2 )

🔻AIR ATTACKS.. 

.. North - Hezbollah

ROCKETS at Gesher HaZiv, Nahariya, Sa'ar, Hanita, Ya'ara, Metzuba, Shlomi, Betzet, Lehman

ROCKETS at Margaliot

ROCKETS at Even Menachem, Zarit, Netua, Fassuta, Shomera, Shtula

ROCKETS at Alkosh, Matat, Netua, Fassuta, Hurfeish 

Interceptions without alarm reported over the Kinerret

.. South East - Iranian Shia Militias of Iraq

SUICIDE DRONE at Kushi Rimon

.. South West - Hamas

ROCKETS at Kissufim

▪️TERROR - KOCHAV YAIR.. ramming attack - 4 policemen were injured and the terrorist was shot dead.

▪️VIOLENT ANTI-GOVT PROTESTS JERUSALEM.. MK Zeev Elkin:  Hard pictures in Jerusalem. There is no place for breaking the law and harming the police! There is no place for police violence and excessive use of force!  Please stop! We are not enemies to each other. Hamas, Hezbollah, Iran are the enemies! We are in the middle of a war against a murderous enemy who wants to destroy all of us, the supporters of the government and its opponents.

Head of Shin Bet.. “The violent discourse on the Internet and some of the scenes we saw tonight in Jerusalem, go beyond the accepted rules of protest, harm the ability to maintain public order, may lead to violent friction with the security forces, hinder them from fulfilling their duties and even harm secure individuals.

There is a clear line between a legitimate protest and a violent and illegal protest. This is a worrisome trend that may lead to dangerous areas that should not be reached."

And our enemy watches Al Jazeera and laughs.

▪️IDEAS.. Head of Yisrael Beitenu, former Minister of Defense, MK Avigdor Lieberman:

"The Israeli government must make two immediate decisions:

1. In the security field, there is no justification for purchasing aircraft for a total amount of approximately NIS 35 billion. It is impossible for militias in sandals to be able to launch cruise missiles and UAVs (suicide drones) towards Israel, while in order to attack in Yemen, the Israel needs to put an entire squadron into the air for a flight thousands of kilometers south.

Therefore, instead of purchasing airplanes for approximately 35 billion shekels, you can purchase airplanes for approximately 20 billion shekels, and invest 10 billion shekels in establishing an effective missile force that will meet the security challenges, and five billion shekels to strengthen the land army.

2. In the economic field, we must immediately bring to Israel about a quarter of a million foreign workers, who are needed in the construction, industry, agriculture and hotel industries.

After almost half a year of war, it's time to change mindsets.”

( Update 2 of 2 )

🔻AIR ATTACKS.. 

.. North - Hezbollah

ROCKETS at Alkosh, Matat, Netua, Fassuta, Hurfeish 

▪️CEASEFIRE LEAKS.. The Lebanese Al Mayadeen from a "senior source in the resistance": The new proposal submitted by Israel today does not provide an answer to the main issues that Hamas insists on and therefore there is no progress in the talks.

Al-Arabiya: Israel showed some flexibility proposing establishing 3 safe crossings to the north of the strip, but demanded health checks on the hostages in return.

▪️MORE INFO ON ARAVAH DRONE ATTACK.. At around 1 a.m., a suspected drone flying from the eastern direction entered Israeli airspace in the Arabah region, just north of Eilat, according to the IDF.

The "suspicious aerial target" set off sirens at a popular roadside store in the area.

The IDF says it fired an interceptor missile at the target, although it is not clear if it was shot down. (Fabien)

▪️MORE INFO ON THE RAMMING ATTACK.. a 26-year-old man from the Arab city of Tira rammed his vehicle into four cops near the town of Kochav Yair, police say. One of the officers was seriously wounded.

The assailant then fled to a nearby West Bank checkpoint, where he allegedly tried to stab the guards there. The guards at the Eliyahu Crossing returned fire, killing the suspect.

His family: our son has mental disorders. It was not on a nationalistic basis.

▪️IRANIAN SHIA MILITIA SAYS ATTACKED HAIFA?  The Shia militias in Iraq claim: We attacked the airport in Haifa early in the morning with a UAV.  No such attack.

▪️PASSOVER ECONOMY.. Min. Of Economy found a 32% gap between expensive and discount grocery chains on the ‘average basket of Passover foods’.  It also noted an overall 4% increase from last year.

[lifeontoast]

hello! I'd like to request something with Jasper (Twilight) where him and the reader are just spending time together. Hanging out, picnic etc. Something where reader tells him "sometimes I'd love to be a tiny person, living in your pocket". I hope this makes sense 😭

Pocket (21/3/23)

Jasper Hale x reader

SUMMARY: Jasper and the reader are hanging out in the forest one day. You have a peaceful, restful time together. (By the way the reader is human, and Alice and Jasper are just siblings in this)

A/N: thanks to the anon who requested this! So sorry it’s taken ages, but hope you enjoy :)

…

The two of you just fancied getting away from life for a while. That was why you found yourselves strolling through the cool forest one sunny day. The sunbeams danced on Jasper’s face, sparkling and shining like the stars. He swung a picnic basket in his arms, refusing to let you carry it. Always the gentleman.

As you walked, you talked, about this and that. When your next date night would be. Movies you could watch. Books you could read. It seemed like you had walked for hours; the edge of the forest you had entered from got further and further away until you could hear the drone of traffic no longer, only birdsong and the sound of a gentle stream. You kept looking at each other, smiling every time you did so. All the time you were thinking ‘how did I get so lucky?’, and you were sure he was thinking the same thing. That was the beauty of yours and Jasper’s relationship: you two were absolutely perfect together, and you knew for absolute certainty that you would spend the rest of your days with him. Alice knew too. She had come to you one day, having just seen it, practically bursting at the news. You were the first person she had told, and you asked her to tell Jasper, but nobody else. You wanted to keep your piece of paradise to yourselves for the moment. You would tell them later, when the two of you had had time to talk about your options. Alice happily demanded to know when the wedding would be, and you laughed, telling her you weren’t sure yet. That day felt like years ago, and you genuinely wondered once again, as you had done many times, when that special day would be. It was going to be soon, you felt it. Jasper wouldn’t want to wait. As soon as you had graduated high school, you were going to do it. Even if it wasn’t the huge wedding Alice had planned, or the small and intimate one you’d planned, you were going to do it.

‘Y/N, darlin, where shall we sit down?’ He asked you, his quiet southern lilt pulling you out of your daydream.

‘Wherever you want, Jas. Here look as good a place as any.’ You replied quietly.

You sat down on a mossy rock by a babbling stream, before being pulled up by Jasper, only for him to lay his jacket down for you. You laughed a little; he was such a gentleman to you.

‘Gotta make sure this rock is suitable for my girl!’ He said. He could really turn on the Southern charm when he wanted to, huh?

You smiled as he gave you food from the picnic basket. As usual, Esme had not disappointed; it was stuffed full of all your favourite treats. Usually you felt awkward eating in front of Jasper, but the feeling of happiness washing over you from the quiet, peaceful forest was enough to completely block the awkwardness. He smiled at you, loving your humanity, as it was something he had been without for many years. He missed it sometimes, but almost felt he relived his human life through you.

You began to chat quietly about not very much at all, when you suddenly blurted out:

‘You know, Jas, sometimes I’d love to be a tiny person, just living inside your pocket.’

‘Oh yeah? Well, I’d love for you to live there darlin.’ He laughed.

You smiled at him and gazed into his eyes. He gazed back, and that was it, you were lost in each other. It was the best place to be lost in.

