#i just have feelings and my wife continues her perfect record of never watching the same shows as me

[piratekane]

A post-ep piece from ep. 7 of Agatha All Along, Death's Hand In Mine (aired October 23, 2024) below the cut!

Death comes for Lilia, softened at the edges.

No, not Death. Rio. Rio, face rounded in sympathy, so unlike the vision in the tunnels. She smiles and it’s warm, caring. In all the dreams Lilia had about Death, it was never a face she recognized, never a face so open and kind. But as reality leaks away, she thinks: maybe this is a face I’ve seen before. Maybe I’ve been seeing this face my whole life.

“Did you take Alice?”

Alice. Her coven sister. Protector. The Knight of Wands. Lilia hopes she was held, helped. And Rio, that softness still etched across her face, nods silently. Lilia exhales, some of the pressure in her chest easing away.

“And Jen? Teen?” She pauses. “Agatha?”

She doesn’t imagine the slight flinch on Rio’s face. She can see now. Everything. All threads. All motes in the air. All flecks of want in Death’s eyes.

“They will face the road,” Rio finally says. “I will be there if they are ready.”

Lilia hopes—if, if they fail, if the road swallows them whole—that Death is kind to them. That Death comes in a soft green shawl like the one she’s wearing now, a flower in her hand and a warmth in her eyes. They deserve that. Jen. Teen. Even Agatha deserves a moment where the world stops pushing at her. If only she would stop pushing back.

But they are her coven. They are her family. She sacrificed for them, gave them a way forward and stayed behind to seal the path from the danger she could control. And she would do it again. It’s probably why Death comes to her as Rio, a kindness for a kindness. The choice she was always destined to make. All roads led to this Road, led to these people, and for the first time in centuries, she had something worth losing.

They are her coven. Death will not take that away from her.

“I’m ready.” She declares it with a strength that she thinks has always been there, just dampened for so long.

Rio smiles, a slight sharpness in the corners before it’s gone, and offers her hand. “Then let’s walk, witch.”

Witch. She loves the sound of that.

Lilia takes her hand and the world shifts into muted colors that stretch as far as she can see. At the end, something sparkles. She knows that place, the face at the end of the tunnel. Hope blooms in her chest as the picture takes shape. She feels herself running, body shifting as she goes, and it becomes easier. The air tastes sweeter. The sun is shining.

Rio’s hand slips from hers and she feels weightless, but tethered to a moment in time—a first in a long while.

She doesn’t hear the goodbye. Death whispers it still.

[konigsblog]

is there an origin story for toxic!dadbod!price??? like the honeymoon phase where he’s not toxic or has he always been like that?

the origin story for toxic!dadbod!price.. 🥃��

warnings: narcissism, misogyny, BDSM, talk of toxic masculinity, price being an asshole, hints of him being an alcoholic, mentions of DUB-CON (COERCION AND PERSUASION) EVERYTHING IS CONSENSUAL BEFOREHAND.

a/n; i want to mention that not everyone who follows a traditional lifestyle or has npd acts like this. this is just my concept, toxic!dadbod!price and how his guilt led to what he became !!! also, this is 10000% not my belief on feminism. i don't think feminism is an excuse and i do think it's a great thing when it comes to fighting for equality, ect...

price was a total sweetheart for you; taking you out on dinners and dates, enjoying his time with you and loving on you. at the time, he was still enlisted in the military, meaning that he was away longer than he was home. eventually, he got engaged to you, before marrying you, and that's when his more traditional lifestyle that he'd talked about came into play, on the lighter side.

retiring from the military, you decided to do some housework to help around while he was recovering from back pain. he enjoyed and believed a woman should always be a housewife, never work. and since he was the bread winner and made the money, he believed it was your duty to be obedient and do as you're told. getting him his beers and doing his washing.

though, it only got more toxic as he continued. a fan of watching the television and hearing other people's opinions on feminism, truly believing that feminism was wrong and an excuse for women to laze around the house all day when a man is working. he let you know his opinions, which then spiraled into more arguments and deep conversations that were more judgement and with yelling and groaning about who does what.

obviously, after leaving the military, he gained a gut. he already drank alcohol, but he drank it heavier and thought about all those lost in the war and missions, those buried six feet under which sent him into a depression you desperately helped him out of. he took advantage of your kindness and eagerness to help him get better, enjoying being taken care of and having a woman around.

yet — again —, it got worse and more toxic as he continued. spending more time watching porn that he was before, his lovey-dovey attitude now replaced with snark and backlash for not doing something well enough. he enjoyed the rougher side of sex and decided to try it with you, finding that he appreciated it way more than gentle love making. your concerns were dismissed as he continued to groan, smoke heavier and drink more.

he didn't like how you would talk to him, that since he's providing for you, you should be a good girl and do as you're told; sitting on his lap and giving him a handy, sloppy and messy, just how he enjoys it. or, sucking him off while he records you and humilates you. you felt bad — almost feeling spoiled — so you gave into his demands so he wouldn't get it anywhere else or from another woman, like he'd threatened to do.

also, videos of toxic masculinity that he even agreed with back in the day became more prominent on social media and he found himself agreeing with downright horrible misogynistic comments and opinions. i believe if he was given a daughter when you gave birth, he wouldn't give two fucks about her — on the other hand, his son was his pride, yet he wanted nothing to do with taking physical care of him, just bonding as he claimed taking care of children and cooking was a ‘woman's job’.

loves whenever he can watch football with his 1 year old son, although he doesn't understand anything and seems more confused on why his dad is yelling so much. he hates when you argue or tell him you're tired, as he thinks you're looking for excuses not to be a perfect housewife for him — should he take your son and get another wife, or will you be obedient and serve him? he also has a superior context and is a bit narcissistic, he thinks his demands and needs are more important than yours and isn't afraid to say bluntly what he doesn't like about you.

lost interest in cuddling after multiple arguments — not because he fell out of love, because he'd pass out on the couch after drinking too much, stinking of BO and smoke, and far too heavy to carry. you spent more nights alone than with him, despite being in the same house. your son is a total sweetheart; giggly, funny, ect... and john would definitely get annoyed if his first word was ‘mum’ or if he wasn't a daddies boy.

grew interested in the BDSM part of porn, and loved treating you and making you feel like a dirty, filthy whore for bouncing yourself back on him. enjoys seeing you gag and choke, spitting out spit in a desperate attempt to breathe as he chokes you, leaning his full bodyweight onto your neck before freeing you and plowing into you relentlessly. seeing your hips laced with bruises gave him a sense of superiority over you and enjoyed when you giggled whenever he ran his fingertips over them, and being a captain meant he also enjoyed being called ‘sir’ and your sweet begging voice all raspy from a rough blowjob.

so, that's how toxic!dadbod!price went from loving and traditional to a misogynistic, disgusting, greedy asshole who began caring more about himself rather than others.

...

REMEMBER: this isn't my belief on feminism at all. i don't think feminism is a bad thing, this is how i view my concept and how he'd act, along with his thoughts and feelings on important topics. EVERYTHING is consensual. this is fiction and fiction only.

[pinkwright]

do u ever daydream about me ? | shuri udaku.

ƸӜƷ

pairing — queen panther!shuri x ex!y/n

trope — exes still in love (post-breakup)

inspo — lucidia (egodeath) by ambré + been like this by doja cat

warnings — vv dramatic bc its me, they r lovesick ur honour, reader is hurting like srsly, shuri is hurting like srsly 2, everybody hurting srsly okay, breakup isn’t described, lots of heart/rib metaphors n descriptions lol, the sides r povs, pretty vague contextually (?), no happy ending bc life, shuri has a panic attack but its not overly detailed, shuri’s vv self-destructive (stop thats my baby), no real sense of a timeline, they need each other u guys, its not set who hurt who so u can use ur imagination, literally just angst w a pinch of fluff if u squint.

a/n — thank u for all the love on my first fic. i wanted a fic that hurt so i was tempted to deliver n here it is, i hope u enjoy it !

⟢˚ taglist: @mbakuetshurisprincess @inmyheadimobsessed @letitias-fav @barkbarkbo @saintwrld

ஜ

side a

let’s make sure its reel, baby can we film it? now you got me here, stuck up in my feelings.

longing buries itself within your chest, the weight is settling in the cage of your ribs, and they seem to tighten at the steady chuckle that falls from her pretty lips, only amplified by the surround sound in your barren apartment. your subconscious berates you for the continuous empty promises made to yourself, empty promises that only contribute to the depths of your very own despair – but can anyone truly blame you for missing all that love?

the short film – a lovers’ moment of perfection, an ode to what was and what could have been, what should have been – captures your love at the height of pure joy and contentment. it was a homemade film taken in your kitchen; the camera held up by you — the interviewer to shuri's interviewee. your giggles ring in the background working in tandem with the soft beat of your favourite track to produce, as shuri had said, 'the symphony to the rhythm of her heart.'

shuri’s gazing just over the lens of the camera and into your eyes, the love spilling from the gaze makes you giddy and shy, so you clear your throat. “so, miss ‘i’m the queen of wakanda, i do what i want’,” you gently mock. your soft laugh coercing a giggle out of shuri’s lips, “to what do i owe the pleasure of her majesty’s great presence?”

she rolls her eyes, her lips dropping into a soft, fond smirk, “i can’t come to visit my wife, to whom my heart resides with? i do need to come to check in on her from time to time, s'thandwa.” she smiles. her eyes are boring into yours when her face comes to rest in the palms of her hands, her elbows placed on your kitchen counter as she regards you with the renowned intensity of the black panther.

your breath catches behind the camera and the viewer watches as shuri’s smirk grows over the stammers of your speech, “you’ve never even asked me to marry you,” you splutter flustered. “and your heart’s still your own…” your sentence trails off at shuri’s contemplative but amused expression. the queen is rising to her feet and making her way towards you, the camera’s gaze lowers to the floor but remains recording stagnantly between your bodies. slowly, she takes your hand in both of hers and lifts your knuckles to her lips, kissing them gently, unseen by the lens but scorched into your very being — every memory with her was.

the exhale that leaves your lips is soft, as words begin to trail out of her, brushing against the heated skin of your hands; words that heal wounds that have yet to manifest, settle the unsteady rhythm of your heart, caress the traumas of your youth, and continue to soothe the restlessness of your soul – washing away the boundaries between separate but familiar souls, guiding them to become one under the false veil of “forever”.

a sharp wail breaks through the atmosphere of your room, your trembling form curling pathetically like a baby in the womb – trying desperately to garner some semblance of comfort for the shattered shell of desolation you had become. the pulse of your heart is desperate, throbbing for the calm existence of life before pain, before her.

your lungs burn for oxygen as you use the heel of your palm to repeat firm, solid thumps against the pain in your chest. no one tells you that the heart you use to preserve the realisation of your love and nurture innocent youth, the one that overflows steadily with tenderness is the same heart that uses the pain of separation to fuel its anger, the caged animal raging with vengeance, screeching against the jagged bones of its cell.

no one told you that it would be like this.

i gave you all this time, gave you my everything. can’t put my trauma to the side; when you told me i was lying, had me feeling like i died, baby.

side b

i know that you miss all this love. maybe we should get back in touch. maybe you could make me over shiny and new.

shuri sits up with a gasp, the ringing in her ears deafening as she swings her feet over the edge of her bed to attempt to ground herself. the ache in her stomach is expanding, the anxiety crawling its way to her throat and she’s struggling to breathe, “my queen, it seems you are experiencing a severe panic attack, may i call for assistance?” griot sounds, vaguely registering from between the screams of her turbulent mind.

she’s gasping so hard that her ribs begin to ache, gripping the sheets beneath her to keep from crying out from the sheer force of the jagged claws that plunge into the cause of her sorrows over and over again. the dreamless heavy state of her short rest can only quell her broken state for so long.

all she can think about is you; your tenderness, your patience, your strength – her need for you. the tears are gathering on the lashes of her shut eyes, the force causing her head to pound rapidly, colours dancing behind the lids of her eyes, and she’s clenching her jaw to calm the storm breaking through her form.

she counts to ten until her world is eerily still, and everything is silent.

shuri forcefully exhales a deep breath and her senses tune back into the real world where she can hear the heavy knocks on the doors to her chambers, “'mkanikazi wam'... are you all right, mama?” aneka’s whispers are rapid, fearful, but firm, with an undertone of gentleness shuri thinks she doesn’t deserve.

“i’m fine, aneka, just a bad dream.” the lie falls from her mouth too easily, reflexively, but her voice is straining wetly, and her emotions are quickly rising to break her facade. she doesn’t wait for a response but hears the hesitant retreating footsteps of the dora when she's shakily exhaling, then she breaks.

her tears are falling mercilessly as her shoulders shake, and again, she is tempted to put on her suit to use the panther's claws to rip the organ out of her chest. the bothersome vessel only seems to mock her, steadily drawing on its hinges to taunt her with temporary relief just to rear its true animosity.

and for a split second, a second quickly washed away by the instantaneous remorse and shame, she wishes she had left her heart buried with her mother.

but she also knows she doesn’t deserve that kind of relief – she needs it to hurt, to remind her how she hurt you, she craves it almost. she’s sobbing into the walls around her, surrounded by a strong nation weighed down by the excruciating pain of their mother, their protector. shuri’s voice is unrecognisable as the words uncontrollably dig their way out of her aching throat, calling out to you, echoing painfully through the only medium she knows.

“bast, please.”

lucid dreaming i dream about you, do you ever dare dream about me? when i talk to god i ask about you.

ஜ

[deyadee]

Weddings

Today, or at least recently once been bombarded with dozens of girls around me getting into relationships or getting married. One of the coworkers I was very close to has been gone for the past two weeks at her wedding/honeymoon. It already hurt to have her constantly saying “Well my fiancé…” which I guess now will be “Well my husband…” I want to feel happy for her more, but I just feel like it’s a humble brag. Of course if you wanna spend the rest of your life with someone you’re probably going to talk about them a lot. Though to me it just feels like rubbing salt in my wounds. Or more accurately, kicking my bruises. Even at my work Christmas party our newest (and youngest after me) coworker brought his wife to the party and spent all of her time with her. Even the coworker who I spent that amazing night with had to show how she was going to with two different guys and another friend before getting rejected by all three.

It all kind of came into realization after my mom said she was going to my old friend Kayla’s wedding soon. She was the granddaughter of my my grandma’s friend. We were pretty close friends before she had to move. Then the one time she comes back with her grandma to see us- I want to hang out and reconnect but she just keeps ignoring me and Skyping with this guy. We were watching The Blair Witch Project and then she said she had to use the bathroom twenty minutes in. I waited about a half hour before going to see where she was. Outside recording videos and chatting with this guy and completely ignoring me. I went back inside and made her and me hot chocolate. Another hour passes. She finally comes back in and continues to ignore me the rest of the night by texting him and not saying a damn word to me. Now to find out she’s getting married.

I’m not surprised she’s married now. She’s a few years older than me, and always had to have this “I’m better and always more mature than you.” Basically like my culinary classmates, thinking I was retarded or something and beneath them. Kentucky people (especially in shitty areas) get married pretty young compared to other states. And she never had the same… disadvantages and problems that I have with dating. She’s straight, not sex-repulsed I imagine, thin, extroverted, cute, Christian, all of that shit any southern guy would go for. The perfect idea of what an American woman should be and how she’s raised. Maybe having that slight “quirkiness” to make her seem like she’s a rarity compared to all the other “rarities” around.

Damn all of this is goddamn shitty to say about someone who I haven’t seen in years and haven’t heard anything about in weeks. This is why I’m single. My horrible mentality and backhandedness. Anyway, I don’t really want to get married at my age and I understand why it’ll take me at least slightly more time to find someone than her. I’ll have to fight and search and claw and beg and twist myself to find someone even slightly fine with me, when someone of her circumstances can just fall into someone’s arms and her picturesque rom-com story begins. I don’t want to get married yet, but it’s fucking crushing to see everyone around me who even slightly seems relatable to me or around my age is just snatched up like the finest red meat while I just sit here crying in bed spewing the essence of virgin. I don’t care that I’m a virgin and always will be, I just hate that my general vibe and hobbies and lifestyle will drive everyone away.

I don’t want to feel this way. I shouldn’t hate other women just because they are succeeding where I fail, or at least seem to succeed from my limited point of view. I don’t want to hate them. I don’t want to feel jealous and treat them this way. I don’t want my anger to seep out one day and hurt someone I care about. This jealousy just gives me a break from hating myself. It makes me think for a moment that maybe I’m better than them because I don’t have partners falling in my lap. I’m better because I’m not seen as easy or basic or whatever I try to convince myself that day. A fucking misogynistic pig to make up for how much I hate myself. I’m just a fucking bully.

Hopefully I’ve only kept these thoughts to this blog, I’d kill myself if any of this got out. Or maybe it already has.

I hope when I fall asleep tonight I have one of those wonderful dreams where I can hit on a girl and she takes interest in me or I find a girlfriend. They’re rare, but I can’t describe how happy they make me.

[clareguilty]

Arthur Morgan/reader, desperate sex

Here is my second fic for kinktober! The next should be up on Wdnesday <3

Arthur Morgan/fem!reader | desperate sex, dominant Arthur Mentions of death and injury, mild angst. I made the cowboy cry. Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~2000

“Who goes there?” a gruff voice demanded as you rode up the trail to camp.

“It’s just me, Bill,” you called back, tipping your tattered hat.

“What the hell?!” He blinked and rubbed his eyes like he couldn’t believe you were right in front of him. “You’re alive?”

You grinned, opening your arms wide. “You can’t get rid of me that easy.”

He watched dumbfounded as you rode the rest of the way up to Horseshoe Overlook. You had been gone more than a few days, and your worst fear was that the gang would have packed up and left. The job had gone terribly -- so terribly you had been stranded and lost with no way back -- which was a good reason for the gang to move on to somewhere where the law didn’t know their faces.

But everything was exactly the same. People milled about, scrubbing or packing or chopping. Dutch’s gramophone played on, louder than a dynamite blast and seemingly never ending.

“What in god’s name?” Hosea took one look at you, bruised and battered and covered in every inch of wilderness you had hiked through trying to get back to camp.

“Glad to see y’all are still here.” You groaned in pain as you slid out of the saddle, smacking your ‘borrowed’ horse on the rump and pointing her back to the road. “Go on, girl. Find your way back home.”

The horse slowly headed back the way it came. Hosea was staring at you.

“I know,” you frowned. “I look terrible.”

“No,” Hosea waved his hand, shaking his head. “It’s not that -- though you do look like shit. We thought you were dead. We mourned you.”

It was your turn to look taken aback. “Dead? You gave up on me that quick?”

“Sweetheart.” He gripped your arm as if he was still trying to convince himself you were real. “You fell off a bridge. Those rapids… the rocks…” he trailed off.

You grimaced. “It certainly wasn’t my best performance.”

“There wasn’t any time to go back and look for you, but we weren’t even sure we would have found a body.” He looked ashamed. “We failed you.”

“No,” you took his hands in yours, squeezing. “You did what you had to do. I couldn’t bear it if you had lost someone trying to come back for me.”

Sean was walking by, bottle in hand. He did a double take when he saw you standing there, glanced at his bottle, and then back at you. “You mean Dutch gave that long fancy speech for nothing? You had better not die again.”

You laughed and shot him a wink. “I don’t plan on it.”

Sean seemed satisfied with that response. “Your man’s been a right mess since we lost you. Hopefully he quits moping around all the time now.”

“Arthur?” you glanced around. “Is he alright? Where is he?”

Sean shrugged. “Probably the same place he’s been for a week now.”

You turned to Hosea, desperate. “Where?”

“He’s been at his wagon mostly. I didn’t want him going out in the state he’s been in.”

His words only made you more worried. You had finally made it back to camp. All you had been able to think about -- the only thing on your mind as you clawed your way out that ravine and stumbled through the woods -- was that you had to get back to him. You couldn’t leave him. “Is he hurt? Did something happen?”

Hosea didn’t get the chance to answer. Whispers of your arrival back at camp must have spread fast, because Mary-Beth was dragging Arthur by the arm to where you and Hosea were standing.

“Arthur.” You were running -- as fast as you could move with all your injuries and exhaustion. He finally saw you, freezing in place and staring in disbelief.

You slammed into his chest, flinging your arms around him.

He hesitated before returning your embrace, leaning in to bury his face in the crook of your neck. The two of you stood there for a long while as you sniffled into his chest. Arthur held you tightly, as if you would disappear if he let go.

“Isn’t this sweet,” a familiar booming voice rang out. “Glad to see you alive and well, dear.” You didn’t even turn to look at Dutch. Not when Arthur was clinging to you.

