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greatbigbellies · 4 years

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The @wesoftupinhere oneshot... that turned into a fourshot... but hey it’s content right? Features wholesome preg content, light stuffing, rapid pregnancy, and heavy multiples. Hope you enjoy it!

Kyle lounged in his gamer chair, his full term pregnant belly resting in his lap. He Took a hand off of the mouse to rub small circles in the side of his distended tummy, soothing his little boy inside. Both Kyle and his baby had been restless lately, anxious to meet each other, and Kyle was particularly ready to be done with pregnancy. It wasn’t a bad gig, mind you, lots of food and attention. However, being so heavy and achy all the time was draining. He’d been going for 38 weeks now, and his 5’5” frame was growing weary of growing a baby. Almost there, he thought to himself. He returned his hand to his mouse to keep streaming. He was playing minecraft, half cause he enjoyed it, and half because it got donations. With the baby coming soon, he needed all the money he could get.

He shifted idly in his chair, struggling to get comfortable. “How far along are you?” asked one of his stream viewers. He got this question almost every day. “38 weeks, 3 days! Almost done!” he chirped. “Congrats!” said the viewer over chat. Kyle smiled. “You look so fatherly!” another chimed in. Kyle blushed a little, not sure how to take compliments. “Aww, thanks guys!” he replied.

“Can we see the tummy?” asked one particularly brave viewer. “Ooooh, I dunno guys, it’s kind of hard to move at this size,” he replied. A minute or so passed, Kyle idly harvesting his crops, when a donation rolled in. “Oh! Thanks for the twenty bucks! Wow! Let’s see…” he waited for the bit donation message to scroll by. “If I give you $20 will you show us the baby bump?” it asked. Kyle rolled his eyes and smiled. “You guys drive a hard bargain, but ooookay,” he grunted as he got to his feet, his hefty body trying to weigh him down. He turned to the side and rolled up his shirt to show his smooth, large belly to the facecam. His baby visibly kicked from the inside, much do the delight of the twitch chat.

“Pog!” “Pog baby!” “Pogchamp!” “Pogchamp!” “Pog baby!!” “He’s our little pogchamp!”... his chat exploded. Kyle laughed at the reaction, causing his tummy to bounce slightly. “Hahaha! Yeah, I guess he is our little pogchamp huh?” he said, half genuinely, half ironically. Twitch slang felt weird sometimes, but Kyle had to admit, it got results. He held his belly from below and gave it a little bounce as about $55 in donations rolled in, all saying variations of “pog baby”. Kyle smiled to himself as he heard Tyler come home. “Oop! My lunch is here! BRB!” he said as he paused the stream and put up his “returning soon” screen. He yanked his shirt down over his huge belly and waddled into the kitchen where Tyler sat, groaning and cradling his massive gut.

“Are you okay?” asked Kyle, thinking Tyler just overate again. “Oooohhh… too many burgers…” Tyler moaned. “Why didn’t you wait until you got home to eat?” asked Kyle. “I was gonna… but they smelled so good… and pregnancy cravings won out…” he explained between breaths. “Dude, feel my belly...! It’s so full!” Kyle shrugged. He’d felt Tyler’s tummy a million times over his pregnancy, he didn’t expect this to be any different. He was wrong. “Whoa… dude, how much did you eat?” he asked, prodding his best friend’s massively overstuffed belly. It felt insanely firm, especially on the lower hemisphere. Tyler’s belly was already huge, what with triplets crammed in there, and he had a habit of gorging himself now and again. “For the babies” he’d always say. This felt different though. It was like he was… more pregnant than before…

“Uuuh, just like… two burgers, fries, a side of onion rings, and a large shake… a normal lunch!” said Tyler. Kyle would have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t concerned. He compared the firmness of hIs own belly with his friend’s. Both were very full, sure, and had little give, but Tyler’s… his felt downright overfilled. Kyle rolled up his friend’s shirt to inspect the belly. It all looked fine as far as he could tell. More tightly stretched, sure, but no harsh blemishes or warning signs. “Soooo much pressure!...” complained Tyler. “Do you need to go to a doctor?” Tyler shook his head at Kyles question. “Nah dude, I’ll be fine… I just need some tummy rubs and time to digest…” he paused… “Wow, I must have overdone it more than I thought. I swear the burger just kicked…”

Kyle gave his friend a skeptical look. “Where did you get these? Burger King?” he asked. Tyler shook his head, placing both hands on his distended bare belly. “Nah bro… some new place that popped up next door. Nice portions…. I didn’t get the name though…” Kyle smiled at his friend. It’s just like him to order and eat from a place without knowing what it’s called. He glanced at the plain, brown paper bag the food came in, and grabbed his burger to examine the wrapping. “McPreggo? What kind of name is McPreggo?” he asked Tyler, who was zoned out rubbing his belly. “I dunno man… but the babies sure liked it and I did too… maybe too much, ough,” he let out a dainty little belch.

Kyle shrugged. It did smell amazing. He unwrapped his burger, and took a bite. “Oh my god…” he trailed off with a mouth full. “W-what?” asked Tyler. “This… is the tastiest thing I’ve ever eaten!” Kyle beamed. This was like eating his favorite food, while sating a craving for a different favorite food, while discovering a NEW favorite food all at once. The patty was grilled to perfection, the bun was fluffy, the veggies were moist and crisp, and whatever that reddish sauce was was simply astonishing.

“I can see why you would overdo it on this food Tyler, THIS… IS… AMAZING!” Tyler smirked at his friend. “And you doubted by tastes…” he said jokingly, patting his overfilled belly. Kyle continued to demolish the burger at a frightening pace. “Dude… I once saw you dip sweet potato fries in cake icing… your tastes are bizarre,” pointed out Kyle between bites. “Eeny, and Meeny wanted the fries and Miney wanted the icing!” Tyler defended himself, referring to his triplets by their nicknames.

Kyle felt the weight of his pregnant tummy tug downward, his sore back reminding him that standing for too long wasn’t a good idea in his state. He waddled over and took a seat between Tyler and the table of food. “Speaking of fries… you didn’t eat them all, did you?” he asked. Tyler shook his head, “Nah man, I specifically left yours alone. They’re in the bag, you gotta try them. They put some garlic salt or something on ‘em,” Uncannily, Kyle found himself craving garlic at the mere mention of it. He took the last bite of his burger, and stuck his arm down the bag to fish out his prize.

Tyler rubbed large circles on the distended sides of his massive belly, soothing both his overfilled stomach and his aching womb. He felt Eeny, Meeny, and Miney all snuggled in his gut… and he could SWEAR he felt three other bodies in there too, but that was impossible. He was just overfed, surely. He turned to watch Kyle basically drink the fries out of the carton. He hadn’t seen his friend put away food like this since his second trimester… dude must’ve been starving. He thought to himself.

Tyler furrowed his brow at the sight of Kyle’s tummy slowly pushing outward, his shirt visibly riding up as he ate. Kyle seemed too enamored with the food to notice. “And you got me onion rings?! God I love you Ty, you know how to treat a guy,” Kyle laughed as he found the second side hidden in the bag. “Y-yeah, no problem…” Tyler trailed off, still focusing on his friend’s tummy. “How are you feeling?” he asked. Kyle crunched on a perfectly seasoned onion ring, “Like I’m in heaven!” he replied, an adorable grin on his face.

Tyler felt his own tummy again, really taking the time to feel it. He felt for where most of the pressure in his belly was coming from. His stomach? Check. His womb? Also check… He felt around, outlining the tiny bodies in his head. 1… 2… 3… his eyes widened. He reached over and felt Kyles belly, a sizable crescent of bare skin showing as his shirt continued to ride up. Kyle was too busy enjoying onion rings to care. They felt each other’s babies all the time, so this wasn’t out of the ordinary.

Tyler concentrated on the movement under Kyle’s skin, feeling where the kicks and rolls where coming from. Kyle’s baby was really active in there… almost too active… “Hey Kyle…?” “Mhmmm?” Kyle finished off the last two onion rings in one bite. Tyler looked at him, and with the most uncharacteristically serious tone he could muster, said “Show me where your little pogchamp is,” Kyle snorted out a giggle. “You were just feeling him! He’s right there!” Kyle guided Tyler’s hand to his lower belly, right below his now exposed navel, where a tiny foot was pressed against his palm.

Tyler nodded. He felt movement stir in his own belly, and squinted in concentration. As if on cue, a stong kick pushed its way up into the top shelf of Kyle’s tummy, distending it. That made Kyle jump a little, “Wow okay… guess he’s up there…” Kyle paused. “Wait that’s not right…” he rolled up his shirt, now much tighter than it was this morning, and placed his hands on the top and bottom of his belly, Tyler’s hands taking up the front. They made eye contact as they both came to the realization that this felt familiar… on Tyler.

“Am I… carrying TRIPLETS?!?!” Kyle yelled in surprise. “I...I think so?” replied Tyler. “And I think I’ve got six… I think… the food…” he stared at the empty brown paper bag in the table. “Nononono… wait that’s not right…” Kyle explored his own expanded belly. His midriff was now undoubtedly larger than before and he felt three distinct bodies inside… “How does that work?” asked Tyler, drumming the top of his own sextuplet belly in thought. Kyle shook his head in bewilderment. “It’ll be okay… we’ll get Sarah, Bree, and Brook on the phone. They do this stuff for a living, they’ll be able to help us!” said Kyle, half to himself in an effort to stay calm. “Yeah! If anyone will understand spontaneous babies, it’ll be them!” said Tyler with a cautiously optimistic smile. “Problem solved!”

Kyle tried to stand up, but found himself stuck to his seat due to the new weight. He tried again, making little progress. “Uh… problem not quite solved,” he looked sheepishly at Tyler. “Will you… help me up?” he asked. Tyler jokingly leaned back, causing his truly massive tummy to stick out just that little bit father. “I dunno bro… I’m like… SUPER pregnant right now,” he grinned, his sextuplets visibly moving in his overburdened belly. Kyle crossed his arms and pouted. “Well I’M super pregnant and super SHORT so I need help,” he replied. Tyler laughed, “Well, you got me there dude, gimme a sec,”

Tyler scooted forward and spread his knees apart to make room for his pendulous belly, then he leaned forward, taking the weight off of his butt and onto his feet, before slowly straightening his legs. He pressed his hands into his lower back to help guide his torso into a vertical position, his mammoth belly sticking out far in front of him. The sudden change of position did not sit well with his cargo, and they roiled around in his overstretched gut. “Oof, guys, come on…” he pleaded with his babies, but they didn’t relent. He took his steps slowly, movement difficult at that size, and approached Kyle. “Alright dude, gimme your hands,” Tyler reached out, his belly reaching almost as far as his arms.

Kyle took his hands and, with a heave and some backwards motion from Tyler, got up to a standing position. “Whooo, okay,” said Kyle breathlessly. “God… how do you do this all the time?” he asked, cradling his triplet heavy belly. Tyler smiled, holding his own tummy in his hands, “Lots of food, lots of sleep, and lots of belly rubs,” Kyle smirked at the wholesomeness that was Tyler, and waddled over to his phone. “Alright… lets hope the girls aren’t busy…”

About an hour later, there was a firm knock at the door, no doubt from Brook. “Door’s unlocked!” called Kyle, resting on the couch, laying lengthwise to take up all three cushions. Tyler sat in the recliner, the footrest put up to support his legs, and his huge belly, which rested between them. The door swung open to reveal Sarah and Brook, Sarah herself sporting a solidly second trimester belly. “Sorry we were so slow, had to meet with a client,” apologized Sarah, patting her tummy for emphasis. “So what’s this about a ‘baby emergency’? If you’re in labor just to go the hospital!” said Brook, reading something on her phone. The two stepped inside, closing the door behind them, and Sarah was the first to see the thoroughly expanded boys.

“Uh, Brook, I think they have the opposite problem,” said Sarah. Brook glanced up from her phone to take in the sight of Tyler carrying six babies. “Oh my god did you go to a buffet?” she asked. Tyler shook his head, “Nope, just McPreggo!” he grinned, showing the cute gap between his teeth. “McWhat-now?” Sarah asked. “Some new restaurant Ty found, we think the food spontaneously fills your womb!” explained Kyle. “In fairness, the food IS amazing and almost worth it,” Tyler interjected. Sarah grimaced a little. She knew Tyler was a foodie, but was it really worth all THIS?

“Where’s Bree?” asked Kyle. “She’s, uh, getting us lunch. We were going to cook, but when we got the call from you we rushed over,” Sarah explained. Kyle nodded, “thanks for that, by the way,” he smiled. Sarah grinned sympathetically back, “so, uh, how many do you guys have now?” she asked. “Kyle’s got three now, and I’ve got six!” Tyler drummed the top shelf of his belly, stirring the occupants inside. “Yikes,” said Brook monotonously to no one in particular, back to looking at her phone.

Sarah looked at the table, covered in McPreggo wrappers and pursed her lips in thought. Maybe the packaging had a clue? She walked over to the dining area and looked over the fry cartons and burger wrappers. She wished Brook would help, but she seemed too busy on her phone. Sarah examined the label on the wrapper and saw tiny font that read “Quantum Noms LLC” in the corner. As she puzzled over what it could mean, Brook put her phone in her pocket and sighed. “Sarah, I love you, but you’re doing it the hard way. I already figured it out,”

Everyone looked at Brook in surprise. “You did?” asked Kyle. “Yeah, dude, I googled ‘McPreggo’ and read like… half a news article. Did you guys forget you could look things up on the internet?” she asked sarcastically. “Yeah, kinda,” shrugged Tyler from his seat. Brook rolled her eyes. “It’s a marketing thing. McPreggo food is designed to taste amazing to pregnant people, so they make food that uses some quantum physics BS to get their customers pregnant with, like, I dunno… copies of babies from the multiverse or some shit. Then they come back, eat more food, get more pregnant, and McPreggo rolls in the profits. It’s all harmless and temporary, you’ll be fine…” Brook trailed off. “...In 24 hours,” Tyler sighed happily and leaned back, causing his torpedo belly to agle up slightly.

“Oh good, so Eeny, Meeny, Miney, and Pogchamp are all safe, and we don't have to birth and care for extra babies,” said Tyler. “Problem solved… and now I can eat there again guilt free!” he grinned. “No!” everyone shouted. Tyler pouted, “but… it was so yummy…” Kyle sighed. “Okay… ONE burger every 24 hours… and you don’t get to complain about being too pregnant to do things!” he offered. Tyler laughed, causing his belly to bounce a tad. “Yeah, I’m already there BEFORE the food! Ha!” his mouth curled into a shit eating grin. Then, there was a shuffling at the door.

“Guys…? I need some help!” called Bree. Brook rolled her eyes and went over to the door, Sarah joining the boys in the living area. Brook opened the door and her jaw dropped. Bree stood there, her arms full of fast food bags, and her belly jutting out farther than Tyler’s, bare and sporting a popped belly button. “Thanks! I couldn’t reach the door past my tummy!” Bree slowly waddled past Brook and into the kitchen, garnering stares from everyone else. “I found this new restaurant! It’s really really good! I wasn’t sure what you guys wanted so I bought one of everything, though I might’ve eaten a bunch of it on the way here!” she said, a smile in her voice. “It’s soooo good though, I couldn’t help myself! I went after picking up Mrs. Buck’s twins, and I ate so much, now the twins have a bunch of friends! Isn’t it great!? It’s like a party in my belly!”

Tyler smiled a huge, toothy grin, “one of everything you say?” Sarah shook her head, but caught a whiff of the food and immediately understood why Tyler wanted more. Kyle eyed the pile of food on the table and felt his mouth water. He looked down at his triplet heavy belly… surely one more wouldn’t hurt? Brook, the only non-pregnant person there, grasped the bridge of her nose as she felt a headache building. This was about to get messy.

Bree sat down in the wooden chair next to the table full of food, causing it to creak under her septuplet pregnancy weight. Her tummy stuck out past her knees, and forced her legs apart from its sheer size. She grabbed a double bacon burger and offered it out to Brook. “Come on Brook! I know you’re hungry!” she smiled, genuinely not seeing the problem with her offer. Brook shook her head. “No way. I’m going to have to take on enough brats from all of you, I don’t need to start brewing my own!” she said. Bree shrugged. “More for meeee!” as she was about unwrap the sandwich, Brook stepped forward and snatched it out of her hands. “Are you kidding me? Look at you?! You’ll pop if you eat this!”