Later on, you began to hear the birds singing a chorus way up in the trees. Jasper shot up in that slightly unnerving way that vampires do. He offered you his hand instantly, and you took it, letting him pull you up. He pulled you close to him, and you swayed to the golden sounds surrounding you. You closed your eyes and let the feeling of euphoria wash over you, and were sure that he felt the same. You stood swaying long after the splendid chorus fell silent, until the day started to turn dark. He suddenly released you, with a ‘look, Y/N! The sunset!’ And he was right. Through the chinks in the forest canopy, you saw the most magical array of colours: reds, oranges, yellows, golds, pinks… every colour on the spectrum was there, and it was beautiful.

The colours gave you courage.

‘Jasper, let’s get married.’ You said suddenly.

‘What?’ He turned to you, obviously shocked.

‘Let’s get married.’ You repeated. He looked at you for a second, then smiled.

‘Yea darlin, let’s get married.’ He replied. He held you ever close as you watched the sunset together, and in your heart you knew that he was perfect for you.

…

A/N: thanks so much for reading! You guys rock!

[iamktb206]

All At Once

by Clint Smith, from Above Ground

The redwoods are on fire in California. A flood submerges a neighborhood that sat quiet upon the coast for three centuries. A child takes their first steps and tumbles into a father’s arms. Two people in New Orleans fall in love under an oak tree whose branches bend like sorrow. A forest of seeds are planted in new soil. A glacier melts into the ocean and the sea climbs closer to land. A man comes home from war and holds his son for the first time. A man is killed by drone that thinks his jug of water is a bomb. Your best friend relapses and isn’t picking up the phone. Your son’s teacher calls to say he stood up for another boy in class. A country below the equator ends a twenty-year civil war. A solider across the Atlantic fires the shot that begins another. The scientists find a vaccine that will save millions of people’s lives. Your mother’s cancer has returned and doctors say there is nothing else they can do. There is a funeral procession in the morning and a wedding in the afternoon. The river that gives us water to drink is the same one that might wash us away.

[multifandominfj]

A New Beginning: A Supergirl 6x20 Re-Write

Chapter One: Back to Reality

There was definitely a new air about National City that night, and there was definitely a new air about Kara Danvers as well. Sitting in her chair in the main meeting area of the CatCo bullpen, wearing a red and cream tartan suit with her hair perfectly blown out; almost as if she flew there in a rush so she wouldn’t be late.

Thanks to a very important person at her sister’s wedding, who can only be described as the living embodiment of regality with a soft marshmallow center, and a droning force in short but fun-sized packed persona over the phone, she decided that this interview was not only the right time to tell the City she called home for years who she was, but all to breathe. To become herself. Her WHOLE self.

“Are you sure you want to do this Kiera?” The incomparable Cat Grant almost floated in to do this interview, she was that mystical and ethereal. “Once you do this, your life will be changed, and the horrid, ridiculous guest appearances start.”

“I’m sure. This is exactly what I need to do.” Kara takes a relaxing deep breath to calm her nerves.

“And none of your family knows you’re doing this?” Cat’s eyebrow makes an ever present curious arch.

“Nope…Though this would be a good surprise.” A slightly nervous, but at peace chuckle was the clear indicator that she was ready.

“Well then…” Cat gave her famous, let’s get down to business smirk. “Let’s make history.”

*The Lena Luthor Foundation--Head Office*

Catching up on some paperwork, Lena had lost track of time.

“Knock knock.” A rap on the door frame from Andrea had greeted her. “Figured you could use the company and pick me up.”

“Andrea.” A smile brighter than Rao itself was the indicator that she needed a break. “You’re a lifesaver. And thank you. I lost track of time, I actually forgot to eat.”

“Well, when Kara is off changing the world in her new Girl Boss position, someone needs to be there as back up.” Andrea began to unpack a bag of Big Belly Burger, and turn on the tv in Lena’s office. “So, where is Kara exactly? Didn’t you tell me she would be here too?”

“She was, but she had something come up with Cat about changing the layout of their next issue. And something that big, I wouldn’t keep her from that. I told her she could simply make up to me at home.” Hiding her smirk when she said that was not even going to happen.

“I bet.” A chuckle was bound to happen. “I’m happy for you, Lena. Ever since our last catch up after Alex and Kelly’s wedding, it seems like you and Kara are closer than ever.” Andrea was genuinely happy for her friend.

But what she didn’t know was that there was indeed a moment between her and Kara at the wedding. However, just as she was about to say those three words, Nia had called them to wave goodbye to the blushing brides.

“We are. It feels very cathartic that we can just be ourselves with each other. And after all of that time I spent being angry at her for simply…” She definitely couldn’t reveal Kara’s secret. “Keeping a family secret to herself, I had time to think about all of that.” Lena shrugged as she ate.

*The Suburbs of National City*

Family Movie Night was in full swing at the Danvers-Olsen household. Tonight’s plans: Chocolate Drizzle Popcorn, A giant order of potstickers no one had to fight over because Kara wasn’t there to inhale them like a Hoover vacuum, and a big pitcher of lemonade with “special additions” for the adults.

“Alex, hurry up! The movie is starting.” Kelly hollered from the living room

“I’m coming.” She warmly chuckled, followed by a delightful peck on the lips and greeted Kelly upon her return. “Movie nights require extra blankets.” Alex lays one over Kelly and Esme, who was practically shoveling the popcorn by the handful.

“And I feel honored to have finally made a movie night. It’s been a while since I’ve visited. The Tower has kept me rather busy. With you ladies enjoying your time off, and Kara being a big shot with Cat, Brainy, Nia and M’Gann are helping as much as they can.” J’onn grinned warmly as he leaned back in his armchair.

“And tell M’Gann we said thank you for her gift. That Martian salt lamp, I’ll admit, was a little…odd. But the living room was the perfect place for it.” Alex quickly retorts.

“Sssssh.” Esme takes a break from chewing. “You guys are going to miss the best part.” She jokingly glares at them with her crystalline amber-brown eyes.

“It’s the beginning.” Kelly could help but laugh at her daughter’s reaction.

“Exactly. Everything you need to know is in the beginning and I don't want to miss a thing.” She goes right back to devouring her popcorn, eyes practically glued to the TV.

All three adults exchange a glance that read “I swear she’s smarter than all of us.”

“She gets that from you.” Kelly smirked, mouthing to Alex, before turning to the screen herself.

While watching, Alex just took in her surroundings for a moment. For all her life, she had dreamed of having a family of her own. Of having a partner that would love her regardless, good times and bad. Pinching herself to check if it was real was no longer necessary. Her dream had finally come true. With a content exhale, she wrapped her arm around Kelly, pulling her close to snuggle under their blanket.

*CatCo Bullpen*

“Thirty seconds to air, Miss Grant.” A camera assistant reminds them as the equipment setup is finished.

“Are you ready to make history?” Cat smirked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Kara took a deep breath, closing her eyes just for a moment. In that moment, all of that conflicting weight about having to choose between Supergirl, and Kara Danvers…was gone. Yes, she still had the trauma she never really dealt with, but finding a therapist would be tomorrow’s plan. Right now, she wanted to show those little girls out there who look up to her, that you can have as many sides to you as you want.

With a definitive and proud nod to the camera person, the red light turns on.

“Hello National City. You know her as Kara Danvers, CatCo’s Ace reporter and NEW Editor In Chief. But tonight, it is my great honor to introduce to you…Supergirl.”

As she was saying those words, trying to remain as professional as possible, she could feel her sense of pride grow. Cat had known Kara since the start. Yes, she was mean and hostile. But it was only because she wanted Kara to see her full potential, and as soon as she figured out that Kara and Supergirl were one in the same, she pushed Kara harder. She knew the doubts were still there. Hence the blunt, but caring pep talk she had given her over the phone. Cat always knew how great Kara’s value was. Being able to not only break the story about Supergirl, but to be able to interview her protege in the end…She hadn’t had too many “proud mom” moments in her life, but seeing the person Kara had become over the years right in front of her; The growth she could see from Kara’s smile alone, it was certainly just that.