The ground disappeared beneath your feet and you found yourself hoisted over Arthur’s shoulder. The crowd that had gathered around the two of you dispersed as he stalked across camp. The world flipped right side up again as Arthur sat you on his horse, swinging into the saddle behind you and taking off at a full gallop.

You made it to Valentine in record time. The ride was harsh and agitated your injuries, but you didn’t mind with Arthur at your back. He helped you down to the ground and practically carried you inside the hotel, slamming the door open. “A room for me and my wife, please,” he demanded.

The hotel clerk handed over the key. You clung to Arthur the whole way up the stairs, nuzzling against him and just glad to be near him again.

The lock clicked behind you and Arthur… changed. His embrace became more insistent. His eyes darkened. The edge of the bed hit the backs of your knees and Arthur laid you down. It was gentle, but he pressed you into the bed, climbing over you. “Where are you hurt?” he asked.

“It’s not too bad-” you tried to play it off.

He cut you off. “Where. Are. You. Hurt.”

It was terrifying, but thrilling. You shivered under his intense gaze. “My hip,” you grabbed one of his hands and gently lay his palm over your hip. “Makes walking and riding hard.”

He nodded. Clearly waiting for you to continue. “My back is pretty messed up, and my shoulder.”

He noticed the rips and tears in your shirt. All the places you had scraped or torn. His hands went to the buttons, lifting you carefully so he could get you out of the sleeves.

Your trousers were next, slowly pulled down over your hips. When you winced in pain, Arthur stopped to kiss you, cradling your face in his hands.

He stripped you down. His expression was pained as he took in the full extent of your injuries. You had fallen off of the rail bridge and gotten swept into the freezing rapids. The current slammed you into the rocks and swept you down the ravine before you washed up on the bank of the river. From there, it had been a grueling process of making your way out of the ravine and through the woods.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you reassured him. Glancing down, you got a good look at just what he saw. “It does look pretty bad, though,” you frowned.

Arthur’s expression was hard to read. You wondered if he was disgusted by you. It would take a long time to heal, and you knew he might not want to look at you while you were so beat up and battered.

He nearly collapsed on top of you. Luckily, he knew to brace his weight. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, breaths ragged.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he gasped. “I didn’t know what I was going to do.”

You reached up to run your fingers through his hair. “I’m still here,” you promised. “Busted and bruised to hell, but I’m not gone yet, honey.”

He kissed his way along his jaw until he found your lips. It was perfect. You had missed him so much, so worried you would never make it back to him. But now you were here in his arms and kissing him. 

“I love you,” you said as soon as you caught your breath.

“I love you so much, darling.” He hovered his hands just above your skin, too scared to touch you.

You placed your hands over his and guided it to where you weren’t scraped or bruised. “Touch  me,” you begged.

He sighed as soon as he felt your skin against his palms, as if he just needed to know you were really there.

“I need you,” you tried to pull him against you, attempting to slot your hips together. “Please, Arthur.”

He hesitated. You could see the desire in his eyes, how badly he needed you, needed to feel you. But he didn’t want to hurt me. You would have to convince him.

“Arthur,” you grabbed the waistband of his pants. “I fell off a bridge and climbed out of a ravine and walked across half the damn state. I want you to fuck me, and I don’t care if it hurts.”

He seemed dazed, but lust clearly won out as you tried to slide your hand under his shirt. He was undressed in seconds, kissing his way over your neck and unable to keep his hands off you.

The pain was bearable, and you were too distracted with the warmth of Arthur’s skin under your hands. You couldn’t get enough of him, so glad to be near to him after all of those cold nights in the wild. 

He was impatient, desperate. He wanted all of you at once, and he didn’t know where to start. Now that you had given permission, he wasn’t afraid to take what he needed. And take he did. He sucked a mark into your collarbone before kissing down to your chest. You gasped as his lips found your breasts, teeth scraping along the skin.

“Please,” you rocked your hips.

He got the message, gently pressing your thighs apart so he could stroke your clit. It felt so good. The stretch when he slipped two fingers inside made you cry out. You sighed and pulled him closer, winding your fingers in his hair as he pulled moans and gasps from your lips.

“That’s it,” he said. “Good girl. I wanna hear you.” He doubled his efforts, determined to make you come around his fingers.

You pulled him up for a searing kiss, biting his lip as you came. “Fuck me,” you breathed.

He was just as needy, cock hard and aching against your hips. He grabbed your less injured leg and hooked it around his hip, dragging his cock against your slit. The teasing was going to drive you mad, but luckily he was just as impatient. He sank into you with one slow motion.

He hissed a curse against your skin, lost in the feeling of you around his cock. “God, darling. Need you so bad.”

He didn’t even try to start slow, setting a quick, frantic pace as soon as he began to move. His fingers dug into the bruises on your skin, but you didn’t mind the pain. It only reminded you that Arthur was there, that you had made it home to him.

You were so close, clinging to each other so desperately. You couldn’t imagine what Arthur had been through the past several days. He had truly believed you were gone, he had been in mourning. While you were focused on not getting eaten by wildlife, he was grieving your death.

It made sense why he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, why he sighed so deeply every time his hips met yours. The way he drank the taste of your lips as if he could never get his fill. You gave him everything you could.

The two of you went three rounds that night, fighting through your exhaustion in a desire to be close to one another. You fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms, curled together on the rickety hotel bed.

“I can’t stop seeing it,” he whispered, unable to take his eyes off you. “The sight of you falling off that bridge, the way you just disappeared. It’s kept me awake every night.”

You can see it. The dark circles under his eyes, how haggard and underfed he looks. You can only imagine how broken up he must have been.

“Not tonight,” you leaned in to kiss his cheek. “You have me here, safe and sound.”

[theycallme-thejackal]

One MidgeLenny x TSwift Fic Per Day

6. Marjorie

Lenny Bruce passed away in 2014 - much longer than he’d ever expected to live, and he publicly attributed that to his wife of fifty years. Midge lived another five years, and now, in 2019, her youngest granddaughter sits in the townhouse that belonged to the legendary comics, packing up boxes.

In the background, the television plays the Bruce/Maisel documentary from 2012. 

“How did you know Lenny was the one?”

“He never pushed,” Midge explains. “He’s always been the perfect combination of clever and kind. He’s brilliant, but he’s more concerned about being nice than he is about always being the smartest person in the room, and I think that’s a really admirable quality."

Rosie smiles softly as she watches the documentary in the background. Her grandparents, in their late forties/early fifties on a red carpet, Lenny looking adoringly at his wife as she smiles for cameras. A shot follows of the two of them at the Kennedy Center, where Lenny was honored in 2004, this time showing Midge looking up at him with similar admiration.

“I grew up in a time when you didn’t talk about uncomfortable things,” Midge says over a video clip of her 1973 Carnegie Hall performance. “When bad things happened to you, you kept them locked away so no one else could see them, and you went about your life business as usual.”

The camera cuts to Lenny Bruce in his early sixties, sitting in an armchair. “Midge changed the game. There weren’t many comics talking about personal stuff back then. It was all situational humor and impressions and - in my case - political humor.”

As he continues, a video of Mrs. Maisel on The Gordon Ford Show appears. “We came up in a time when people didn’t talk about their personal downfalls in public. That [beep] got buried in a drawer and locked up, so when she got on stage and started talking about the insane [beep] her ex-husband did or her parents’ feelings about her comedy or the weird stuff her kids got up to, it was exciting. No one had ever done that genre of comedy successfully.”

Back to Midge, who sits primly on the chair next to Lenny. “My life completely fell apart, and I took back my power by getting up and talking about it. My ex-husband hated it - probably still does - but it was how I coped. When I stopped worrying about being polite, I was able to take back my power, my autonomy, and that was so important for me as a divorced woman in 1958.”

“She’s still ridiculously polite off stage,” Lenny cuts in, reaching over and squeezing his wife’s hand. “But on stage, she’s ruthless,” he jokes, making her laugh.

“We have both made a lot of jokes that you won’t be able to air on NBC,” she adds with a wide grin. “What part of speech is ‘to’?”

Rosie snorts a laugh as she opens the Sharpie, writing RECORDS on the box she’s just taped shut.

“At the end of the day, we all want to feel like we’re not alone,” Midge explains as a clip of Lenny on Steve Allen plays. “And in talking about my life on stage, I discovered there’s a whole world of people who can relate to my life experiences, my husband included.”

As the documentary continues, Rosie opens up one of her grandmother’s drawers, finding a collection of notebooks. She opens up the first one.

All that applause for me? What am I, putting out after? One standing ovation, everyone goes home pregnant.

Rosie laughs quietly as she continues to flip through the notebook.

A little boy is only three and a half feet tall, so all the time he's waiting for Mommy to answer, he's stuck there at lump level. Train stops, he's bumping up against the thing.  When kids ask a question, they don't really listen to the answer. So, when my son asks something uncomfortable like, "Why doesn't Daddy live here anymore?" I just say, "Yes. Howdy Doody is a real boy.”

Rosie keeps reading through the notebook, the one she realizes now is her grandmother’s first comedy notebook. The one she was using for Joel’s comedy before it became hers.

The next notebook is a dark blue, a stark contrast to the bright pink one from Midge’s first few years as a comic.

She opens the book, and on the first page is different handwriting, less perfect but still slightly looped.

For the moments you think of something funny to say. - Lenny

[thefanficmonster]

Power Couple

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing 

Genre: Fluff, Humor

Summary: Sean, Felix, Dave, and Joel welcome Corpse’s girlfriend to a game of Party Animals. It’s her first time playing and she has to deal with a lot more than just the controls and objectives - her boyfriend being a cute, cuddly sweetheart with ulterior motives to his clinginess.

Requested by @susceptible-but-siriusexual. Thank you so much for your request! Hope I captured what you wanted and how you wanted. Feel free to send any other requests you may have XOXO

It’s been one hell of a day. Had to correct twice as many documents as I was originally supposed to at work; found my car with a flat tire in the parking lot as I was about to go home; argued with my boss over the phone while stuck in a traffic jam. It’s been a rough twelve hours, but it has led me here and that’s what I’d rather think about.

By ‘here’ I mean I’m sitting on the couch in Corpse’s recording room, my computer in my lap, my screen displaying the screen to the game Party Animals. The suggestion was Corpse’s. He immediately picked up on my below par mood and wasted no time finding a solution to bright up the remainder of the day, shadowing the shitty portion of it. I am not what you would call a gamer. Sure I’ve played Among Us with Corpse and his friends a few times. Even that I struggle to do because I’m internally fangirling over all the people in the lobby. Yeah, dating a youtuber doesn’t mean you automatically stop gushing over the many content creators on the platform you’ve been watching for quite some time now. Corpse knows how nervous I get so he’s always near me when we play with Sean, Felix and the other. All he has to do is give me that encouraging smile and wink of his and I’m good to go. Side note: massive props to him for going easy on me in Among Us, getting teasingly called ‘simp’ by his friends in the process.

“You’ll love it.“ He promised me over and over again as the game was downloading on my computer.

“I don’t doubt that, Corpse. But I am going in completely blind and I seriously don’t wanna embarrass myself.“ I mumble a quick ‘nor you‘ under my breath, hoping he doesn’t catch it because I’m in for a pep talk if he does. 

To my dismay, he does, “Listen here, you couldn’t embarrass me even if you actively tried to do something outrageous. Most likely scenario, I’d join you in the act.” He ducks in front of the couch so we’re at eye level, his hand coming up to cup my cheek in the sweetest, most comforting gesture ever. “We’ll show em who’s the boss at stealing candy.”

I can’t help but laugh, feeling unable to express just how much this man means to me. Words can’t do the feeling justice.

“Y/N!“

“Y/N!!“

“Corpse Wife has arrived!“

Hearing all the greetings lights a flame in my chest, the warmth spreading all the way to my neck and cheeks. “Hi guys! Missed playing with you!”

“We missed you too!“ Dave, the only one of the gaming gang I’ve actually met in person, replies to me, his words along with all the others’ wrapping around me like a comfort blanket. Despite them knowing I’m a fan of theirs, they’ve always made me feel welcomed, comfortable, nothing less than them.

“You know anything about this game?“ Felix asks me.

I shake my head, almost forgetting he can’t see me, “Corpse told me it’s funny and cute. It sounds like the perfect game for me.” 

“Oh no, this is a game of survival. Survival of the fittest!“ Sean shouts excitedly, a bang following his shout I can only assume was him hitting his desk.

“I’d like to think I’m pretty fit.“ I shrug my shoulders, laughing along with the guys.

“This is the only way to find out if you actually are.“ Joel’s voice comes through my headphones in the form of a tease.

Sean mumbles quietly to himself as he’s deciding how to separate us in two teams. “Guys, a little help here. We all suck at this game, it doesn’t really matter who’s in which team.”

“Actually...“ Felix trails off, “Corpse and Y/N are the ultimate power couple in Among Us. Chances are they will be in this as well. So, the only logical move would be to...“

“I’m taking Y/N, you take Corpse.“ Sean declares. “Joel, Dave, who do you guys wanna be with?“

And the game starts. Sean, Joel and I are the Meowfia while Corpse, Felix and Dave are yet to choose a team name. We throw around snarky, cocky comments at each other, taunting the opposite team as we struggle to take the candy to our respective sides of the map.

“Don’t you dare pull that lever, Dave!“ I launch at Dave, knocking his cute avatar away from the lever, buying Joel and Sean some time to steal back the gummy bear Corpse and Felix took from us.

“Y/N! Joel is out! Help me!“ Sean is freaking out now. I ditch Dave’s unconscious body and run to Sean’s aid. 

As I’m helping him push it towards out area a member from the opposite team latches onto my avatar, weighing me down and hindering me from doing anything.

“Hug!“ Corpse laughs as he has literally turned into a koala, holding onto my avatar.

“Corpse, you know you are actually supposed to hinder Y/N, not hug her. It’s cute though, don’t get me wrong.“ Felix laughs as him and Sean continue to struggle over the gummy bear.

“Nah, his tactic’s great. I can’t do shit.“ I desperately try and shake him off, “Babe, this is unfair. I can’t even be mad at you!“ I whine, staring to panic now that Dave is back to life and Joel is nowhere to be seen.

The round is won by Felix, Dave and Corpse who, if I might add, didn’t let go of me for the rest of the game.

We switch maps, now every man for himself. We’re on the submarine, recreating the Hunger Games with cute fuzzy animals. The thought passes through my mind, causing me to giggle.

“Y/N, you sound exactly like I’d imagine your avatar to sound. You’re so cute.“ Sean’s avatar circles mine a few times as he laughs.

He’s not wrong, my pale blue puppy is indeed cute. Apparently immortal as well.

“How is Y/N still alive?! Holy shit, her and Corpse really are a power couple.“ Dave shrieks when he sees me pick up the freeze gun. “NOOO!“ He shouts, devastated by the fact I shot him, sending him straight to his death.

“Chill, Dave. It’s all cool. Nothing personal.“ I struggle to hide my laughter, “No hard feelings, right?“

“Of course not, love.“ I can tell he grits the sentence through clenched teeth.

“Aw Dave, you are such an ice guy.“ I giggle, now shooting Joel with the gun.

“Someone take that gun from her!“ Sean cries as him and Felix race up the submarine.

Suddenly, the avatar of my boyfriend again wraps itself around mine. I hadn’t seen him in a while, considering Sean knocked him into the ocean earlier in the round. 

“How are you still alive?!“ I try to spin my puppy to get him to let go but he holds on tightly. “Babe, I swear, you are cute and I love you, but this is ridiculous. How and why are you alive?”

“That’s his superpower! He never fucking dies.“ Felix laughs, letting out a yelp when he briefly slips while climbing.

“Immortals!!! Immortals!!!“ Sean breaks out into a song, a song I really like, breaking the restraints I had on my laughter.

“Drop the gun or we’re dying together.“ He says almost seriously. Even though I can only see the back of his head I know he’s grinning.

“A Titanic/Romeo and Juliet mashup? Why not? I can live with dying a double historical death.“ Even though I appear accepting of his offer, I’m still trying to set myself free.

In the end, Sean claims his first win of the game and the rest of us are dead at the bottom of the ocean. Corpse and I did indeed die a Romeo and Juliet/Titanic death, getting everyone in their feels. We make a deal to get together and play again as soon as possible and we all go our separate ways, exiting the Discord call.

*Later that night* 

After a dinner consisting of takeout and two thirds of a shitty romantic comedies, Corpse shifts from next to me, starting to get up from the couch. I am surprised to feel jolted out of a half sleep as the room is now completely silent, the TV being turned off.

“Hey where’re you going?“ I ask groggily, rubbing my sleepy eyes.

“I have some editing to do. Don’t worry, I won’t stay up too late.“ He kisses my forehead before grabbing his phone from the coffee table.

Just as he’s about to walk away, I wrap my arms around his legs. He laughs, catching onto what I’m insinuating. His chuckle brings a smile to my face and butterflies in my belly. No matter how long we date for or how much time we spend together, some things never change. 

“Payback, huh?“ He asks, the smile audible in the question. I keep my eyes shut but nod, my arms still around his legs. “Alright, you koala. You’re coming with me.”

In his recording room, he settles in his chair placing me in his lap in a way that my legs dangling off to the side, my side leaning against his chest, my face hidden in the crook of his neck. We’re both comfortable, content and relaxed.

I don’t know when exactly it happens, but all my mind has registered is a quiet ‘I love you’ and the soft touch of Corpse’s lips on my temple. I manage to reply with an ‘I love you too’ before my sleepiness consumes me, my body completely relaxing against his, the warmth of his body, his scent, the sound of his breathing making me feel safe and loved: the two feelings I want him to feel with the same intensity when I’m in his arms.

Something tells me he does.

@simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios  @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐖𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐬𝐬? (𝐂𝐄𝐎! 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨) 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙲𝙴𝙾/𝙳𝚊𝚍! 𝙲𝚑𝚘𝚒 𝙹𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚘 (𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣) × 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚢/𝙼𝚘𝚖! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎)

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝚂𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝙳𝚊𝚍 𝙰𝚄, 𝙲𝙴𝙾 𝙰𝚄

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙲𝚑𝚘𝚒 𝙹𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚜, 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍, 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚘𝚜𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟼𝙺+

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 (𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐), 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚓𝚘𝚋, 𝚐𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔, 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚢/𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚢 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔, 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗), 𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚍𝚘𝚖! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 × 𝚂𝚞𝚋! 𝙹𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚘

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @little-precious-baby @yunhoiseyecandy @yunhofingers @brie02 @galaxteez @deja-vux @multidreams-and-desires @rvse-miingi @couchpotatoaniki

⊱⋅ ──────────── ⋅⊰

"I expect all of your reports in and in perfect order by tomorrow's meeting at 11 a.m. And I want all of you in there on time. I will not accept even 1 minute of tardiness. Are we clear?"

A chorus of 'Yes sir' chanted throughout the room, the occupants in their respective chairs starting to disperse themselves out of the room. The hushed groans and complaining did not go unnoticed by Jongho's ears, but he paid no mind to them, having grown accustomed to them. He was a tough boss, and he preferred to keep it that way. He enjoyed having people fear him and be too scared to even ask him something, and all of his subordinates seemed to fall in that category.

"Sir?"

All of them except the almost cherry red head girl who was batting her eyelashes at him, a strand of her hair being twirled around one of her fingers. Without breaking his poker face, Jongho held out the folder he had and fanned it in front of her face.

"Hyunjoo, make copies of these to put into the filing cabinets and make sure to save them into the computer as well."

In a rather abrupt way, he practically threw the folder in her hands, but the girl didn't seem fazed, she still continued to smile even as he turned his back to her and walked out of the room.

"Right away sir! Anything else I can-"

Her enthusiastic question was shut out by the loud slamming of the door, leaving her speechless once more.

Jongho let out a deep huff as he loosened the tie that was practically suffocating him as it did after a strenuous day of having to deal with the ineptitude of his employees. He said absolutely nothing as he walked to his car, and stayed just as silent during the entire ride home, the soft ballads playing on the radio being his only companion at the moment. He didn't even feel like breaking out his heavenly vocals as per usual, all he wanted at that moment was to get to his haven as soon as possible and see the two faces he loved seeing after spending grueling hours in front of a computer and a stack of papers.

As soon as he stepped foot inside the cozy house, his nose was hit with the delicious scent coming from the kitchen. Making sure to neatly place his shoes by the rack next to the door and hang his coat on one of the hooks on the wall, he practically dragged his feet down the hallway before turning the corner. His gloomy expression quickly faltered and broke out into a smile as he was greeted by loud squealing coming from the tiny individual sitting in the high chair.

"Hey buddy. You missed me?" Jongho couldn't keep the smile off his face as he picked up the 5 month old baby, his cheeks still stained with an orange hue. The baby made some incoherent guttural sounds, no doubt trying to convey his feelings as he outstretched his tiny hands and began touching Jongho's face.