Sarah eyed the table of amazing smelling fast food and considered her options… she considered how much Bree must have spent on all of this… considered how awful it would be for this delectable feast to go to waste. “Um… Brook, it’d be a shame if we threw all of this away…” she said meekly. Brook gave an electric glare and threw her hands up in exasperation. “FINE! You all stuff yourselves and get huge with a bunch of quantum babies! I’m not taking any off of your hands when you’re all to big to move!” “Too late,” Tyler chipped in. “Aw, c’mon Tyler! I’m bigger than you! Surely you can still walk?” Bree bubbled. “Well yeah, but I don’t want to…” Tyler eyed the burger in Brook’s hand. “Hey Brook, you eatin’ that or what?”

Brook rolled her eyes and tossed him the burger, eliciting a tongue click and a finger gun from Tyler. Kyle shifted on the couch and slowly stood up, his relatively small frame struggling with just three. He pushed his hands into his lower back, and his shirt rode up all the way, leaving every square inch of pregnant belly on display. He waddled over to the table to see what was left. Sarah quickly joined him, her singleton belly feeling somewhat empty. Brook sat on the now empty couch and gave everyone a scornful look in turn. She knew she was going to have to clean this up.

Kyle tentatively grabbed a mild chicken sandwich while Sarah scooped up the 4 sliders and a side of onions rings. Bree grabbed the spicy chicken sandwich and the last remaining food item, the double jalapeno burger. Kyle and Sarah each sitting on the floor in front of the couch, not wanting to get TOO close to the grumpy Brook, Tyler on his recliner and Bree in her kitchen chair, the crew got to work decimating the McPreggo.

Tyler unwrapped the double bacon burger and started in on it, taking large, heaping bites that required him to chew for a somewhat extended period of time. The lettuce, tomato, bacon, cheese, and patty all tasted so good together, the flavors melded perfectly into the exact thing he was craving in that moment. As far as Tyler was concerned, McPreggo had earned his business. It was hard to argue with food that tasted this good. One hand held the sandwich, and the other rested on the shelf of his belly. As he devoured the sandwich, he felt the skin of his tummy shift under his fingers. Was that kicking? No, he was very familiar with that feeling. This... was growth.

Kyle sat cross legged on the floor, his triplet heavy belly resting on his folded ankles, and began eating the chicken sandwich. The cheese was an unexpected but welcomed touch, and the sauce, whatever it was, went perfect with the breading on the chicken. He polished off the sandwich in record pace, and placed his hands on the sides of his pregnant tummy, feeling it swell up between them. He was about to be pregnant with quadruplets, and wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

Next to him, Sarah was in a frenzy. The usually demure and subtle woman was downing sliders in two bites, and eating multiple onion rings in one chomp. This was amazing tasting food, and was totally worth whatever pregnant discomfort awaited her. At least, that’s what she thought before she felt her pants tighten up, and the button pop open on is own. She looked down at herself to see her 24 week singleton belly slowly expand outward in all directions, filling her lap with addition after addition to her womb.

Bree had somehow already completely consumed the spicy chicken sandwich, and was most of the way through the jalapeno burger. She was a strong girl, and big muscles needed a lot of fuel. Big bellies, as it turned out, also needed a lot of fuel, as two more quantum babies filled her womb. With nine babies now roiling around in her belly, even Bree was having a hard time feeling comfortable, and slowly rose to her feet to pace, hoping to stretch her legs. Each footfall was heavy as her gargantuan nonuplet belly swayed in front of her.

Bree waddled over to Tyler, who was back to groaning and rubbing big circles around his tummy. “Whyyyy did I do this? This bellyache and pressure isn’t worth the taste of delicious fooood…” he groaned. His 7 babies rumbled in his belly, resting on the recliner’s footrest. Bree tentatively placed a hand on her friend’s tanker of a tummy, and nodded slowly. “Yeah, you’re really pregnant all right,” she said. “T-thanks Bree. I wasn’t sure there for a sec,” groaned Tyler, all in good humor, of course.

Kyle struggled to unfold his legs under the weight of his tum. He swore he’d never complain about carrying his singleton son after this experience. He ran his hands around the equators of his belly, and leaned back against the couch, considering just staying there and sleeping this off.

Next to him was Sarah, who was in the process of seeing if she could still reach her bellybutton past her quadruplet belly. She could, barely. What she couldn’t do was fit in this shirt and pants anymore. She needed to get home and changed soon, having a big pregnant belly like this just hanging out felt so unprofessional. She moved to get up, but found she was too heavy to get off the floor with any real speed. Was it worth it for those sliders? It was, she decided, but only barely. “We should… urp… get home and… and digest,” said Sarah. “You buys gonna be okay?” she asked. “Mhmmm…” moaned Kyle sleepily. Tyler leaned back into the cushions of the recliner and grinned. “This… yeah, I can vibe with this…”

Bree took her hand off of Tyler’s belly, and waddled over to Sarah, one burning question on her mind. She looked expectantly at her friend as she struggled to get her feet under her. Sensing what was about to be asked, Brooks eyes lit up with exasperation. “On the way home… could we stop… for a snack?”

#not bellies #wholesome kink content #writing #pregnancy #pregnant

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aswithasunbeam · 4 years

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Alexander Hamilton to Abraham Yates (Mayor of Albany), 26 Sept. 1793

“Sir

General Schuyler shewed me yesterday a letter which he had received from you.1 It was then for the first time, I understood, that I had come to this place upon conditions; which General Schuylers paternal anxiety led him to submit to, but which are of a nature too derogatory to my rights, as a citizen of this State, to be permitted by me to continue in force. I feel that by doing it I should betray those rights, and none of the principles which have hitherto governed my Conduct will allow me to be accessory, by my acquiescence, to so improper a sacrifice.

As I desire most sincerely to avoid misunderstanding with the Magistracy or Citizans of this place, I think it proper to place before you in the first instance certain facts, to the exact truth I pledge my Honor.

I undertook the journey to this place, upon the urgent advice of my Phisician accompanyed with his assurance that I might do it with perfect safety to myself and to others. I began it, for greater caution, two days later than he had recommended. We left our own house on Sunday morning the 15 instant, after haveing previously taken the air for two or three days successivly in our Carriage.

Our intention was to pass the River at Kings Ferry, but when arrived there we found there were no adequate means of taking over our Carriages which led us to take the rout th[r]ough the Clove and by way of New Burgh. These circumstances renderd our journey more than usually irksome and fatiguing. We travelled different times till Eleven OClock at night, and the day of our arrival at the ferry opposite to this City, we came no less a distance than sixty four Miles. The obstacles which induced us to remain there through the night, ill enough accommodated, certainly not of a very restorative nature; and yet with all this fatigue and embarrasment Mrs Hamilton and my self are at this moment in better Health than before we were attacked with the desease which is the Subject of so much alarm.

Moreover, as well for our own safty as from an unwillingness to spread a dangerous desese through the Country—we were particularly carefull in leaving be hind us every article of Cloathing which had been on us or near us from the Earliest approach of the Complaint, except perhaps some washed linen which was first thoroughly washed. With the exception of washed articles, neither of us has brought a single thing, which from its nature or situation, could possibly have imbibed infection. Indeed all such of my Cloathing as were capable of conveying infection were adapted to the Summer; those I brought with me are suited to Winter.

With regard to the washed articles common sense will at once pronounce that there can be no possibility of danger.

This detail is of a nature to remove from every reasonable mind all apprehension concerning us.

Either we have had the desease, or our Phisicians and ourselves have mistaken something else for it.

On the first Supposition, it is obvious, after all that has taken place, that no particle of infection can remain about us; on the second, it must be equally obvious that none can exist, when I inform you that our Summer residence has been two Miles and a half out of Philadelphia and that it is upwards of three weeks since either of us has been in that City. In the first case, what ever infection may have existed must have been compleatly discharged. In the last, the lapse of time concurring with the fatigue of so long a journey proves that none can have existed.

With regard to our servants it was my original intention (to avoid multiplying causes of inquietude to our particular connections or the citizens at large) to leave them at some place on the other side of the River where they now are and will remain long enough to dispel all apprehension on their account and give intire satisfaction. My carriages also are and will continue there. But we cannot conveniently be here without our cloathing; and as to being ourselves confined under the eye of a guard or exposing the family of General Schuyler to the mortifying situation of being cut off from their usual intercourse with the Town & their friends, it is absolutely inadmissible.

I hope I shall never be wanting in due consideration for the feelings of any community. I am sure that my regard for the citizens of Albany predisposes me to every reasonable accommodation to their wishes; and when at my own command I trust they will have no cause to think that I have slighted the indications of their present state of mind. But there are bounds to every thing. I can make no concessions inconsistent with due attention to my own delicacy or to my rights as a Citizen.

I am far from disapproving in the Magistracy or Citizens of Albany a careful attention to their own preservation from a contagious disease. But permit me to say they are both under an indispensable obligation to regulate their precautions by the rules of reason moderation & humanity. They are not at liberty to sport with the rights and feelings of a fellow Citizen. They are not at liberty to adopt a principle of conduct which if generally pursued in the full extent of its consequences would expose him to perish in the fields without subsistence & without shelter.

In our case there is the fullest evidence from the circumstances that there is no just ground of apprehension. The Physicians of your City have confirmed this inference by their unanimous testimony. This is and ought to be sufficient.

I am therefore Sir to declare to you that after the present day all stipulations which are said to have been made by General Schuyler will be considered as at an end. And we shall all think ourselves free from any other restraints than our own decisions and prudence shall dictate.

If I hear nothing from you in the course of the day I shall take it for granted that this declaration is not unsatisfactory. If I am told the contrary I propose tomorrow to recross the River with Mrs. Hamilton in order to put every thing where it was before any stipulations were made. I shall then repass the River with her to proceed to her Father’s House.

The result will determine whether from causeless apprehension, in violation of law & right, of that protection which is the primary object of Society—citizens are to be excluded from an asylum in the bosom of their family; in other words whether a Citizen has rights or not; and whether a public Officer who persevering in a faithful discharge of his duty, undeterred by considerations of personal hazard has happened to contract a contagious disease is, in return, when perfectly recovered to be deprived by arbitrary and tyrannical means of the essential rights of a member of the Society—merely because it has been his lot to have had a dangerous disease.

In the execution of this plan, which force alone can interrupt, I count equally on the exertions of the Magistracy to prevent lawless violence and on the good dispositions of the body of the Citizens, who will respect their own security & rights too much to permit those of a fellow Citizen to be violated. With respect

I am Sir Your Obedient serv

Alex Hamilton”

#alexander hamilton #abraham yates #yellow fever epidemic #interesting to read given our current pandemic...#correspondence #history

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hymn2000 · 4 years

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Ideal Confusion - MCU AU Fanfic - C14

(Title subject to change)

Story summary: Giving into the constant pressure from the press, Tony decides to put a rest to the rumours that Peter is his biological son - once and for all.

Previous Chapter(s): 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Part of my Frostiron and Spiderson series.

Warnings/themes: family, family stuff, adoption, DNA test(s), pressure, peer pressure, social issues, mentions of alcoholism, mental health problems, potentially some minor medical inaccuracies, mentions of corporal punishment, hurt/comfort,mentions of suicide

You can also find me on AO3

Chapter 14 - Bitter Fingers

He knew exactly what he was doing, thumping out heavy, almost furious, soulful notes, singing the words perfectly, with feeling, with vigour, with a real sense of urgency.

“You’re good” Tony said, once he’d finished the song.

Peter slowly turned to him. He’d had a feeling he was being watched; he just hadn’t realised who by. They’d ended up in another argument after Li had left the previous day, and hadn’t spoken since. He turned back to the piano.

“I know”

“Why don’t you play something else? Something classical?”

“I don’t want to”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t” Peter said, putting his hands back on the keys.

“Well, play something more upbeat”

Peter paused, thinking, and then started playing. At first Tony seemed almost approving, but as the first verse flew by, his expression changed.

“-Think I'm gonna kill myself, cause a little suicide, stick around for a couple of da-”

“PETER!”

“What?! You told me to play something more upbeat!”

“I didn’t mean this! This song is so insensitive”

“Sir Elton tried to kill himself thrice:- I think he’s within his rights to sing about it”

“That doesn’t mean you are!”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Peter scowled. “Why are you up here?”

“I wanted to see you play”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you’re my son, maybe?”

“Oh, so I’m your son now, am I?”

Tony sighed. “Don’t start”

“I’m not starting anything” Peter shrugged, looking back at his piano, studying the front as though he had a songbook open.

“I thought you liked performing. You’ve been singing to your father, haven’t you?”

“He actually wants to listen, and he’s not in denial”

“What makes you think I’m in denial?”

Peter gave him a look, looking so similar to Loki that for a moment, Tony wasn’t sure how to react. Eventually, he just sighed and sat down next to Peter, taking his MP3.

“I’ll choose something for you. You can play by ear, right?”

“I’m playing Sir Elton” Peter said. “Don’t mess with my playlist”

“Alright, calm down. How about Crocodile Rock? That’s an upbeat one”

“Maybe I don’t want to play anything upbeat. Stop messing with my stuff”

Peter tried to snatch the player back, but Tony held it out of his reach.

“Fine. Do you think you can play I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues?”

“Maybe I don’t want to take your suggestions” Peter snatched the player back, scrolling through. “If it’ll make you go away, I’ll play a less sad one, but this is as good as you’re gonna get”

He put his player down, shifted position so he wouldn’t clash elbows with Tony, and once again set to the ivories. In some ways, it was easy to block Tony out, even with him so close. But in other ways, he liked knowing he was there. More than that, he liked knowing that he was good:- he could play, and he could sing, and he’d achieved every bit of it without any help, knowledge, input, or support from the man sat beside him, who just so happened to be part of the reason why he was ever born. He could feel himself being watched, but he made sure never to look at him, and he just kept performing, feeling melancholy, but triumphant - almost like he wanted to stick out his tongue at his father and shout; “nah nah ne nah nah, look what I can do without you!”. But instead he just kept singing.

“...If someone else is suffering enough, oh to write it down. When every single word makes sense, then it's easier to have those songs around. The kick inside is in the line that finally gets to you, and it feels so good to hurt so bad, and suffer just enough to sing the blues. So turn 'em on, turn 'em on, turn on those sad songs. When all hope is gone, why don't you tune in and turn them on..?”

Peter took his headphones off. For a moment there was silence, and then Tony turned and wrapped his arms around the boy, pulling him close. Peter stayed still, hardly even daring to breathe. He wasn’t sure he trusted Tony’s intentions, whatever they might be, and after some of the things that had been said over the past couple of days, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be near him at all. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke, surprising himself.

“Just because I love you the most, that doesn’t mean you’re the best parent”

Loki looked over Tony’s shoulder.

“What are you looking at?”

“Just an email from the school. They’re doing a huge show at the end of term”

“I thought we’d essentially decided to withdraw him from the school?”

“Yeah... But maybe we should send him back now. Let him finish the term”

Loki was quiet for a moment. “Why the change of heart? You don’t want him to end up leaving out of someone else’s choice, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well. Let’s be honest; if he were at a mainstream school, and-or you weren’t his father, he’d probably have been expelled by now”

Tony took his hand away from his mouth. “...Am I a bad parent?”

“Sometimes”

Tony couldn’t help but laugh slightly. “Thanks for the brutal honesty”

“Do you really think I’m going to lie to you? Especially after the way you’ve been since we got those DNA results?”

Tony didn’t respond. Loki sighed, looking at the email on Tony’s screen.

“Is there really much point sending him back for two weeks?”

Tony shrugged. “Get him out from under our feet?”

“Charming. And here I was thinking you’d turned a corner”

“I was joking!” Tony exclaimed, showing a glimmer of personality for the first time all day. “It might be good for him to get out of the house, and tie up loose ends. I don’t think he’s talked to any of the Bunnies since the last time he was there”

“Well, if you took the time to stop sulking and actually speak to him, you’d know that he’s still been talking to Flo, and he’s even made amends with Millie”

“And Macy?”

Loki grimaced. “Still a touchy subject, I think”

Tony sighed heavily. “They were such a cute little group. It was good that he had proper friends. He’d never really had them before”

“Well, maybe not, but I can’t say I think it’s that important. From what I’ve learnt, humans don’t often keep their school friends throughout the rest of their lives anyway”

“That’s not-” Tony stopped, and sighed. “Go and get him, would you?”

“I think he’s busy”

“Loki”

“Alright, alright. I’ll go and get him”

Loki waited until Peter’s song had finished, and then gently laid a hand on his shoulder. Peter jumped slightly, pulling his headphones off.

“Oh, it’s just you”

“Your presence is requested in the kitchen”

Peter whined. “Do I have to?”

“Yes”

“Why? What does he want?”

“He wants to ask you something”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t say”

“Aww, please!”