And even though Cat knew her identity for years, hearing her mentor say it, seeing her mentor smile while saying it, it took all of her willpower to not tear up. In that presence space, Kara and Supergirl were whole.

*The Lena Luthor Foundation--Head Office*

Andrea had nearly had her milkshake come out of her nose watching the TV. “Wait, you’re telling me…” Her Sage/Mint Green eyes wider than usual, she had to set down her dinner. “All of those times. The time Supergirl saved me when Nxly nearly threw me up against my back office wall, that weird white tiger incident…”

Lena simply sat there, stifling a chuckle while nodding. “Yeah. It’s a lot. But it was for Kara to tell you herself, and not me.”

Rubbing her face as if that would help the news process faster, Andrea leaned back in her office chair getting pained realization across her face. “Kara was missing for those weeks. Her hesitancy to write about the Phantoms. Her being scrambled…oh my god.”

“Andrea, it's okay.” Lena reaches for her friend’s hand to assure her.

“It’s not Lena.” Shaking her head, refusing to act like she was nice to Kara. “I was nothing but rude to Kara. I shot down every idea, criticized her work when it was perfectly fine. I couldn’t even pick up on the fact that the Phantom situation probably caused her even more trauma after I forced her to write about it.”

“That’s an understatement.” Lena whispers under her breath.

“Even sending William to flat out snoop on her and the Super Friends was a dumb move. It…” Andrea was flashing back to that video.

“Don’t even go there. It wasn’t your fault. As nice a guy as he was, he could’ve prevented his own death. Sending that video to guilt trip you was a shite move on his part.” That was one thing that made Lena angry about that situation: there was an easy solution, but someone with a small brain decided to have the last word.

“I know.” Giving a somewhat sad smile, Andrea was grateful for Lena’s assurance and advice. “And Hopefully opening a school in his honor, as well as an award, is the first step to getting future Kara Danvers’, Nia Nal’s and William Dey’s pursuing the truth.” Looking at the clock. “Well, I should go. Tell Kara I said hi.” She gives Lena a much needed hug, and turns on her heel.

“I will Andrea. Drive safe.” As soon as she left, she practically lunged for her phone.

“Two things: That suit, The Cher Clueless vibes REALLY suit you ;). And when you get home…we need to talk.”

With an effervescent smirk, her own heart growing warmer by the second, Lena sat back in her office chair, and watched the rest of the interview with Kara and Cat. She had always been proud of Kara; who wouldn’t of their own best friends accomplishments? But with every word Kara spoke, Lena could visibly see how much her words to Kara at Alex’s wedding helped.

“My girlfriend is HOT.” She chuckled to herself.

*The Suburbs of National City*

A silence had fallen in the Danvers-Olsen household. While J’onn, Kelly and Alex were a mixture of shock and pride, Alex especially. There was her baby sister, at peace with who she is on TV, being interviewed by the person who had seen her grow just as much. Her eyes were glassy with tears, causing her vision to slightly blur. Despite the stinging in her corneas, a smile as big as the milky way galaxy was plastered right across her face.

“Aunt Kara!” Esme on the other hand, practically flew off the couch to sit closer to the TV so she could watch her aunt in all her glory.

The look she had on her face was priceless, magnified by one hundred.

“Well, if that isn’t the cutest thing on this planet.” Kelly grinned, watching Esme. “I don’t think I’ve seen Esme with this much wonder before.”

“Wouldn’t you if your Aunt was a superhero?” J’onn beamed, listening to the interview questions. “Even being interviewed, she has a gift with words.”

“I’m not surprised. If there was one subject she was good at in high school, it was creative writing.” Alex quickly dabbed her eyes so she could have a clearer view while watching. “I always thought Kara would do something like this, but just print. I had no idea that she was going to let Cat interview her.”

“It’s pretty full circle if you think about it. That one issue of CatCo you showed me, Cat was the one to break the story. I think it’s poetic that Cat is the one to finally get Kara to open up about being Supergirl.” Wise as ever, Kelly too had a twinkle of happiness watching.

“But that would mean…” Alex’s cogs were turning. “Oh…wow. That means Cat has always known too.”

“Aunt Kara really needed a different disguise.” Esme laughed at her own joke.

“Yeah…glasses were definitely not the best idea.” Alex responded with a resounding agreement.

“Can we go see Aunt Kara tomorrow to tell her we saw the interview?” Esme turns to all three of them, puppy dog eyes turned all the way up to 11.

“She mastered that quickly.” J’onn smirked at her reaction, watching Alex and Kelly slowly but surely cave.

“If she’s not too busy with work?” Alex turned to Kelly for the assist.

“I think your Aunt Kara would love that surprise.” Kelly booped her precious little button nose.

“Yay!” Esme cheered. “I’m going to go draw a picture of her to give it to her tomorrow before bed.” She takes off running to her room.

“I will take that as my cue that movie night is over.” J’onn surges from his chair to give the girls each a hug.

“Thanks again for coming, J’onn. Esme wouldn’t let up about inviting you to movie night.” Kelly jokes, returning his sentiment.

“She really does have everyone wrapped around her finger.” He fondly jokes right back.

“I wouldn't have it any other way.” Alex gives him a bear hug with a pleased feeling of content. Both she and Kelly waved goodbye, then began to pick up the aftermath of snacks.

“So, how are you feeling?” Kelly could always tell when something was on Alex’s mind.

“Like someone just shook the emotional magic eight ball that was inside me, and asked “Is Alex going to cry?” Answer: Without question.” Alex’s sense of humor always somehow made her feel less emotional in order to get herself to stop crying. “Though, I’m shocked Kara didn’t text, or reveal anything about this.”

“Maybe that was the point of the surprise. All of those pep talks you’ve given her over the years, plus Lena, and whatever blunt and slight scary pep talk Cat gave her…was the push she needed to do this.” Kelly came up behind Alex to wrap her arms around her waist, resting her chin on her shoulder. “It’s nice to see your sister be her authentic self.”

“You’re right.” Grinning, Alex spun to meet Kelly’s luminous brown eyes. “And between you and I, I think Lena did most of the pushing to get her to this point. Now if she’d only just remove those blinders of hers.”

“You’re bad.” Kelly teased before leaning in to meet Alex’s lips the rest of the way.

“Cue the song Bad to the Bone.” Alex, quite pleased with herself, closes the gap. “Come on, let’s go see how our little Bob Ross is doing on her masterpiece.”

Hand in hand, they stood watching Esme. Swelling with a sense of home and completeness, that couldn’t help but turn to mush watching their daughter reach for color after color as she drew Kara on TV. To them, this was their definition of perfect.

*CatCo Bullpen*

“Thank you, Miss Grant. This is exactly what I needed.” With a loud exhale, Kara felt freer than she had ever felt in her entire life.

“I should be the one thanking you, Kiera.” Cat admits. “These next words I’m about to stay within this bullpen…” She then turns to give the iciest glare to the camera operators. And just like that, as if by magic they disappeared. “I may be snarky, callus and rude…” Immediately, her finger goes up to ward off any sarcastic comments that would come out of Kara’s mouth. “But I really do care. Those Groucho Marx glasses of yours, you didn’t need them. That disguise worked about as well as the superhero’s first suit in a pilot episode on the CW. I already knew you were special. Whether it be your writing, or how you interact with people. As far as I'm concerned, you were Supergirl in the office. Even then, I knew you were giving people a sense of Hope. Being able to do this here, with you…Not only has it been the highlight of my entire career, it is the moment I am most proud of.”

“I don’t --I…” Kara quickly pinched her tear ducts to stop herself from crying before giving a reserved, but very big hug. “Thank you.” She shakes her feelings away, taking a step back.

“You’re welcome.” Cat didn’t let many people hug her; Kara was one of those lucky few. “Now you better run along to your girlfriend, because I’m sure she wants to see you after this momentous occasion.”

“How did you?!” Kara’s face instantly goes Hubba Bubba pink.