"I know I missed you." He placed a tiny kiss on his head before picking up a wet tissue to start wiping off some of the puree residues.

Right at that moment, his wife came in and wrapped her arms around his waist. Placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, she tilted her head so she could look at his face more clearly.

"How was your day?"

He shook his head, not wanting to recall his day.

"Same as they've been since you went on maternity leave. Unbearable."

Rolling her eyes at that, she carefully took the baby out of his hands since it was time for him to take a bath.

"Here. You go on and eat while I clean junior here."

Although the baby grunted softly at being taken away from his father's arms, he eventually relaxed in his mother's embrace, his face nuzzling into her chest and soon afterwards he began nibbling softly at her shirt.

"Oh for goodness sakes! You just ate not even 10 minutes ago. You can't possibly be hungry again." Y/N half heartedly complained, bouncing the baby slightly in her arms.

"Well I mean.... I don't blame him for wanting to drink some of your milk."

Catching her gaze, Jongho sent a wink her way that had her blushing intensely.

"You're unbelievable!" She exclaimed as she stomped out of the room to go bathe her baby.

"You're the one who offered me your tits in the first place." He snorted, trying to contain his laughter as he sipped the glass of water he had in his hand.

"Keep it up and I'll extend my maternity leave longer." She called out from the bathroom, the sound of water running being heard.

"No way! I've gone far too long without my personal assistant helping me keep order in that building and helping me stay sane. You promised me you'd come back tomorrow and I'm making you keep that promise." He warned her.

"Are you saying that as my husband? Or as my boss?" She questioned him.

"As both if I have to." He sternly said.

"Neither one of you scare me.....but since I love you both, I guess I'll keep my promise and come back tomorrow as we planned."

Jongho let out a relieved sigh at her answer as his fingers rubbed at his temple, fork aggressively digging into the vegetables on his plate. He honestly had missed working with Y/N by his side. He was feeling rather antsy and impatient about having her come back into the company. And he knew the other employees were also eagerly anticipating her return, since they preferred going to her to get messages across to him when they were too scared to face Jongho themselves. Not to mention Y/N livened up the atmosphere with her fresh and energetic nature, one of the main reasons he fell in love with her.

As he ate, Jongho began to reminisce about how their story started. Y/N had been recommended by a friend to be his personal assistant and she was very proud to work for such an important CEO, seeing it as an opportunity of a lifetime. Jongho, however, of course was extremely tough on her from the start, just as he was with all his other assistants. None of them lasted more than 2 weeks because they just couldn't handle either all the unbearable tasks he gave them or got frightened off by his stern and aggresive form of addressing them. Not Y/N. Even after having her run up and down floors on wild goose chases at times, she still kept her bright smile and positive energy, never once flinching either when he scolded her for doing something that he deemed wrong, which it never actually was, he just enjoyed nitpicking at her. She broke the record and lasted not just 2 weeks, but over 2 years, earning her the admiration and respect of not only her coworkers but of Jongho himself. He became fascinated by her and that fascination turned into love for her.

He pursued her for quite some time, Y/N making him really work for it as payback for all the harsh times he put her through during her first months working for him. Eventually his persistence paid off as she agreed to not only date him, but actually accepted to marry him when he asked her to. Of course, it was a secret no one else knew about, both of them agreeing that they'd rather keep their personal lives outside of work, not wanting others to talk or gossip about them. So at the company they were simply the CEO and his personal assistant, but once they got home, they were back to being hopelessly in love and enjoying their married life which now included their son.

Jongho felt that he was extremely lucky. Lucky to have such an amazing and beautiful wife who had recently blessed him with a healthy baby boy, gifting him the family he always wanted. He couldn't contain his happy smile as he watched her rock the baby to sleep and eventually put him inside his crib. Tiptoeing out of the nursery and joining him in their bedroom, Y/N raised an eyebrow when she saw his expression.

"You doing good?" She asked him.

Nodding softly, Jongho let out a hum before wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Oh trust me, I'm doing just splendid." He let out a chuckle as he pecked her lips.

When she began pulling away from his embrace, he pulled her back in, this time pressing his lips against hers more firmly as his hands went to the back of her thighs and effortlessly picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. She couldn't help the squeal that came out of her mouth when he pushed her down onto their bed, already feeling breathless as his tongue continued to dominate her mouth. Jongho's hands began to slowly pull her tank top down, exposing her soft and squishy breasts that had grown quite considerably since she started her last months of pregnancy and continued up until then.

"You know it's been so long since I've had you all to myself...." He mused as he nipped across her collarbone.

Taking one breast in each of his hands, he gave them gentle squeeze that had Y/N moaning softly. Giving one of her nipples a few kitten licks, Jongho latched his mouth over it, covering her perky nipple and letting out suckling sounds until he felt her sweet liquid come out of her body.

"And I plan on taking my time with you." He finished his previous sentence as he went back to feeding from her milk.

Y/N's fingers tangled themselves on his hair, back arching to allow him to take more of her succulent breasts into his mouth, which he took advantage of graciously. Just as soon as they were both getting lost in their lust, they were interrupted by the small whimpered cries coming from the room next to theirs. Detaching his mouth from his wife's chest, Jongho groaned in annoyance and rolled over on the other side of the bed.

"Seriously? Can't even enjoy some alone time with my wife because junior over there wants to be a cockblocker."

Slapping his arm, Y/N arranged her shirt and got up to go attend to her baby, leaving Jongho laying there in a fuzzy and whiny mood.

⊱⋅ ──────────── ⋅⊰

Stepping into the floor, Y/N was immediately bombarded by greetings and questions from all of her coworkers. The men were fawning over her and thanking her for coming back on such an eventful day while the women were prying about her baby and other motherly topics. Since it was still early, Y/N thought it wouldn't hurt to show off a few pictures of her little bundle of joy. Taking care there weren't any photos of Jongho, she happily showed off her gallery that was full of images of her baby and herself. All of the people around her began cooing and awing at how adorable he was.

"He's so cute!"

"Simply adorable!"

"Does he look like his dad?"

Before Y/N could even answer that question, the father himself cleared his throat behind the little group. Collective gasps and startled wheezes were heard as the people began to disperse themselves back to their respective cubicles or desks. Donning his usual frown, Jongho side eyed some of the individuals before landing his eyes on Y/N, who per usual remained calmed and collected.

"Miss L/N, although no doubt your coworker are ecstatic to have you back I must remind you that we have an important meeting ahead of us and I don't want any distractions to hinder our plans. I'll let this go just this time but I want no more dilly dallying. Are we clear?"

Breaking out into a soft smile, Y/N put her phone back in her purse.

"Crystal Mr. Choi."

The corner of Jongho's lip twitched at hearing her usual response she'd say to his chastising. Y/N knew it affected him too, but she bit her tongue from bursting out laughing right then and there. Checking his watch, he sighed deeply.

"After you finish setting your space up, please gather up the documents needed for today's meeting and see me promptly at my office so we can look over them."

Just as Y/N was about to open her mouth, she was interrupted by a redhead whom she had never seen before during the time she worked there. The girl pushed herself in between them both rather tactlessly.

"Sir, if you'd like, I could go fetch them for you, I know where they are so it'd be faster given that I sorted them yesterday."

Y/N arched an eyebrow up at the new face, scanning her up and down, taking notice of how tight and short her skirt was, not to mention how snug fitted her blouse was, more than just the tops buttons undone to purposely draw attention to her cleavage. The way she was practically beaming at Jongho did not go unnoticed by her, and it was slightly irritating her.

"No thank you Hyunjoo. I want Y/N to do it. Besides I need to catch her up on what's been going on these past months she was gone."

Before Jongho could take one step, Hyunjoo moved to stand right in front of him, a rather bold move that had everyone bracing themselves for what would happen next.

"Anything else you want to say Hyunjoo?" Although he asked, it was quite obvious Jongho was not amused in the slightest bit. Hyunjoo bit her lip nervously, but decided to speak.

"Sir I just thought since it was an important meeting that perhaps you'd prefer to be assisted by someone who has more knowledge and experience in the matter so that there would be no... hindrances."

Y/N did not like the way she drawled out that last word. She did not hesitate to let out a scoff at the brazen behavior of whoever that newbie was. And she guessed Jongho was not happy by her input either given that he was now crossing his arms over his chest.

"There will be no hindrances. Y/N knows what she's doing and I know she'll do an excellent job. After all, she is and will always be my personal assistant."

Y/N couldn't hide the proud smirk that shone triumphantly on her face, especially after seeing the reddened face of the girl next to her, who gave her a small glare before excusing herself to go to her desk. Jongho brushed past her to go into his office, giving her elbow a light squeeze that went unnoticed by everyone else but that made her feel better about coming back to work. She was practically skipping all the way to the elevator and still skipping about when she came to the room where they kept all the documents. She skimmed through the cabinets, checking the dates to make sure she was looking in the right section when she was startled by a voice piping up behind her.

"Y/N!"

She let out a scream and stumbled back into one of the cabinets, hitting her lower back rather harshly before landing her bum on the floor.

"Oops! Sorry. Not how I wanted my welcome back greeting to go."

She allowed the blonde male to help her get up, scanning her to make sure no real damage was done.

"Yeosang what the hell? Why are you always popping up on people out of nowhere?" She grimaced as she rubbed her butt.

"Gotta have some type of fun while I'm locked up in here organizing, filing and documenting papers here you know." He adjusted the frames on his nose bridge.

"Maybe you could lend me a hand and show me where I can find what I need for today's meeting?"

Clapping his hands, Yeosang reached into his jacket and promptly took out a neat folder out that had several papers inside.

"I figured Mr. Grinch upstairs would have you come get them so I took the liberty of stashing them away just for you."

Y/N smiled as he handed them over to her.

"That and I didn't want that bitch Hyunjoo putting her nasty hands on them as well." Yeosang huffed loudly.

"Who is she anyways? She wasn't here when I was."

Yeosang went cross eyed momentarily, looking like he was losing brain cells as he tried to figure out where to start.

"She started out a week after you went on maternity leave. She's just a secretary, but has offered to do some tasks that were strictly reserved for you as Jongho's assistant, which he rarely lets her do. You know how he is."

Of course she did. More than anyone she knew what her husband was like.

"Well long story short like her dirty rags that she calls skirts, it's quite obvious she's trying to get in the boss' pants and we're all surprised he hasn't fired her yet. It's more than clear he's not interested either, I mean come on. It's Choi Jongho, he only looks at a woman or man to criticize them. I don't think he's capable of feeling romantically inclined towards anyone."

Y/N held her head down, pretending to skim through some of the papers to hide the giggle that was threatening to come out her mouth. She honestly found it hard not to laugh when others talked about Jongho like that. It was funny to her.

"So I take it I should be careful of her trying to take my place?" Y/N snickered amusedly, and Yeosang let out a dry laugh as well.

"Please Y/N. We all know no one will ever take your place. You're indispensable here, especially to the big guy up there."

He pointed a finger towards the ceiling.

"Speaking of which, don't keep him waiting. You know how he hates people wasting his time." He made quotation signals with his fingers while rolling his eyes.

Giving her a hug and proper welcome greeting, Yeosang watched her leave, reminding her to show him pictures of her baby when she got the chance which she happily agreed to share with him.

Coming back up to the main floor, she made sure to smile warmly at all her coworkers, a gesture that would hopefully calm their nerves a little for the upcoming meeting, which seemed to be working. They knew if she was there at least Jongho would be a little less terrifying than what he usually was. As she walked by the cubicles, she paused in her steps when she saw that a certain desk was empty, its occupant missing. Looking at the nametag, her tongue poked against her cheek.

"Mingi?" She turned to the nearest person to her, the tall male looking up from his screen to pay her his full attention.

"Where's Hyunjoo?"

Mingi didn't answer and instead pointed over towards the direction of Jongho's office.

"No doubt trying to suck his dick. That hoe."

Both her and Mingi looked over at the coworker next to him.

"Wooyoung!" Mingi chastised him.

"What? Fire me for speaking the truth." He grumbled as he continued his task of stapling a stack of papers together.

Mingi shot her an apologetic look but Y/N quickly brushed it off. Something told her that she was needed someplace else anyways. Her instincts were never wrong. Peeking into the office, she witnessed in disgust as Hyunjoo ran a finger down Jongho's torso. He looked visibly uncomfortable, swallowing hard as he tried to back away from her slowly.

"Typical of him." She thought to herself. "Acting all high and mighty like he's not afraid of anyone or anything yet when a woman throws herself at him, he cowers like a little baby."

When she saw Hyunjoo press her body against Jongho's, she knew it was time to step in. Slamming the door open, her face had a glaring scowl that was quite the contrast to her usually friendly demeanor. Only few people had ever seen it and it truly shook them to the core, even more than Jongho himself since they grew used to his anger. But Y/N? They desperately avoided incurring her wrath, even if it was such a rare sight to see. And it was producing an instant effect as Hyunjoo immediately backed away from Jongho, the latter already bracing himself for a lecture from her.

"Hyunjoo......I believe your station is right out there." She pointed behind her.

Hyunjoo nodded even though it was a statement not a question.

"So why are you not there?" Her foot tapped impatiently on the floor.

The poor girl apologized and quickly sped out of the office, like a puppy with its tail tucked in between their legs. Once she was out, Y/N shut the door behind her and then looked over at Jongho, piercing daggers into him with her stare as she took slow and careful steps towards him.

"Well.....guess I should probably thank you for getting me out of that-"

Jongho let out a tiny squeak when Y/N grabbed him by his collar and pulled his face close to hers.

"I'm gone for half a year and there's already a skank trying to take my place?" She was fuming, eyes burning a hole into his face and Jongho wasn't going to lie, he was always attracted more to her when she got angry.

"Baby, darling..." He cooed at her, hands going to her hips to rub circles around them in an effort to appease her.

"Don't you 'darling' me Choi Jongho. Tell me, did you enjoy having your little pet rub herself on you?" She demanded as she took his hands off her and slammed her own on the desk behind him, effectively trapping him and keeping him from moving.

"I- No! Of course not!" He exclaimed in indignation.

Y/N scoffed dryly as she reached a hand up and placed it on his chest, mimicking the earlier actions of her rival, except whereas Jongho recoiled from Hyunjoo's touch before, it was now different as he began melting into Y/N's touch.

"I don't really believe you, I think you would have fucked her if given the chance." She didn't really believe that sentence herself but she wanted to spark a reaction out of Jongho.

"Now why would I do that when I have the most perfect woman right in front of me? When she's everything and all I want?" He let out a hum as he ghosted his lips over hers, wanting to desperately kiss her at that moment.

"Oh really now? I'm all you want?" She giggled in a mocking tone as her teeth caught onto his bottom lip and tugged on them slightly.

"Fuck!- yes. You're all I want. You're the love of my life, the object of my desires, the mother of my son..."

Cupping her cheeks, he tenderly kissed her, lips perfectly molding against hers as he tried to convey his adoration for her. When he pulled back, he stayed only a few centimeters away as he nuzzled his nose against hers.

"My wife." He whispered those two words so soft as if they were a solemn prayer not meant to be heard by anyone else.

Although his words brought a sense of warmth and fuzziness inside her, Y/N was not about to let Jongho off the hook so easily. He needed to be reminded of something else.

"You're forgetting something else Mr. CEO...... I'm not just your wife."

Jongho grunted when she suddenly pulled him by his belt loops, her knee coming up to rub against his crotch which was starting to swell up.

"I'm your boss."

He watched with amazement as she dropped down to her knees, her fingers making quick movements to unbuckle his belt. Stiffening when her hands squeezed at his bulge, Jongho heaved out a sigh.

"Don't tease me." He slightly whimpered to her.

Quirking an eyebrow up, she sent him a seductive smirk.

"Wasn't planning on it."

Taking hold of the top of his trousers, she made sure to pull his briefs down with them, freeing his hardened cock that was already leaking at the tip. Running her thumb across his head, she looked up to find her husband flushing a crimson red hue, a soft chortle escaping his throat as he realized what she was doing. Pressing his bulbous tip against her lips, she coated them with a warm gloss before pushing them inside the barrier of her teeth, raking the underside of it. That motion alone already had Jongho's thighs shaking. Her tongue swirled around his shaft, giving the head a subtle suckle. At last, she opened her mouth more widely and drove him deeper into her throat until she was releasing a choking sound, a trail of moisture spilling out from the corner of her mouth. Pulling back, she hummed around his length to further intensify the sensation.

"Oh my god." Jongho moaned as his hands tried to reach towards the back of her head, which were quickly slapped away by her.

"Nuh uh my love, we're playing with my rules right now."

Jongho had to steady himself by gripping the desk behind him, resisting the urge to buck himself up into his wife's throat. He let out sharp gasps and groans when she gave him a particularly long slurp, gurgling melodies practically coming out her mouth. He filled her throat to the brim, his dripping organ stroking against her tongue each time she moved it to and fro. Instinctively parting her knees, she reached beneath her skirt to touch herself, finding herself to be dripping as well. Raising her eyes upwards, she saw Jongho's head thrown back, mouth open and spilling out melodic hums of bliss and lust as his pelvis began to thrust faster against her face, chasing his upcoming release with a determined intensity. Feeling his thighs tighten and his cock twitch, she knew it was only a matter of time before his hot liquid would spurt into her throat. Wanting to please him, her mouth began a mix of lapping, sucking and licking at his length, soaking his flesh until long pools of saliva came trickling down her chin and onto her neck. Her mouth kept moving back and forth, heightening his excitement until he began pumping his climax into her, his seed flowing down her throat which she swallowed generously.

"Oh fuck! Oh God!" Jongho cried out, not caring to keep his voice down as he had just had one of the most exhilarating orgasms after months of only having his hand to keep him company during those needy moments.

Pulling out of his wife's mouth, her lips glistened with a blend of her spit and of his cum. Getting up from the ground, she pulled out her hand that had during this time stayed between her legs, her arousal glowing on the tip of her fingers. Holding them up to her husband's face, she smeared some of it across his lip.

"Suck."

His mouth parted instantly as he graciously accepted her fingers into his wet cavern, licking off the sweet juices from her core. She watched him with utter fascination, always loving how he was always so pliant with her every command. Once sure he had licked her clean of anymore secretions, she pulled her hand out of his mouth and quickly replaced it with her own. Their tongues danced around each other as their arms wrapped around the other's body. Pent up desire and weakened passions were flowing through every touch and caress of their hands. They both realized just how much they had been missing each other's bodies, forgetting about their needs up until that moment. Pulling away with reluctance to catch her breath, Y/N looked up at the already disheveled looking male in front of her and smirked.

"Hop on top of the desk.......Sir." She whispered that last word in his ear, biting down at his earlobe.

His shivering body did not go unnoticed by her and she was more than delighted to watch as he practically cleared the desk, letting papers and other utensils scatter on the floor as he sat up on top of it. Reaching back inside her skirt, Y/N dragged her now soiled panties down her legs and set them off to the side, already knowing what she would do with them later. Climbing on top of Jongho's lap, she took hold of his cock one more time and began to pump him slowly, getting him worked up once more, his soft tender skin becoming erect and hard once again. Noticing the way his eyes peered at her slight cleavage, she used her free hand to unbutton her blouse before pulling her bra cups down enough for her breasts to pop out. Jongho swore he could cum at just the sight of them, nipples poking out and gleaming with the hints of milk oozing out.

"Suck on them. Drink mommy's milk up. After all, they're for daddy too." She encouraged him with a giggle.

His mouth devoured her breasts. He gnawed at the stiff buds of her nipples and suckled against her until her sweet nectar began trickling onto his tongue. Y/N arched her back and began spilling out erotic moans, teeth biting down occasionally at her lip as she couldn't handle the overwhelming pleasure of having her husband feed on her breast milk. Jongho was enjoying himself as well. She was moist to the point of being succulent. His tongue slipped against her fleshy mounds and he could feel himself choking on the rich taste she produced. The more he worked on sampling her flavor, the more she sighed and panted as she pushed her chest more out to him. All throughout this, her hand never stopped pumping at his length.

Jongho whined when she suddenly pushed his face off her chest, a tiny trail of milk being left on his lip. Gripping his base more firmly, she placed him right at her aching entrance and sunk down on him with no warning, causing his breath to hitch.

"I'm gonna fuck you Jongho. Fuck you til you're a crying mess to remind you who this dick belongs to. And you're gonna take it like the good slave you are. Got it?"

He nodded his head furiously, wanting nothing than to feel her take advantage of him, use him as she pleased. With an evil smile, she reached for the discarded panties she had momentarily forgotten about.

"Oh...and I guess we better keep quiet. I know I can keep it down. But you? You need a little help."