Loki took one look at Peter’s puppy-dog eyes and gave in. “Fine, but don’t let on I’ve told you. He wants to ask how you feel about finishing the term at school”

“Oh” Peter said. “Well, sure. It’s only a couple of weeks, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Do you think you can stay out of trouble for that long?”

Peter shrugged. “Maybe~. You’ll relay my message, won’t you?” He turned back to the piano.

“Hey, you’re not getting out of it that easily!”

“Aww, but daddy! I’ve nearly nailed that hard piano riff in Burn Down The Mission! It’ll throw off my groove if I stop now!”

“You’ll just have to practice later” Loki said, taking hold of him and lifting him into his arms. “Come along, Elton. Better not leave him waiting too much longer”

Peter couldn’t work out why Tony didn’t seem satisfied with his answer. He stayed where he was on Loki’s hip, feeling somehow tiny and mighty at the same time.

“You’ll go back tomorrow then”

“Why tomorrow?”

“Why not? It’s Monday. Better day than any” Tony said. “You’d better find your uniform so we can get it ready”

“By ‘we’, I take it you mean me?” Loki said.

“Um-”

Loki laughed. “Don’t look so scared! I’ll sort it”

Peter looked at both of his parents, but settled on Tony.

“This is going to be my last term, isn’t it?”

Tony didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to.

“Did you need anything else?”

“No...”

“Can I go back to my piano now?”

“Maybe take a little break” Loki said. “Your hands must be aching after all that playing”

“I’m fine!”

“Hold your hands out”

Peter did as he was told, reluctantly, and with a bit of difficulty due to his position. Thank god for strong thighs, he thought to himself. Loki took one look at the boys shaking hands and shook his head.

“Let them rest, sweetheart”

“It’s just a trapped muscle” Peter tried.

“You really shouldn’t try to lie to someone as good at it as I am” Loki said.

“Well, I don’t want to lounge about doing nothing” Peter pouted.

“No amount of baby-face is going to make me change my mind”

Tony watched them together. Bar a few unsavoury incidents after May’s death, Loki always managed to hold it together and be a good father to Peter. As much as he hated to admit it, Tony knew that it was him who was always rubbish is times of crisis. Loki was right; he was a bad father sometimes. Especially since finding out he was a biological father.

“Why don’t we go for a swim?” he suggested.

Loki and Peter stopped and looked at him, Peter glaring, and Loki very nearly doing the same.

“...Theoretically... Could a god impregnate a human woman at the same time as a human man, and have shared parentage with the human, so like, the kid had three bio parents?”

Loki looked at him, searching his face. He glanced at Peter, and then back at his husband. He knew what he was getting at.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Anthony”

They didn’t go for a swim. Tony started sulking again and went down to the lab, not doing proper work; just attempting to make comprehensive shapes out of solder, while Loki tried in vain to teach Peter some magic upstairs.

“It doesn’t seem to be taking” he said eventually.

“Maybe humans can’t do it” Peter said. “I can kinda feel it when you put your hands over mine, but I can’t make any of that feeling come to me naturally, yknow?”

“Well, perhaps you aren’t made to do magic. Maybe you need a spark to begin with.. Ah well. Your talents lie elsewhere”

“I guess so”

Peter closed his eyes, trying to focus on pushing energy to his fingertips like Loki had said. No matter how hard he tried, it still just seemed so much more like a concept and a metaphor than an actual physical thing he could do. He gave up and opened his eyes.

“It doesn’t work. Can’t you like, transfer your magic to me or something?”

Loki laughed slightly. “It doesn’t really work like that, chick. Now, you should probably go and get all your school stuff together; save having to do it last thing”

“Aw, it’s gonna be tough having to get up in the morning. I’ve completely fucked up my sleep schedule”

“I guessed as much. And don’t swear: you know your dad’ll go spare if he hears you”

“That’s his problem”

“It won’t be when you’re over his knee now, will it? Now go and find your uniform. We’ll sort everything physical and then work on a game plan”

“Alright. But can I ask you something first?”

Loki raised an eyebrow, an always ambiguous notion in situations such as this.

“Why have you been looking at houses to buy in Scotland?”

“Peter, I told you to go and get your uniform”

Peter sighed, shrugged, and went to do as he was told.

He was distracted from his Loki-based thoughts when he found the uniform. It felt weird thinking this would be the last term he’d wear it. He’d hated it so much at the start, and he wasn’t exactly a huge fan now, but oddly, he felt almost attached to it. Aside from the hat. He’d never worn that. In fact, the only thing he’d really done with it, aside from hate it, was use it as a frisbee. It made a surprisingly good one in a pinch. He’d worn Flo’s school hat a few times when she’d put it on him, but the girls had straw hats with ribbon, which were quite universal, and even looked cute on some people. A far cry from the horrible little peaked caps the boys had, which suited only the smallest of the first years and exactly five people in Peter’s years group, one of which was Macy. St Hendricks certainly had its downsides, but at least, despite everyone owning them, the hats weren’t strictly enforced. It had saved a lot of embarrassment.

Peter looked at his uniform, specifically the jacket and tie. Come to think of it, they’d both taken quite a beating. He was actually on his third tie: he’d train-tracked his first one so badly that the bottom six inches were unrecognisable as a school tie, and he’d been told he had to either buy another one or go on uniform report, and he’d set the second one on fire with a bunsen burner to set the fire alarm off after a teacher had told him that being a famous persons son didn’t give him any right not to pay attention in class. He was still quite proud of that one. Malaki had taken the blame for him though, so he’d never seen any real repercussions for it.

As for his blazer... well, it was only Loki’s surprisingly perfect sewing and washing skills that had made it last as long as it had. It had been stained with everything you could think of, from blood to poster paint, and somehow still come up clean. It had also suffered it’s fair share of ripped seams and torn lining, and of course the time the back seam had completely given up following a particularly rough drama lesson - another incident which had nearly landed him on uniform report as well as in detention.

It was quite funny, in a way, how he was perceived at that school. At Midtown, he’d been a bit of a loner, a bit of an outcast, but generally a model pupil. At St Hendricks, he was generally considered a hell-raiser - and it was the teachers who had said that first, not him. When he really thought about it, he could almost understand where they were coming from. Malaki aside, they were used to everyone falling into line and behaving like young ladies and gentlemen. So Peter rocking up and throwing tantrums (and fists), catapulting rubbers at the back of Nigel’s head, pushing Malaki into the swimming pool in the middle of lessons, and pulling drainpipes off the wall while retrieving footballs from the roof was probably a bit of a culture shock for them.

Not that everyone seemed to mind. A lot of people seemed to have a bit of a soft spot for him, for whatever reason. He’d even quickly won over the new PE teacher, despite famously being bent over the equipment trolley and paddled with a cricket bat during the teachers first week at the school. Even then, he hadn’t really hit him hard (and nowhere near as hard as he’d hit Nigel, who was by his side being disciplined a little bit too often). N-Pet, as he’d quickly become known, was, along with Mr Musgrove, one of Peter’s biggest defenders. Peter had become very good at using his small and quiet side to his advantage, even to such an extent as causing havoc and running to hide behind a teacher he knew would have his back. Maybe he was a little bastard, Peter thought. But maybe that made sense, considering the school he went to.

Peter took Loki his uniform, but he didn’t stop. He went to sort out his school bag, thinking deeply as he did so. He’d been so sure he’d hate the school, but he didn’t really, not so much. He’d made friends fast enough, and he’d had good times. And weird times. Especially where Nigel was concerned...

Nigel was certainly weird. Him and Peter had essentially been sworn enemies since day one, but, for some reason, Nigel always defended Peter, even covering his back to stop him getting into trouble. And then there was all of their store cupboard encounters. And the time Nigel had asked him to the dance. And that time at Nigel’s when-... Well, Peter didn’t like to think about that. It had ended in an argument anyway, which was very on form. Peter still didn’t know what to make of Nigel, but he was sure Nigel didn’t know what to make of him either. Maybe it was one of those questions that didn’t really need an answer. He didn’t suppose he’d ever see him again after the end of term anyway.

He hoped he’d still see Flo. And Millie. He wasn’t sure about Macy yet, or Malaki. He supposed the next couple of weeks would be a final hurdle where the latter two were concerned.

Loki went to find Peter a little later on.

“I was getting worried” he said. “You just disappeared”

“Sorry...”

“...What are you listening to?”

“...It’s called Black Tables”

Loki sat down beside him on the bed. He knew that look, and he suddenly knew why Peter had been alone in here for the past few hours. Peter kept his eyes on his hands. He’d gone too deep into his thoughts, and he knew making eye contact would be fatal.

“You should try playing this some time” Loki said. “It’s got plenty of piano in it”

Peter nodded slightly. Loki was quiet for a moment, and then he rested a hand on Peter’s.

“Sweetheart”

Peter looked up at him, and burst into tears.

“Oh, sweetheart...”

Loki carefully put his arms round the boy. At first, Peter didn’t move, but he gave in soon enough and he held onto his father as he cried. Loki slowly tightened his loose grip, and Peter cried harder. He rested his cheek against the top of the boys head, and rocked him gently.

The bedroom door burst open, making them both jump.

“Tony! You nearly blew the bloody door off!” Loki scowled.

“Don’t exaggerate” he looked at Peter, snug in Loki’s arms. “Have you got all your stuff ready for school?”

Peter seemed to shrink away from him. He stayed quiet.

“I asked you a question, Peter!” Tony snapped.

“Don’t shout at him!” Loki shook his head disapprovingly and hugged Peter tighter. “It’s all ready; don’t you worry about that”

“Good. What do you want for tea?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it” Loki said. “I’ve got my hands full”

Tony sighed. “What’s up with him now?”

“I don’t know yet”

He held Peter protectively, trying to shield him - but Peter had other ideas.

“You’re what’s wrong!” he suddenly shouted. “You’d know that if you cared”

“Sorry, I’m what’s wrong?” Tony said, shocked. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

“I’m not being ridiculous!” Peter shot back. “You could at least admit to how you’ve been acting!”

He tried to pull away, but Loki held onto him, adjusting his hold slightly.

“Peter, stop it” he said. “This isn’t the time for an argument”

“Well, why not?! When is the time?”

“Peter, I said stop”

Peter went quiet, but growled defensively when Tony sat down next to Loki.

“I think we need to talk, don’t you?” he said. He glanced at Loki. “Just the two of us?”

Peter clung to Loki. He had a bad feeling about this.

“Well... I could always go and get started on tea” Loki said, letting go of Peter.

“No! Don’t go!”

Loki couldn’t ignore the urgency in his voice. “What is it?”

“Please don’t leave me alone with him!” Peter begged, keeping tight hold of Loki’s shirt. “He’s gonna do something to me!”

“Oh for gods sake!” Tony fumed. “You’re being ridiculous! You’re just getting all muddled in that silly little mind of yours”

“Tony! Don’t speak to him like that!”

“Like what?! I thought you were going to sort some food out?”

“I’m not leaving, not when he’s scared”

“He’s not scared; he’s just attention seeking!” Tony insisted. He narrowed his eyes at Peter. “You need to start behaving yourself”

In Peter’s ears, that sounded like a threat.

“See?! He’s gonna hurt me if you leave!”

“I’m not gonna hurt you! And if I was gonna smack you - which I should, considering your attitude as of late - I’d have no qualms about doing it in front of your father”

Peter started crying all over again.

“Oh, that’s it; turn on the water-works”

“Tony, that’s enough!” Loki snapped, pulling Peter close. “You’re upsetting him, and I’m not sure I like the look in your eyes either”

There was a short silence, and Tony stood up.

“I’m gonna get started on tea”

“You do that”

Peter was more than just a little reluctant about going through to the kitchen for tea, but Loki managed to coax him. There was still a heavy atmosphere between the three of them, and Peter’s spidey senses were still giving him grief. As a result, he couldn’t settle. Everything tasted weird, and his throat was tight, so eating wasn’t easy.

About halfway through the meal, Loki excused himself and stood up.

“W-wait, where are you going?!” Peter squeaked, struggling up and scurrying after him.

“Hey, hey, don’t look so scared!” Loki said, stopping him. “I’m just going to empty my bladder: I’m going to do myself an injury if I hold it any longer. Finish your tea”

He carefully detached Peter’s hands from his shirt. Peter watched the door close behind him. Suddenly the kitchen felt a little too bright, and he became hyper-aware of the fact that Tony had been watching him. He swallowed, his mouth feeling and tasting weird, as though he’d just had a nosebleed.

He snapped round quickly when Tony stood up, and took a few steps back.

“I’m just about sick to death of you, young man” Tony growled. “Now, come here!”

Peter shook his head, his pulse beating in his ears, and took another step back.

“Right”

Tony grabbed hold of him. Ordinarily he wouldn’t have been a match for the boy - but all of Peter’s fight seemed to have disappeared, and all he could do was gasp and flinch as Tony tugged him closer.

“I’m sick of all your attention seeking and drama performances. You need to learn how to behave yourself”

Peter tried to say something - anything - but that familiar horrible feeling was welling in his throat, choking his words as though he were talking to a complete stranger. The seconds seemed to be dragging, and he felt hot and sick and helpless, unable to speak, shaking, but hardly able to move. He tried hard to pull free from Tony’s iron grip - and was suddenly smacked, hard. It made him jump and flinch at the same time, and before he’d really comprehended what had happened, he was over Tony’s lap, and he was smacked again. And again. And again.

It hadn’t always hurt this much, Peter was sure of it. And it definitely didn’t use to make him feel sick like this, or set his senses off like this. And he’d never been so overcome with fear as to cause his selective mutism to act against his parents. He completely froze, stuck, unable to even gasp audibly.

But then he heard footsteps. And the door. And then he was suddenly back on his feet - but only just.

“What the hell is going on here?! It’s no wonder he was so scared earlier if this is the way you’ve decided to treat him!” Loki shouted, putting an arm out to support the trembling Peter. “Those DNA results should have strengthened your bond, if anything:- not made you turn against him!”

“This is nothing to do with that!” Tony insisted. “He doesn’t know how to behave! Cutting discipline out of our parenting-”

“We didn’t cut out discipline! We-” he stopped, looking at Peter. “Are you ok?”

Peter shook his head. He suddenly found his feet, and was out of there in a flash. There was a pause, and then Loki picked up where he left off.

“Just because we stopped smacking him, that doesn’t mean we stopped disciplining him, and you know that as well as I do. And that” he said, gesturing. “Was definitely not what we used to do! I saw, and that was a proper wallop; that wasn’t the kind of thing we ever agreed on. Don’t get me wrong, Anthony: I knew you were going to hit him again sometime soon. But I expected a little spanking, not a good attempt at knocking the living daylights out of the poor thing! What the hell were you thinking?!”

“I don’t know! I was angry! He’s been doing my head in!”

“You’re not allowed to pull that card! It’s no excuse for what you’ve just done! You’re angry at yourself; not him!”

“How’d you work that one out?”

“Because I know you, Anthony Edward Stark! And so I should, considering how long we’ve been together. Peter has not done a single malicious thing since we got those DNA results, unlike you, Mister Stark. Ok, maybe he’s done a few bitchy little things, but only in retaliation to the things you’ve done first. And besides, you’re meant to be the grown-up here: why don’t you try to act like it?”

“...I haven’t been that bad”

“Is that so? Why don’t we reflect? How about the day we found out? Not forgetting of course your insensitive crack at my infertility, but how about causing an argument over him moving a tub of coffee, which ended in you slapping him across the face? Or how about ignoring all his calls and texts? Sure, you seemed better after that night away, but then you got back to causing arguments and having a go at him for no reason. And-”

“Ok, ok, I get it!” Tony interrupted. “I’m just stressed”

“Oh, and I’m not? Good god. I’m glad he’s going back to school: it’s probably in his best interests to be away from you right now”

There was a short silence.

“I’m not a bad parent, Loki”

Loki looked at him. He looked at the uncertainty on his face, and the tears in his eyes. He kept looking hard at him, and as soon as Tony started crying, he looked away.

“I’m going to go and check on my son” he said, and left Tony to his own devices.

Loki fully expected Peter to be cuddled up with his elephant, so he was surprised not to see him there. The en suite was empty, as was the bed - both on and under. He stood for a moment, thinking, and then went to his own room, only to find that empty too. He checked the reading nook, and the garden balcony, and then stopped. He knew where to go.

Loki opened the door to the store cupboard by the swimming pool. There, beside the mop buckets under the shelf, was exactly what he was looking for.

“Now, this takes me back” he said gently.