“Oh please, it's about as obvious as the beginning of every Christmas and Valentine’s Day movie on the Hallmark Channel. Go.” Cat shooed her as she packed up her stuff.

A booming woosh was all that was heard as Kara left. She knew she had to figure out what the second half of Lena's text meant. Did she forget something? Was she in trouble for eating the last piece of cheesecake? Getting an I’m Sorry as a just in case was her best bet.

Here it is. My very first chapter of my Supergirl fanfic. I’m super nervous about sharing, but please let me know what you think in the comments, and any KIND constructive criticism you have as well.

[aemondsquill]

Never Admit Defeat

Aemond Targaryen × Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Y/N is feeling frisky and she's making it Aemond's problem

Warnings: mostly fluff, a little fingering and suggestive language, but not full on smut, and wrestling but lmk if I should add any

Y/N could not pick a singular word to describe her mood on this night. Hyper? No, that wasn't it. How about excited? No, that wasn't quite the right word either. Whatever word it was made her feel antsy.

Sitting at the dinner table piled high was delectable meats, vegetables, and rich wines could not distract her from the droning conversations that never seemed to end. The banality of it all made her restless. Her husband, Aemond, the fearsome Dragon Prince himself, sat next to her with perfect practiced posture. He didn't seem to mind the humdrum of conversation that flowed endlessly amongst his family, contributing every so often when he was addressed.

Y/N felt his warm hand rest against hers, stilling her tapping fingers.

"Are you alright, wife?" He asked, concern etching onto his face. Y/N let out a breathy sigh and smiled politely, "Yes, I am quite alright, my Prince." Conversation between the couple still felt stilted and awkward, as they had only been wed for a couple of weeks. Y/N hated it. She wished she could just scrub away the awkwardness and at least speak like friends.

The Dowager Queen perked up at the voice of Aemond's wife. She also picked up on Y/N's odd mannerisms and frazzled eyes, much to the dismay of her good-daughter.

"Tell me about your day, dearest Y/N." The Queen spoke softly. Her eyes were warm and inviting and her smile was nothing less than motherly.

Y/N blinked, pondering the question for a minute. "My day was wonderful, your Majesty. The Princess Helaena made a wonderful companion in the gardens today. She found a lovely wisteria plant for me to hang in my chambers." The Queen seemed pleased at the praise for her darling daughter, Helaena. "I'm glad to hear it, my Lady."

Gods, how long is this blasted dinner going to last? It had been hours since the sun had fallen and Y/N wanted nothing more than to return to her chambers so she may think of a way to dissipate her nervous energy.

Her salvation came from the least likely source: Aegon. He was deep in his cups, so much so that his head was lolling back and forth and his eyes drooped with sleepiness.

"Motherrrrr....May I *hic* be esscused?" His words were heavily slurred and he looked to be on the verge of collapsing. Alicent huffed out a sigh before glaring at him. How dare he have the audacity to present himself in a manner that was utterly unbecoming in front of his new good-sister? She dismissed him quietly, glancing over at Ser Cole, who was already stalking over to the future king of the realm. With a heave, Aegon was slumped against the knight and the two stumbled out of the dining hall.

Aemond rolled his eyes at his brother's antics, yet he expected no less. Of course his brother would make a fool of himself in front of his new bride. He picked at the roasted vegetables on his plate for a moment before deciding that he had enough of this drab affair.

"Mother, Y/N and I should retire to our chambers. Thank you for hosting us at this dinner." Y/N shot up quickly from her seat and curtsied politely, excited at the prospect of finally leaving. Alicent sent them a small smile and allowed them to leave.

The heavy skirts of Y/N's dress swished around her legs as she walked through the endless corridors of the Red Keep, holding onto her husband's arm. Nerves fluttered in her chest at the realization that the two of them were completely alone. During the months of their betrothal a chaperone accompanied them everywhere to make sure neither engaged in unseemly behaviors before their marriage. Of course, Aemond and Y/N still managed to sneak a few chaste kisses every so often, but never anything more.

Y/N's mind wandered to the night of their wedding, only several days behind them. How cold the Prince had seemed at the ceremony and feast, as though it had been another one of his mother's tasks assigned to him. In a manner of thinking, one could say the whole marriage was exactly that: a duty and nothing more. But Y/N wanted more! Her own mother and father had a wonderful marriage! Laughter was no foreigner in the halls of her old home, and love was always abundant. She feared Aemond had only viewed her as an obligation and the thought prickled her spine. A shiver of frustration shot through her.

"Are you cold, my Lady? I can send for a chamber maid to bring you another blanket."

"No, thank you, my Prince, that will not be necessary." Y/N smiled gently. Beneath her practiced smile a storm was brewing. She didn't know how long she could keep herself together before she made a fool of herself.

Aemond eyed her warily. She had been acting so strange this night. Did she hate him that much? Perhaps. He knew that he hadn't been the most loving husband in the realm, but at least he wasn't cruel.

After several minutes in silence, the pair arrived at Y/N chambers. She halted for a moment, still feeling jittery, but now she had been trying to build up the courage to invite him in. Surely it was not improper for a woman to want to spend time with her husband! She took a breath and before Aemond released her arm she spoke quickly, "Would you care to join me, my Prince? Just for a moment?" His eye widened at her request. He had to be dreaming, right? To his embarrassment, he stuttered out his reply.

"Oh, um,y-yes of course, my Lady." Y/N grinned at him broadly, the nervous butterflies in her stomach coming to a stand still. She held his hand and led him inside.

Aemond surveyed the chambers carefully. It was tidy, mostly, and had a few touches of her personality: flowers hanging by the window, a portrait of her family above the fireplace, and an easel with an empty canvas.

"So, you enjoy painting, my Lady?"

"Oh yes, very much so, my Prince. My mother taught my brothers and I how to paint when we were very young. My father always wanted the boys to hunt or spar with him, but they favored the arts more so. Forgive my ramblings, my Prince, I miss them greatly." Aemond walked around the room, arms clasped behind his back as he took everything in before stopping in front of the roaring fire.

"Hmm. My sister seems to be taken with you. I appreciate that greatly, my Lady. Not many have the patience for her ramblings, certainly not my brother." He said briskly. Gods, how long will this wretched conversation continue? Y/N might as well be watching her paintings dry! At this thought she closed her eyes and let out a sigh more harshly than she intended. Aemond's head whipped around at the sound, slightly startled that she could be so rude.

"Have I done something to offend you, my Lady?" He asked incredulously. Y/N felt a flicker of fear, but it quickly turned into annoyance and the strange feral feeling she felt at dinner.

"Gods, my Prince, I cannot continue like this! Why must our conversations be such a bore?! Surely, there are more interesting things to talk about!" She all but shouted. She didn't feel angry, she just felt like her emotions were pent up. Y/N had spent months displaying a watered-down version of herself so as not to offend the royal family.

Y/N began to pace around the room, attempting to untie the lacings of her elaborate dress. "All we ever have are stilted conversations fit for old lords who don't give a shit about each other! I wish to speak freely with my husband, but no, my father said I had to be prim and proper to keep you happy. Well piss on that!" By this time, the outermost layer of the dress was gone, leaving Y/N in her cinched corset and chemise. Aemond could only watch her, feeling slightly scandalized at the vision before him. His words had failed him in his shock.

Y/N took a deep breath before removing the several pieces of jewelry that adorned her body and placing them on her dark wood vanity. She turned to look at her husband, a wild glaze in her eyes.

Aemond seemed to get his bearings. "Why are you looking at me like that, wife?" He snapped. In a million years, Aemond would have ever been able to guess what his wife would do next.

Y/N let out a roar as she charged at him with ferocity. The impact of her body against his sent them both clambering to the ground.

"What in the seven hells has possessed you, woman?!" Aemond shouted, baffled at the actions of his wife. He scrambled against her flailing limbs. How was she so strong for such a little thing? She pulled on his hair and he he groaned.