Jongho spewed out pornographic sounds as she stuffed his mouth with her panties. He could taste her sex on his tongue but he had no time to fully enjoy it when she suddenly began to bounce herself on his cock. When he tried to grip at her hips, she caught his wrists and slammed them down on the desk, his back hitting against the hard wood, but he didn't care. He was too immersed on the excruciating pleasure of having her tightness press around his cock. The desk underneath them rocked with every one of their sinful movements, no doubt alerting anyone within a few feet near the doorway, perhaps even further down. And that's what Y/N wanted. She wanted to make sure all the people outside finally understood that Choi Jongho was hers, hers only and no one else's. No one could ever take him away from her because she had him wrapped around her finger.

"Look at you, you look so pathetic. My dirty panties in your mouth, my hands keeping you from moving as I bounce myself on your cock."

Once again she felt the familiar twitch of his head warning her he was going to bust at any moment. It only fueled her to grind down on him harder.

"Who would have thought the powerful and mighty CEO would be nothing more than a little slut? Eager to get his dick wet enough to bend down to his assistant. You were so fucking easy my love."

Her mocking and teasing only helped in having him spasm underneath her, his orgasm ripping through his body in such an extreme manner he thought he would go insane. But Y/N didn't let him fully come down from his high when she began rutting herself once more on him, this time with more force and vigor that had Jongho crying out. His eyes began to became filled with tears, muffled pleading incoherent due to being gagged by her underwear. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, another orgasm was being forced out of him, his seed overflowing from inside Y/N's core that it began to cascade down into her inner thighs, droplets even falling onto the furniture underneath them.

"Even with your mouth occupied you still manage to be such a loud brat, I bet this entire floor can hear you. What? Is that what you want? Want all your employees to hear as I fuck you like my personal sex doll?"

Jongho's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he heard her words. He hated admitting it but having her degrade him, talk down to him and reduce him to nothing more than a pleasure toy never failed to make his toes curl.

"Maybe you do and that's fine. I want all of them, especially that little skank to hear as I ruin you. Let them know who's really in charge here."

Y/N's movements became more sloppy as she felt her own climax approaching, her walls squeezing unbearably down on Jongho's dick. Her breasts were jiggling with every move, adding more sensuality to the already wicked image of her riding her husband's body.

"Can you cum once more for mommy? I know you can. Daddy can definitely give mommy his cum one more time right?"

Jongho nodded, grumbling something that was not understandable. With a prideful look, Y/N raked her hands across his chest.

"Fill my pussy up once more love. Knock me up with another one of your kids. Wanna get pregnant once more by you. Fuck!"

She cursed loudly as she began shattering on top of him, chest heaving as she released her juices onto his thick cock, which was also pumping out the last remnants of his seed and coating her walls profusely. Jongho fell into a spiraling oblivion of pleasure, unable to feel anything but his throbbing dick pulsating around her heat as it milked him out of every last drop of his cum. He was in heaven, even if it was a sinful act they just committed.

Y/N let out a hiss as she pulled out of him, a long trail of sticky cum pouring onto the desk and even dropping onto the carpet. Her legs felt wobbly as she tried to walk, the numbness in her feet soon turning into a pins and needles sensation. Taking her panties off his mouth and stuffing them into his pocket, Jongho quickly fixed himself, zipping his pants back up and getting up just in time to catch his darling wife before she tumbled onto the floor

"It's ok my dear. I got you." He sweetly smiled at her and rubbed at her sore lower abdomen.

"I love you." She suddenly said.

Tilting her chin up, he kissed her temple.

"I love you more, so much more." He confessed.

"Enough to let me take the rest of the day off and go back home?" She made puppy eyes at him.

Jongho bursted out laughing at her question, nuzzling his nose against the crook of her neck.

"You're so funny babe.....nice try but no. We still have a meeting today." He reminded her, which earned him a huffing spouse.

"Have I ever mentioned I hate my boss?" She nudged him away, to which he snorted.

"Darling let's be real here. You're the real boss here. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

⊱⋅ ──────────── ⋅⊰

[beca-mitchell]

Pitch Perfect HC, Beca’s actually a closet snuggle monster and Chloe lives for it. But only because she’s the only one that is privy to that side of Beca and it makes her feel special and secure in her relationship cause it’s usually when Beca opens up and let’s Chloe see inside her vulnerable side.

And years later when they’re married and Beca is pregnant with the second child, she snuggles with her pregnancy pillow when she’s alone in bed, but as soon as Chloe comes home, she kicks it away in favour of snuggling with her wife.

The first time Beca cuddles into Chloe's side, they both react to it viscerally. Beca, for her part, doesn't immediately register just what she's doing by leaning into Chloe's side during an impromptu brainstorm-turned-movie night. Chloe, for her part, immediately stiffens and feels her ears grow hot because proximity to Beca has been, well. Hard lately. Difficult. Grappling with the intensity of her feelings for her very taken friend. Very much verging on best friend.

Beca senses the way Chloe stiffens, which is really something that Chloe will forever kick herself over, and quickly sits straight up, yawning and stretching as if that was all she had been doing.

It kind of sticks in Chloe's throat, the assurances and kind words that she's so used to doling out for Beca and to Beca. Physical intimacy is just. It's a lot. Especially for Chloe because it's really one of the most important things. She just never expects it from Beca. Not like this, at least. Not now.

So Chloe doesn't say anything and their night continues.

*

The second time it happens, it's kind of impromptu as well. Near the holidays of Chloe's third consecutive super senior year, they both end up opting to stay on campus. Beca manages to get into Amy's stash of international alcohol and they throw themselves a pity Thanksgiving in Chloe's spacious (and lonely) room. It feels even more empty given that the house is devoid of Bellas and song.

It's much chillier now at the end of November, nearing into December. The low 20s and high 10s of the temperature around them means that Chloe gets to wear all her favourite cardigans and stolen hoodies. Beca seems to just put on more layers - more layered shirts, jackets, some sweaters. Chloe makes a note to get Beca into a holiday sweater as soon as possible.

"What are you looking at?" Beca grumbles, returning from where she's done tinkering with her record player.

"I think we should get the Bellas matching ugly Christmas sweaters this year. I can't believe we haven't done it yet."

Beca's mouth twitches like she isn't sure if she wants to instinctively insult Chloe's fashion choices or immediately give in. A common theme these days as Chloe unlocks more and more of Beca's incredibly soft side. She sighs loudly.

Chloe stifles a grin. "Matching, Bec."

"You know I don't do that. Not even. Well. Whatever. It's kind of lame."

Chloe holds her tongue. Right. Jesse. She's sure Jesse has long come up with ideas to having every conceivable kind of matching couple's outfit. The most Chloe has ever seen Beca wear that has a remote Jesse influence is a red sweater that kind of looks like a Treble sweater, but Chloe hasn't seen it since the very first time she saw Beca wear it.

"Maybe," Beca finally concedes, climbing onto the bed. "Pick a good movie and we'll see."

Chloe grins and presses against Beca's side immediately, pulling her laptop from her. "Christmas movie," she declares.

"It's November," Beca complains.

Chloe wins anyway and she doesn't even recall watching the movie because Beca ends up falling asleep halfway through. Chloe kind of just watches it happen because there is something incredibly relaxing and beautiful about watching the way Beca's brow relaxes all at once and her features smooth out making her look years younger. Like all the tension and stress eases from her the more sleepy she becomes.

This time, when Beca leans into her side, Chloe's ready. It hadn't really happened again since that first time, but God, the way Beca just fits into her side. The way Beca kind of curls a hand loosely over her forearm with the gentlest of tugs. Chloe slowly pulls her arm away, this time putting it around Beca's shoulders. The action itself makes a huge lump stick in her throat—a lump that very much feels like her heart as it threatens to leave her body imminently.

Beca inhales, a short little sound, and Chloe stops. "Sorry," she whispers immediately. "I shouldn't—"

"It's okay," Beca whispers back, voice muted and muffled. "S'comfy."

Friends do this. It's okay.

*

Chloe thinks Beca looks beautiful always, but especially now.

"You can see the bump," Beca says absentmindedly, lifting her shirt in front of the mirror. Their trip to the doctor was exciting. The knowledge that this is really happening for them; finally happening for them—Chloe could cry.

"You're showing," Chloe echoes, standing from the bed. She wants to reach out and touch Beca, but she isn't even sure where to start.

"I didn't even realize until the doctor pointed it out today."

"Neither did I," Chloe admits quietly, wondering if it makes her a bad wife. Not noticing that the love of her life had been undergoing some serious bodily changes to begin welcoming the newest member of their family into their lives. She finally moves to stand behind Beca, hooking her chin over her shoulder, smiling when their eyes catch in the mirror. "You look so pretty."

"You have to say that, we're married. What happens when I look like a whale?"

"You'll always look beautiful to me," Chloe declares, kissing Beca's cheek repeatedly when Beca frowns at Chloe's response.

Beca moves Chloe's hand to rest more firmly against her belly. "What if you can't hold me like this later?"

Chloe hums. "Nothing would stop me from cuddling with you."

"But what if your arms can't even come around me," Beca complains, a hint of a whine seeping into her voice. "And then you grow tired of trying to hug a balloon."

"You'll have to figure out a way to pry me off you over these next months. Trust me." Chloe makes sure to kiss a spot on Beca's neck that she knows drives her crazy. "I'm going to be all over you. In more ways than one." Another kiss. She catches the blush on Beca's cheeks. "I always knew you liked my cuddles."

Beca sniffs haughtily. "And?"

She hasn't quite brought it up to Beca, even after all their years together, but it still delights Chloe to no end that Beca chose this with her. That Beca chooses her every day. That Beca trusted her all those years ago, even when they hadn't really been anything.

"And nothing," Chloe finally says. "I just love you the way you are."

*

In all their years together, Chloe can't recall Beca ever choosing to cuddle with somebody over her. She hadn't even really contemplated it because it had quickly become their thing.

She knows that Beca doesn't do it with just anybody. In fact, Chloe's about 99% sure that Beca has never cuddled or snuggled with anybody else in her life.

But this—

Chloe doesn't even say anything at first because her heart catches in her throat. Beca's cheek rests ever so slightly on top of their son's fuzzy little head, her eyes half-closed, but still alert enough to ensure she doesn't loosen her hold or drop him. She hums ever so slightly, her movements slight and gentle as to not wake him.

Chloe kind of doesn't want to say anything—wants to let this night continue just like this. The sheer tranquillity and safety around them because of all the love she feels for her wife and her son—it's irreplaceable.

Beca's eyes lift then, catching hers from where she stands in the doorway. "C'mere," Beca murmurs, brow furrowing when Chloe hovers in the bed. "Bed feels empty without you."

Chloe doesn't hesitate then, only wanting to enjoy a mid-evening snuggle with her family knowing there must be many more to come.

[lordabovehelpme]

The Proposal- Din Djarin x Reader

Request: Din proposing to Reader like in the movie The Proposal 😆- @along-the-lines-of-space

A/n: Wait! This is such a cute idea. I kinda strayed from the movie plot and made my own, so hopefully, you like it! I love you, darling!!! 

Summary: You and the Mandalorian have to play husband and wife to capture your next bounty. But major things start to show and come to light.

Warnings: some foul language. But that’s it. :) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t you walk all menacingly like! I had no other option!” You storm after the broody Mandalorian, your hands waving in the air as they try to demonstrate your thoughts.

He just growls as he continues walking to the ship.

“Did you have a better idea?” You give him a minute to respond and when he says nothing, you lift your head a little higher. “No, just what I thought. All I care about is the fact that we are going to get this bounty thanks to me!”

He twirls around suddenly and stalks towards you. Instinctively, you want to shy away and you have to bite down a squeak. But you keep your ground and glare right into his visor, hoping his stupid eyes will feel your hatred.

The abyss of his visor stares hard and cold into your soul. And you stare back. Hard.

But he just sighs and turns away. For whatever reason, this just makes you even madder.

“No, you don’t get to walk away! Come back here!”

Then he speaks for the first time in the past hour.

“Get on your knee.”

Your face recoils in confusion, “What?”

He turns around and looks at you with a hidden smirk. “If you want to marry me, then ask. Get. On. Your. Knee.”

Your mouth hangs open in shock at the audacity of him.

“No.”

“Looks like we’re out two thousand credits then.”

Cursing, you hate that he’s right. You both need this money. Greef had said that if you wanted this high of a bounty then the two of you would have to somehow get to the bounty's wedding. In a sudden burst of creativity, you declared that the two of you would play a newlywed couple. You’ve never seen his helmet turn so quickly.

You seethe as you fall to your knee. “I hate you.”

“That’s not the right word, dear.” He stands smugly as he puts emphasis on the pet name. His arms cross over his chest and he leans his weight onto one leg.

You mentally stab him about five times before sighing. “Mando…”

He hums, amusement laced in his voice.

“Will you,” a smirk works its way onto your face, “the love of my life, my sweet sweet puppy. I will never be able to live without you.”

His weight shifts back to be centered.

“I cannot go another day without asking you this.” Your hands clutch over your heart as you bat your eyelashes at him.

“Get on with it.” The amusement is no longer there.

“Will you make me the happiest person in the world and…” You intentionally stop, seeing just how long you can draw this out before he snaps.

“Ask the god damn question.”

Ah, not as long as you thought. But alas, the show must go on. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes, now get up and walk faster. Maybe if you run you can keep up.”

***

All those couples you see smiling at each other make marriage look like a dream come true.

But these past few days have been hell. Literal hell.

Clinging to his arm and smiling as people talk to you. Having to hold his gloved hand that is way too large to be anatomically correct. Making up scenarios of how you both met, of your first kiss, of your own wedding day.

If the ground opened up and swallowed you, you’d probably say thank you.

As for now, you’re sitting next to him at the large table you’re all having the rehearsal dinner at. Surprisingly, the bounty seems to be a nice guy. You can tell he loves his soon-to-be husband, and that he loves him as well. You’d never think that he used to be an imperial spy.

“Oh, you two are so cute!” An older lady from across the table smiles at you.

You smile back and thank her, squeezing the Mandalorian’s arm. His visor turns to look at where you did, then rises up to meet your gaze. His hand moves over and squeezes your thigh.

Grabbing his wrist, you bring his hand back above the table and offer the lady another smile.

She giggles and leans forward, “You have as much fun as you want, I won’t tell.”

It takes everything in you not to cringe as you slowly nod your head and turn back to the Mandalorian.

His shoulders slightly shake and you just know he’s softly laughing under that helmet.

“Don’t laugh.” You whisper at him.

“But honey, why don’t we go back and have some fun.”

You glare at him, but then you get his idea. “Shhh, don’t say it so loud.” You both rise from the table and slide outside the restaurant, but not without the older lady sending you another wink.

As soon as the fresh air nips at your skin, you lean over in loud laughter. “Oh my goodness, I can’t.”

His vocoder cracks as his own laughs filter through. It’s a strong handsome laugh, one that is contagious and makes you stare at him with awe. In all honesty, you weren’t sure he knew how to laugh.

***

A knock sounds on your door and you rise up immediately. Crap! Mando is on the floor, that won’t look good to anyone. Grabbing anything you can, you throw it at the sleeping warrior.

Thump!

The first pillow does nothing.

Thump!

The second heavier one makes a louder sound but still draws no response from him.

The knocks sound again.

“Coming, just one second!”

You grab whatever you can and…

Clank!

You cringe as the water bottle hits him directly on the helmet.

He instantly rises and then the knocks sound again. Catching onto the problem, he stands up and starts throwing everything back on the bed.

You mean to help, but those strong golden thighs distract you. What you would give to be able to run your hand over those muscles and feel them ripple beneath your touch.

What you would give?

Nothing! You hate him! He’s annoying and snores loudly.

Shaking your head, you make the bed presentable and pretend to have just woken up as he opens the door.

“Hi!” The bounty’s fiancé peaks his head in. “Just wanted to let you all know that my mom made cinnamon rolls, I would get down there before they are gone. He offers a smile to you before walking back out into the hall.

You have no idea why, but the fiancé has taken a liking to the two of you. It almost makes you sad to collect his husband.

The Mandalorian turns to you and starts to grab his clothes and armor, dressing himself.

Suddenly you realize that if you both go down he’ll be unable to eat the cinnamon rolls. You play with the end of your shirt, the edges fraying from many years of you sleeping in it. “You know…” his visor looks up to you, “I can go get a couple and bring them back. That way you can try one and I’ll take a shower.”

Why did you say that? He’s not going to care. He’ll probably just laugh at you. In fact, why do you care?

He slowly nods his head after a minute. “That’d be nice.”

***

The hot water pours down onto your back and yet you can’t help but to ponder about the man outside the door. He’s out there, with his helmet off.

You’ve never cared about this before, but you start to wonder what he looks like. Does he have a soft boyish face or one of a hardened warrior? Is his hair a dark black or a light blond? What about his skin, is it light and fair, or deep and brown?

Thoughts run through your mind as you wrap the fluffy towel around yourself. Then you catch your reflection in the mirror. Since when have you had a small smile on your face?

Shaking your head, you slide your clothes on and open the door. You’re met with the back of a head, brown hair curly and shaggy rested atop a strong golden neck. Before you can even process what you’re seeing, you slam the door shut and lock yourself in the bathroom.

A soft knock sounds on the door. You slowly open it and keep your eyes trained on the floor. “I-, I only saw the back of your head, sorry.” Your body deflates as your shoulders drop in shame.

“It’s okay, but I need to pee.”

“Oh.” You shuffle out of the room and as soon as the door shuts you fling yourself onto the bed. Grabbing a pillow you press it against your face and scream. Why do these things always happen to you? 

Why does his hair have to look so perfect to run your fingers through? Why does his neck have to be that perfect golden brown that you want to kiss? Why does he have to be so handsome?

***

As the wedding approaches, you have started to see the fierce warrior in a new light. He offers to help old ladies up stairs and jokes with the other young men. When asked about you, he speaks with so much adoration you have started to forget that he doesn’t actually love you.

Maybe you’re just being hyperaware, but he seems to always be watching you. When you turn your head to him, he already has his visor trained on you. Even when you’re across the room conversing with others he always has an eye on you.

His voice has become softer, losing the gruff edge it once held. The underlying anger having melted into a warm glow that surprised you both. A small smile seems to have made its home on both your faces, only leaving when one another isn’t around.

As the two of you lay awake, you on the bed, and the Mandalorian on the floor, you break the silence.

“I can’t do it.”

The Mandalorian makes no response, so you continue.

“I can’t take him. You’ve seen how happy they are together. How big they smile for one another and how their eyes soften. Sure he may have once been a spy but he’s changed. I mean since then his record is nearly perfect. I don’t want to be the one who tears his happiness away.”

Again, your companion says nothing.

“I know we need the money, so I can pull some strings and we can work stuff out. You won’t have to do anything, but I can’t let either of us come between them. I know it may be cheesy but what they have is a pure and true love.”

You fade back to silence, staring up at the dark ceiling and contemplating everything you just said.

“Okay.”

***

The wedding is big and bright. Garlands of beautiful flowers hang everywhere, matching the candles and lights perfectly.

And as the two men say their vows, you can’t help but entangle your arm around the Mandalorians. A single tear falls from your eye as you notice the way they look at one another. With so much passion and devotion, it’s the kind of love people wish for.

You don’t know it, but the Mandalorian's eyes don’t watch the two lovers, they instead watch you.

It’s in this moment that he finally understands why his heart swells when you’re around. He understands why he always needs to make sure you’re safe and sound. He understands why everything in him screams to wipe away your tears and hold you close.

Because he loves you.

***

You sit in silence, the Mandalorian piloting the Crest and you to his right. As the Crest falls into autopilot he turns to look at you.

When you meet his visor, you offer him a smile. “That was beautiful. I mean did you see how amazing the decor team did.”

He only nods heart heavy with anxiety.

You continue talking about all the aspects you loved, from the color scheme to the cake. But you stop when his hand rests on your own.

Tension lays thick between the two of you, suffocating and intense. You don't miss the way his adam apple bobs as he clears his throat.

“I- last week I was so furious at you. I loathed you. But, as we had to pretend things started to change. But…” his hand squeezes your own as you look up at him with wide eyes, “I didn’t realize any of this until I saw you on the wedding day. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. And as you shed your tears I wanted nothing more than to be able to wipe them away and promise you comfort.”

He slides off the chair to rest on his knees before you.

“So, please… marry me. Because I want to be able to make you as happy as that bounty, I want to stand before you and say my vows with the pretty lights and amazing garlands. I want you.”

Your jaw hangs open as you draw on hand to cover it. Water wells up at the corner of your eyes as you replay his words over in your head.

Nodding your head frantically, you fall into his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. “Yes… yes yes yes.”