Peter didn’t protest when Loki sat down beside him. He was hugging the May bear, resting his cheek on it’s head. It was made out of a shirt that had been in the box May’s work had given Peter. It usually lived on a shelf, displayed proudly, out of harms way, and Loki had long since learnt how bad a sign it was to find it in Peter’s arms.

“...Do you ever wonder how his dad was with him?” Peter mumbled, breaking a long silence.

Loki paused. “I don’t think all those scars are from adulthood, if that’s what you mean”

“You dad was abusive, right?”

“Odin? Well. Not physically. Mentally, and emotionally, I think... But when your brain is wired as strangely as mine, it’s hard to work out what was wrong and what wasn’t. He was never really a father, not in the right way. I was there for the wrong reasons. He only saved me to use me as a bargaining chip. He never liked me. I don’t care anymore”

“What about your mum?”

“Ah. Well, she was definitely my mother. I suppose a part of me thought she always would be”

“So what happened?”

Loki smiled sadly. “I fell in love. I haven’t seen her since before I moved in with Tony”

“That’s a long time. It’s gotta hurt, right?” he paused. “She wrote to you”

Loki nodded. “She sent a wedding present. From Odin as well, supposedly”

“Did you ever reply?”

“No” Loki sighed. “There comes a time when it just feels pointless. It would be like looking up someone you met once in a pub and trying to have a meaningful conversation”

“Would you see her again? If you had the chance?”

“The way I see it” Loki said. “If she had wanted to stay in my life, she would have made an effort. There’s a lot stopping me from returning to Asgard. Nothing is stopping her from coming to Midgard”

“Does it still bother you?”

“Sometimes”

Peter raised his head, not looking at Loki, but more open now.

“Why do some people have such hard lives?”

“It’s simply the luck of the draw”

“We’ve got dreadful luck”

Loki laughed slightly. “Maybe. But we’ve had some good luck too”

“Maybe...”

“Well, I got to adopt you, didn’t I? Despite the circumstances leading to it, that’s some luck, isn’t it?”

A small smile tugged at Peter’s lips. “Maybe”

Loki looked round the store room. There was time when they spent a considerable amount of time in here together. For whatever reason, after May died, it had become Peter’s hiding place. It had stayed that way for a long time, but now it was a little unusual to find him there, and definitely not a good thing.

“Are you ready to come back upstairs?”

Peter nodded slightly.

“Ok...” Loki picked the boy up carefully, feeling almost as though he’d gone back in time.

Loki sat cross-legged on Tony’s bed, watching him carefully. He was sat looking through a photo album, wet tears still on his face.

“I’ve never been great at the hard stuff, have I? I mean... Even that year he came to stay with us, and you were so ill... I didn’t treat you great then, did I? I was kinda dreadful to you at times. And I cracked after May died. I guess we all did, but still... All that year... Even that first Christmas, I was all cross. Overreacting to the curfew thing a bit, I guess. And then when he had that building site accident, and the way he played up at that party, I got all cross about that too”

“We both got cross about the party. He did show us up a bit”

“Mmm... I was rubbish with the Kindsprengen stuff. Well, not the take-down, but the kid bit, especially that first week... And I guess I’m kinda responsible for your downfall after the IVF thing”

“You didn’t force the bottle into my hand”

“No, but I enabled it. I was too busy drowning my own sorrows to even listen to you, so you just did what I was doing. We basically isolated ourselves together. I was bad with the kid then, too. Said I’d keep visiting even though you were ill and couldn’t. And didn’t... Gave him up... Argued a fair bit last Christmas too...”

“What are you thinking?”

Tony lowered the album and looked at Loki.

“I’ve been really bad lately. I don’t think my meds are working anymore. I don’t think they’ve worked for a while now”

Loki didn’t seem to react, but his eyes moved, and they said everything.

“Tomorrow” Tony said. “You know people will rush me through”

He looked back at the album for a moment, and then closed it carefully. Loki watched him get up and put it back on the special shelf with the wedding album.

“Do you think we should do couples counselling? Or, like, family counselling?”

“I think we’d be better off actually talking to each other before dragging someone else into it”

Tony sat back down beside him. “You want to say something else. I can tell”

Loki took a deep breath. “Maybe it’s just as well I’m infertile”

Completely without warning, both men broke down in tears. As if by magnetism, they found themselves in each others arms, and as horrible as they both felt, it was still good to hold each other.

Peter looked relieved but reproachful when his door opened.

“I thought you weren’t coming”

“I had a few things to sort out. I thought you might have fallen asleep by now”

“I tried, but... I don’t know. Everything hurts and it’s kinda keeping my mind awake”

Loki picked Peter up and sat down with him in his lap. Neither of them said anything for some minutes.

“...Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?”

Peter nodded.

“Ok... Grab a cuddly toy”

Peter had always liked Loki’s room, and times like this made him regret not taking advantage of being allowed in there so much anymore. It always felt a little ethereal; strange and different, as though it wasn’t really part of the house. It was like a little window into Loki’s mind that showed you what he loved the most, and what made him feel the calmest and safest. It was his comfortable space. Peter couldn’t help but notice how Loki seemed to relax as soon as he closed the door behind them. As though he’d arrived home.

He was quiet. Silent, even. Peter didn’t say anything either. He let Loki set him down on the bed and tuck his toy Peter Rabbit in beside him. He lay there, looking around him while Loki was in the bathroom. Peter liked most everything in this room, from the silken sheets to the family photos, to the old Snoopy on the chair by the wardrobe, to the deep rug by the bed. The only thing he didn’t like was the Betty Boop lamp. None of the little statues bothered him, but the lamp was a big one that was essentially a light up ornament, and it always seemed to watch him. He sat up to look at it - but it wasn’t in it’s usual spot. Looking around, he couldn’t see it on any of the dressers or shelves. He carefully slipped off the bed, curious now - and then froze like a deer in headlights as the en suite door opened.

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Going somewhere, chicken?”

“Your lamp’s gone!”

“Oh? Which one?”

“The Betty Boop on the lamp post one”

“Ah” Loki sighed. “Yes”

“What happened?”

“Well. Your father was showing me his new developments for the Iron Man gauntlets” he said, picking Peter up and putting him back on the bed. “Only it wasn’t perfected, and it malfunctioned a little and fired and... Well. Bye-bye Betty. Beyond repair. Completely shattered”

“That’s awful! Did you cry?”

“Maybe a little” Loki admitted. “So did Tony; he felt awful. He couldn’t find another one online, but I said it didn’t matter either way. Could have been worse, I suppose”

“You really loved that lamp. It took you years to convince him”

“Enough about the lamp, sweetheart. It’s getting on a bit, and you could really do with a good nights sleep” Loki pushed Peter onto his back. “Stay”

Loki turned the night light on and the big light off, and then finally climbed into bed.

“Have you stolen my pig?”

Peter handed it over. “Do I really have to go to school tomorrow?”

“It’s best that you do, darling. No, don’t start fussing. It’s only a few weeks, and then you never have to go again”

“I guess so”

Loki put an arm round Peter, hugging him close. “Goodnight, sweetie”

“Daddy?”

“Mm?”

“You’re the better parent”

Loki closed his eyes. “Go to sleep, chick”

#my writing #fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #frostiron #irondad and spiderson #IT'S BEEN TWO MONTHS #AND I'VE FINALLY UPDATED

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artdjgblog · 4 years

Photo

Innerview: Sonya Baughman / Review Magazine

July 2008

Image: DJG's "Live & Let Die" Record by Paul McCartney & Wings

Note: Interview for a magazine feature.