"I have been stifled for too long! I need you to see me for who I truly am, husband!" Y/N cackled like a woman crazed above him. She leaned down and bit as his neck and shoulder and he let out a series yelps at each sharp contact.

"You are nothing more than a wildling! I should have you shipped off to the North, vile woman!" Aemond, truly baffled, continued to grapple with his lady wife's arms before flipping them over so she was on her back. He took a second to breath, but that was a mistake. Y/N managed to slip out of his grasp and fling her arms around his neck and pull him down towards her.

Aemond huffed and puffed as Y/N slithered around to his back from underneath him, wrapping her legs around him and tightening her hold around his neck. His one hand gripped her forearm, while the other pushed against the floor. The whole time Y/N giggled madly, Aemond was left wondering what the hell his mother had gotten him into. This was not the same meek lady he had been betrothed to just weeks before. And he definitely enjoyed the newfound fire in his wife. Her giggles proved to be contagious as his own laughter filled the room.

The two still struggled against each other, Aemond now on top pinning Y/N down on her back. They slowed their movements as they gazed into each other's eyes, both alight with mirth. Aemond's soft lips inched closer and closer and Y/N's eyes started fluttering softly.

In a sudden movement, Aemond flipped Y/N onto her belly and held her hair so her head was gently lifted off the ground. She gasped in delight.

"Your insolence must come to an end, wife, I can tell your tiring out" he taunted at her. Y/N rolled her eyes and looked back at him.

"I will never bend to your will, husband, I am too fierce for you to handle!" She said indignantly. Aemond let out a chuckle before his palm struck her supple ass cheek. He watched it jiggle beneath her thin chemise, blood rushing to his crotch. Truthfully, he had been hard as a rock the entire time they had been wrestling, but this was the first time he really took in every curve of her body.

Slowly, his fingers trailed up the back of her thigh and under her chemise. Her breathing halted as his sped up. The thrill of touching his wife ignited his entire being.

She let out a gasp and she felt a slender finger prod at her slickness. She was embarrassingly wet after being so physical with her dear husband.

"Husband, please." She whimpered out while attempting to grind against his finger pathetically. Aemond, however, greatly enjoyed the sight of his wife so desperate and aching for him. The thought of it made his belly feel warm.

He clicked his tongue at her, "I thought you said you'd never been to my will, wife. I wouldn't want to make a liar out of you." Y/N let out a soft whimper as his finger traveled deeper into her causing her to arch her back slightly.

"I don't care, husband! Please, I just want more!" Hearing his wife begging beneath him nearly caused his own release. He was happy to oblige as he added a second finger, the additional stretch almost overwhelming his little wife below him. She moaned out as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of her, the wetness causing squelching noises.

"Get on the bed, little wife, I'm going to fill you with an heir tonight."

[randomfoggytiger]

My Encyclopedia of My X-Files Fic Lists, Analyses, Fan Vids, and Fan Fiction Resources

So, I pushed all my little anthills into one dust pile because I got sick and tired of having to manually search through my colonies to find that ONE drone. 

~~~X-Files Collector’s Edition~~~

Overview

The Fics That Started It All 

Meet the Mulders

Car Accidents, Injuries, and Fluff- Oh My!

Creepy and Cozy Cabins

Redux II Samantha Was Real

I Want To Be Leaves (Fall Fics) 

 Mulder’s Early or Late Birthdays (Season 1)

Mulder’s Early or Late Birthdays (Angst)

Amor Fati(gue) 

Amor Fati(gue) AUs

Time Travel, Time Loops, and Just Wrong Timing 

Happy Halloween with the Mulder-Scully Family  

Many Mondays and “The Creeps”

Ghostly Hauntings and Experiences- AUs 

Thanksgivings Are Better Twofold 

Flying for Christmas 

Christmas and Emily’s Fate 

New Year, New Relationship   

Canonical-Esque Crack Fic {Edited}

Off-The-Wall Crazy Crack Fic  

Coming Home to Their Unremarkable House 

Little Samantha’s Life in Capture 

Car Wrekt  

Friendship Fix (According to Various Authors) Part 1 

Friendship Fix (According to Various Authors) Part 2  

Valentine’s Day, the Platonic Way

MSR Kicks Platonic Valentine’s to the Curb

Mulder and Scully Fight Insomnia  

Scully’s Arcadian Birthday 

The X-File That Started It All 

Diana Fowl(ey) Play-- All Parts 

S9 Mulder Stays or Returns While the Mytharc Barrels On

Anasazi– Shot and Emotionally Fraught

Pranks and Other April Fics

Celebrating Passover and Easter 

Poll Results: Fic Niches and Polls 

Fics That Deserve More Comments (Part I) 

Fics That Deserve More Comments (Part II)

Fics That Deserve More Comments (Part III)

Fics that Deserve More Comments (Part IV)

Fic Moments That “Hit Different” 

Fics That Fit My Niche "Dad!Mulder" Likes

MORE Fics That Fit My Niche “Dad!Mulder” Likes

Dad!Mulder, His "Mini Me"s, and Sports 

Fight the Future Fics (Part I)

Fight the Future Fics (Part II) 

Crazy X-Cops (and Watching the Tragic Ep. Later)

S9, The Season of Secret Dad (Long Fics) 

MOTW but Rinse and Repeat 

The Field Where I Fix-It Fic-ed

Beefy Revival Mulder

S8 Mulder Resurrects to a Miracle 

X-Files Collector’s Edition: Mulder, Scully, and Scents

A Short Fic Tribute to Samantha's 50th Anniversary

Mulder, To Jew or Not to Jew

It’s the Most HTGSC Time of Year

Mulder and Scully and Dancing

Sins of the Eaten Flesh

Mulder, Scully, and Courthouse Weddings

Cars and Conversations (Part I)

Cars and Conversations (Part II)

Bill Scully, MSR, and Pain (Part I)

Reviving that Love

randomfoggytiger’s Comfort Fics

Unseasoned Agents-- Early Love and Miraculous Do-Overs

Mulder, Scully, and Childhood AUs

Reworking Requiem and Mulder's Return (Part I)

Reworking Requiem and Mulder's Return (Part II)

Reworking Requiem and Mulder's Return (Part III)

Reworking Requiem and Mulder's Return (Part IV)

Reworking Requiem and Mulder's Return (Part V)

All IVF Arcs Must Come to Their End

Collector's Edition: Samantha Mulder's (Many) Returns 

Collector's Edition: Colleagues, and Agents, and A.D.s-- Oh My! (Part I)

Collector's Edition: Colleagues, and Agents, and A.D.s-- Oh My! (Part II)

~~~Curated Authors Collection / Short Entries~~~

randomfoggytiger’s Son of Egypt

randomfoggytiger's 2023 Fictober Wrap Up

randomfoggytiger’s Chariots of Fire 

Eight Nights of Mulder 2023 

randomfoggytiger’s “You Had Nothing” 

randomfoggytiger’s “Intriguingly Alluring” 

randomfoggytiger’s “The Next Chance”

randomfoggytiger’s “Mr. Mulder, I Know Something About You”

randomfoggytiger’s “You Up For Joining Us?” 

randomfoggytiger’s “Think He’ll Call You Tonight?”

randomfoggytiger’s ”You're Not Here, Dana-- You're a Million Miles Away"

randomfoggytiger’s "You're Only Going to End Up Hurting Yourself"

randomfoggytiger’s “Because the FBI Has Nothing to Hide"

randomfoggytiger’s "Creating This Whole Scenario to Fulfill a Dream"

randomfoggytiger’s "I've Already Lost One Sister to This Quest You're On"

randomfoggytiger’s The Hospital Where You Slept

randomfoggytiger’s "I Know You. It’s What I Do."

randomfoggytiger’s “Did You Really Have to Bring That Thing?” 