One of his hands cups the back of your head while the other snakes around your waist. He chuckles as all his anxieties fade away.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[dangerous-mess]

Holiday Troubles

Characters: Aizawa, trans male reader

Contains: Unsupportive family, transphobia, homophobia, misgendering, mentions of a deadname (D/N), mentions of religion and praying, mentions of dysphoria, angst, hurt/comfort, angst with fluff ending. This was written mainly as a comfort fic during the winter holidays but wanted to post this here (originally posted on AO3). Please read with caution as this content may be triggering for some

Word Count: 2K+ 

The holidays were always rough for you, being not only gay but transgender as well. There were the off-putting tension and feelings every time you walked in the room, and the side glances and judgemental glares that were shot your way if you were even caught wearing something feminine and not masculine. Mostly from your parents and family, feeling the obligation that you had to follow gender norms in the hope to not only pass but to be taken seriously in your own identity.

The holidays got a little easier once you married your now husband. He made visiting your family a bit easier and made the holidays in general, more enjoyable for you. This year, unfortunately, he had meetings and a nightly patrol that he couldn’t get out of, so you were left to go to the Christmas family gathering by yourself.

The day came, and needless to say, you were a nervous mess. You dressed up in a suit, something masculine of course to appease your family and keep those comments at bay. Though, you knew you weren’t in the clear as there was still a high chance of being deadnamed and misgendered by family who were unsupportive or others who just didn’t try. Your husband, Shouta, let you know before he left early that morning that if you needed anything at all to give him or Hizashi a call and they would come and get you in a heartbeat. He said Hizashi, just in case he couldn’t be reached, which was fine with you, Hizashi had become a close friend to you.

You arrived at your parent's house a little later than they asked, just cause you were nervous and needed more time to prepare for this evening. You knocked on the front door, adjusting your suit as you waited for someone to open the door, only to be greeted by one of your younger siblings. They gave you a big hug, before dragging you inside where you were greeted by family. Your grandmother was the first to deadname you. She called out as you talked to your uncle, a devious smile on her face as the name rolled off her tongue. You cringed hearing it and so badly wanted to correct her, but if your mother caught wind that you did, who knows what drama may pursue. You endured the conversation with her, as she made sure to drop in your deadname every chance she could get.

“Honestly D/N, you really should stop playing dress up and realize that you are a girl. Your husband would be so much happier to have a wife who knows her place and not some confused girl.”

You took a deep breath and bid your goodbyes to your grandmother as you went to find someone else to talk to. Eventually, dinner was called, and you all gathered around and your grandfather said a prayer. You looked down at your feet the entire time, not really wanting to participate in the prayer. Soon it wrapped up and a line formed into the kitchen to get food. After everyone got food, everyone gathered around and talked, telling stories of things that happened within the past year in their lives, as well as asking questions to others to get the latest scoop. You just decided to eat silently, trying to not participate in the gossip fest happening before you.

“So Y/N, how are you and your husband doing?” Your dad asked before he took a sip of a beer. You held up your pointer finger, signaling that you needed a moment as your finished chewing food before you smiled and spoke.

“Oh, we are doing well! He sends his deepest apologies that he couldn’t make it, hero duties called.” You smiled, taking a quick glance around the room. Some whispers were exchanged, knowing it was about you and Shouta. It was clear that besides your family not supporting your identity, they also did not support your marriage to a hero. Especially a hero who was supportive of you and your identity.

“Honestly, how she manages to keep such a hero man, is insane. Like who would wanna marry some confused lesbian?” One of your aunts spoke out. You gripped your glass tightly, biting your tongue, not wanting to start any issues.

Other family members chimed in to add on to your aunt's comment and soon it became too much. You quickly excused yourself and went to the bathroom farthest away from your family. You pulled out your phone and texted your husband. You told him that you needed him or Hizashi or someone to come to pick you up, as you originally walked, as it was nice earlier prior to the sun setting. You quickly got a reply, saying your husband was on his way, and that he was getting someone to cover the rest of his patrol. You felt a bit bad to interrupt and have him leave his patrol, but god you just needed him right now more than anything.

You hid amongst the rooms as you waited for Shouta to send you a message or signal that he was here. Your mom called out your name, walking down the hall looking for you. The smile on her face dropped as she saw you and grabbed your arm.

“Come on Y/N, we are about to exchange gifts. Stop trying to hide and be nice and spend time with your family. It took a lot of work and effort to get everyone here, like your grandparents who haven’t seen you in ages.” Your mom aggressively whispered at you, as she pulled you towards the living room. You stayed silently, hoping that your husband would be here soon.

Your mom let you go and pointed to a chair near the tree. You sat down and were handed some gifts. You slowly opened them, trying not to draw attention to yourself. The first gift was in a gift bag, and opening it exposed a colorful piece of clothing. You pulled it out and it was a sundress. Although you didn’t mind breaking gender norms, dresses were never your thing, they held too many bad memories and made you dysphoric. You frowned, not having the energy to fake a smile. You felt your mind start to spiral before a voice pulled you out.

“Oh, D/N do you not like it. I made sure to even get the right size and everything. I thought you could put that on and surprise your husband when you go home. Imagine how he would react to see his wife, finally coming to terms with herself.” Your grandmother called out, staring at you the entire time. You went to open your mouth when another voice spoke up.

“Actually, I think my husband looks handsome and perfect just the way he is in the suit he is wearing, but thank you. Maybe we can save the dress and give it to one of my students, I know one of them would get much better use of it.” Shouta’s voice boomed out, making a hush fall across the room. You never heard the front door open, but then again Shouta was very good at staying silent. You looked at your husband, feeling all your emotions and feelings starting to rise to the surface. You caught a dirty look your mother gave you as you stood up and made your way over to Shouta.

He held out his hand as you got closer and held it tightly, quickly bidding goodbye for you both as he quickly led you outside to the car that was waiting outside and still running. “I had Hizashi drive me over, hope that’s okay.” You just nodded at him, not letting go of his hand until you got into the car. As soon as you and Shouta were in the car, Hizashi sped off.

“Heya listener, how did it go?” Hizashi asked out, peeking into the mirror looking back at you.

“I lasted longer than last year, so that’s a new record at least.” You joked, trying not to cry. At least not now, you had to make it until you were home and in bed, with your husband holding you close.

Hizashi talked most of the ride home, while Shouta kept glancing back at you. You tried to listen to what was being said, but you couldn’t focus, so you just looked out the window, slightly dozing off. You woke up to the feeling of being carried, your eyes adjusted as you saw Shouta was carrying you into the house and to the bedroom. On any other occasion, if he was carrying you like this you were bound to tease or crack a joke or something, but in this moment you just stayed in his arms, gripping onto him tightly. Once you both got to the bedroom, he helped you undress and slip on something comfy. After he finished helping you, he quickly changed and climbed into bed, pulling you close to him and holding you tightly.

For a while, you just laid there in his arms, fighting back the urge to scream and cry. Though, after he comforted you and let you know it was okay to be upset and that you could let it all out. In which you did, you sobbed in his chest for what felt like hours. You screamed and sobbed and let out all the feelings you bottled up for the few hours you were at the family gathering. Eventually, you ran out of tears to cry and were only left with your own thoughts. You were overthinking, mostly dwelling on the words your family spoke out to you this evening, and couldn’t help but question if it was true.

“Sho...I’ve got to ask you something, kind of important.” You gently pushed away and sat up in the bed, looking at him. He stared at you, and nodded, letting you know it was okay to continue on. You took a deep breath and went for it, “Am I enough for you? I brought a lot of baggage and trouble into our relationship and I know it can’t be easy for you dating me, specifically with the backlash and comments that get made by my family and others about me transitioning and just. If you were with anyone else, I feel like you won’t get all this drama and I’m sorry I’ve brought so much of it onto you Shouta.”

You watched as his facial expression changed and you quickly looked away, finding interest in anything that wasn’t his face, afraid of what his reaction not only meant but the words that were about to follow. “Y/N, please look at me.” You slowly looked up and he placed a hand on your cheek. “I love you Y/N. I love you for you, you are my husband and I won’t want anyone else besides me. You are more than enough for me. And we both have a lot of baggage but that doesn’t change my feelings for you, we can work through it all together. I meant what I said in my vows and at our wedding and I still stand by it. Forever and always.”

You fiddled with your fingers before speaking up, “I love you Shouta so much, I’m just afraid one day I won’t be enough, cause as silly as it is, I don’t feel masculine or manly enough, that you’ll find more of a ‘real’ man one day and just leave me behind.” Tears filled your eyes and you looked down, just wanting to hide under the blankets.

“Y/N Aizawa, you are absolutely masculine and manly enough. I will never find anyone else or more a man than you. You are all I want, and all I need. I love you so much, don’t ever doubt my love for you, cause it is never-ending sweetheart.” Shouta spoke out, lifting your head up and placing a small kiss on your forehead before pulling you into his arms, holding you close. You just stayed there close, as Shouta whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you drifted off to sleep.

Shouta always made the holidays more bearable, but he also made life in general easier. He made waking up a little easier and helped with your hectic thoughts to calm you down. He truly was the love of your life and the best you could ever ask for. You couldn’t have gotten any luckier to have a husband as sweet and perfect as you. He may not be the number one hero to the rest of the world, but in your eyes and his heart, he was, he was your number one hero.

[vannybarber]

Put Some Respect On My Name!

Summary: As a wife and a mother to the kids of this asshole, respect is the one thing you better be recieving from him...after some good 🍆 of course. That's number one right there.😏

Ransom Drysdale x Black Reader

BIG ASS PLOT

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: Pregnant¡Reader, swearing, insults, angst, mentions of cheating, SMUT, breeding kink, spanking, oral (female receiving), praise kink, unprotected sex, mentions of religion, threats of violence (nothing extreme).

So here your are. Sitting on you and Ransom's shared California King bed looking at his friend, Derek's Instagram story, disappointed and angry. But mostly angry. Some nasty ass trick is sitting on your baby daddy's lap. Her loppy floppy tits out with a drink in hand and him drinking a Moscato, the one beverage he loved to order everytime he went out.

Last year for New Year's, you had to stop him from ordering more or else you were going to be cleaning him up after puking everywhere at midnight instead of getting a kiss to start off another year.

Your two year old daughter was in her playroom across the hall making a mess with her toys. Usually you'd be down there playing with her but your swollen stomach done prohibited you from doing a lot of things now. But it most definitely ain't stop you from getting what you want from Ransom every day and night. Nothing could ever stop you guys from getting yo freak on. Nothing.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale is most definitely an asshole and you're not gonna sit here and lie, acting like he completely changed when you guys came together. That boy still has his moments, but of course, it would be a chilly ass day in hell before you sit there and take his bullshit. He been learned that.

At this point ,you were thinking of ways to get on his ass about it when he comes home. Should you get the bat and wait at the door on some Beyonce shit ? Or put some bleach in his Fruit Loops like Cardi the next day ? Those sounded a lot better than what you decided to do. You were gonna wait till he got back home and calmly confront him on it, regardless of what your hormones wanted. 6 months pregnant and anger do not go together. You're WAAAAY more vulnerable and bound to do anything now. So you just watch your daughter brush her baby doll, hitting her on the head cause she won't sit still, rubbing your bump and wait for him to come home.

You hear shuffling downstairs and keys hitting the bowl by the front door. His big head home now and you're beyond ready.

You check the time and it's 2:46 am. You been put your child to sleep hours ago. You were just watching Wild N' Out to pass the time, thinking of how you were gonna start off without making yourself even more mad. The baby nor you need any of that. You were internally praying he was gonna get his ass over here soon cause your ass knocked out for a little bit. You were sleepy as hell right now.

Hearing those expensive ass Chelsea boots hit the sleek stairs and up to the second floor, you woke the fuck up real quick. You stay quiet and watch him walk in your daughters room and check on her. You can see with the nightlight him smile and rub her brown cheek with the back of his forefinger, whispering inaudible words to her. Fuck him and his adorable ass.

He bends back up straight and walks out her room closing the door a little and make his way across the hall to your room. He sees you and your pregnant state in your white tube top and grey booty shorts. Simple yet the baddest bitch he's ever laid eyes on and ever will. He smiles while locking eyes with you and all you do is narrow yours back at him getting upset all over again, regardless of the sweet previous moment shared with your baby girl.

He gives you a 'what the hell ?' look and comes over to give you a kiss but you jerk your head back with the stank face and a 'boy move out my face' quietly leaving your mouth. Now he's REALLY confused.

"Mama, what's wrong with you?"

You look at him like he just asked you to get on your knees and bark like a dog.

"What's wrong with me? You really asking that?" raising your voice on the second question.

Technically, he has the right to ask, being that he doesn't know what you know. He probably doesn't even know that Derek was recording him and that broad. Nor does he know that you texted Derek to keep recording him so you know nothing escalates.

Call it what you want, but you know how your man is. He's immature and irresponsible as HELL. If something had popped off that really threatened y'all's relationship, you would've been in that bar with your child on your right hip, earphones in her ear and tablet in hand, cussing him and that girl out.

"You wanna tell me how your night went?" You tilt your head asking sweetly, with a drop of sarcasm. You truly are a petty ass piece of work. And you love it.

"Just get to the point Y/N. The fuck did I do this time ?" At this point he's now visibly annoyed. But you ain't care. This situation is on his part. Y'all could've had a nice night, fucking while Big City Greens playing in the background on the T.V. eventually waking your child up cause you loud as hell, but nooooo. That ain't happening now.

You grab your phone and open back up Instagram, Marta popping up on your feed with Harlan reading a book. You like it and search up Derek's @ then click his story. You flip through countless tabs until you see the man-child standing in front of you, on the screen. You motion him over to the bed.

"Come here, asswipe."

He rolls his eyes, but moves them feets anyway. You turn your phone to him and let the video play. You watched it about a thousand times so you know exactly when it ends. After it does you pull the phone back in your lap and give him a questioning look.

Sometimes it's hard to read his expressions and this was one. It was a mix of slight guilt and double the annoyance. He backs up and stands back at the end of the bed, arms crossed.

"Really? This why you're upset?"

You swear you almost slapped him. And this time you couldn't blame the hormones because it was gonna be ALL YOU. You take a deep breath and lean your back against the cushion headboard.

"I KNOW you did not just ask me that as if I ain't supposed to be bothered by the fact that my husband got some random woman on his lap while I'm at home with his daughter and his growing child."

You deadass don't believe him right now. He really pressing you as if he don't know how you get when you're angry, especially while pregnant.

"My feet hurt. I am TIRED. I can't even move for more than 5 minutes without getting sick and having to sit down. The you come at me with this bullshit" you continue. "What the hell is wrong with you ?"

He just deadpans you. And you stare at his ass right back. You not playing right now.

"Y/N, you never get upset when I go out with my buddies and get hammered." He's flapping his arms around raising his voice at every word.

"What is the big deal now? It's fucking late and you're doing all this right now. What the hell?"

You gather the strength and get out the bed to close the bedroom door cause you about to go AWF.

Getting back on the bed fully sitting up and supporting your own weight, you tie your butterfly braids up in ponytail.

"Listen, you raggedy shitball,"

It's about to go down. You adjust yourself, ready to release the wrath.

"I don't give a damn how late it is. You know better than to go out and let some bitch get close up on you like that. Were you even thinking about me or your kids while she was on you? The fuck was going through your mind? Oh wait, I forgot. You don't fucking think. You have to actually have a damn brain."

"Raggedy shitball? Real mature, babe. Real fucking mature." He says rolling his eyes, finally getting his shoes off and putting them under the chair were his scarf and coat are draped over.

You continue with your rant.

"Ironic for you to comment on maturity, Hugh."

Yep, that's right. You said it. You called him by his ugly ass first name. Linda and Richard must've been out they damn mind naming him that shit. He whipped his head around, any sense of expression just completely wiping from his face. Perfect. Just the reaction you wanted.

"Don't call me that." He stated, pure disgust in his words. To be honest, you don't even blame him. But like stated before, you petty as hell.

"Hugh, Hugh, Hugh. Your name is fucking Hugh" you say in a sing songy voice. Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta.

"You don't get to tell me what to do right now. And back to what I said before. Why you let that girl in your lap like that ?"

"It was completely harmless. We were just having fun. Like you said before, you aren't a jealous person. Stuff like that shouldn't even be affecting you like this." He gets on the bed beside you and your face tore back up again. He's really getting in this fucking bed beside you like nothing.

But he was right though. You aren't a jealous person. A girl can come up to him at a party and flirt right in your face, but you'd never be bothered. Cause at the end of the day, her ass is getting rejected and he's gonna be inside you later the same night. He's yours and you're his. Simple.

"Ransom, just because I'm not a jealous person doesn't mean I'm gonna keep my mouth if our relationship is threatened." This man is actually delusional.

"You never entertain other girls when I'm around and here you are with a girl on your lap and I'm not there to say or do nothing. And you know your shitty friends will just encourage it. "

At this point, you started to get really insecure. Maybe it's the hormones, maybe it's just your logic. But your mind started racing like NASCAR. What really happens when he's out and you're at home? He wouldn't put your marriage and family at risk over a bitch...right? He hasn't cheated on you, has he? These thoughts really weren't good for your right now.

But he must've read your expressions. You were zoned out and he knows you're an over thinker so he had to stop you real quick. He puts his large left hand over your thigh, rubbing it and his right around your ass, leaning his head against your arm, trying to get you to chill. It almost worked, him knowing you liked your thighs rubbed, especially in your state.

But you caught that shit right away. You moved out of his hold and turn your body completely towards him. And then you ask him.

"Have you ever cheated on me?"

He freezes, you swear for at least 2.4 milliseconds and whips his head around to look at you. You turn your head away, somewhat regretting you even asked. You know this fucker loved you and your family with everything. He even said in his vows he would give his all into you. And you believed him. But fuck that right now. You need to know.

"Are you GODDAMN serious right now?!"

Okay, you paused for two things; he used God's name in vain, which you HATED, due to you growing up religious. Even though you don't practice it very often, it still bothered you. And two, he yelled, completely disregarding the fact that your kid is across the hall sleeping.

You snap your head around, braids hitting your face with super saiyan speed and kick him in his hip.

"What the shit, Y/N?"

"First of all, you know how I feel about that fucking word. STOP USING IT. And two, your daughter is sleeping so you need to keep your damn voice down!"

He's rubbing his side with a distorted look, but you could care less. You were fed up. This imbecile wasn't showing you any respect and your weren't gonna wait for him to get it right.

"How the hell would you feel if I went out, sat on some random dude's lap and entertained him while you were at home with our kid? Matter a fact, I'll do one even better. How about while I'm PREGNANT with YOUR baby, that YOU put in me, I sit on him and letting him rub my belly?"

Ransom has a big ass breeding kink. When you told him you were pregnant he was ecstatic. The though of him knocking you up, his seed growing inside of you just gave him pure ecstacy. And don't even get started on when your bump started to form. He was fucking every chance he got. He was in a theme park and you were his favorite ride.

You know you were playing with fire, but that shit felt AMAZING. He was really feeling how you were feeling right now. Them veins were popping out his neck and his face was slightly turning red. Baby boy was LIVID.

"Y/N, cut that shit out. I'm not doing this with your ass tonight." He looked at you with these eyes you've only seen when his family pissed him off at those gatherings he dragged both of you to. Before you had your first child of course. You went to them less after your daughter's birth because he didn't want her around his shitty family. You completely understood.

"Nah, baby boy. Since you want to be so inconsiderate and a triple asshole tonight, you can lay here by yourself and bathe in it." You got your big ass out the bed after minutes of struggling. Grabbing your black Betty Boop pillow with her cute afro, your charger, phone and your Hot Cheetos out the night stand and slipped on your slides, you waddle across the room, heading into the guest bedroom.

You refuse to sleep in the same bed as him, especially since he refuses to admit he's in the wrong. If you stay in there, you're just going to get even more frustrated and you don't want to harm your baby.

"Y/N, baby. What are you doing? Come back in here" he called you from the bedroom.

You shut the door and lock it. You'll be damned if you're gonna come running back cause he aSkEd you to. You settle in the bed, plug your phone up, grab your chips and turn When They See Us on the T.V.

Ransom just lays back on the bed in defeat. He didn't even make an effort to get you back in the room because you're stubborn as a mule. But he takes this time to go over what just happened.

He truly didn't think you would make a big deal. Like you said before, you're not a jealous person, so he didn't think he'd have to worry. Boy, was he all the way wrong. And you did have a point about you entertaining another man. That had his blood boiling. He gets at most irritated when you come with him to events, like the Oakley Country Club in Watertown and you're everyone's distraction.

It was your first appearance with him there and you being a sight to see, had all eyes on you and your body. Hell, even the women were checking you out, no envy or jealousy in sight. He knew then, he was gonna keep you close. You don't remember ever leaving his side that evening. He even volunteered to go into the bathroom with you. He didn't want to take a chance with the females either.