01) Where did you grow up and where do you live now? My young cloth diapers treaded a lot of dirt, dead animal and doggy acres in the North Central stick regions of Missouri, Mid-West, USA. Currently, adult plastic diapers drag and sag me in mid-town Kansas City, MO. The first six years had me bucking bales, falling off hay wagons, piercing my cheek on a hay bale stinger, assisting with the old cow stuck in the mud, designing elaborate tunnels and forts from tomato cages, watching “The Muppets” and “Star Wars” a lot, hearing scary stories of Leopard Man, posing for many pictures with dead and live animals, rocking out in cowboy boots to “Live & Let Die” on my Papa Smurf guitar, and crying at night to my raccoon wallpaper…among many other early formative brain tattoos. Act Two had many dry summers and the bank repossessing the farm and moving us to the home and acres where my Dad grew up. The new place had a blacktop in front of it and a gravel lane with a bridge/creek. The blacktop was a reservoir for leaving behind summertime shoe and bike impressions and for popping tar bubbles in the blistering heat. I also was of age to really explore and build many forts and treehouses in the ditches, barns and woods. Also, I started to go hunting and spend time in the fields with my Dad. We never had a shortage of animals and pets too. A lot of spare time was also spent in the sandbox or in the bedroom designing and building things based on what I saw and experienced. There was also a massive in-take of drawing and pop-culture from comics, books, music, television and movies. There wasn’t much of a cap on what my siblings and I could devour. Oh, and loads of sugary sweets and cereals. Go through the yearly motions and I end up at Southwest Missouri State University in Springfield, MO. There I got some very formal education and incredible interaction with students and design professors from the great making thing ways of Eastern Europe and Russia. I pretty much maxed out my art and design class card and was even making a ton of design work on the side for musicians. I then received a higher calling to drop out of school and make my guts out in Kansas City, MO which is where I’ve flopped around now for the past seven years. 02) Talk a little about your artistic background. Are you self-taught, did you go to college for art (if so, where)? My background is painted with loads of pop-culture from the 1980s and ’90s mixed in with the soil of farm life. I also designed and built many elaborate tree houses and forts up until the age of eighteen and spent most any spare minute in the sandbox or locked in my room drawing, reading, studying, video game playing, movie watching and just playing in general. I’ve never understood people’s ability to get bored or to not use the creation within them to ooze life out. I’ve enjoyed drawing comics, sports mascots and WWII battle scenes with my Dad at a young age that involved aircraft carriers, tanks and flags of those involved in conflict. My older brother would also draw a lot with me. He was better though. My younger sister and brother were pretty solid too. We have no idea where our creativity came from other than a great uncle, maybe? Also in my youth I would make giant collages out of magazine clippings and lots of mix tapes of Dr. Demento’s bizarre radio program and recorded and memorized many a variety of cartoon episodes and cool shows like Pee-wee’s Playhouse. I’ve also been a constant collector all my life. Back in the day I was all about the whole spectrum of toys, comics, ball cards, cereal boxes and loads of other junk…even kept dead animal parts under my bed. In the fifth grade I won a county wide logo contest for a skating and bowling fun center and it was the first time I realized disappointment with design as my logo was butchered by those higher-up. In middle-school up until my junior year of high school I studied more comics, logos, sports architecture and wanted desperately to design new-vintage baseball stadiums until the realization of my poor math skills hit like a ton of collapsed buildings. I even won a Kansas City Royals baseball essay contest. Getting made fun of daily in high school stunk, but it really fueled my work ethic, dreams and caused me to lock up in my bedroom at night. Though, I still wish I would have worked harder in my youth. I still really enjoy working hard and being alone to this day. In the summer of 1996 I was selected to attend the first ever Missouri Fine Arts Academy and learned that I had more to offer with my insides and got a chance to interact with more likeminded minds. I came back to my senior year of high school with notebooks of typographic graffiti designs and a whole new language of what I thought was the art world. There was also a new art teacher at my school and he was serious and seriously cool and recognized that I had something to offer. I also came back to my senior year with more confidence in expressing myself and decided to dive into the world of graphic design for my post-high school studies. I had no idea what I was going to really do with it, but I knew I just wanted to use my gift of making stuff for the rest of my life. And graphic design somehow promised a bit more security in money than going the fine art route. Though, I’ve now managed to merge the two and to still not make any money. My high school scores had me at number 12 out of 24 in my class and I scraped the bottom of the test barrels to get me into college. Southwest Missouri State University in Springfield, MO said I could come and so I did. They were the only institution I applied for and I had liked it from my three week stay at Fine Arts Academy the previous year. College was great, but I could tell quickly that I wasn’t a top art pup like I was in my small school way back down the line. I was with the bigger dogs now. I struggled with drawing classes because I realized that I wasn’t as good as I had been told I was for the previous eighteen years. That was a set-back and I still wish to this day I would have worked harder at drawing. But, mostly I have trouble drawing in a cramped room with a ton of people breathing down my neck and at certain times of the day. The introduction and foundation art classes were more my calling and I could take the stuff home and work alone and all night. Most of my friends complained because they couldn’t wait until sophomore year when we would be on the computer for design. I didn’t really understand what I was getting into with graphic design. In fact, one day I exclaimed to my friends that I was taking the graphic design route that didn’t use computers and was entirely hands-on. They thought I was pretty insane for saying that and pretty much called me a fool. It’s kind of funny now though. I was so naïve at 18 and 19 to what the formal graphic design world was and I think I still am ten years later. Back when I was more bushy-tailed, I just wanted to make things and cut stuff out and not chain up to a computer…and I guess I’m still bushy-tailed, though I have a computer and use it mostly as a tool. When I finally did get placed in front of a computer, it was a struggle and I just couldn’t get into it and past the screen barrier. It almost stopped me from majoring in graphic design. But, we weren’t on the computer all the time as we were taught to conceptualize and to think and to be hands-on too. But, we needed to know the computer too. I just couldn’t get along with the computer for the longest time. Of course, the computer whiz kids just couldn’t wait for the next semester that involved a wordy world called typography. Which, naively enough I thought was about the art of map making. I liked maps, so I was excited too. But, I soon found out it was a whole new world that would poison the ABCs in me forever…good and bad. At least in type class we were still taught to think and do things by hand before messing with computer fonts. That first year or two of official design school was just terrible for me as I felt I wasn’t really “getting” it and didn’t think I would be happy as a graphic designer. I was just fulfilling project requirements and with zero heart or much care. It wasn’t until I haphazardly signed up to duel major in illustration that things started to make music inside of me. I began to really pour myself out and realize that I could approach things in a similar light as to when I was a child and be happy. Illustration saved me and I found my voice with it and my classmates and instructors started noticing. The energy there was great and everybody fed off of each other and helped each other see in new light(s). I also began to understand the valuable importance of the experience of my schooling as the instructors not only had a unique style of teaching, but they also had interesting backgrounds and culture from Eastern Europe and Russia. I could mildly relate to them as I was a transplant from the foreign farm world of North Missouri. After many design trips to studios I began to feel a very empty feeling with the profession I had chosen to represent my working life. It was not what I wanted to do with a “career”, or my time. I didn’t wish to work in a factory of fried monitor goo-lash. I wanted to just make stuff and at my own pace and pleasure. I was also very protective of my work and wanted parental rights and not for it to belong to another man’s name or dream. My love for music started to fuse with design and I began to start making many things on the side for musicians, which spread to other types of word-of-mouth work for me. An eye-popping lecture by modern rock poster designer Art Chantry sealed my personal deal for wanting to do my own thing. Shortly after that I decided I needed to change many gears in my life and secretly drop out of school following my final design class in the fall of 2001 and live with a band (and some) in a big old dilapidated orange house behind the original Lamar’s Donuts in Kansas City, MO. While some senior students had trouble looking for one real world client to work with for their final projects, I had close to 10 off the top of my head and whole bunch of future blank pages to fill. 03) During the time you have been making art have you always been drawn to this type of graphic expression? Did you “find” a style or did a style find you? I’d say a bit of both. I’ve never really gone for a set “style”. I’m sure that I’ve got one that has become recognizable to my thumb prints. Honestly, I never really think too hard about what I’m making or the why or how of the making until I have to answer questions like this. Then I start to over-think things. Also, whenever I’m told that I’m a good collagist or good at hand type or so-and-so rendering, then that is the only time I really make an effort to switch gears. I have boiled the majority of my output to be relational to the immediacy of my moods, thoughts, tickles, inclination and whatevers. Though, sometimes life can get in the way and I’ll have to slide down a small sliver of time and energy depletion, like I am with trying to get this writing out on time! But, I’m a big fan of cranking stuff out no matter what. Life is pretty darn short to sit on my hands. It seems that style can be a bit of a drag for some people and/or a hole. I’ve always been more in-tune to the folks who just follow what their gut, heart, hands and eyes speak instead of creating a set template. Some people never stray too far from that and only a few can truly get away with it. Edward Gorey is perhaps one of the few who could really make it work for me. I would certainly love to draw and think as well as he did, but I might be quite miserable doing the same thing over and over even if I was able to do it for a living. I think that a lot of people get confused and think they need to have a style and either invent one or pick other people’s noses instead of sniffing what they’ve been wearing all their life. Style to me is a lot like decorating or something. Though, at the same time that decoration might marriage perfectly to what somebody thinks they need. I don’t know though. Sometimes I think it’s funny when we as people think we need something to look or feel a certain way that’s already been communicated or visualized. I think that sometimes we are too caught up in what’s done before instead of thinking for ourselves. I’m guilty too. What’s really confusing to me, on a personal level, is when I get a request like, “We like all your work so make whatever you want!” and then the client ends up being really disappointed because it wasn’t in their “style” and then it’s awkward. Style is just an odd thing to me. But, most things are. I try to just trust my gutty heart and just make. 04) Do you see your work as communicating your identity or as helping to communicate the identity and message of others? … or both? I see it as me communicating what I’ve gathered from being on the Earth for 29 ½ years and spreading that manure the best I can. It’s a heaping helping to tell the story of others by telling my story. Most of my work fits into fine art and design, at least I’m always told that. I’m not really sure. Of late I’ve been pushing into more of the fine art bin. But, I’m not a big fan of labeling things and I would like to do many things with this thing I do. With design, one does have a role to play with helping somebody else tell their story, and at times, sell their story. There is also a responsibility to the venue the product is in or where it will eventually end up, whether a fine package on a shelf or a poster in the gutter. I feel it can be easy for a designer to lose perspective of the role playing. With leaving behind an identity…well, I like the idea of a paper trail, time-line and bruising thumb prints on this life. However, I don’t necessarily have the intent to say “Hey, look at me.” I am just another human, and one who happens to make things. If the work speaks or inspires (probably frightens and confuses on occasion), then that means a lot to me, especially in these fast-paced and flashy “everyone’s a designer-decorator” times with millions of images and advertisements everywhere. I think it’s great to recognize and at times celebrate gifts and achievement. But, I feel there needs to be a healthy balance. It can be a dangerous thing to play with at times. Some artists I feel become the work of art themselves and end up playing God with the gift and this saddens me as it usually ruins them in the long run. 05) Is there anything about your geographic location that has given you a unique perspective on design and the art you create? Certainly, growing up country might have my visions at a stranger advantage, and a howling merge to that with the city life now. You might see a lot of wonderfully strange things on the streets of the city due to the amount of activity by varieties of people and culture. But, only in small town Missouri do the deer pile up outside the meat locker and blood runs next door to the Baptist church as the high school band splash-marches through it. Growing up it was easy to take my lifestyle for granted. I enjoyed it immensely, but when I was 15 to 18 I wanted to get out a bit more. I was hungry to explore, and not just the many acres we lived on. I wanted the rest of the world. I became a little disgruntled with growing up country and I think that there is a certain stereotype placed upon people anywhere they are, but country folk get it pretty bad. I definitely ate from both sides of the fence, but also didn’t want to be hung up in it for a living. As I grow older I appreciate my roots a lot more and celebrate them and am very thankful. I enjoy going back home. And some day I’d like to move outside of the city to a small plot of land with a making things shack out back. But, my family home isn’t too far down the road for a getaway weekend visit to sit with the stars, coyote yips and fish. 06) What do you consider influences on your art? (this can be other artists, music, philosophy, nature – anything. this question is not just limited to “I’m a big fan of Banksy”) First thing, I believe in the compiling of all days in life to influence an artist’s output (horse apples or clean streets). Our walks tell a lot about who we are in the present prints. I feel that one would be lying to me if what they created was not in their full vision. But, I too think that we all wear and share influences as witnesses to what we’ve seen and where we’ve been. We all help shape each other. I’ve rattled off my early influences of popular culture. I think I’m more in-tune with my child’s self now than I was then as I sit alone and make things and pull from all my days. It’s also easy to feel that I was really moving and discovering more back then with naïve, childlike faith that I’m trying to get back now. I have some good days though and mostly when I’m not thinking too much. I’m still a fan of absorbing lots of things and from many angles. Of course I have my artistic influences. One of my big influences as a child was my Grandma Gibson. She is from the old school of the country and a very hands-on person with making many things like clothing, dead animal backpacks, blankets, pillows, fridge magnets and game board pieces. I still have a lot of the things from those years. I think a lot of my approach to making things came from her. My “professional” art world as a kid had an outside knowledge from trips to museums and PBS specials, though I felt a little detached from that world and still kind of do. My heroes were at the movies because they were more immediate to me, guys like Jim Henson, Stan Winston, Dr. Indiana Jones, Rambo and Han Solo. But, it was Henson’s world that opened me up to the first idea of an artist’s legacy, vision and spirit and glimpse of another world. Something big-time ached in my decade old gut the day I found out he passed away. Musically speaking I was very much a child of my Mom’s Beatles records, “oldies” music and a ton of television theme songs, novelty sing-alongs and old church songs. I still put a lot through my ears now and my biggest influences in music in my older years are Bruce Springsteen, Jeff Buckley, Elliott Smith and Bob Dylan. Also, I am still a big fan of tons of picture books and just anything really. I just know that I’ve never had bare space on the walls and shelves of my home and head. Oh, and wherever I am I’m usually distracted by the stuff on the ground. I’m a big collector of found notes, writings, scribbles, addresses, children’s drawings and good-bad-silly-stupid-smart designs. I like to collect ‘em all. I’ve also collected stamps since I was 10. I’m a big nerd. Here’s a listing of some names in the art and design canon who have made things that either attracted, influenced or moved me in some ways (in no particular order): Saul Steinberg, Seymour Chwast and Push Pin, Lester Beall, Edward Gorey, Ray Johnson, Art Chantry, Henryk Tomaszewski, Vaughn Olver and V23, Raymond Pettibon, Paul Klee, Stanley Donwood, Stefan Sagmeister, Cy Twombly, Saul Bass, Ivan Chermayeff, Ralph Steadman, Robert Rauschenberg, Jean Michel-Basquiat…most anybody who has something to say and develops a bad back carving out their paper trail. Movies are also a giant influence on my work and I study them almost daily. Some of the filmmakers who capture a certain craft of unique spirit that I enjoy include P.T. Anderson, Wes Anderson, Michel Gondry and the Coen Brothers. Folk Art is another big mind-blow and one of my favorite areas to study and get ticked by the of-the-moment heart, purity and passion. I love the idea of somebody just up and making something for the heck of it and not for art’s or ego’s sake. That’s the childlike thing I miss the most. The makers and shakers that move me the most from the folk art movement are Henry Darger, Bill Traylor and Robert E. Smith. And sometimes I get more out of the work on display in county and state fairs by everyday arts and crafters than so-called “professional” art and design work. 07) What is your perspective on the place of poster art here in the Midwest (or KC specifically) as it interacts with the rest of the art community and how the poster art coming out of this community may be perceived on a more national level? I’m curious about this because of the recognition Kansas City artists in general have been receiving lately on a national and international scale and how the art world tends to waffle between interest and disinterest in artists in this region. The music scene here is very interesting to me and a lot of times I think that it is just like 20 people all making it happen. Though, there is a lot of talent, diversity and genre-bending for a small town like this. There are a lot of groups making a mark here and down the highways, same with the people making stuff for them. Though, I get a little strange sometimes because I sometimes feel that the small scene mixed with the internet’s social networks and fewer record stores (oh, and most of my posters take up a whole bulletin board!) makes the poster almost secondary information and so-so decoration. In the same thought though, most of the stuff I see on the internet passes by me in a two-second window like that of highway advertising. Though, some do stick out to me because I’m always on the look to get tickled. And I don’t feel the art of the printed piece will die any time soon. Anyway, the scene just works here in Kansas City somehow and everybody takes care of and appreciates each other’s roles and contributions. I’ve had some great response to what I’m slapping up, but at the same time I think that a lot of people don’t get it. What’s not to get, it’s not too special? But, that’s fine with me. I’m not sure where I am in the scene. Maybe more-so in the “seen” department with my meager budgeted work hanging above a stool in the blurry-eyed late hours. I still think that toilets are one the best places for information gathering. Poster art in general in the last ten years alone has received a great breath of fresh air. Many of the makers are respected within a small collective, and have also been breaking through to represent on a national level of design aesthetic, as well as a well-rounded view of the printed timeline to life and culture. It’s also something that anybody can do and a lot of bands still just make their own stuff, which I’m cool and whatever with it. Everybody has their own style, agenda and empty pockets. But, the personal computer has saturated the landscape with a lot of “samey”. Then again, if it works, it works. In the end if it gets people interested and enthused, then what is there for a bum like me to complain about? And sometimes I really get a kick out of unskilled design stuff(s). I try to stay out of design politics for the most part. There is more to life than design dogma. Though, there is design all around us as we interact with it in every way from the tip-top of a tree to a paper scrap for this article. I enjoy the simple act of creation and inspiration that comes from something that seems like nothing, yet has always been a “something” growing and building and will continue to grow if the viewer lets it do so. You just have to add the proper mix of ingredients, I guess. And I guess my brain isn’t one to formerly function on the full realization to what it’s thinking. So, I’m babbling right now. I do know that something I’ve always enjoyed about the concert poster is the relatively short life span it has and how that can be used to the advantage. I just want to encourage people out there, designers/artists, non designers/artists or even church secretaries, to really push things and work harder. I don’t really care if everyone isn’t versed in design and art. In general I just encourage more to experiment with poster art, find your voice(s) and find new ways to spread the good word. Even if it’s not for a concert or an event, just make something and get it out there. Throw your junk off the overpasses if need be. 08) How has your work been received within the arts community here (and also in other geographic regions if you have been branching out)? For seven years now I’ve somehow managed to remain fairly anonymous and at the same time have sparkled a bit of attention…maybe just a glittering. Life and day job dwindle my hours to where it’s hard to even pay attention on my own stuff sometimes, so I don’t get out much here in the city. Though, I guess it is easier to keep up with things on the internet, papers and here-say. I think Kansas City is making her own dent right now with a wide variety of things going on in the arts landscape. The town is kind of booming and bustling right now. Being that we’re a small town, it’s easy for a small fish to get more wet feet. Though, I’ve never put my whole foot into anything. I just do my thing. Some days I’m not really sure what that thing is, but I do it despite my muck. When I first started on my design quest, like when anyone tackles something head-on, I was head-over-heels and not sleeping much. I was also living with bands and interacting more and actually going to shows several times a week. I don’t know how I did it without exhausting my ticker, but for some reason it all worked. I started to garner a little bit of buzz here that seemed to spread quick outside the state and international borders. Many people contact me from all over and slap my stuff alongside some of my design favorites in magazines and books. It’s a hoot. People are always interested in my story and creations. It’s all still really odd and blushing to me in some light that the little things I make are reaching a selective audience on a much grander scale. Anyway, I’ve certainly learned now that sleep is important and that it’s better for me to work smarter, not harder. Though, that’s not entirely the truth as I still work pretty darn hard and I believe in it greatly. Still, I’ve struggled with my own brand of discontent since I fell from a slide and blacked-out at the age of five. It’s something that I’m working and wrangling with. But, with any kind of actual work you’ve studied, worked hard with and duct taped up the switch with 24-7, you learn to just not think and rather DO and the moves become mechanical. I just have to put to use different types of oil to keep from rusting. It all becomes a fluid thing, or something constantly coming down on me in the grocery aisle, tree leave holes and side walk crack scribbles. It can be challenging when life stuff gets in the way, but I shouldn’t see it as getting in the way. I easily get confused, but then I realize that the things I experience and see and do (good-bad) all go into my design pot mixed with my past and then I just have to do the upchucking as I move forward and I tend to feel better. Recently I’ve definitely stepped back on my massive production of concert posters and I’m sure that many people reading this will think, “Geesh, I don’t think I’ve ever even seen this idiot’s work?” Not only has my life changed in some ways, but I also had to give myself permission to take a time out and to learn to say no to some things. A break was needed before burnout and bitter rotted my worms in the apple, among other things. I had a year of little activity and practiced sitting on my nest. I still made a bunch of stuff, but a lot just for me. I’ve also been involved in various group art shows around the country, design books and special art projects with friends spread about. Another thing I did, and still do, is just to see what other avenues I’d like to take my one man show. I’m learning to use the internet for the medium that it is too. Anyway, I’ve always got some stew samples back burning, but my biggest competition is myself…on top of time, energy and money. Mostly myself, as I’ve always been extremely hard on myself. Though, I’ve been told I make it look easy. I’ve never been good at math, so you go figure. I get exhausted from trying to figure this out. 09) Is artwork your main profession and, if not, are you intending to make it so? It’s really flattering and kind of sad when every spring I get more and more inquiries from freshly plucked and talented college students about a possible internship or job with DJG Design. In general, due to what most think to be a large and varied output of work, people who don’t know what I’m about think that there is a D, a J and a G making things. It always excites me to be contacted by enthused students and other design people (any walks of life, really) who saw something or connected to my work and got a spark. It makes me rosey, but it also keeps me a little down as I don’t make enough money to do this full-time. But, it all keeps me at my little basement bay working on my bad back and poor eye sight, keeps me (under)grounded in some ways. I’ve always worked full-time jobs and have been married now for three years. So, certain responsibilities come with walking hand-in-hand with another. For now I just spin the day job blues and try to stay content and disciplined, burning the fuel before and after work. But, age is setting in a bit and I’m getting antsy. I also grow tired easier. Good things do come out of day jobs, good design work does too. For the first four or five years I was a janitor and groundskeeper. So, loads of perks came from great finds, discards, dumpster dives and lots of free food and more time to read and study and draw. Heck, I even designed a few posters between clock punches. Currently my position has me staring at a computer doing data entry. The health care, artificial air and hours are great and I can walk out my back door and be there in seven minutes. But, it can be difficult to know that I’m sitting and squandering something back home. I do take it with me everywhere upstairs, and I do a bit of networking during the day time, but there is still that itch to make things full-time and not have a full plate of non-stop. It’s all hard to balance. But, making things is the only thing that I’m told that I’m somewhat good at. Well, other than eating junk food, watching movies, being confused and petting my four kitty cats. I am fast approaching thirty and the visual of time stacking is more evident than ever. Each space between second hand clicks is another scratch of tiny pine box to me. I am slowly checking off my list of “Before 30 Goals”, but I’m usually several cars back and sometimes it’s a pileup. Life takes a different course too. But, I have caught back a hold of a torch of some sort. I am constantly tacking up side boards to the wagon. After eight years of looking at Gigposters.com, I finally have ALL of my poster work up on there. It’s a great way to generate exposure and get my work out some more. I also have my new website up and an extensive volume of imagery on my Flickr.com account. It can be a bit odd to put one’s self out there in such a reservoir fashion, but I do like the idea of the timeline and personal file cabinet. And if my house burns down, it’s all digitized and makes it easier on my friends when they have to move me. So, day jobs…they are both blah and bling in my mind. My sling shots just point back at me on certain days. Sometimes they change direction with every sentence. At least I’m now under a thousand dollars on my student loans. I don’t make a thousand dollars in most years on design. 10) Tell me a story – have you had any strange poster requests? A project where you just about lost it? A poster that succeeded beyond expectations or failed in a way that took you totally by surprise? A project-situation-chaos that always sticks out when I’m asked a question like this happened to me back in June of 2002. It’s not a poster, but it’s pretty whacky and ended up being one of the best things that I think I’ll ever make. It was a special run of 250 homemade CD packages for the band Elevator Division. I’ve had many projects that demand more production time than my little brain imagines, but this one was the worst. Actually, the finished piece is a lot tamer than my initial idea. Though, the final image’s concept married to what the band was communicating on the disc inside is way better. The following true story I’ve released for a previous interview, I just tweaked a few glitches… The idea came at the night I started printing. Well, actually it was spray paint. I had an image made for a month or more and then changed it at the last stroke of inspiration. It married the themes for the album “Whatever Makes You Happy” perfectly. With reflections of war and relationships in the songs, I made an image of a hand shooting off its index finger like a missile. It was the idea of shooting off one’s options and making decisions. It was aggressive, inviting, serious and humorous all in one. It was not only fitting for the band/music but also to the national/world agenda and climate. I went to war that night with many cans of spray paint and the idiot mind to do two-hundred and fifty all in one massive sweep, and in my basement, which is something I will never do again because I could have died. I will probably also never be involved with another package like this again (take that back, I have been). Anyway, each one was hand-cut from cardboard and handmade stencil sprayed and rubber stamped. Inserts were cut, folded and glued. At the last mist of red spray a crack of thunder shook the massive turn-of-the-century home and I bolted from the basement and out the front door to a down poor fit for Noah himself. I was like a much less cool version of Dr. Frankenstein though. I leapt off the front porch and slid head first down the embankment and into the street turned river current. But, like a taxidermy nightmare, I was born again. The drug dealing squatters across the street were on their front step perch per usual summer evening, looking at the fire in my eyes and the red paint streaming from ears, nose and mouth. It was a high much higher than that of chemical substance. Well, maybe a three pack of design, life and paint fumes. 11) What is it about the poster as an art form that you feel is unique among other art forms? What purpose does it serve in your mind that can’t be served by another type of visual art? I’ve hinted at this in a previous question. I like the idea of the poster’s life-span being short, relative to the date and time…event, whatever. But, if it connects in the right way, and it can be different for everyone as art-design-whatever, is all relative to the viewer, I think that even a concert poster’s impact can last a long time. Since my first year in Kansas City I’ve had people find me out and say that they had a bedroom wall filled up with my work. It really moved me that something so simple (and sometimes stupid) that I squeezed out caused somebody else to be moved enough to hang it above their dreams at night. It means a lot to me when others get something out of something I’ve made. I know from child to adult, I myself have gotten something out of the stuff I’ve collected and tacked to my walls. It’s odd, yet a really nice feeling to know I’m somehow contributing to a landscape in some way. Making things is an act that I’ve always needed to do and has helped me get the best out of many days. I’ve always had difficulty with contributing in many forms of communication and on some days it’s terribly hard even just to be out and about. Making things has served as my calling with communication. It’s nice to know it can help others too in whatever way. -djg

#innerviews

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inuyashasnook · 6 years

Text

Then Came the Knight

So, I ended up writing the thing. Honestly, I hope it came out okay. I feel so nervous about posting this since I haven’t written anything but class notes for that past 4 years. Enjoy!