randomfoggytiger’s “You Just Have to Know Where to Look” 

randomfoggytiger’s “You Feeling Any Better?” 

randomfoggytiger’s “I’ve Never Met a Sweeter, More Courageous Little Girl”

randomfoggytiger’s “I Think It’s about Fate”

randomfoggytiger’s “I Had You Big Time” 

randomfoggytiger’s Grandmothers

randomfoggytiger’s “Tofutti Rice Dreamsicle”

randomfoggytiger’s The Little Things

randomfoggytiger’s "I Have a Life" 

randomfoggytiger’s "It's Not a Choice, but a Calling"  

randomfoggytiger’s "You Follow Your Heart, and It'll Take You Where You're Supposed to Go"

randomfoggytiger’s 2024 Fictober Wrap Up 

randomfoggytiger’s "Holiday Cheer to Spread" 

A Happy Family (Curated Baroness Blixen’s S9)

Curated Baroness Blixen’s Millennium Fics  

Curated Jamie Greco 

Alligator Moon by jordan  

Still Waters by XP1 

Everything But the Kitchen Sink by Amy Schatz

Morse Cody by grumpysimon 

Fox’s Den I/II/III by Thalia D’Muse 

Curated suitablyaggrieved/ScullyLovesQueequeg’s Cancer Arc Fics

Haze and necromance by astronaught 

fragility by homecomingserf 

Just Another Day on the Oil by Vickie Moseley  

Skyland Mountain (AU) by JenAndrews 

My Favorites Curated Fics and Quotes by suitablyaggrieved 

X-Files Fic That Irons Out the Mytharc... by touchstonea

Curated muldertxf Fics 

Curated melforbes Fics

Curated settle-down-frohike Fics

Curated Baroness Blixen’s Car Conversations

~~~X-Files Fan Fiction Resources~~~

Collected Resources

~~~Analysis~~~ 

Mailboxes in Arcadia: Allegory, Leitmotif, and Chekhov’s Gun

Arcadia Analysis: Scully Was Enjoying Herself Immensely 

Arcadia Analysis: Mulder’s Struggle

 Arcadia Analysis: Their Worst Nightmares and Trauma Responses 

Babylon Dance: An Alternative

Mulder Did Not “Lose Himself” in His Early VCU Days 

Biogenesis’s BIG Problem with the Alien-Human Hybrid Virus 

One Son: An Intense, One-Shot Analysis of “You’re Making This Personal”  

Never Again: An Intensive Essay 

Mulder: Sick Fic Vs. Reality

MSR Communication Summed Up

Mulder and Scully’s Most Defining Moment-- “You. Help. Me.”

Charlie Scully in Beyond the Sea

Reasons Why John Doggett Is the Best

S8 Scully Would Not Have Let Essence and Existence Happen

Mulder Would Never Let Scully Walk Away with Words Left Unsaid 

Mulder’s Necessary Emotional Growth in One Breath 

The Mulder Family In-Depth (Part I): Colony and End Game

The Mulder Family In-Depth (Part II): The Past Is Important to the Present

The Mulder Family In-Depth (Part III): Dissecting the Dynamics in Demons

The Mulder Family In-Depth (Part IV-1): The Death and Redemption of the Man Who “Threw In”

The Mulder Family In-Depth (Part IV-2): Bill Mulder’s Tainted Legacy

The Mulder Family In-Depth (Part V): Tena Mulder’s Relationships Begin to Change

The Mulder Family In-Depth (Part VI): Talitha Cumi and Tena’s Lies

The Mulder Family In-Depth (Part VII): Childhood Damage in Herrenvolk

The Mulder Family In-Depth (Part VIII): Tena, Amor Fati, and Who’s the Daddy

The Mulder Family In-Depth (Part IX): Tena Mulder’s Suicide and Saving Mulder from Himself

The Mulder Family In-Depth (Part X): Samantha, Spitfire and Stardust

Mulder Was a Father, Even in the Desert 

S8 Scully Healing Before Deadalive

We Don’t Value Skinner Enough 

Scully’s Complete Change From One Breath to Herrenvolk

S5 Is a Pretty Dark Time for Mulder

The Glaring Ideological Difference Between Mulder and Scully

I Wish: Post Three Words and Mulder

Ascension: Mulder and Maggie’s Bond

Mulder Saw That Scully Was Alone in Redux II 

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part I): Childhood and The Pilot

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part II): The First Christmas Death

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part III): A Facade and a Funeral

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part IV): Luthor Lee Boggs, Love, and Letting Go

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part V): Miracles, Lyle Parker, and Psychic Charlie?

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part VI): Maggie Scully and Mulder Meet

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part VII): Mulder, Maggie, Melissa, and the Snake

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part VIII): Maggie Calls Mulder "Fox"

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part IX): Mulder and the Two Scully Sisters

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part X): One Breath and the Scully Men

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XI): The Last Conversations of One Melissa Scully

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XII): Prophecy, Death, and the Question of Fate

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XIII): The Erosion of Scully’s Security, on Tape

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XIV): When Nature Turns So Cruel

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XV): "Other Fathers", Deleted Scenes, and "Things to Prove"

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XVI): Crouching Cancer, Hidden Motives

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XVII): The Doubting Thomas

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XVIII): Best-Laid Schemes Often Go Awry

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XIX): Eyes Averted, and Final Decisions

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XX): The Brotherhood of Miscommunication 

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XXI): Faith, Fear, and Scully Symbiosis, Part I 

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XXII): Faith, Fear, and Scully Symbiosis, Part II

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XXIII): Loss, Second Chances, and In Absentia 

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XXIV): Guardian Angels and Inverted Nativities

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XXV): The Mulder-Scully Family, a Convergence of Fate and Freewill 

Spooky Jr. Was Born in a Ghost Town

Mulder Is a Brooder; and Scully Is His Concluder

Scully and Christmas Ghosts

I Love the Unanswered Questions of the X-Files

Mulder Respects Scully’s Medical Choices in the Most Baffling Ways

Scully’s Failures and Her Villains

Mulder Has Max Fenig’s Cap in Beyond the Sea

Scully Is the Conduit Conductor and Mulder Is the Dancer

Mulder Didn’t Use Scully’s Apartment Key Until He “Belonged”

Frohike is THE Man

Mulder and Scully Picked Exes With the Most Red Flag Names Possible

Mulder, the Arcadia Trophy Husband

Mulder Trauma Responses: Fight, Flight, Freeze, or Fawn?

Scully Trauma Responses: Fight, Flight, Freeze, or Fawn?   

Arcadia Mulder and His Pillows

How Scully Taught Mulder to Hug 

Alpha In-Depth: All Parts

Mulder and Dreams

Milagro In-Depth: All Parts 

How the Ghosts Stole Christmas In-Depth: Full Analysis

Scully's Speech in HTGSC Proves Mulder Is Her Ouroboros

Mulder and Scully Didn’t Want a “Network” Outside of Each Other

All Souls, Lost Girls, and Grief

Mulder’s Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part I): Waking Up to Miracles 

Mulder’s Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part II): PTSD and Guilt

Mulder’s Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part III): "Processing" How to Fit Back into a Healing World

Mulder’s Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part IV): Passive Mulder Turns Passive-Aggressive

Mulder’s Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part V): The Mutual Pain of Reconnection

Mulder’s Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part VI): Bonds Once Forged Cannot Be Broken

Mulder’s Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part VII): Trickery, Terror, and Tears

Mulder’s Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part VIII) UPDATED!: Missing Conversations and Mulder Gettin’ His Groove On

Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part IX): An Episode of Mad About You

Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part X): The First Touch, and Unconscious Limbo 

Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part XI): Sons and Shared Trauma

Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part XII): A Campaign of Disinformation 

Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part XIII): Fox Mulder, Partner and Father 

Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part XIV): Worth the Effort

Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part XV): Making an Effort

Movies Were Mulder's Comfort Placebo Pre-Scully

Mulder and "Killing" Scully

Scully, Snakes, and Reincarnation

CSM Inflicted Insanity On the Syndicate

Mulder’s Little Smile in the Paper Hearts Morgue

Mulder and Scully and the Graves of Many Little Girls

Elegy: A Lie Between Two Truths

Mulder and His Nests

Mulder’s Dichotomy in Three Words

Skinner’s Regrets

Fire and False Romance, Ice and Love

All IVF Roads Lead Away from The Unnatural and to Millennium

X-Cops and Vince Gilligan’s Mulder

The Cancer Arc and Scully's Reliance on Mulder's Strength

Tomboy Scully and Pretty Boy Mulder

Mulder and Scully's Love Story: Season 1

You’re a Magician, Scully

"Proving" Mulder Knew He Was the Father of Scully's Baby

Mulder and Scully Broke Each Other’s Patterns

AU Samantha and Schizogeny Thoughts

Explaining the Never Again Script

Dreams, Alternate Realities, and Agency

One Breath Walked So Firewalker (and Episodes Proceeding It) Could Run

The List: Setting the Stage for Scully’s Loneliness and Mulder’s Panic

Elegy Explanation (and Realization)

Scully and Matters of the Heart: S1-4

Gethsemane, Bill Scully Apologia, and Maggie the Emergency Contact

Mulder: Jewish or Religious References (and His S8 Funeral)

Little Green Men and Teliko Parallels

I Want to Believe: A Character Study in Disordered Writing

HTGSC: Old Tricks and New Lessons

Mulder and Vulnerability

Developed Psychic Ability and Death

Psychics Developed Their Abilities Through Alien DNA

Attractive Monsters and Mulder

Disproving CSM’s Conjecture in En Ami

An Evolution of Mulder and Scully’s Forehead Kisses

Bill Scully Kept Melissa Scully’s Photo in Baby Matthew’s Room

Update: The Therapist in The Red and the Black

Scully's Abduction, Emily Sim, and the Lost Scully Baby

Mulder’s a Big Wig in the Conspiracy Community (and Colonization Thoughts)

Mulder and Scully, Past Lives, and the White Buffalo Calf

Scully the Honest, Mulder the Relentless

The X-Files and Werewolves

Attachment Styles: An Avoidance Shared by Two

Scully and Emily Parallels

Scully and Relationships: Initial Commitment and Cyclical Self-Doubt

Scully’s Survival Broke The Field Where I Died’s Cycle

Diana Fowley, the Four-Poster Bed Instigator (Perhaps)

Dreamland II: Golf Clubs, Diana Fowley, and Mulder’s Father

Charlie Scully’s X-Files Relationship Status

Scully’s Lies and Self-Edits

Fight the Future Hallway: In-Depth

Shoulda Woulda Coulda: Create a Cohesive Canon by Eliminating the Mulder-Scully Baby

If Mulder and Doggett Were Partnered in Season 8

Mulder Reliving His Childhood Traumas

All Things: Fellig's Fate, Scully's Immortality, and Waterston's Healing

Mulder's Heart: Alluring Temptations, Denial, and the Slow Burn 

The X-Files: the Madonna-Whore Complex

Dying with Each Other's Wounds on Their Bodies

Revival Mulder Was Diagnosed with the Wrong Depression (+ actual-changeling’s Addition)

The Journey of Scully's Faith, in Brief

The Rules of Ghosts and Spooks

Unrest, Faulty Memories, and and Lost Sisters

“My Touchstone”: the Turning Point 

Diana Fowley: the Definition of Manipulative Comfort

Season 6: Blurred Boundaries and Unresolved Sexual Cues

~~~Typing~~~ 

How to "Type" Personality Types: An Ultimate Resource 

MULDER, The Spooky INTP 

{{Extraction: Proving Mulder Is Not an INFJ/INFP}} 

SCULLY, The Enigmatic ISTJ

Mulder and Scully: Love and Touch for INTPs/ISTJs 

Dissecting ‘One Son’ (Part I)   

Dissecting ‘One Son’ (Part II) 

‘Never Again’ and Fear 

KRYCEK, An Unstoppable Manipulator

INTPs In Their Own Words 

SKINmanNER, The Bald and the Beautiful 

MAGGIE, The Passionate Scully

MELISSA, The Soulful ISFP

BILL SCULLY, Junior and Senior (and Charlie?)

~~~Musicals/Fan Vids/AMVs~~~

Fight Club (Finale)