But in all seriousness, he couldn't bear the thought of you with another man. Especially now that you're married and have two kids together. But he really couldn't believe that you'd even suggest that he had been unfaithful to you. Your reasons were plausible, yes, but he was honestly...hurt. He knows what kind of guy he is comes off as, but he'd never intentionally ruin what you guys have built. You were the only one he truly let close.

He knew what he had to do, even though he dreaded it. He had to go apologize. He hates when you're upset with him. Absolutely hates it. Plus you were looking sexy as hell tonight and he need some of that round brown ASAP, no rocky.

Ransom got up and opened the door, making his way down the hall to the guest bedroom, but not before checking his baby's room. She was still fast asleep, little snores leaving her body. Exiting her room, he knew your door would be locked but tried to open it anyway. When it didn't budge, he knocked a couple of times. But you was knocked out.

Then he remembered. Lifting his hand to the top of the door frame, he searched for the thin key that unlocked the bedroom doors. Once he felt it, he grabbed it and inserted it in the door knob. Click. He pushed the door open and looked around to see the T.V. screen on, but paused, and you lying on your side with the Cheeto bag still open like a damn fool.

He shut the door quietly and made his way around the bed. He closed the loud ass bag, which caused you to stir and reposition your legs. He set the bag on the nightstand and crawled into the bed with you. He stared at you for a moment. Looking at your full lips and your wide nose.

Your afrocentric features were always so mesmerizing to him because they were different from all the other women. They were unique and he understood why you took so much pride in them. You had the damn right, especially looking that good. You were never afraid to embrace them. No person of color should ever be afraid to. Ever.

After what felt like an hour of weird ass staring, Ransom started to shake your arm, trying to wake you. You're a heavy ass sleeper, so it took him a while. You opened your eyes, squinting trying to figure what the fuck just woke your ass up. Feeling a dip in the bed and a presence next to you, Ransom comes into sight.

Even though this man is finer than a MOTHERFUCKER, you still turned your nose up when you looked at him. Your ass was still mad and it was ridiculous. Understandable, but ridiculous as hell. You could only imagine what he wanted now. You roll your eyes.

"Listen, I know you're still pissed at me and whatever, but I just came in here to.... apologize."

He averted his gaze to the T.V. You know how difficult it is for your baby to apologize for anything because even though he clearly in the wrong, he will never ever accept it nor admit it. And damn sure never apologize.

"I realize how you felt when you saw that video", he continued. "I would be even more pissed if you were the one in someone else's lap and I couldn't kick their ass as soon as I saw it."

You chuckled a little bit because it's true. He would be angry as shit. Although, you'd never be in that position because you love and respect him too much. But you let him finish before you spoke.

"With that being said, I'm sorry for my actions. Believe it or not, I'm still getting adjusted to being a husband and a father. I'm still struggling to give up my old habits and the shit I'm so used to doing. It's not easy, baby."

You grab is strong jaw and make him face you. He hasn't made eye contact with you this entire time. You almost felt bad, but he needed to understand. Understand where you were coming from and understand how it made you feel.

"Ransom, I'm not asking you to completely change who you are. I just want to know that you're in this for good. Because you can't turn back now. We've come too damn far. And I'll be damned if you decide to give up your responsibilities. Your ass gon' be grass."

He smiled a teeny bit, because what can you say? You're a natural born comedian. You can turn any situation in to some funny ass shit. But you get back to your point.

"I want you to be able to go out and have fun, but also come back and be a husband and a father. I value my independence just as much as you, so I get it. Just remember what you have. Don't fuck it up for some pussy, alright? That's all I'm saying."

You look him in his sea blue eyes. Damn, them thangs are hypnotic as hell. But you search for something that tells you he understands. That's all you fucking want. Him to understand. But you definitely got your answer.

Just as you were about to ask him, he shoots his face towards you and attacks your mouth like a damn wild ass pig. You were thrown all the way off, but you checked back into reality and kissed him back. You guys had this amazing ass way of getting in sync when you kissed. No matter who initiates it, you flow amazingly.

After a few mintues of saliva attack, you pull away tryna breathe cause he was about to take all your fucking oxygen. He laughs at the look on your face. You end up cracking up too. You can't help it. And he knows it.

"I completely understand, mama. I've definitely taken this into consideration. I learned my lesson." He smiles down at you. Internally you're proud as fuck because it's like you raised a bad ass kid into a well behaved one. The power your ass holds is amazing.

Then you look at the door trying to figure out how the hell he got in the room. "The key." You nod in realization. He rubs your thigh again, and this time, you don't stop him. Instead he stops himself. You look at him confused as fuck.

"But I'm gonna let you sleep in here, since you seem to be so cozy." He was messing with you. Fuck him. He gets up off the bed and head towards the door, but not before looking back to catch your reaction. You had a 'get your ass back over here' look on your face. But he just smirked. That signature smirk.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He really out here testing you right now. The balls on this motherfucker...

"Ransom, get your ass over here and give me what I want." You look down at his crotch, imagining him without his wool Reiss pants. He follows your eyes, still holding that smirk, but not forgetting to widen it. You lusting after his fLeSh turned him on bad. And it felt so good.

You already know you're to hard to resist. Everyone loves chocolate. Even Ransom's lactose intolerant ass.

You start to rub your belly, purposely drawing his attention, really making him turned on for you. You can feel that that tropical rain storm in your Fenty underwear.

And that boy was ready to start swimming. He expediTiously got back on the bed and in between your legs. You give him that look and that's all he needed. Connecting your lips to his and moving them in perfect sync like always, he starts rubbing up and down the side of your full belly.

"So fucking perfect and all of it's for me."

You pause.

"And who said all of this was for you, Mr. Drysdale?"

Not amused by your comment, he slaps your ass louder than a bitch and you shut your ass up real quick. Not before letting out a little giggle though.

He lifts your heavy ass and pulls the tube top over your head, letting your swole breasteses fall into position. Your areolas widened since having your daughter and Ransom LIVED for it. You were definitely enjoying them massages and those lips treatments he gave you when they were sore, just like now.

He starts kneading the left breast and continues to make out with your face like an animal. His left arm is holding your ass up. He eventually lays you back down, knowing damn well his ass is tired of holding you. You ain't blaming him either.

He hooks his lips on the nipple of the same breast, twirling his deadly tongue all around it. You moan with your head thrown back cause it feels good as hell. He lets go and replaces his mouth with his hands and twirls the nipple with his mouth on the other.

All you could do was mumble cuss words and grab his hair. He was really fucking you up and the real fucking didn't even start yet.

Trailing kisses all the way down your beautiful bump, down all the stretch marks till he reaches your shorts. He wasted no time getting them off and disposing them on the clean floor. Whatever he throw on the floor HE'S picking that shit up, not you. You'll make sure of that.

He looks directly at your covered pussy with excitement in his eyes. More excited than you were, if that's even possible. He takes his thick index finger and rubs you through your panties, completely soaking them. You just watch him, lust dialating your pupils.

He yanks them off, almost taking you off the damn bed at the same time, so you had to re-adjust yourself. He spreads your legs on their sides of his wide shoulders and licks from your core to the hood that covered your clit. You jerked a little cause you were in your second trimester, the horny trimester. You were 🌃 sensitive 🌃.

Then his annoying ass starts lapping in circles in super saiyan speed. You cry out and grab your left breast, squeezing and rubbing it. He stretches his left hand out and takes the right one, doing the same thing. Your back was continuously arching. You know your baby was fed up.

After a couple of more laps, your body finally can't take anymore and you cum all over his mouth. He has the audacity to keep going, even when your clit is hypersensitive, making you literally whimper, so you have to slap his head to get him to stop.

He pulls away with that stupid famous smirk.

"All that shit you're always talking, but you couldn't take a little sensitivity?" He teases you. But that's alright, cause you gon' remember that next time you're on your knees for him. When he comes, you not taking your mouth off him until you feel like it.

"Just fuck me already before I change my mind." You don't know why you even said that shit. He can tease you all you want. You'll never not have your legs or mouth open, ready for him to stick his dick wherever he feels.

He just chuckles, cause he knows that too.

Taking your body, he flips you on your left side and settles behind you, dick right against your ass. Its one of your favorite positions because he could hit your sweet spot perfectly this way. And he could rub your bump at the same time. Beneficial for the both of your greedy asses.

He was taking way to long so you grab his dick and line it up with your pussy and push the tip in slowly, playing with your own arousal. Ransom just watched. He loved seeing you desperate for his stupid ass, but you gave zero fucks at the moment.

Finally you slip his huge ass girth inside you and you moan out loud as hell. You really just be turned on by anything at this point. He then takes back the lead and pushes further till he bottoms out inside you. He's heavily breathing his hot ass breath on your neck like a weirdo, but fuck it.

Once both of you are adjusted, he starts moving in and out of you. The position made your walls hella tighter and he was already hitting your spot. His tight arm is wrapped around your stomach now. You constantly moan his name and he's just encouraging it.

"Ransom, fuck, baby just like that"

"You love when I fuck you like this, don't you pretty girl?"

You hated when he called you "pretty girl, sweet girl, or good girl" because you become a straight whore for him right away. He's such an asshole.

"Yes, Daddy- please don't stop"

"Tell me how bad you want it baby"

There he go with these fucking games. Always wanting to hear you beg.

"I want it so bad, Daddy ! pleASe give it to mE"

Happy Ransom?

He starts to pick up the pace and you feel the pleasure in your toes. It just travel from there all around your body and you can't say anything but "don't stop" and moan uncontrollably.

You start getting close and he can tell by the way you pick up the moans. So he starts going faster. But never forgetting to add a little nasty dialogue.

"I can feel you ready to come sweet girl. Keep clenching around me baby" That shit just made you even more whore-knee. If you weren't already pregnant, he was definitely gonna put a baby in you that night.

"Baby I'm close- fill me up Ransom please "

You're begging for this man to cum inside you, but he always wanna play a damn game.

"Hmmm do you truly deserve to cum baby? I don't know if you do.."

You wanted to hit him so bad, but he wouldn't let you come if you did. So you go along with it.

"Yes Daddy I'll do anything- Please just let me cum !" You screamed.

At this point you were loud as 🌃fuck🌃 .

After more begging he finally let you come.

"Oh shit Ransom- FUCK" You come all over his dick and shortly after, he came right behind you. Filling you up just like you wanted. He slumped against your back and you lowered your shaky leg.

"You always take me so well baby girl." He starts kissing your neck. You could literally hear that loppy ass smile he has on his face everytime y'all get done. But you get all tingly inside because you love when he praises you. Makes you feel proud of yourself.

"Well there's not much to take so...it's whatever." What are you without a teasing remark after every other sentence? But he always has a clapback.

"Its funny you say that because the other day you were practically in tears because my dick was "too much for one woman to take" and that I was practically torturing you." At this point you're turned over facing him grinning like a Cheshire cat and him smiling right back at you.

"Oh shut the fuck up, with your annoying ass." You snap back at him playfully, rolling your eyes.

"You love me, my chocolate bunny." He let's out an audible yelp when you kick him in his leg. You hate when he calls you that. "Cut it out Ransom, or you're not touching me for a week."

There you go again saying the dumb shit. You both know that YOU could never go through with that.

"Fine by me", he states unphased. Cause he knows you could never.

You roll your eyes for the 50thousanth time.

"You're lucky I love your ass."

"I love you too pretty girl" he winks.

Just as you were about to get up, you hear something jiggle the doorknob and someone huffing and puffing outside the door. That little girl over here jumping up and down tryna to open the damn door. You're literally hollering at her struggle. Truly sick in the fucking head.

"Mama! Where Papa ?" Ransom grins as he throws you his blue sweater so you can cover up and gets up to let your baby girl in.

You truly cannot stand this guy.

This all came to me so fast 😭 I hope y'all like it lmaoo

[hangovercurse]

Pictures of Us

Y/N and Casie plan a girl’s day while Colson plans something a little different

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, sappy

A/N: Ok so this was supposed to be a request from anon but got a little off track (and wayyyy to long) so I’m gonna post this and then I’ll work on that request as another entity entirely. God this is so fluffy I love it. 

Part ii

Word Count: 1518

masterlist

You loved that the first thing you felt in the morning was Colson’s hand wrapped around you, pulling you into him even while he’s asleep. If he ever woke up before you, he would press small kisses down your neck until you woke up. This was not one of those mornings. When you turned to face your boyfriend of 4 years you found him peacefully asleep, his bleached hair falling around in his face. He was absolutely stunning.

You turned your head back around to catch the time, it was already 11. You let out a sigh, realizing you would have to find a way out of his grasp. So you carefully removed his hand from your middle before starting to sit up, only to hear a groan from the man behind you.

“Why are you leaving? Its Sunday morning.” He whined, causing you to chuckle. He moved so that both his hands were wrapped around your waist, pulling you back onto the bed.

You giggled as you fell back onto the bed, “Colson I gotta get up. I told Casie we could have a girls day today.”

“You can stay in bed just a little bit longer, Case won’t mind.” His morning voice combined with his hot breath on your neck almost convinced you.

“Babe she’s been talking about this all week, I can’t bail on her.”

He chuckled, “She’s eleven, Y/N. I think she’ll be okay.” His lips found your jawline, kissing up to your cheek and nuzzling his nose into you.

You giggled at his neediness, “You can join girl’s day if you want.” You turned to face him, connecting your lips briefly, pulling away quickly.

Colson groaned as you refused to let him kiss you again, causing a small laugh from you. “Just wanna kiss my girl, is that so much to ask for?” He sunk his face into your shoulder, pressing kisses all over the skin.

“Colson, I have to get up,” your voice was tainted with laughter as he continued his attack on your shoulder.

“No.” He mumbled against your neck. The feeling of his lips pressed there was heaven, but you were on a mission.

You sighed, “let me out of this bed and then after Casie and I are done, we can stay in it as long as you’d like.” The smirk on your face was also very apparent in your voice.

You giggled as Colson perked up, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Okay, go have fun with my daughter.” He laughed, loosening his hold on your hips but still not completely letting you go.

“You don’t wanna join?” You pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“It wouldn’t be girl’s day then.” He said in a joking matter-of-fact tone. “But once you’re done, I wanna talk to you about something.”

You hated that phrase, it always seemed to be laced with poison. “Oh, is everything okay?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked towards your lover. Your heart picked up its rhythm just slightly.

He smiled down at you, “Don’t worry about it babe, it’s nothing bad, I promise.” He pressed a kiss to your lips. “Trust me, I’m not a complete idiot. I know how lucky I am.” He whispered the last phrase, causing a blush to spread across your face.

“I need to leave this bed before you convince me to stay here all day.” He groans at your statement but it quickly turns to a laugh, letting you go.

“You should do pedicures.” He called after you, causing you to roll your eyes at him with a giggle before you continued your journey to Casie’s room.

 After a few hours of manicures, pedicures, makeovers, and hair styling (Casie wanted you to try a TikTok hairstyle on her), girl’s day was finally over. Colson had been strangely absent the whole day, but truthfully you hadn’t paid much attention to him, you were too focused on the amazingness that is Casie, whom you treated like your own daughter.

You peeked at your phone, realizing it was already 5 pm. “Start thinking about what you want for dinner, kiddo.” You told Casie as you stood up, turning towards the door only to find Colson already in the doorway.

“How was my two favorite ladies’ girl’s day?” He asked, grabbing your hand and pulling you into him.

“It was great!” Casie started. “Look what Y/N did with my hair! It’s so cool, right?” She showed off the row of braids that led into two small buns on the back of her head.

“Woah.” Colson said, his eyes going wide. “You did that?” He looked over at you, “they look so cool.”

“Well, they were Casie’s creation, I just did what she told me to.” You smiled, looking over to Casie who had a wide smile on her face.

The girl was practically jumping up and down, “Can Y/N do my hair all the time?”

You giggled, “I’ll even teach you how to do it yourself if you want.” Casie nodded quickly, laughing.

“Is it cool if I steal Y/N from you now, Case?” Colson’s hand around your waist squeezing and your mind shifted back to your conversation earlier.

She sighed dramatically, “I guess.”

Colson just chuckled and began to drag you out of the room, “Thank you!” He shouted to Casie as he lifted you up, carrying you bridal style to your bedroom. He set you down outside the closed door, your back facing him. He put his hands over your eyes, shielding your vision. “Don’t peek.”

“Colson what are you doing?” You giggled, feeling a bit giddy.

“Just trust me, I’ll tell you when you can look.” You could hear the smile in his voice and then the creak of a door opening. “Okay now walk forward a few steps.” His voice was very close to your ears, sending a shiver down your back.

You shuffled forward, taking in the soft sound of music playing, until you heard him say, “Stop. Okay now turn to the right,” You did as he said, “and now you can open your eyes.”

When he removed his hand you were in awe. The bedroom you had been in just a few hours ago was now adorned with candles, rose petals, and balloons. The rose petals were shaped into a heart on the bed, which was simultaneously the cheesiest and most romantic thing you’d ever seen. But what really got you was the pictures scattered around the room. Some were stuck on the walls, some hung from lights dangling on the ceiling, and all of them were of you and Colson.

As you took in every picture he had hung up you felt tears stinging your eyes. He had pictures of your first date, you two at the concert venue where he first told you he loved you, every important milestone in your relationship was documented in picture form around the room.

You turned to look around the room, a permanent smile on your face. When you had finally turned all the way around to where Colson had been standing, you found him on one knee, a box in his hand.

“Colson.” You gasped, a tear finally falling from your eye.

“Y/N, I’ve known I loved you since the day we met. You are my other half, the best part of me, and everything I’ve ever needed in my life. Everything I hated about myself you’ve made better. You show me what it means to love not only another, but myself. I don’t think I could exist without you, and I never want to find out. You’re my muse, my love, and my soulmate. So if you’ll have me Y/F/N, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

The tears were falling from your eyes non stop at this point. “Yes. Oh my fucking god yes.” You whispered, reaching your hand out as he slipped a beautiful diamond ring onto your finger, kissing your hand before standing up and wrapping his arms around you. “I love you.” You choked out in a whisper.

He rubbed his nose against yours and rest his forehead against yours, “I love you too.” He leaned down, his lips meeting yours in a passionate, loving kiss. Once he pulled away, he looked to his right, “You get all that, Casie?”

You followed his eyes to see Casie with his phone recording you two. She nodded, “It was gross watching you two kiss,” she made a face, “but I got it!”

“C’mere,” You motioned Casie over, opening your arm so she could join your hug. “Are you okay with me and your dad getting married?”

She rolled her eyes, giving you an ‘are you serious?’ face. “Obviously! I told him if he didn’t, I would never talk to him again.”

You laughed, squeezing her tighter. “My two girls.” Colson mused, pressing his lips to your forehead. You stayed like that for a while, Casie’s arms wrapped around the both of you, her head leaning into your stomach.

It was perfect. Your own, perfect, family.

[forzalando]

dance with me | b.b.

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader au: modern, non-avengers!au word count: 3.2k warnings: mentions of alcohol/drinking a/n: hello friends! i know i've been a bit inactive but inspiration struck for bucky so here is fluff with my actual baby

summary: Bucky is the best man at Steve and Peggy's wedding, and he's dreading giving the best man speech. All seems to be going incredibly well until Bucky sets his eyes on the most beautiful woman he's ever seen among the crowd of wedding guests.

Bucky was nervous; how could he not be when in a few short moments he would have to make a speech in front of hundreds of people? Most of them were strangers which brought him a sliver of comfort, but there were still far too many familiar eyes at this massive wedding.

He had made it down the aisle by sheer, dumb luck, and thankfully stood at Steve’s side unwavering throughout the entire ceremony.

It was beautiful and surprisingly shorter than expected, but Bucky had little time to relish in that because the sooner everyone got to the reception, the sooner it would be time for him to make the best man speech.

As everyone piled out of their respective modes of transportation in front of the reception venue, Bucky felt a hand clap against his back and he lurched forward.

“Ready for your big moment, Barnes?”

Bucky rolled his eyes and turned to face his fellow groomsman Sam Wilson, a friend he made reluctantly through Steve, and brushed Sam’s arm off of his shoulder.

“You know, I think you’d be much better suited to make a speech. Your charisma, that effortless charm…tell me you don’t agree.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Barnes, and besides, I have my video camera fully charged and ready to record you. Might even put it on YouTube.”

Sam gave Bucky another pat on the back and walked briskly towards the reception, shamelessly flirting with every single female guest he passed by.

He figured there was no use in waiting, and Bucky quickly followed Sam towards the wedding party table. Bucky let out a sigh of relief when he saw that his nametag was placed between Steve’s and Thor’s; if he was sat next to Sam or Tony he might have run out of the ballroom before anyone had a chance to hand him a mic.