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Warning: This story has themes and acts of rape. This story is also heavily NSFW. Please read at your own discretion.

Then Came the Knight

The day had started like any other. Well, as any other day should have started when you travel back in time 500 years in order to continue the rest of your life with the one you love.

The elegant priestess in training was accompanying her teacher in order to help the delivery of a baby in a nearby village. Her rough n’ tough lover, not too ecstatic about her leaving his line of sight, had definitely shared his thoughts on the matter with her that same morning when she announced her departure.

“What do you mean, it’s going to be fine? You’re with Kaede. That ol’ hag ain’t able to fight off a mouse,” he sputtered while his ears pinned back in annoyance.

Kagome sighed. She understood where he came from. It hadn’t even been two weeks since the young couple had been reunited with one another. Both the young priestess along with her silver-haired hanyou simply couldn’t get enough of each other. Inuyasha refused to let her out of his sight, always watching her, brushing up against her, being her shadow wherever she went. It also didn’t help that their marriage was only a week away, leaving the half-demon extremely protective of his soon-to-be wife.

“Look, Inuyasha, I don’t want to be separated from you either. Besides, you have to go exorcise a demon with Miroku today, so I figured I should at least keep myself occupied. They practically begged you to go save their village,” she answered with an exasperated tone.

“Keh.”

He didn’t wait for a second longer. Inuyasha grabbed her wrist loosely and pulled the beautiful woman to his chest. She softly crashed against the hard muscles as she was taking in the scent of her man. Pine. Powerful arms wrapped around her tightly, squeezing her as if to fear she’d blow away in the wind and never reappear. Kagome’s head nestled in the crook of his neck, which caused the hanyou to let out a soft rumble similar to that of a dog getting pet just in the right spot. The young priestess’s heart raced and she was certain her face was several shades darker. Regardless of how many times the two had embraced since her return, the man she’d been patiently waiting to see never failed to make her heart flutter. Neither of them had a made a move beyond simple caresses and soft kisses. Both of them two nervous about upsetting the other, it was like walking on eggshells when it came to taking the relationship a step further.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Inuyasha whispered softly in her ear.

“Don’t worry, I promise I’ll stay safe.”

It simply astounded the black-haired woman how much more mature and open her best friend had become. She never even fathomed the day where the man would admit his own feelings in such a straightforward manner. A few years ago, he would have simply sulked and sputtered a few insults, which she knew he never really meant.

A few minutes passed until Miroku arrived at their humble abode in order to collect her fiancé to go slay some demons. Some things never changed.

The couple said their goodbyes, Inuyasha pretending to be unaffected by the separation as he knew the lecherous monk was watching them closely. His ears told a different story, drooping ever so slightly. The miko gave him a reassuring smile in return and waved the two off.

Without wasting another minute, Kagome quickly hurried off to meet Kaede in the village after having packed a few herbs and other belongings she figured she might need for their little excursion. The village was only a few hours away by walk, meaning she would be able to return that same day if everything went well, or in a few days at the most. It had simply been so long since she was able to get back on the road again in feudal Japan.

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The older woman in red and white robes smiled when she noticed her apprentice had entered the hut, “Bright and early this morning I see”.

“Early bird gets the worm!” Kagome replied, returning her smile.

“Kagome-sama! How are you this morning? Rin has made you breakfast with the help of Kaede-sama,” a young voice piped up from by the door as the mat that was draped across it was pushed out of the way.

“Rin! My morning has been splendid, how about yours?” the miko replied to the over-joyous girl.

“Great!”

The older priestess handed Rin a filled bowl of soup and gestured for the young apprentice to take a seat around the fire as she brought her over her breakfast.

“Now child, not too difficult to convince Inuyasha to let ‘ye leave this m’orning?” the older woman asked, arching an eyebrow.

“It took some convincing, but I got through to him. He’s just so worried. I mean, I am too,” she trailed as she simply stared at the bowl of hot soup resting in her lap.

Her mind flashed back to all of those terrible nights alone at home. All those nights she spent staring at her ceiling wishing it was a sky blanketed with twinkling stars, her companion at her side. Kagome had spent three entire years turning around at the sight of fast moving red objects, only to be deceived that it wasn’t the man she loved. Everything had worked out according to plan after defeating Naraku, especially for her original wish to return to a normal life. Little did she know, that was her head’s wish and not her heart’s. Then, that day had finally arrived. The day of her high school graduation. It was a day she simply knew she would never forget for the rest of her life. She was even willing to bet that it was going to be the happiest memory of her life. Kagome loved her own family enormously and was relieved that her mother understood that she simply had to leave when the Bone Eater’s well had opened back up. One thing lead to another, and she was finally able to hold those clawed hands, get lost in those amber eyes, touch the soft protruding puppy ears on top of his head once more.

“Child, ye’ know that he visited the well every three days?” the older woman said, a tiny smile tugging at her lips.

Kagome didn’t answer as she clutched the bowl of soup tighter and a blush started to form on her cheeks.

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As they walked towards their destination, several hours passed by and the trip to the smaller excluded village was uneventful, much to Kagome’s relief. The miko had brought her bow and arrows in order to defend herself, but she knew they didn’t compare to the Tessaiga in their level of protection.

As the pair passed through the front gates of the village, they were greeted by a gaggle of children playing about. Several dogs attached to the huts barked to greet the two unknown ladies. Needless to say, they didn’t have to wait long before being greeted by the village headman.

“Kaede-sama, thank goodness you’ve come! And this must be your priestess in training,” a man no older than 40 cheerfully exclaimed as he made his way towards them.

“Ye’, I am Kaede. This is Kagome. She is very skilled in the ways of healing and she will be helping me deliver the baby today.”

A younger man, about Kagome’s age, appeared from around the corner of one of the larger huts. He wore a dark blue kosode and towered in height in comparison to the women. Even for Kagome’s time, he was considered tall, most likely around 6’3”.

“That is wonderful! Ah, here comes my son now. This is Taisei,” the village head continued as he gestured towards the lanky figure that had just appeared.

That’s when Taisei’s eyes fell on Kagome’s. He couldn’t stop staring at the younger miko, completely enticed by her appearance. Her soft chocolate eyes, her long black hair that rested just below her shoulders, her slim waist, and fair skin. Something then just ticked in his head. The woman simply made his heart race. Even if she was a priestess, he needed her all for himself. He needed to convince her to stay.

“Y… yes, nice to meet you,” Taisei stuttered.

“Now that everyone’s met each other, right this way. My wife is waiting in the hut, ready to get this over with,” the older man chuckled slightly as he brought the two priestesses towards his large home.

The delivery had been successful and for the most part, uneventful. Due to the delivery having spanned for much longer than anticipated, Kaede and Kagome decided it was wiser if they spent the night in the village. They had been kindly accommodated by the village head, having an extra room for his guests.

Kagome shrugged off her robes and remained in her under clothes. Two futons had been rolled out and the younger girl slipped under one of them. She sighed, knowing that sleep tonight wouldn’t come easy.

“What troubling ye’ child?” Kaede asked her, concerned clearly painted across her face as she also started making her way to the adjacent empty futon.

“This is the first night. The first night since I’ve returned and he’s not with me,” tinged sadness was apparent in her words as she replied to the older woman.

It’s not like the two had even tried anything. Both too nervous about overstepping each other’s boundaries, they simply laid in each other’s embrace, enjoying the time they spent cuddling.

Kaede didn’t reply but simply sent a pained smiled to her young companion. Those two have had a rough go at it, the older woman thought silently praying that things would eventually work out for the two of them.

The night had stilled. Both women’s breathing had eventually steadied, a clear sign that sleep had overtaken both of them. That’s when the door to their room slowly opened, allowing there to be just a crack. The man simply sat there, observing the young miko sleep. He tried to breathe in her scent from the room, not able to get enough of her. That’s when the idea came to him. The man slowly got up, closed the door and returned the same way he had arrived

The next morning, as the two of them were breaking their fast, panicked shuffling and mumbling could be heard. Soon enough, the village headman knocked at their door.

“Lady Kaede, my wife doesn’t have the strength to stay awake!”

The old woman got up as fast as her advanced age allowed her to. She turned to face Kagome, “I should have this under control. Rest a bit and I’ll come get ye’ if I need ye’. If I’m not done in a few hours, ye’ should return to the village without me to explain the situation to Inuyasha. The boy won’t let me live if I keep you away from him for too long.”

A smile danced on the younger girl’s lips. She could see Inuyasha in a few more hours. She was aware that the older priestess knew what she was doing with years of experience under her belt, so she knew that the headman’s wife was in good hands.

A few minutes after the exchange, Kagome got up to take a stroll outside the village in order to go kill some time. She felt bad about not being able to help, but she knew that Kaede had her reasons and had asked her not to join her.

Colours and shapes slowly started to morph and become fuzzy. Had she not slept enough last night? Kagome knew that she didn’t sleep as long as she normally did, but that shouldn’t have been enough for her to start hallucinating. The strength in her legs gave way and she buckled under her own weight. Trying to grasp a nearby tree in order to hoist herself back up, she found that it was simply impossible. Her vision started to grow cloudy and her eyes shut on their own accord. “Inu…yasha,” was the last thing her lips muttered before sleep overtook her and her world went black.

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He had arrived that same day they left. The half-demon and the monk had managed to do quick work of the demon that was pestering the village. The entirety of the time, the monk had pestered his friend about the sudden return of his soulmate. Had the two of them finally danced the lover’s dance?

Needless to say, Inuyasha was glad to have arrived back home. The idea of a home was still a concept foreign to him, but he’d welcome it with open arms.

As he arrived at his own doorway, he pushed back the mat and peeked his head through, expecting to be greeted with that warm smile he had missed for so long. The silver-haired man was quickly aware that his significant other hadn’t been home since her departure that morning. Her sweet smell that usually hung in the air was stale and there was no smell of delicious food cooking over the fire.

His ears drooped slightly as he realized that she wouldn’t be back that night. Inuyasha knew she wouldn’t be an idiot and travel at night without him as she was aware of the dangers that lurked when the moon was present. Sure, she was stupid sometimes, but he knew she knew better than that. The man let out a soft growl of displeasure as he entered their hut and set his Tessaiga against the wall that was closest to their futon.

Guess I’ll make some rice and cook the fish alone. His heart felt heavy, empty, like it had so many times before her return. He was resisting every urge not to run after her and make sure she was alright. He wanted her to know that he trusted her, that he knew she could make decisions on her own. Despite every instinct at his core screaming for him to smother her and protect her with every ounce of his body, he knew this was just another part of growing up. I’m able to protect her like this, he tried to convince himself.

After his quick dinner, he knew he wouldn’t be able to fight off his urges. He simply wanted to hold her again, to have her back pressed against his chest as they lay in bed together. Sleep wouldn’t come at all, so he figured he should go check up on her regardless of his previous resolve. I’m weak. I need you Kagome. His heart felt like it would burst into a million pieces. All these emotions were foreign to him and the boy simply didn’t know how to handle them.

I’ll be there by morning at least. I’ll surprise her by picking her up, he told himself.

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He had arrived when the sun had arisen for a few hours. His soft canine ears perked up at the sound of the village awakening. The chickens clucked every so often, the dogs barking as they sensed his arrival, wives sending off their husbands to go work in the fields.

Inuyasha’s eyes subconsciously scanned his vicinity for his mate. He could smell her sweet aroma in the air and knew that she would be close. His ear suddenly tracked the sound of heavy footsteps approaching him.

“Inuyasha, what are ye’ doing here?” asked the older priestess.

“What does it look like I’m doing, baba?” Inuyasha retorted, annoyed that someone would even ask him such dumb a question.

“If ye’ lookin’ for Kagome, I sent her home a few hours ago. She should have arrived already,” she responded unfazed by the attitude the hanyou was giving her.

“That makes no sense baba! I would've smelled her on my way here if she went home!”

Fear gripped him suddenly. Where was his Kagome? Why had she not been on her way home like she was supposed to? Something must have happened for her not to be there. A sudden guttural growl erupted from the pit of his stomach, Inuyasha unaware himself of the sound he was producing. Several passersby cowered away from him at his sudden display of aggression. His ears perked up, trying to detect any familiar sounds of his mate. He retracted his claws, ready to attack whomever or whatever had caused her to be in potential danger.

“Calm down boy. Maybe one of the villagers asked ‘er for something,” Kaede said, knowing that the poor half-demon would easily be willing to terrorize the entirety of Japan if it meant he could be reunited with his dark-haired priestess.

Regardless of what anyone would tell him, he wouldn’t back down until his girl returned to his arms. A million thoughts were racing in his mind. If she even asks me to leave my side again, the wench can dream cause I ain’t going to let her.

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When she awoke, panic overcame her. It was like being stuck in the jewel for three days again. He hasn’t arrived yet. There’s still darkness. I’m still stuck inside this damned jewel. It was something she tried desperately to forget, but the memories had resurfaced and clung to the forefront of her mind. Her body screamed for her to tremble and cry, but she found that she couldn’t. The only thing she seemed to be able to control and was her neck and head movements.

The priestess eased her breathing when she had been able to open her eyes and notice that there was light around her. That’s right. I’m out of the jewel.

Yet, she wasn’t in an easier situation. Her petite body was propped up against a man’s, who was touching her greedily. Kagome desperately tried to scream, but nothing would come out, her throat dry and tight. The unknown man was traveling his arms down her sides and rested upon her breast, caressing them softly. She felt the press of his erection against her lower back.

Fuck. Inuyasha’s not going to let me live this one down. Fuck. I need to get myself out of this situation or I’m about to get raped. Fuck.

It took her a few more seconds again to realize who her assailant was. Taisei. That fucker. That pervert. The miko desperately tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but none of her limbs allowed her to move. She was paralyzed. The only explanation her panicked brain could come up with was that someone had drugged her during breakfast that morning. It seemed like regardless of whether she was in feudal Japan or modern times, there would always be men like that.

“Good morning my little kitten, it seems you’ve awoken,” the sly and breathy voice resonated against the walls of the small room.

The girl still couldn’t talk, her panic overfilling her and incapacitating her from any form of speech. She whimpered a few times, trying to trash her head in hopes to hit him and make him loose her grasp of her.

He slowly moved his hands, one towards her opulent hips and another towards her mouth, “Oh now, that’s not being a good girl. I’m sorry it had to turn out that way darling. I’ve wanted you since you walked through those gates. Since you’re a miko, I knew I couldn’t get you any other way. So, I’m sorry sweetie, I hope you’ll forgive me.”

He slowly pushed one of his fingers into her mouth, prying it open as he did so. The vile creature was now moaning as he was grinding his hips against her rear, yielding pleasure from his acts. Tears started to stream down Kagome’s face as she felt utterly useless and incapable of doing anything. Why am I so weak? Do something Kagome!

She bit down on his finger and he yelped in return, slapping her cheek with violent force.

“Bitch, you’ll pay for what you’ve done!”

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The hanyou tracked the scent of his lover within the village. The stupid place reeked of so many humans that it was hard to make out the individual smells. After a few more minutes of sniffing the ground intensely and a few too many looks from the villagers, he pounced and ran in the direction of his soon-to-be wife.