Fight Club: Finale Redone with Less Kathy Griffiths

TINH: Scully’s Solo

S2 Abduction: Mulder’s Torment 

Drivin’ Right Along

Hungry: Everything Is Food

Our Town: Everything Is Food

Krycek and Marita: You’re My Little Choochie Face

Irresistible: I Whistle a Happy Tune

Syzygy: Everything You Can Do I Can Do Better

Mulder and Samantha: Miracle of Miracles

Amor Fati: If I Never Knew You 

Arcadia: People Will Say We’re in Love 

Scully, Far from the Home She Loves

CSM and Diana: The Riddle  

The Mulders: Sunrise, Sunset

HTGSC: Christmas Can Can

Melissa: Mother Earth and Father Time

Monday: There’s Always Tomorrow

Memento Mori: I Bring You a Song

Pilot: I Ride Alone

Milagro: Hellfire

Paper Hearts: Lovely, Lonely Man

Darkness Falls: Walk Outside

Emily: Come to Me

Talitha Cumi: Misty Mountains

Season 6: 9 to 5

Maggie and Dana: Everything's Alright

Samantha Mulder: God Help the Outcasts

~~~Extras~~~

React: "Return to Me" from the POV of Someone Averse to RomComs

React: Watching I Want to Believe for the First Time (and Losing My Mind) 

What Happens Later: Misdirection and Miscommunication

Reverse the Curse: David Duchovny’s Heartfelt Period Piece 

Personality Typing: Return to Me

Personality Typing: Bringing Up Baby

Personality Typing: Hank Moody, Maggie Scully, and ESTPs

What Happens Later: ESTJs, ESFPs, and Building Back Love ‘N Trust 

David Duchovny’s Face: an Aesthetics Study

David Duchovny's "Hail Mary" Nose (and Beard): an Aesthetic Study

Seasonal Color Theory: a Reference Guide 

Seasonal Color Analysis: David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson

Seasonal Color Analysis: David Duchovny, Gillian Anderson, and Their Colors

Seasonal Color Analysis: David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson-- Skin Tones and Tricky Fashion Tips

Kibbe Body Types: Gillian Anderson

Kibbe Body Types: David Duchovny 

Kitchener Essence: Gillian Anderson

Kitchener Essence: David Duchovny

Makeup Myths and Acne Realities 

Paparazzi, Celebrity Deals, and David Duchovny 

CHRIS CARTER'S MISCOMMUNICATION: "Platonic", "Cerebral and Sexy", and the Romantic Dynamic of The X-Files

[bitter69uk]

Congratulations to Lana Del Rey – modern pop’s alienated and complicated dark princess and the “gangster Nancy Sinatra” – who tied the knot yesterday with fiancé Jeremy Dufrene. As The Guardian (who describes the groom as “a swamp tour guide from Louisiana”) summarizes: “The Daily Mail obtained exclusive video and photos of the 39-year-old Del Rey’s wedding on Thursday to Jeremy Dufrene, 49, in Des Allemands, Louisiana, about a 45-minute drive south-west of New Orleans. In the video and pictures posted by The Mail the pair are seen apparently getting married in an outdoor venue by the waterside in the small unincorporated community. Del Rey wore a graceful white dress while Dufrene donned a smart dark suit. The couple married near Airboat Tours by Arthur Matherne, the company for which Dufrene leads tours through swamps with creatures including alligators. Dufrene and Del Rey were first romantically linked back in August when the couple was spotted holding hands at the Reading Festival in Britain, one of the country’s biggest music events. But the pair are known to have been acquainted at least as far back as 2019, when Del Rey posted about visiting one of Dufrene’s wildlife tours. Del Rey returned to Louisiana in May earlier this year for another swamp tour, again tagging Dufrene on Instagram. And in June, she was again seen in the New Orleans area, causing waves among locals by visiting a 24-hr diner named the Tic-Toc Cafe that is not known among too many non-residents.” This photo of Del Rey in bridal wear is NOT from yesterday – it’s a pictorial from the February 2023 issue of Interview magazine by Nadia Lee Cohen, styled by Mel Ottenberg (dress by Dior!). So far there are no official wedding pics released – just grainy overhead drone shots via the dreaded Daily Mail.

[the-badger-mole]

Come Away With Me

I've gotten a few asks to give Aang his ELAINE!!!!!! moment, and so I'm going to give it a shot. It's not connected with any particular story.

The opulent decor was not Katara. Everything about the wedding venue screamed old money in an ostentatious way from the heavily scented floral arrangements to the pale blue silk runner leading up to the officiant on the altar, to the navy blue gown she wore. This wasn't Katara. The woman preparing to exchange her vows with her groom didn't even look like Katara. Sure she had worn make-up before- she had an extensive collection of creams, powders and pigments that she had once described to her ex as reasonable- but despite the hours she'd spent learning how to apply it, she always favored a fresh face with just a touch of lip color. Today, though, there were shades of reds and golds and blacks that all looked so...artificial. She was still beautiful, of course, but it wasn't the easy beauty of her everyday life.

Aang sighed sadly watching her. She would be grateful, he told himself. In just a few moments, this would be over, and she would be far away from this place. Aang imagined the relieved look on her face as she leaned in to kiss him...He shook his head in distaste. She would have to wash all that paint off first. But once he had her away from this place, away from him, she could get rid of that ridiculous gown and toss out all her makeup and never, ever feel the need to put anything like that on again. She would be his natural beauty. His forever-girl. His bride. He just had to wait for his moment.

Sokka had explained once how it worked. At big society weddings, there was a moment when the officiant asked about objections. Anyone who objected for any reason could speak up or "forever hold their peace". Well, Aang certainly meant to speak up. He glanced around him. He'd sat on the bride's side, but chose not to sit near Hakoda. He and Sokka were shockingly in support of this farce of a marriage, and Aang privately wondered what Zuko could have promised them to make them give up Katara to the man who had once terrorized them all.

Toph and Suki stood at Katara's side, the official bride's witnesses, and Sokka stood by Zuko's side. Aang had been invited to be a groom's witness, too, but pleaded he was too busy to have such a responsibility. Though now he questioned his decision. If he was standing up there, he'd be close enough to touch Katara. To take her hand as they fled the building before anyone could stop them. He would also have a much easier time understanding the officiant's droning if he was standing beside him. As it was, Aang was near the back of the room, and the crimson clad sage was barely audible. He motioned to the couple, and then Zuko began to speak.

They were exchanging vows, Aang realized in a panic. Wasn't the objection part supposed to come before that? Had he missed it? Had Zuko had that part cut out in case someone tried to rescue his bride? Zuko was going on and on about loving, honoring and protecting Katara. Pretty words from the pretty boy's pretty mouth. Aang's thoughts raced. There was still time, if he had missed the call for objections. The ceremony wasn't over. They hadn't been declared husband and wife. And if he hadn't missed the objection part, well...what better time to catch Zuko and the audience off guard? Aang nodded once firmly to himself, and then stood.

No one noticed him at first. He had chosen a seat on the aisle, so he didn't disturb his neighbors getting out of the row. Heads began to turn as he walked up the silk lined aisle, though. The officiant looked at him in confusion, and Zuko stopped mid-sentence.

"I object!" Aang said, picking up his pace. He was half-way to her. Katara's brows- expertly plucked into delicate arches- drew down.

"What are you doing?" she asked, she looked to her friends and forced a nervous laugh. "We're kind of busy here." The murmuring around the room grew at bit louder. Why was the Avatar objecting? Was this part of the ceremony? Some Air Nomad custom, or a prank? Aang held his hand out to Katara.

"I'm taking you away from here," he told her. Katara stared at his hand uncomprehendingly.

"What...?"

"You don't have to marry him," Aang insisted. "I'm here to take you away." A look of shock, horror and anger dawned on Katara's face.

"You think I don't want to marry Zuko?" Katara shook her head. "We've been together for four years. I love Zuko." Aang shook his head.

"I know you feel like you have to," he said. "I don't know what he said to pressure you, or what he offered to your tribe, but it isn't worth your freedom."

"No one's forcing Katara into anything," Zuko stared at his friend as if he'd just sprouted a second, third and fourth head.

"Oh no?" Aang scoffed. "Then what about the treaty?"

"You mean the treaty that was signed a decade ago?" Sokka asked incredulously. "The one we agreed to before Katara even started dating Zuko? Are you drunk, Aang?" Aang scowled at Sokka.

"Of course I'm not!" he said. "I don't drink. All I know is that I love Katara and she can't get married today!"

"We have been planning this wedding for almost a year," Katara snapped. "I have sat through hours of seating arrangements and meal preferences for people I don't even know," Katara turned to the audience with a nervous smile, "no offense. I am getting married today. Either sit down, quietly, or leave."

"Katara, this isn't you," Aang insisted almost tearfully. He gestured around the room, at her gown, at her. "You are being turned into something you're just not. I can take you away! I can make you happy!" Katara folded her arms and scowled.

"I chose these flowers and this gown," she told him. "I like them. I love Zuko. And you are in the middle of ruining the happiest day of my life! How dare you? How would you even know what's me and what's not? You haven't stuck around long enough to get to know me! We dated for two years when we were kids! And we've barely maintained a friendship since. What do you know about me Aang?"

"I think you should leave," Suki told Aang. She stepped forward, but Katara caught her sleeve and held her back.

"No, I really want to hear what he thinks he knows about me!" Katara folded her arms and scowled down at Aang. "Go ahead, Aang. What about my wedding isn't me?"

"It's just so showy," Aang's words sounded weak even to him. He hadn't expected this. He had prepared a speech, but all the words had fled him, and now he was left scrambling for something, anything to say to convince Katara that he was her soulmate. "All this silk and velvet. All the flowers. Your makeup. You never used to wear makeup."

"I've worn makeup for years," Katara huffed. "I had a whole box of makeup when we were dating. And I like my makeup today."

"I think you look fantastic," Zuko said hesitantly. Katara smiled and brushed her hand against his. Then she turned back to Aang.

"I like the silk and velvet and flowers," she told Aang. "I worked very closely with the wedding planner on this. We both did. This," Katara gestured around the large hall, "is me! This is me and Zuko." Tears had begun spilling from Aang's eyes, and Katara sighed, pity welling up in spite of her ire.

"Aang," she said not ungently. "The version of me you think you love...she doesn't exist. I'm marrying Zuko today. I love him. And he loves me. If you care about me at all, then be happy for me. But I'm not leaving here without my husband." Zuko stepped up and put a arm protectively around Katara's shoulders. Katara reached up and rested her hand on top of his. Aang stared at them for a moment. A choked sob escaped his throat, then he turned on his heels and fled the room. Before he'd gotten very far, he heard Sokka speaking loudly over the chattering crowd.

"Sorry about the interruption folks," he said. "We'll give you a few moments, and then the bride and groom will-" Aang didn't hear the rest of the plans. He just wanted to be anywhere else on the planet just then. Appa sat in the courtyard, his saddle decked in ribbons and wildflowers. It looked sad in comparison to the richness of the wedding inside, but Aang thought Katara would appreciate the simplicity. Appa didn't need Aang's prompting to take off. In a moment, the palace had disappeared beneath the wide expanse of clouds. Aang stared off into the distance, with no particular destination in mind. Now what, he wondered.