The celebration was already in full swing; Tony was on stage introducing the band and reminding everyone that the reception was fully equipped with an open bar, courtesy of Stark Industries as one of many wedding gifts to Steve and Peggy. Almost immediately, a server with a tray of champagne approached Bucky and held out a flute.

Bucky took it eagerly, downing one and grabbing another before the server made his way to others standing nearby. As the cool, sparkling liquid swished around in his mouth, Bucky caught Steve’s eye and walked quickly to catch up with him.

“I’ve barely seen you all day, how you holding up, Stevie?”

“It’s the happiest day of my life, Buck, I’m absolutely perfect. Peggy was looking for you, I told her I would find you with a champagne glass in hand. There’s nothing to be nervous about, Buck, hell, you can just make a toast and sit down in 30 seconds if you want.”

“No, no, I have notecards and everything. I vow that this will be the best, best man speech in history, even if Sam thinks I’m bound to screw up.”

“Yeah, I saw he brought a video camera,” Steve chuckled, his eyes scanning the crowd for Sam’s tall stature. “I still don’t understand how you can command a courtroom but you’re afraid of making the best man’s speech.”

“Simple; law is facts, best man speech is emotion. I’m great at facts, not so great at emotion. Case dismissed.”

Steve shook his head and laughed at his best friend’s corny sense of humor that permeated most of Bucky’s words. It was one of the reasons people were so drawn to him, but Bucky didn’t always feel the same pull towards other people.

“Well, it’s almost time for dinner, I’m off to get back to my wife,” Steve sighed adoringly. “My wife, can you believe that?”

“Yes, I’ve known this day would come since the moment you two met. I’ll see you at the table, punk.”

Bucky weaved his way through the crowds of people back to the wedding party table and wasn’t surprised to find that Sam had switched the name plates so that he was now in Thor’s seat. If he wasn’t so nervous, he might have even laughed, but Sam’s video camera peeking out from under the table brought a sickly feeling back to Bucky’s stomach. He quickly summoned a server and plucked another flute of champagne from the serving tray, quelling his nerves by finishing the glass in one gulp.

Soon enough, everyone was seated and plates were served. Despite the fact that there were hundreds of people in the room, it felt homey. Everyone was chattering lively and Bucky found himself doubled over when Sam choked on a green bean and launched it halfway across the room when he coughed it up.

Halfway through dessert, Bucky felt Steve rise from his seat and then heard the faint tapping of silverware on Steve’s wine glass.

“Peggy and I are unbelievably blessed to have you all here with us today. We couldn’t be happier than to share and celebrate our love with all of you, our friends and family.”

“You wouldn’t know it, because I kept it very well hidden, but I knew there was something special about Steve from the moment I met him, and I had always dreamed that one day we would be here,” Peggy spoke assuredly. “I’d love to take the next few hours to talk about Steve, but my cousin and my maid of honor, Sharon, would like to make a toast.”

In all honesty, Bucky couldn’t hear a word of Sharon’s speech. His heart rate was impossibly high, high enough for his smart watch to notify him that he seemed to be in distress, and he stared blankly ahead until he felt Steve stand up again.

“And now, my best man, my best friend, my brother, Bucky, also has a few words he would like to share.”

It happened in slow motion; Steve sitting down and Bucky rising simultaneously. He pulled his notecards from his jacket pocket, while Sam slipped the video camera out from under the table, and took a deep breath, hoping to calm his heartbeat.

“The night Steve and Peggy met, way back when we were freshmen in college, I told Steve that he was going to marry her. I know he didn’t believe me because, believe it or not, he wasn’t always the buff, handsome guy you see before you. But, Steve’s always had a heart of gold, and I know that Peggy saw his heart that night. For those that know how they met, you know what I’m talking about, and for those that don’t, well, I’ll save Steve the embarrassment since it is his wedding day and I’m supposed to be nice to him.”

Bucky heard laughter across the room, and he stood a little taller and raised his gaze to look into the crowd as he flipped to his next notecard.

“When I think about true love, I think about the perseverance that one half of this perfect couple portrayed just to get a first date. I’ll give you a hint: it wasn’t Steve. It was brutal watching Peggy flirt with this man and Steve never realized until one day Peg just planted one right on him, signature red lipstick and all. I’ll tell ya, I’ve never seen Stevie smile bigger in his life, except for maybe earlier today when Tony, ordained minister for the day, pronounced him and Peg husband and wife.”

The laughter continued and Bucky let his eyes wander across the room before they landed on a table not too far from his own, where a woman sat with her legs crossed and a dreamy smile on her perfect face.

Bucky quickly looked away before she noticed his staring, and flipped another card.

“It’s been many years since those puppy-love college days, but through every trial, every hardship, I’ve only seen their love grow infinitely stronger. It is a true – ”

Bucky’s voice cut off as his eyes landed once again on the captivating stranger; his eyes fixated on the curve of her lip and the way her eyelashes fluttered gently across her cheekbones as she blinked.

He cleared his throat and began again.

“It is a true…a true…please forgive me, but I can’t focus on this speech when the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen is sitting right in this room.”

Sam clapped a hand over his mouth, stifling his own laughter so that he didn’t mess up the sound on the recording.

“Table…ten? I think that’s table ten. The Y/H/C woman in the pale blue dress, please, please allow me the pleasure of knowing your name.”

The mystery woman straightened up immediately, a look of embarrassment crossing her face as she looked around her to see if there was, by chance, another Y/H/C woman wearing a blue dress, but of course there wasn’t.

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to yell, I’ll be right there,” Bucky spoke into the mic before hopping over the table and hastening towards table ten.

Sam could no longer contain his laughter, and Peggy stared at Steve in bewilderment, shocked at Bucky’s actions. She hadn’t known him to act like this in years, ever since Dot broke his heart their senior year of college he’d lost that romantic and spontaneous side to him.

Bucky settled in the empty seat next to the stranger and flashed her a boyish, charming smile; extending his hand out for her to shake.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” she spoke as she took Bucky’s hand gently. “It’s, uh, it’s nice to meet you, but don’t you have a speech to get back to?”

“You’re absolutely right, I’ll find you later.”

Bucky gingerly lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, watching as her Y/E/C eyes grew wide in shock. He quickly ran off before she had time to say another word and made his way back to the wedding party table with a skip in his step.

Sam handed Bucky back his mic, offering him a wink and a sly smile.

“I apologize for the brief interruption,” Bucky breathed out, “but I had to know her name. It’s Y/N, by the way, a beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Before I laid eyes on her I was about to tell you all how Peggy and Steve will make it through everything, because their love is the truest love I’ve ever seen. They build each other up, love each other through faults and mistakes, and the way they look at each other is truly sickening in the most heartwarming of ways. I love you both more than anything. Congratulations to my favorite people in the world!”

Bucky lifted his glass and encouraged the guests to lift theirs as well, toasting to the newlywed couple in unison. Once he had taken a sip and everyone set their glasses down on their respective tables, Bucky sat down in his seat and let out a dramatic sigh.

“Man, you were better than I could have ever hoped for,” Sam snickered as he replayed the footage to see Bucky catapult himself over the table one more time. But, Bucky was paying him no attention.

“Steve, do you know her? Why haven’t you ever introduced me?” Bucky hounded his best friend as Steve tried his best to keep a straight face.

“I have no idea who she is, Buck. Peg, do you know her?”

“She looks familiar but I can’t put my finger on it…maybe she’s someone’s plus one?”

Bucky’s shoulders slumped in defeat, of course she had come here with someone, and he had made a fool of himself in front of the entire reception.

A snort of laughter could be heard from over Peggy’s shoulder and Sharon leaned forward trying to repress her giggles.

“Y/N came with me! That guy I’ve been seeing, he got called on a last minute business trip and couldn’t come but I’d already RSVP’d as two plates, so I asked Peggy if it was ok if I brought someone else. Y/N works with me at the hospital, she’s a peds nurse and the sweetest person in the world.”

Bucky sat up straight almost instantly, a giddy smile crossing his face.

“So, she’s single?”

“I mean, I think so, she’s never mentioned anyone – ”

“Great, thank you, Sharon, I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit.”

Once again, Bucky ran across the room and found himself at table ten. This time, there was no empty seat next to Y/N, so Bucky kneeled on the floor in front of her and watched her eyes grow wide as they did before.

“Bucky,” she whispered, “what are you doing?”

“Will you dance with me?”

“There’s no music, everyone is still finishing up dessert, plus Peggy and Steve haven’t had their first dance and…you’re not going to leave until I say yes, are you?”

“No, you can say no. I just have this feeling that you don’t want to.”

Y/N smiled at the handsome man kneeling before her; his bright blue eyes fixed on her face as he awaited her answer with baited breath.

“Yes, I’ll dance with you. But not until Steve and Peggy have their first dance.”

“Of course, Y/N, I’m not a heathen, I know how wedding customs work.”

Bucky held out a hand and helped Y/N to her feet. She expected him to drop it once she was standing, but his sweaty palm, which she found adorable, stayed clasped in her own as he turned towards the table at the front of the room.

“HEY STEVE,” Bucky shouted. “Y/N WON’T DANCE WITH ME UNTIL YOU AND PEG HAVE YOUR FIRST DANCE, DO YOU KNOW WHEN THAT’S SCHEDULED TO HAPPEN?”

Y/N watched as Steve helped Peggy from her seat and they glided towards the dance floor, their eyes never leaving one another.

The dulcet tones of Frank Sinatra rang through the speakers in the ballroom; a fitting choice for Steve and Peggy as they had always been sort of old fashioned. Their love was timeless, ageless, and seemed to be from a different era.

Bucky watched Y/N’s eyes as they followed Steve and Peggy sway across the dance floor, their smiles and gazes only for each other. After a few seconds, Bucky saw Steve look away from Peggy and search the crowd. Finally, Steve’s gaze landed on Bucky and he gave him a nod, asking him to join him on the dance floor.

He tightened his grip on Y/N’s hand and urged her towards the open space in the middle of the massive room.

“Bucky, I’m nervous, are you sure this ok?”

“Lovely, never, never change,” Bucky sang along to the music as they continued walking towards the dance floor.

“Seriously, Bucky, no one else is out here except for the bridge and groom!”

“…Cause I love you, just the way you look tonight,” Bucky continued singing.

Y/N looked over at Steve and Peggy to see them smiling at her, encouraging her to take her place on the floor with Bucky, so she moved just a bit faster and pulled Bucky as close to her as possible while the light baritone voice of Sinatra faded out.

“Are you ready, doll?”

“For what?”

A familiar opening guitar riff replaced the jazz from before and Y/N laughed as Bucky adjusted his stance and gripped her hands tightly.

“For this crazy little thing called love.”

Within seconds, Bucky was swinging Y/N around the dance floor and their laughter filled the air.

More guests started raiding the dance floor, but all Y/N could see was Bucky’s smiling face as they twirled around the dance floor in the most rudimentary version of a swing dance the world had ever seen.

All too fast, the song began to end and an upbeat, modern pop song took over the Queen classic. Instead of pulling him towards the mosh pit quickly forming in the middle of the dance floor, orchestrated by Sam no doubt, Y/N headed towards the nearest exit with Bucky in tow.

They stepped out into the cool night air in some sort of patio garden, and Y/N groaned at how perfect the setting was as her night had already played out akin to a cheesy romance movie.

“What are we doing out here, doll?”

“I just wanted a moment alone with the man who embarrassed me in front of hundreds of people at my best friend’s cousin’s wedding.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have been so – ”

“Relax, Bucky,” she giggled as she placed a hand on his cheek. “I’m just messing with you. But, I would like to know what this whole stunt is about, however sweet it may be.”

“Stunt? Honestly, I’m not sure, I just know that I saw you and couldn’t form any coherent thoughts afterwards. I still can’t.”

“So this was all spur of the moment, on a whim, trying to impress the pretty stranger at your best friend’s wedding?”

“That about sums it up, trying to impress the stunning stranger at my best friend’s wedding.”

“Bucky Barnes, you are so corny.”

“Only for you, doll, I haven’t felt this way in so long. What are you doing tomorrow night? Sharon said you work with her at the hospital, I don’t know your schedule or, or if you even want to go out with me but, God, I’d love to take you out.”

Y/N looked at the hopeful look on Bucky’s face, at the sparkle in his eyes, and she felt her heart lurch inside her chest. Whatever feeling Bucky was describing, she could only dream that it was the same way she was feeling right now.

“I’m sort of tied up every night this week…but I’m free next weekend? If you don’t mind waiting that long.”

“I would wait forever if I had to,” Bucky grinned as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Y/N’s cheek.

She grabbed his hand once more and they walked back into the reception hall, acutely aware that many pairs of eyes were watching them as they crossed the room.

“I’ve got to go ask Sharon to introduce me to Peggy, I actually haven’t officially met her yet but,” Y/N paused and her gaze fell to the ground, a sudden nervousness overcoming her. “I’ll come find you later? Maybe? If you’d like to dance with me again?”

“I’ll save all my dances for you, angel, don’t you worry.”

Y/N smiled so brightly at Bucky he swore his heart might stop, and he watched her walk away in a trance-like state until an arm being slung around his shoulders broke him out of it.

“I think you’re going to marry her,” Steve said mockingly, recalling the memory of a situation reversed so many years ago.

“Unlike you,” Bucky teased, “I’m not in denial. I know I’m going to marry her.”

marvel/bucky taglist: @weelittleweasley @gredmforge @vogueweasley @kaye-lantern @emeraldbears20 @barnesjamcs @thisuserlovesyouandyouandyou @fallingforyou123 @vivacesole@raiaurii @phoenixes-and-wizards @gloryekaterina @hannahmeyer1999 @belladonnabarnes @beautyschoo1dropout @loonylovegood13 @saara-sanders @le-weasley-simp @swiftss@omghufflepuff (if your URL has strikethrough, i was unable to tag you!)

[fleckcmscott]

Coffee & Donuts

Summary: Arthur’s thrilled to be part of a crowd. Though the evening doesn’t go perfectly, Y/N’s flirtations make it sweet.

Warnings: Smut

Words: 4,602

A/N: Alright. After the heart wrenching angst of my last piece (which I love, by the way; don't get me wrong! 😂), I had to write another story in which Arthur and Y/N are happy and together. It's inspired by one of Arthur's visions during their kiss. I hope you all like it! Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul for beta-ing!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Parties and celebrations weren't foreign to Arthur. He'd worked plenty, enough to make him realize what he'd been missing out on. He was well-versed in pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, and balloon animals. But as an adult, those activities didn't satisfy. He wanted to be included rather than paid. Connect with people, introduce himself. Discuss his experiences and pursuits. Feel sufficiently at ease to loosen up a little and have a good time.

Now he was a guest - a certified guest - at Patricia Gorman's fifty-sixth birthday party. The first party he'd been invited to since being the weird kid in class who'd rotated between three worn out sweaters and could never afford a gift.

He'd been a tad apprehensive about going to Burnside. Gotham's nicest borough had a reputation for high rents and low tolerance. When Y/N and he had entered 2E, however, Patricia's greeting ("You made it!") and the apartment were thoroughly welcoming. Crocodile brown walls and forest green shag carpet made the spacious living room a cozy hideaway. Marigolds leapt across the polyester of the T-cushion sofa and its easy-chair companion. The floor lamp's amber, crimped glass shades cast the spacious living room in a glow borrowed from warm autumn days.

Patricia's husband, Robert, was out on an emergency call. An HVAC had gone haywire in a residential building in Hinckley. Her daughter, son-in-law, and grandson had been by for lunch. That meant the only other guests were Matt - Y/N's old boss - and a bottle-blonde in a black halter dress and spike heels, who Y/N introduced as Laura. ("She's Matt's ex-wife," Y/N later disclosed. "He's been trying to win her back since I moved to Gotham.") Both shook Arthur's hand when he offered it, and he felt a little thrill whirl his stomach when Y/N laid claim to him by telling the woman, "This is my husband."

A collection of appetizers served as dinner, a fun and novel menu. The slow cooker meatballs Y/N and he had lugged over on the subway were a bit tangy; he still couldn't believe the recipe called for grape jelly. The deviled eggs with paprika, a pleasant mix of savory and sweet, was a dish he'd heard about on television. Cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches were light and airy, a good match for his iced tea. Only the artichoke and spinach dip gave him pause. Its beans and hot sauce made his taste buds wince.

That unpleasant flavor was quickly forgotten when Y/N pulled him to sit next to her on the sofa, so Patricia could open her presents. She proudly showed off the orange, clay ashtray her grandson had made for her. Arthur, having successfully kept the secret of her light smoking from Y/N, chuckled at Patricia fibbing she'd put candy in it. She thanked Matt and Laura for the champagne, wrapped in a silver bow with a simple "Happy Birthday" tag. The bottle wasn't popped. Upon peeking into the large giftbag Y/N placed on her lap, she made a soft sound. The Dazey whirlpool bath, which attached to the side of the tub and had three strength settings, was a hit. She announced her plans to try it in the morning. The dark blue Rexbuilt briefbag was intended to replace her cracked, leather briefcase, Y/N explained. Patricia ran her fingertips along the expanding inner compartments, the personalized planner that included the credential "CLA" after her name, and flipped through the included steno pads, eyes brimming.

She sipped at her cocktail and put an arm around Y/N. Melancholy tinged Patricia's voice. "At my age, the people in your life tend to stay the people in your life. Whether you like them or not." She reached further and patted Arthur's knee. "I'm glad an old dame like me gets to call you all friends." His throat clenched in gratification, though he wasn't daring enough to squeeze her hand and thank her for deciding he was a friend.

Still on top of the world an hour later, Arthur sauntered to the red and white enamel dining table to serve himself a second slice of upside-down pineapple cake. The evening had gone well, better than a guy with a natural inability to mingle could've expected. He bobbed his head to the beat of "Come Fly with Me." It was a happy coincidence that Patricia's taste in music aligned with his. She'd regaled him with tales of seeing Sinatra and Count Basie on her and Robert's honeymoon in Vegas. Arthur took a bite absentmindedly, wondering how long it would take for him to save the money to surprise Y/N with plane and concert tickets.

The daydreaming didn't last long. Matt's plodding footsteps preceded him, followed by a long sigh as he propped himself on the beige stone of the dining area's accent wall, across from the u-shaped kitchen. He held out a Budweiser and smirked. "Marriage is a hell of a lot of work."

Pleased that he was being treated like one of the guys, like a regular husband with a regular relationship who got to speak about his regular wife, Arthur accepted the beer and considered the comment. Matt's sentiment was hard to grasp. Dr. Sally had said marriage could be difficult, and Y/N's first hadn't survived the ripples of her life. But it didn't feel like work with her. Their arguments were minor. Her nagging him to find a primary doctor for annual check-ups, even though he'd survived this long without one. Or back in Missouri, when he'd told her to stop shielding him and trust he could take anything she had to give.

Arthur adopted a similar nonchalant posture and jutted his hip against the table's edge. "I like it. It's easy to take good care of her." He wasn't able to completely erase the smugness of success from his tone.

"You're what? Two years in with the most headstrong woman in Gotham? She's great and all, but she spikes my blood pressure." Matt slapped Arthur's back and let out a hearty guffaw. "Give it five more and you'll be in my office trying to avoid alimony."

"Don't. Say that." Arthur crinkled the can in his grip and glared up at him.

"Hey," Matt started, withdrawing even as he tried diplomacy. "It was just a joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

Flinching, pulling at the cuffs of his red sweater, Arthur fought the surge of anger in his veins. It wouldn't do to lose control and cause a scene. Of course Matt's comment about them splitting up was supposed to be a joke. But Arthur didn't find it one bit funny. Even with his complete faith in her and his firm belief that they were meant to be together, the possibility that she'd stop wanting him hurt. It didn't occur to him that the implication of the punchline could be that he'd get sick of Y/N.

With a muttered apology, Matt walked to the others in the kitchen. Arthur glanced over to see her laugh tipsily, until she grabbed her stomach and swatted Patricia's shoulder, a stark demonstration of how much he and Y/N differed. She always knew how to respond to people, the right comebacks. Appropriate timing and levels of interaction. It seemed she was in her natural element, the loveliest swan on a lake. Whereas after years of therapy and practice with her, he was still a fish out of water, flopping around on the shoreline in hopes some stranger would take pity on him and throw him back into the sea.

Maybe that was the real punchline. Eventually their contrasts would no longer complement each other and instead become a chore.