When he arrived at the front of the large hut, he smelled more than just Kagome’s regular smell. It was tinged with panic and salt. Tears. Fuck. What the hell’s going on here? He wasted no time to politely ask to gain entry to the house. He figured he’d just apologize for it later if the opportunity arose. Right now, he was focused on reuniting himself with his raven-haired, chocolate eyed maiden.

His heart reverberated in his chest when he found himself stopped in front of two large doors. Kagome’s scent was fresh, mixed with fear, salt and something else sour. There was also a male smell that was equally as present in the air. He shifted his hip to gain easy access to his sword and rested one hand on its hilt.

What he heard next had him kicking down the doors in an instant.

It was the softest whimper he’d ever heard. But he’d heard it.

The sight greeted him with was not a pleasant one. There was this fucker holding his crying girlfriend in his lap, his hands on her at places where they shouldn’t be. The vile man’s eyes had snapped up and grew three sizes larger as he realized he was no longer alone in the room. That mother fucker. He has no goddamned idea what I’m about to do to him. Wait, why isn’t Kagome running away?

A million thoughts ran through his mind at once, bombarding and clouding his judgment. Had she gone there on her own accord? Had she sought out the comfort of another man while he was away? Was she even ready for such things? Realizing that he was just being stupid and his mind was playing tricks on him, he unsheathed his sword and roared, “What in the hell is the meaning of this?”

Taisei’s hands quickly let go of his prized possession and he scrambled away, keeping his eyes on the hanyou until his back hit the wall and he couldn’t go any further.

“Who… who are you?” he asked, the previous lecherous tone turned into that of a panicked one.

“Your worst nightmare, dick,” the canine-eared man half-barked while barring his teeth.

He slowly made his way towards the two and blocked the path between the human man and his mate, “Don’t you ever fucking touch her again, do you understand me?”

The man nodded a few times and Inuyasha could smell the rancid scent of pee in the air coming from the pervert’s vicinity. Not knowing if he should physically hurt the man or if he should check up on Kagome, Inuyasha was torn between the two. He decided he’d scared the human enough, so he slowly padded towards his still girlfriend.

“Kagome, honey, are you alright?” he asked, his eyes searching her body for any sight of injury.

He mentally noted that the man had struck her cheek, still red from the blow. Other than that, he couldn’t smell any more bruising or blood. Just the stench of the lecherous fucker all over her miko garbs. Why is she not moving?

“Kagome? Why aren’t you getting up?” Inuyasha pressed, panic rising in his voice as one of his hands cupped her face delicately.

“I….. can’t…. paralyzed” she finally managed to utter, voice dry and raspy.

He gave her one of the most pained looks she had ever seen. He had let her down. Failed to protect her once again, just like he had made her wait those long three days within the jewel. His heart shattered at the thought.

“Can I pick you up Kagome?” the half-demon asked her, wondering if the woman would rather be left untouched after what she had just gone through.

Unable to utter another sound as it took too much energy out of her, she nodded. The silver-haired man wasted no time to envelop his arms around her limp body and support her head with his chest. He let out a soft rumble in his chest in hope to help her calm down. She buried her head into his chest, letting out a few more heavy tears and hiccups.

“Shh, shh, it’ll be okay. I’m here now. I’m always here for you. I’m so sorry it took me so long to get here. Shh shh,” Inuyasha attempted to reassure the fragile woman in his arms, rocking her gently against him.

“What’s the meaning of this? Why is the miko letting you defile her such, you filthy demon?” the squealing voice coming from Taisei rung and bounced off the walls of the room.

“You’re the actual demon here. Next time you touch my woman, I’ll tear your eyes out and you won’t even get a chance to say boo.” Inuyasha answered, spitting in front of the headman’s son.

The hanyou left the room while clutching and carrying his mate protectively against his chest. Nothing would touch her now. He had her. The silver-haired man had to go consult Kaede. He knew that she could fix his Kagome. She always knew how, right? What if it’s my fault and she can’t move anymore?

Having heard the commotion, the older healer stood in front of the headman’s house. She was unsure of what had happened, but she figured it wouldn’t be good as she had heard her younger companion let out a string of angry snapping and colourful insults.

What she saw next broke her heart. Inuyasha held the limp body of his soon-to-be wife in his arms and he padded towards her, ears drooping down, face wrenched in pain. The boy holding onto her, probably even too tightly she figured.

“What happened Inuyasha?”

“The lech had his hands all over her. Must ‘of drugged her or something. She’s paralyzed and I ain’t got no idea how to fix her,” The half-demon replied, the last string of words muttered almost as soft as a murmur.

“Come now Inuyasha. Let’s make it back to the village and I’ll give her a brew. She’ll also need some food in her to regain her strength. Think you can help me with that?” she asked, hoping to comfort the lost boy.

The couple had already gone through so much. Kaede figured she should try to involve the half-demon. He’d be up to no good otherwise and she genuinely cared about those two as if they were her own children. Exasperating children, yes, but her children none the less.

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The sun had gone down by the time she managed to open her eyes again. She lifted a hand to rub the sleepiness out of her eyes when she felt a warm and comforting arm draped against her stomach. She looked down at the dozing face holding the soft features she loved tenderly. He saved me yet again.

Glancing at her own body, an overpowerful feeling of disgust overcame her. Disgust that such a man had tried to touch her without her consent. Disgust because she was still wearing those clothes he had nearly tried to rip off her body, or, not? After a second look, she noticed she was wearing her under-kosode and a familiar red haori. Thank you, Inuyasha.

Feeling the woman in his arms stir, Inuyasha started to wake up. He propped himself up on one of his elbows before glancing down at the beautiful form of his girlfriend laying in front of him, “Good morning sleeping beauty.”

“Good morning Inuyasha. Thank you… thank you for saving me again,” she said trying not to break down crying.

“Hush wench, you know I’ll always come for you no matter what. That’s why we’re getting married, stupid. For better or for worse, till death do us part.”

He lowered his head towards her, leaning in for a kiss. The black-haired girl hungrily replied, crashing her own lips against his. She brushed her tongue lightly against his lips in order to be allowed entry, which was quickly granted by her companion. They sat in silence, kissing and embracing for several long minutes.

She reluctantly broke apart from him and said, “He just took the liberty and touched me in a bunch of places. I feel… I feel so filthy.”

“Kagome, you’re not filthy. You didn’t do anything wrong. I... I was the one who let something happen to you,” Inuyasha replied as he rested his head against her forehead.

This was the closest they had managed to get to one another since her return. Much to her delight, the tip-toeing around what was acceptable in their relationship had simply disintegrated, just like that. Gone were the days where their young selves were too ashamed to notice or admit that they meant the world to one another. They were born for each other.

“Inuyasha, can I… can I touch you?” the young girl asked embarrassingly.

His ears perked up at the nature of her request. A deep shade of red painted itself on his cheeks, his enter body temperature feeling like it had risen several hundred degrees.

“Yeah, sure, if you want,” he clumsily replied while sitting straight up.

Her hands moved slowly but gently to his chest, where she started opening up the under-kosode. The material parted slightly and it allowed her hands to roam on the muscular flesh that peaked through the gap. This caused Inuyasha to inhale and hold his breath for a few seconds. Nervously, her hands made their way to the ties that were holding the garment in place. She fumbled with them, eventually managing to pry them loose along with the material that they were attached to. The silver-haired dog demon shrugged the piece of clothing off his shoulders. He sat there, unsure of how she’d react. Fuck he thought to himself as he felt his throbbing erection push against his hakama.

To his surprise, her hands slowly moved to his groin next. She applied a bit of pressure there and it caused him to groan slightly. Noticing what he had done, his ears drooped slightly with embarrassment as he refused to look up at the eyes of his soon-to-be-wife.

“It’s okay Inuyasha,” the girl softly replied with a contented smile tugging at her lips.

She’d be lying if she didn’t admit she was nervous as well. In order to help him fight his one-sided embarrassment, she removed the haori that was tied around her as well as her under-clothing. Following suit, Inuyasha removed his hakama. Both sat there, looking at each other’s bodies in awe and taking every inch in. It took several minutes before Kagome had the courage to extend her hand out to touch him. It was all it took before the hanyou grabbed it and pulled his mate flush against his chest, holding her tightly. Kagome let out an exhilarated sigh as the two hugged. Inuyasha’s well endowed, the raven-haired priestess thought to herself excitedly.

Feeling adventurous, she grabbed at the perky appendage that was pushing against her flat and toned stomach. This resulted in a slight gasp from her canine-eared friend who let go of her to look at her in amazement as she started to stroke his manhood. A moan escaped his lips as she slowly but tightly pumped it.

“Ka... Kagome,” was all he managed to say in between pants.

Realizing that he wasn’t doing anything for her, he gently grabbed her and pushed her down flat against their futon, his body towering above her. His hair draped around both of her shoulders. He gazed at her lovingly and all she could think of were two words – mighty and powerful. He crashed his lips against hers before slowly making his way down towards her chest. He nervously trailed his tongue to her breast and when he reached it, he licked around her areola. When his lips reached her nipple, he sucked and she let out a soft whimper. His male pride radiated off of him as he continued to please his mate, licking and nipping at the perky bundle of flesh in his mouth. She squirmed and moaned his name sensually. His left hand was preoccupied with fondling the other breast and running his thumb across her sensitive nipple. The hanyou’s erection throbbed against his stomach. She’s fucking beautiful, was the only thought the aroused half-demon could think of.

A thought popped into the half-demon’s head. Listening to Miroku all those years ago hadn’t been all that bad of an idea. Still a bit unsure about the reaction he’d received with what he was about to execute, he slowly made his way down her slim body, kissing every inch of her chest and her stomach until he reached her thighs. Kagome looked at him pleadingly, her slow release of sweet-scented fluid indicating she wanted him. Her scent of desire intoxicated him and crowded every corner of his mind. He groaned as he tried to stop himself from turning her over and simply pounding into her from behind as if he were a wild dog. Pushing the thoughts aside as he knew it was his mate’s first time, he wanted it to be a memorable experience for both of them. Not memorable in a way that made her want to shudder. He grabbed both of her thighs and nestled his head in front of her sweet folds, taking a hesitating lick. Shots of pleasure made their way up Kagome’s spine and added to the warm feeling of desire building in her stomach.

“More… please,” she pleaded as her center filled itself with more sweet-smelling liquid.

Eager to please, Inuyasha excitedly continued. He lapped furiously, running his tongue along her folds and pushing into her center even deeper. He made sure to suck on the small protruding bundle every so often as he’d get the most pleasant sounds out of his mate when he did so. The miko’s hands had instinctively reached for his hair where his small white appendages stood. She scratched behind them tenderly as he sucked and loved her.

“Inuyasha… stop,” the raven-haired girl pleaded.

Wasn’t she enjoying it? Why did she want him to stop? Had he hurt her? The canine-eared boy stopped dead in his tracks, ears pinned behind his head in defeat. Fear was evident in his eyes. He’d gone too far. Pushed her over the limit. Caused her to hate him forever.

Noticing his instant change in behaviour, the miko was perplexed. Why did he seem so upset?

“Inuyasha, if you continued what you were doing, I’d… I’d cum. That’s way too quick. You haven’t even been tended to yet,” she stammered embarrassingly.

His ears perked back up. Had he heard, right? Girls can cum?

“Girls can cum?” he asked as if it was the most natural question he could come up with.

“Of course they can, silly! I guess this is the feudal era after all. They say that women can feel even more pleasure than guys since we have more neurons in our clitoris,” she explained.

He wasn’t even going to try to understand that last part. He now knew what he had to do. Please his wench. The hanyou knew that if he tried to push himself in her, it would probably hurt. Yet another thing he had remembered from one of Miroku’s many topics of conversation involving women. Ease her into it, open her up gently, the monk’s voice rang in his head.

Being as gentle as he could, especially with how long his claws were, he gently prodded at the folds. Her body naturally opened itself up to him, engulfing his finger whole as he slipped it inside of her. What surprised him the most was when his girlfriend tilted her pelvis in order to take more of it in as she let out a small moan. Damn wench, havin’ all the fun. He tried adding a second finger into her burning and wet flesh. It went in just as easily. Feeling confident that she was open enough for him, he positioned himself at an angle that would ease his entry.

“Kagome?” he asked, wondering if she was mentally ready for him. He knew she was more than physically ready by the amount of liquid that had pooled around her.

“Just do it, please. I need you in me now,” she urged, biting her lower lip and tilting her pelvis forward.

Not having to be told twice, Inuyasha penetrated her slowly. She feels so fucking tight. A guttural growl left his lips as it took all of his willpower for him not to trust and pound himself into her. His instincts were slowly taking over and he wanted to suppress them so intensely. Stupid dog demon. He felt her walls adjust themselves to him and allowed him to enter her fully.

Inuyasha simply couldn’t believe it. After all those years of longing, mixed messages, and sexual tension, he was finally able to claim her. To show her how much she meant to him. He started easing out of her, then pushed back in, in repeated rocking motions. She moaned and begged him to increase his thrusting as she clutched the futon behind her. He noticed her back arching slightly, she looked like a begging bitch in heat. Fuck. This was going to be harder than he thought.

“Harder,” she squealed in between pants.

The heat building up at the bottom of his stomach was starting to be almost unbearable. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer, especially with all the excitement that they had built up. Three long years of yearning and desire. All those fantasies that were played out in their heads about each other during their separations now seemed possible. Both bodies edged closer and closer to ecstasy. With the screams of each other’s names, their grunts, and moans filled the air as if it was a practiced orchestral performance.

“INUYASHA,” she screamed one final time as she climaxed, her body writhing and thrashing against his. Kagome’s walls clenched down against him. Her arms shot up to hold his neck as she rode the waves of pleasure that made their way throughout every single muscle of her body.

At the same time, a large growl erupted from his throat seconds after as he spilled himself into her warm center. He thrust several times, milking his appendage until he was empty.

Both bodies crashed on the futon, Kagome underneath and Inuyasha snuggled beside her as he nuzzled her shoulder.

“Wench?”, the half-demon asked, pleasure and contentment clearly evident in his husky voice.

“Hmm?” she mumbled back, her eyes partially open as sleep was starting to overtake her.

“I love you,” he announced to her for the first time.

“I love you too, dog-boy”, she replied, turning to face him and to kiss him slightly before falling asleep in his arms.

»»———————————————- ♡ ———————————————-««

Author’s note: Thank you very much for reading this fic! This is, in fact, the first I’ve written in over 5 years, so I really apologize for my rustiness! Sorry about Inuyasha’s out-of-characterness, this is just how I imagined him after three full years of emotional constipation after missing Kagome so much.

I also know that this type of fanfiction has been done before, I just needed to write one with my own spin on it. I also like to imagine that those two’s first time would be something very soft and passionate.

It’s also the first time that I try writing something naughty.

Regardless, I’m open for requests but I have a few more fic ideas on the go. I’m going to get quite busy in the next little while since I have 3 midterms and 2 projects coming up, but I’ll do my best to upload before then.

Much love,

Iki

#inukag #fanfiction #inuyasha fancition #inukag fanfiction #iki #i attempted to write something #post-naraku #post-cannon

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scribeofmorpheus · 6 years

Text

As Fate Would Have It Part 10 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Catch Up Here!

A/N: Okay guys, so it's here. The big One-Oh! (which coincidentally is being published on the 10th of March -which is also Bucky’s birthday! Fate is a tricky thing) For this chapter, I wanted to do something special. But also, I'm still doing the before Endgame race with myself because I want to get to a good climax with this story before April! Which is not very far away. *Gulp!* Anyway, here it is! I hope you enjoy it. Ask to be added to Tags!

Remember: Reader’s alias is Helen Rushman but everyone calls you Elle! You are also an agent with the Red Room (Black Widow’s) who is acting as a double agent within Hydra.

Words: 3782

Warnings: This chapter is hella long. Like when I was editing it I was also surprised by the word count. LOL! Some angst, a lot of fast-paced scene jumping and a bit of steam towards the end... Which means!!! The next Chapter is going to be the smutty chapter! Also, sorry I haven’t proofed I want to write the next chapter quickly!!!

Tuesday Morning.

You had made sure to dress up in your more flattering clothes today. Your make-up a little more glamour than usual. You made sure to buy a magazine about with a headline to do with the upcoming Expo. When you got to work you noticed the security had been doubled and employees were now required to show their ID at the main desk. It wasn't surprising, what was surprising was that there had been no news about the break-in yesterday.

"Morning, Elle," Agnes greeted you as you boarded the elevator.

"Morning Agnes."

"What's with all the security, all of a sudden?"

The elevator had filled up with several other women and men including Kathy. She gave you a knowing look before pretending to not eavesdrop.

"Beats me," you lied. In the corner of your eye, you noticed Kathy's lip curl upwards.

When the elevator stopped at your floor, you, Kathy and a few others got off. You made your way to your desk, unpacking your magazine and displaying it in a very obvious place before heading over to the kitchen to make two cups of coffee. Once you were done, you took both cups, placing one on the far edge of your desk while drinking from the other as you read the magazine -making it seem rather obvious by having it cover half your face.

"Sir, I really think you ought to consider reporting what happened to the authorities," a muscled man in a black suit and tie urged Howard. "The security breach--"

"Security. Which is exactly what I'm paying you for. Making sure there isn't a security breach. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an office to stare blankly out of, Old Boy." Howard slapped the muscley man on the shoulder like they were best pals. Tim, the aforementioned man, simply held in an exasperated breath and walked out of the office space.

Howard walked down towards his office, glancing over at you, he noticed the magazine you were reading, he visibly stalled for a moment. "Ugh… Helen, can I have some coffee sent to my office?" He asked in a low lilt.

Before he could walk away, you stood from your seat and grabbed the coffee cup you had placed by the edge earlier replied in a sonorous voice, "Already done, Mr Stark." You gave him a charming smile as you handed him the cup of hot coffee.

"Well, I do say, if you keep anticipating my needs before me I'll be forced to give you a raise," he smirked as he took a sip of his coffee.

"Then I suppose I ought to do just that," you answered back harmlessly. Stark seemed slightly caught off guard by your oddly flirty mood today. "Anticipate your needs, that is." You picked up the magazine and sat back down at your desk. Flipping the pages absentmindedly as Stark walked to his office, every now and then stealing a glance at you through the window.

A few hours later, a call came through. It was one of Howard's countless number of dates. She was all giddy and you could practically sense her blushing through the telephone cords. You rolled your eyes, swooning was never a good look on anyone. But then again, maybe you were bitter for another reason. One reason in particular.

"So, tell Howie I'd love to go with him to the Gala," she chuckled like a love-struck puppy.

You held back a sigh, "I'll pass the message along." You ended the call and gathered up all the files you had finished sorting through. You knocked on Stark's door.

"Come in."

"Here are the files you had me sort through," you placed them on his desk. "Sir, if you don't mind my asking. What's with all the increased security today?"

"Oh," he smiled, "Don't let that trouble your pretty head. Probably a disgruntled employee trying to steal Stark secrets. Wouldn't be the first time. Won't be the last. Innovation is a lucrative business, that's why you should never keep your secrets lying about for anyone to find."

You pretended not to have a clue as to what he was saying, pursing your lips out like you were struggling with keeping a single train of thought.

"Ah, it's no worry," Starks waved his hand around dismissively. "Any messages?"

Ah, he was expecting a callback, "No, none sir. Will that be all?"

"Yes, that will be all."

You turned around to leave, making sure not to rush out too quick in case...

"Helen," Stark stood from his desk.

"Sir?"

"I gathered from your reading material that you're interested in the Expo."

"Indeed I am. The 'world of tomorrow' is too thrilling an idea to not be." You flipped your hair to the side.

¨"Ah, see there's a Gala coming up this Saturday. And the most eligible bachelor, like myself, can't be seen without a dame on his arm, such as yourself. Would you like to accompany me?"

You walked over to him, slow and suggestive, "On one condition."

"Name it."

"It will remain a strictly casual, friendly outing."

Stark laughed low, "It's a deal then. Pick you up Saturday."

Later that Day

"Report," Yelena demanded. Her cigarette stained tips rolling an unlit cigarette. This time Yelena had a tape recorder in place of a notepad and pen. The air was cold and damp, a draft kept creeping in through the ajar container door. In the distance, you heard faint sounds of trains moving past.

"Hydra made contact. Turns out they have another agent in Stark's employ. I think she's there to keep an eye on me too."

"Who is she?"

"She goes by the name Katherine. I don't have a last name."

"What's the mission?"

"Stark got a letter from the SSR. Apparently, he's meeting with a big shot within that organisation this Saturday. She wants me to record their session using a listening device."

Yelena cocked a brow your way, lighting her cigarette finally as she sunk into her chair, "Did you bring it with you?"

"To a highly clandestine meeting with my handler who's not a Hydra agent?" You asked rhetorically. "No. I did not."

"Mind the attitude, tovarich," Yelena warned. After sucking in two long puffs, she continued, "If this meeting is important enough for a Hydra operative to break their cover keeping an eye on you, then this could finally lead us to Erskine's research. Do as they say and report back to us after."

As you stood up to leave, Yelena whispered to you with a hint of concern in her voice, "Tovarich, if Hydra had an agent keeping an eye on you, it means they don't trust you. Be careful."

You were stunned, momentarily, but regained your composure when you remembered who you were talking to, "It wouldn't be the first time." You left the train car with no other words spoken. The faint smell of smoke still lingering on your coat.

Wednesday

"Come on, Buck. It'll be fun. Dancing, music, a chance to get out of your apartment!" Steve urged his best friend who was laying down on his couch in his slacks and a vest. Steve busied himself with trying to clean up the place a bit. Putting dishes in the sink and tossing any clothes laying about in the hamper. "When was the last time you went out?"

"The last time I let you talk me into doing something…" he retorted, not needing to finish his sentence.

"Yeah, but you never actually talked to Elle. It could have been a misunderstanding."

"He kissed her Steve!"

"On the lips?"

"N- No… but that's not the point."

"Then what is?"

Bucky sat up from the couch, "She broke up with me! And then when I see her after three weeks she's letting her boss give her a non-platonic kiss on the cheek!"

"Oh, Buck. You're jumping to conclusions. And even if that were true, wouldn't you want to know, beyond a doubt, how she felt. You know, before you leave for--"

Bucky chucked a pillow at Steve, "Why do you have to be such a good guy all the time. Why can't you just brood around my apartment like I'm doing?" he asked rhetorically.

"Because if both of us start brooding, we'll never leave this apartment." Steve picked up the pillow Bucky had thrown and used all his strength to playfully hit Bucky back.

"Ough!" Bucky exaggerated.

"Come on. Dancing. Music. A night out. You need it." Steve urged his friend, bringing over a cup of burnt coffee.

"When?" Bucky asked as he sipped at the bitter liquid.

"Friday," Steve said with a smile.

Bucky simply nodded, "Wipe that smug smile off your face. Guess we're going out."

When Steve got to his apartment he made sure the first thing he did was call Sally and let her know everything was in place. Steve prayed them playing matchmaker wouldn't backfire on them.

Friday

You had spent most of your week in a rebuttal battle of flirting with Howard. To say it had been taken more of your energy than you'd have like would be an understatement. In a way, you were glad you had agreed to go out with Sally tonight.

You looked in the mirror to see if your outfit complemented your lipstick -you chose rouge. You wore a red dress with a black lace pattern over the satin red and black pumps. You chose to wear lacey fingerless gloves and a small necklace.

"Hey, darlin' you almost ready?" Sally asked from your doorway, her hands fitting in a pair of large fake pearls. "Red?"

"What's wrong with red?" You shot back defensively.

Sally smirked coyly as though she was a mastermind checking all the boxes in her to-do list, "Nothin' it's just… The blue dress is perfect for dancin'. It twirls around you like magic!" She said excitedly.

You bit your lip to keep from smiling, "Alright I'll try on the blue one."

A few minutes later you called Sally back into the room and she gasped like it was the first time she'd seen the dress, "It's absolutely gorgeous. Give us a spin!"

You twirled round and as though the dress was a part of you, it flowed around you in cascades. The material breezing across your knees. You giggled like a teen.

"I suppose this will do."

"Come on then Hun. Let's go before we miss the bus!" Sally linked your arms together and rushed you out of the apartment.

***

Bucky kept running his hands through his fingers, whether it was nerves or just him not being out for a while, he couldn't tell, but he promised Steve he'd stop his brooding and have a fun night out. The Stork Club was filled with people, young and old. Somewhere by the bar cheering with friends while others were at the far end dancing to the live band. Bucky had almost missed the lively atmosphere of places like this. But every time he thought of going out and dancing with some broad, she'd always have the same face and the same laugh. She would always be Elle and it drove him crazy.

He couldn't close his eyes without seeing her face. Even now, in this club, hidden amongst the crowd, he saw her. She looked beautiful as always, the blue dress complementing her figure in a cool aura. She looked like a breath of fresh air amidst all the ladies wearing brighter reds and yellows and greens. He saw her rouge coloured lips and could almost taste their kiss atop the Ferris-Wheel in Coney Island. He could almost remember the exact thoughts he had as the sun set. That was the moment. Maybe if he had told her how he truly felt… Maybe if he had fought harder and not been the gentleman afraid of keeping her from her future. Maybe…

Then she disappeared as though she was never there as the crowd of dancing people grew in number.

Bucky closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, he was convinced he was starting to hallucinate her now. "I'm going to go to the bar. I need a drink." He told Steve.

"Don't get lost," his friend teased.

"A whiskey, neat," he asked the bartender.

"Buy a girl a drink?" A woman's voice spoke beside him. Bucky turned to look at her. She was beautiful he couldn't deny, and the way she looked at him… he was almost tempted to buy her that drink but he knew it would simply be an excuse to forget about Elle and that he'd regret it the next day.

"Sorry, Doll. Some other time," he gave her a weak smile, her lips turned downwards, she was disappointed but he didn't care. He downed his drink and went back to find Steve.

***

You walked away from the dancing crowd, feeling the heat in your cheeks. You needed to catch your breath. Sally followed after you, giggling with warmth. You'd be lying if you said this wasn't exactly what you needed. Then you saw someone familiar on the far end of the room.

"Steve!" You shouted in surprise as you saw your little friend alone in a corner. "What are you doing here?" You marched over with Sally still on your heel.

"Uh… Elle, hey! Um, this is a surprise..." Steve fidgeted about.

Without warning, you wrapped your arms around him with a big smile on your face. You didn't realise how much you'd missed him in the last month.

"Wait, if you're here, does that mean--" before you could finish your question you heard that oh-so-familiar voice speak behind you.

"Elle?"

Your breath got caught in your throat and your muscles felt petrified. You were frozen there.

"Bucky..." you whispered too low for anyone to hear.

"Oh my, now this is quite the coincidence. All four of us at the same club. Must be fate!" Sally chimed in from behind you. She quickly grabbed Steve's arms -who looked a little apologetic- and rushed him to the bar. "Steve, how about we get a drink. Catch up. I'm absolutely parched!"

Sally dragged him away as she mouthed an insincere "Sorry," before winking and disappearing.

After a few breaths, you finally had the courage to turn around and meet Bucky's eyes. When you looked into his beautiful blues again for the first time in a month it felt as though you'd been knocked off your feet. You'd almost forgotten how easy it was for him to make your heart race and your cheeks flush. How easy it was for him to turn your steeled conviction into a brittle wall made of plaster.

It was as though time stopped. Everything melted away and all you could focus on was the man standing in front of you.

Bucky snapped his fingers, putting on cool airs in an effort to break the silence, "I should have known Steve was up to something. Usually, I'm the one nagging him to go out." He gave an awkward smile as he rubbed the nape of his neck.

You laughed awkwardly not wanting to fall back into the silence, "Tell me about it. I should be able to smell Sal's devious plans a mile away by now. I guess I've just been too preoccupied with work."

Bucky's head snapped up at the mention of work. His jaw clenched for the briefest moment. It was his tell. "How is it. Your new job?"

"Honestly, I miss the Dinner. I miss Hal constantly nagging Annie and Sally mothering everyone…" You wanted to say I miss you but you stopped yourself. "Working for an obnoxious genius can be quite draining."

"You seemed pretty chummy to me," Bucky blurted out. He cursed at himself, seemingly regretting his words, but it was too late, you heard him.

What do you mean?" You looked at him, puzzled by his comment. Then it hit you. The pink flowers, Sally's odd behaviour. The setup. "The flowers, they were from you."

"You got them?" Bucky's tone relaying his shock. "But I never gave them to you..."

"I saw from my desk. I assumed one of the secretaries threw them out. I guess they reminded me of the peach tree flowers at the picnic."

Bucky's eyes lit up then, "I thought the same thing." He smiled, genuinely and it made your heart flutter.

"Why did you throw them out?" You placed a hand on his forearm. Bucky looked down at the contact longingly.

"I saw you. And Stark. You seemed… close."

You laughed, something about the idea of you and Stark being together tickled your funny-bone. Maybe it was the irony of the fact getting close to Stark was part of your mission. Or, perhaps, it was because Bucky thought Howard could replace him. If Bucky knew how you truly felt around him, he'd understand how absurd that thought was.

"Howard's known for being a harmless flirt. He cares more for his work than anything. I don't think he'd know what to do I he ever got into a real relationship."

Bucky took a step closer to you, "So then… you and him?"

You smiled, taking the other step forward, "Strictly professional. I promise."

Bucky smirked, the look of an idea crossing his mind glistening through his eyes, "Well since we're here." He held out his hand. "The band is playing our song, Doll."

There it was, that charm and charisma you'd been craving for so long. The special way he called you 'Doll'. His smile and his outstretched hand. A part of you screamed to stay away, to spare him from any dangers or heartbreak that had convinced you to end things a month ago. But you were tired of being that cautious, good little soldier. For once, you saw what it was you wanted. What you craved with every nerve and cell. And for once, you weren't going to deny it. After all, it was just a dance. One, harmless, short dance.

Your lips turned upwards, your eyes glued to his. "I'd love to."

Bucky took your hand and twirled you towards him. Over his shoulder, you saw Sally bounding and bouncing about, no doubt proud of her intervening. Steve also seemed quite pleased with himself.

When the band played something slow, you rested your ear on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. With each beat, you felt joy begin to build within your own heart. All night you'd had this large smile that refused to subside -and so did Bucky.

The two of you stumbled out of the crowd of dancing bodies and headed towards the back exit in need of cool air. The band's lively music, still audible from the amber coloured alleyway. You lifted your head and took a deep breath, condensation forming when you breathed out.

"God, I missed this," You admitted to Bucky as you blew at a strand of hair that had come undone from its pin. On instinct, Bucky tucked it behind your ear, but as soon as he realised what he did -touch you as though you were still familiar with each other- he cleared his throat and bit his lower lip. "Sorry, a force of habit."

Before you could stop yourself you blurted out, "I've missed you, Buck."

Bucky placed one hand around your cheek, the other around the small of your back. He held your gaze for a moment, as though looking for any indication you didn't like where this was going, you didn't give any such signs. He leaned in and you closed in the distance. And after what felt like an age stretching out forever, his lips met yours and the two of you were lip-locked in a passionate embrace. Lost in the heat of the moment, you leaned into his touch. Your hands folded across his back, a moan escaping your lips as he guided your body towards a wall, pinning you there while one hand moved achingly slowly from your waist to your thigh. His grip was greedy and a little rough causing you to quiver, he could feel your body shake against his chest making him deepen your kiss even more. You let out a second moan when he suddenly stopped.

"Why did you stop?" You asked with deeply flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

Bucky's thumb graced your cheek as if trying to make sure you were real, you tilted your head against his hand, letting him know you were with him in this moment. "Do you have any idea what effect you have on me?" There was a tinge of pain hidden in those words, it made you rush to cup his cheeks and reassure him.

He clasped both your hands, "I just, I need to say this."

You had a feeling that whatever it was he was about to say, it had the power to change things forever. You swallowed hard, almost afraid of what he was about to say, but you owed him this much.

"Okay," you whispered softly.

"Before you, I had never really felt anything close to what I feel when I'm around you. I felt… I feel invincible, like I can do anything! I never imagined it could feel like this, being with someone. But then, I had to let you go, because I was convinced I couldn't be the one to hold you back from your new job, from your new future. But… I hate that I didn't fight for you. I hate that I decided to take the high road. You drive me crazy, Elle…"

You flinched when he called you Elle. More than anything you wanted him to call you by your real name. You wanted to be completely transparent with him.

"I want you back," he kissed your knuckles before letting them go. He brought his hand back to your face, his eyes boring deep into your soul you felt like you couldn't breathe as long as they were on you. "I need you back."

"James Buchanan Barnes… I never stopped being yours. You had me at 'Hello'." You kissed him again this time it was less greed and passion. It was tender and soft. It was a silent I love you.

The vibrations of Bucky's laugh travelled through the kiss making your knees buckle.

"Want to get out of here?" He asked with an extended hand.

You placed your hand in his, "Lead the way."

As you walked away from the club, rain clouds began to form and in no time, the smell of rain filled the air with promise.

Part 11 is Here!

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