Scowling, he ambled towards the record player stationed before two double-hung windows. Increased the volume to drown out the intrusive notions. It didn't really work. He settled on a grounding technique he'd practiced, all the while lamenting that he couldn't handle a party without needing it. His attention went to the spinning LP, the needle following its grooves. The bright blue album cover, where Ol' Blue Eyes beckoned him, the scuff marks on the cardboard's corner edges. He acknowledged the spider plants sat on the windowsill, worried a papery leaf until it broke off. He stared out the window, taking in the whole of the city. Pinpricks of light dazzling in the darkness.

"Gotham's beautiful at night," Y/N said from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to watch her approach. Her cheeks glowed with alcohol and good cheer, the collar of her ivory blouse unbuttoned. "There's a life behind every light out there. Ten million of them. Here. Try this." She offered her hurricane glass, filled with an off-white slush.

He sipped the pina colada with cautious skepticism and grimaced as soon as it hit his tongue. The blend of pineapple and coconut tasted of cheap sunscreen and tropical imitations, the kind advertised in smudged brochures for bad cruises to islands with made up sounding names. "No, thanks."

Snorting, she shrugged and embraced his back at the waist. "How are we doing?" she asked, curling into his side. After a few seconds, she prodded him. "Had your fill of Matt?"

"He was just joking." Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.  She set the drink next to the record player and brought her hand to his, trailed it over the inside of his wrist, up his forearm. She pecked his chin and nudged him until he turned to her. As soon as their gazes met, the concern in hers told him she'd continue to pepper him with questions. But he wasn't about to let his misplaced doubts spoil her evening. And he knew the perfect way to distract them both.

A new song started. An oldie that sang of Jupiter and Mars, playfulness among the stars. He cupped her cheek, thumb sweeping the corner of her mouth. "Dance with me," he said. Before accepting his proffered palm, she laid a sloppy kiss on him. With a flutter of her eyelashes, she grinned, and his smile grew to match her own. As he held her side, led her in a slow, swaying circle, he marveled at her. At her ability to soothe every molecule, every lingering ache. Self-assurance welled in him, chased away his earlier dejection. He cradled her to his lanky frame, trembled and felt himself blush. She was the only woman for him. That was as certain as his cigarette habit.

Despite Patricia's reassurances she was fine, that Robert working late wasn't unusual, Y/N insisted on staying until he got home. Though Arthur would have preferred they take their leave an hour earlier, being allowed to smoke inside blunted his grumbling. The disarming flirtations she bestowed on him also didn't hurt. She'd pour herself a drink (four in total, if he counted correctly), help Patricia make a plate of leftovers for her husband, then throw him a wink. Whisper and cackle while cleaning, then kiss his temple.

Around midnight, Patricia put her foot down. Ushered them out with a promise to call and a hug fierce enough to crush his ribs. She raised a brow at Y/N's unsteady gait, grasped Arthur's arm, and said with a wry, tired smile, "Make sure you put that woman straight to bed." His dark brows shot up and held. Had she intended a pun? Or had Y/N's spare caresses caused the interpretation? Either way, he liked being trusted to take care of her. And the hint of arousal that flared in his belly.

By the time they stumbled into their apartment, that arousal had reduced to a dull exhaustion. She kicked off her heels on the way to the bathroom, calling a slurred "night!" as she closed the door. Yawning, he put dish soap and hot water in the crockpot, scrubbed burned bits of sauce from its rim, turned it upside down on a towel to dry. Once he'd brushed his teeth for one minute rather than the recommended two, he tossed his sweater, trousers, briefs, and socks in the hamper, and went to the bedroom. He found his blue pajamas in their usual spot, the chair in the corner, and slid them up his skinny but toned legs. Tucked in next to her, he was carried to sleep on waves of fatigue and her quiet, wet snoring.

~~~~~

A tickle threatened to rouse him. Whispers along the waistband of his bottoms. Heat snuggled his back. Delightfully drowsy, he cuddled deeper into cozy, cream-color sheets, already returning to a pleasant, dreamless slumber. But a rumble of exhaust, likely from a bus that needed a new muffler, dragged him to consciousness. Arthur grumbled and tucked his arm under his pillow, not ready to transition to a world of overcrowding and concrete, commotion and bad jokes.

Yet, Y/N's insistent grazes continued, luring him with promises of placid pleasure. Her toes wiggled at his heel until he made space for her to slip her foot between his ankles. The corner of his mouth quirked. He was reminded of last night's playfulness, her endless teasing. The way he'd held the crockpot as a shield to fend off her advances on the train home, her forwardness to the point that he would've preferred having a laminated card to present on her behalf. Forgive my wife: she has a condition. It causes frequent and uncontrollable displays of affection.

Nimble fingers edged lower, loosened the tie of his pajamas before dipping beneath the loose elastic to lace through his dark brown curls, darker than the chestnut hair on his head. Her knuckles ran over him, lazy caresses full of intent. Up and down, up and down. Delicate. Deliberate. The blood racing to his groin, the pleasant swelling, made his abdomen twitch. Soon full and heavy, the sensitive tip straining the cotton seams, he pressed his lips together. When she skimmed the tender skin resting on his inner thigh, he flexed the muscle at the base of his erection. It bobbed and hit her wrist and she let loose a girlish giggle, more intoxicating than wine.

With her left leg draped over him at the knee, she undulated against his rear. Plush lips brushed the boney knobs of his spine, damp breath fanned the nape of his neck, labored, needy. Pebbled nipples grazed his back through the thin nylon of her nightgown, taunting and compelling. He made up his mind to throw an arm around her, to yank her on top of him. To eagerly take part in her seduction.

But she withdrew from his bottoms to palm his stomach and plant a gentle kiss to the shell of his ear, whispering, "Sleep tight." The mattress shifted and she rolled away from him. He furrowed his brows. She rarely relented this easily - other times he'd awakened, hard and aching, enveloped by the captivating wetness of her mouth. What was she up to?

Covers rustled. Her calf bumped his. And the opposite of what he'd assumed occurred. Instead of light footfalls leading out of the room, there was silence, silence that seemed to stretch on and on...

Until a hitched gasp gave her away.

Touching herself. She was touching herself. She'd just been all over him, acted like he was some sort of model on the cover of Vue magazine, and now she was touching herself. Right beside him! Ecstatic to have inspired such brazenness, he grinned and fisted the pillow. Her fleeting, stifled moans tangled him in knots, implored him to give her what they both burned for.

He flipped in her direction, his hand shooting under the sheet to grab hers. "Gotcha."

Eyes wide, she gaped at him in surprise. But adoration softened her expression as she entwined their fingers. "How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"Long enough."

He stretched to rewind the shades, the diaphanous curtains staying in place. Sunlight diffused over them, wrapped around her face, lent her disheveled hair a warm luster. He twirled a feathered lock and pecked her eyelids. "Finishing what you started on the subway, hm?"

"Me?" Y/N brought his knuckles to her mouth.  "You're the one who came to bed without any underwear."

"Well, it was a late night." The pad of his thumb tugged at her bottom lip to reveal the pink tip of her tongue. He bent to claim it. "I was lucky to find my pajamas."

Chuckling, she broke their connection. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. The cake was good. And the music. Everyone was nice."

"Patricia loved having you there. She thought you were very sweet." A pause as she mapped a dimple. "Matt said he'd upset you. Something stupid about breaking up?"

Vague shadows of discomfort flashed through Arthur, a frustration he'd mostly moved on from. He did his best to ignore it, waving her concern away. "Don't worry about it."

"He was just jealous, you know." Her nails ran along the small of his back. "He wants Laura to look at him the way I look at you."

Arthur had spent so much of his life yearning for change, to understand his purpose in the world and improve himself. The idea that a man with a good education, a successful career, and no disabilities could ever be jealous of him was, frankly, bizarre. But he didn't correct Y/N, instead locking her praise within his heart, preserving it for when he needed it most. He boosted himself on his forearm and fiddled with her V-neck, traced its button loops as he slipped the plastic knobs through them. "And how's that?'

A hint of scandal glimmered in her irises. She arched into him as he eased a strap down her upper arm to reveal her shapely breast, the lilac fabric momentarily catching on its taut peak. "Like I can't get enough of you."

He huffed at that, fondled her faintly before his lips met the velvety skin of her chest. A tonic comprised of the musk oil she'd dabbed on before the party and distinct sexual wanting wafted to his nostrils. He licked at her nipple, the bumps on her areola, and drew it between his teeth. She whined softly and lifted the bottom of her nightdress to her waist.

Hurriedly, he yanked on the waistband of her cotton panties, pushed them past her knees. She kicked them off while he knelt to lower his bottoms. Straddling her, he pumped himself back to hardness and opened the drawer of her nightstand. He searched haphazardly until he retrieved a small, glass bottle of lubricant. (She'd ordered it from a mail catalog, both of them a bit too bashful to walk into an adult shop, even together.)

She snagged it from him and poured half a teaspoon in her hand, then palmed herself. He moved between her legs and she grasped his length, coating him with the warm, slippery liquid. He pushed forward into her. Gradually, slowly, savoring every millimeter of her enticing heat. He noted the stretch of her mouth, the jut of her jaw, the lifting of her upper lip. "Mmm..." she breathed and begged him to keep going. When he did, her head tilted back into the pillow, eyelids falling shut. A smile cut across her cheeks as she purred her satisfaction. "Arthur, I love you."

His touch wandered down the curve of her thigh. At the sight of her subtle writhing beneath him, the sway of her slightly uneven breasts in time with his languid thrusts, he pushed her knee into the mattress, splayed her wider. He grunted lowly. "Look at me."

Their gazes met but didn't hold for long; hers dropped to where they were joined. She caressed right above his pubic bone. "I love seeing you like this." Her fingertips walked a line up his sternum to his chest. "And touching you like this." She wrapped her arms around his middle and drew him to her, locked their lips in a greedy kiss. "And making love like this."

He snorted. "I think this is the only reason you married me."

"Well, not the only reason. There's your good hair, too."

"I've been thinking about cutting it. Trying something new."

"Don't you dare." She tugged at his loose curls, wore her best pout. "What else would I hold onto when we're doing this?"

Laughing lightly, he bumped his nose to hers. Falling into her was like falling into his old fantasies, the ones that'd sustained him through years of isolation. Dates at diners, at comedy clubs, at donut shops, at home. Their shapes had changed as he'd matured, his role in them, his aspirations and infatuations. But they'd remained a warm comfort nonetheless, a place that felt like belonging. And now he belonged with her. Hunger filled him. Happiness. And love. So much love, more than he'd ever believed he'd carried in him. He bucked a little harder. "You feel so good," he murmured. "You make me feel so good."

A strained cry left her and her pelvis answered his steady rhythm with demands of its own. Her calves rose to squeeze him closer, encircle his narrow hips. They were pressed together so tightly; it felt like they were one flesh. He never wanted it to stop. But a dizzying euphoria had ignited, one that eclipsed the romantic yearnings of his heart, twisting his desire to last all morning into the desperate drive to possess her. Gasping, Arthur raised himself to his knees, delving deeper with each push. Their foreheads met and he grit his teeth at the scald of her, the texture of her walls. She fit as though she'd been made for him.

He supposed she was.

Pressure began in the base of him, building and building in terrific torment. The muscles of his inner thighs contracted inward. Tingling climbed his shaft, his tailbone, his spine. He wove his fingers into the sheet, his grip a vise that wrested its corner from the mattress. She kissed the spot where his jaw met his neck, all the while murmuring encouragements for him to let himself go.

Bliss shot through him, from the tips of his toes to the follicles on his scalp, and his back stiffened as he whimpered and poured into. Fever engulfed his frame, sublime in its frenzy, leaving him in a heady stupor. Aftershocks made him tremble. Once, twice. Until, sated and spent, he landed on top her. He closed his eyes, ribs rising and falling as he forced air into his lungs.

A minute later, he swallowed and looked down at her. "You didn't come."

She carded through his sweaty locks. "It's all righ-"

"Shh." He slid out of her and settled at her side, reached between her legs to swipe at her core. "I'm not done," he declared, tracing the edges of her entrance, slick and swollen. One of his favorite things about getting her off was demonstrating his prowess in bed, how well he'd learned with her. His thumb met her plump clitoral hood, and he felt her throb beneath his ministrations.

Nails biting his bicep, she rocked upwards. A bewitching blush crept up her breast, her neck, spread across her cheeks. Shallow pants hit his face, short puffs suffused with high-pitched whines, utterly irresistible. He circled her nub at a steady cadence, tapping when she'd shiver, and she clasped the back of his hand. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, sucked the pretty peak, and lowered the other strap of her nightgown to bare her completely. A hushed plea fell from her lips. "Please, please..."

Suddenly, her vulva grew white hot and she seized, her hips stuttering with each flutter of his touch to her folds. She thrusts her breasts towards him, a sharp moan caught in her throat. Liquid pooled against his fingers, proof of her rapture that made him wish, with mild amusement, that he could be an unmedicated young man again. He would've gladly taken her a second time.

Giggling and rubbing her temple, she released a long exhale and opened her eyes. He brushed her hair back and grinned, completely smitten, like the first time he'd heard a joke and understood the punchline. The light brown picture frame on his nightstand caught his attention, and he regarded the wallet size photo in it, one of the shots of Y/N from the booth at Amusement Mile. The last thing he looked at before turning in each night. He lay his head her shoulder and hummed, listened to the drum of her heart.

She smooched his hairline and wriggled out from beneath him to stand. Her nightie had been reduced to a crumpled stripe of lilac cinched about her waist. It felt tawdry and shameless and he wanted to see her in it for the rest of the weekend. But she peeled it down her legs, wrinkling her nose when it got stuck on her thighs, and stepped out of it one foot at a time. She dropped it on the floral bedspread and retrieved her bathrobe from the closet. "Meet you in the kitchen," she said, opening the door.

The sun had risen higher, its beams slanting across the covers. He basked in it, catlike, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled on his pajamas, got a new pair of socks from their dresser, and made his way to the kitchen. He washed off the remnants of Y/N's arousal from his fingers, popped open a prescription bottle and took a tablet. He poured water into the coffeemaker, grabbed the can of grounds from the second shelf, added three scoops to the paper filter. Their three-tone brown mugs sat in their spot next to the machine, waiting to be filled.

When the glass coffeepot was half full, Y/N emerged from the bathroom, chuckling to herself. She opened the breadbox on the opposite counter and took out a wax paper bag. "Do you have any idea how dull this morning would have been if we'd never met? I'd have read the Sunday paper, had a drink. Probably worked on a file." He handed her a couple dessert plates, watched her put a donut on each one. "I wonder where you'd be. What woman you'd have breakfast with, what jokes you'd be writing, what magic tricks you'd have learned."

"Um..." At first he wanted to ask where this speculation had come from, if Matt had let her in on exactly what he'd said. But the confident slant of her smirk told Arthur she was teasing. He tried to play along but winced. No matter how appealing, how extraordinary she found him, his gut told him there wouldn't have been another woman. There'd be no more stand-up routines, no more Carnival. He certainly wouldn't be taking care of Penny. He'd likely be locked up in the hospital, maybe even dead. Without an anchor, his life would have lost what little sense it had.

Y/N was one of his anchors now, hooked into the sand alongside his material, treatment, the ability to pay bills. He seized her hand and squeezed it tight, unaware he was squishing her fingers. "I don't wanna think about it," he said quietly.

She sidled up to him and pulled him to her side. Rubbed his flank soothingly and pecked the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry." She took his chin and guided him to look at her. The intimate comfort of her smile helped him believe her next words, even before she spoke them. "I'll always be here."

~~~~~

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[george-fabian-weasley]

the mad hatter — g. w. (chapter 2)

Summary: Chief Detective Y/N Weasley had questioned the bakery owner and earned some very important clues. George, in the meantime, had spent a recorder, talking about how he first met his wife.

Words: 2,770 words

Warnings ⚠ : mentions of food and drinks, mentions of murder, thriller, bickering, husband!george, dad!george, sadistic!george, mentions of masochism, fem!reader, mentions of feelings, angst (in a way)

Disclaimer: had to delay the second chapter for 15 minutes because my Word Document couldn't load on my desktop so I had to write the whole chapter down on my phone :') Anyway, Reblogs and Comments are highly appreciated! Enjoy!

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“Richard Kowalski?” Zabini’s voice caused the plump man to turn around and face them with a tray of freshly baked croissants in his hands. “Yes?” His American accent rung through the nearly empty bakery, it was after lunch hour and a lot of customers had gone back to work. You stepped up, “I’m Chief Detective Y/N Weasley and this is Detective Blaise Zabini, may we ask some questions?”

A few days after George had told you about the bakery, you had quickly informed the team to ask the owner of the bakery some questions. And because it was Zabini’s and Nott’s turns the last time, (and Lav actually coerced talked to Blaise), the tall lean man and you had to be the questioners of the day. 

“Am I being arrested?” The question had raised your eyebrow, “Have you done something against the law?” You questioned back, and your suspicions heightened at Mr. Kowalski’s body language; gulping excessively, eyes darting everywhere, licking suddenly dry lips.

“N-No, ma’am.”

“Say, Mr. Kowalski, are you selling these macarons?” Zabini asked as he moved to a basket on the top of the counter. There were neatly placed red velvet macarons; three in one transparent plastic with a dark red ribbon on top. “Oh yes, I do. The customers really loved them, we sold them out every time!” Kowalski happily said, his lips etched a proud smile.

“Then, do you have the records for March 15th? We have the suspicions that a serial killer used your red velvet macarons to poison his victims,” You voiced out after a while being silent, and again, Kowalski paled before you.

“A serial killer? Y-You mean,” he inched closer to you, looking almost scared to actually say the name standing in his mind, “The Mad Hatter?” He whispered in fear. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, no one outside of the Homicide department knew of this serial killer’s name yet, so how did he—

As if Kowalski read your thoughts, he froze. He looked around the bakery — empty — and sighed. He nodded to the kitchens, “This way,” he breathed dejectedly. You and Zabini shared a curious glance before following the baker into the kitchens.

After guiding the police officers to the back of his bakery, Kowalski ran his hand through his curly hair, sighing heavily. “What are you hiding, Kowalski?” Zabini asked seriously. Kowalski glanced at the both of you and looked away as if contemplating to tell you the truth. “Mr. Kowalski. If you have any direct contact with The Mad Hatter and you won’t tell us, you’ll be arrested for obstructing justice,” You said sternly.

The man before you genuinely looked conflicted, before he finally sighed harshly. “Fine, there was a guy.”

A clue!

“What guy, Mr. Kowalski?” You asked, encouraging him to go on. “On 15th March, I wasn’t here because I was visiting my gran, Queenie. But 2 months before that, a guy would always come after midnight to this very alley to buy some red velvet macarons,” He bit his lip, closing his eyes in despair. He opened them and turned to the right, an end of an alleyway connecting straight to the streets, noises of engines were faint. 

You looked at where he looked, and as if a projector was playing, you could see the mysterious man walking into the alleyway to meet Kowalski. 

“He would always buy 3 packets of the macarons. Not more, not less. And he would always give the exact amount of the price and asked for no receipt. After the first murder, Dave Busher,” He looked at you and you nodded in confirmation, while Zabini wrote all the important notes, “I didn’t want to sell him any more macarons at midnight.”

“What happened then?” Zabini asked. Kowalski gulped, “He started to come at daylight. Even without a black hat or a black jacket, I knew it was him. And he knew it too because he smiled every time he looks at me." He shivered at the sudden nerves running down his spine. 

“How did you know it’s The Mad Hatter? We never let that name out to the media, Kowalski,” Zabini stated, tilting his head accusingly. You raised a hand to stop him, sometimes Zabini can be too intimidating; brilliant in the interrogation room, but asking around then not so much.

“He told me, that he’s The Mad Hatter.”

You narrowed your eyes, “He told you? When did he tell you?” Kowalski looked down to his feet, trying to remember the exact date. And when he did, he looked up to you, “26th February, that was the last time I saw him and I was so scared to my bones. He told me that he’s The Mad Hatter just like that and I,” a sigh, “I wanted to close the bakery to be safe, but I have kids at home and I’m the breadwinner of the family.”

He turned to you desperately, hands clasping to each other, “Please don’t arrest me! I thought he’s going to kill me if he knew I snitched on him!”

You two were silent. 26th February… it was the day you had received the case, the day of the murder of Spencer Gillard.

After questioning Richard Kowalski (and granted him witness protection), you and Zabini walked back to the car, driving back to the HR. 

“Okay wait, how did The Mad Hatter know we call him The Mad Hatter?” Zabini questioned loudly, and you tilted your head in confusion. You were sitting on the passenger’s seat and Zabini was driving. “Is it possible we have The Mad Hatter around us?” You wondered lowly.

Zabini; Blaise glanced at you, “You mean one of us could be The Mad Hatter?” You sighed and closed your eyes tiredly, “Could be. I mean, we only told ourselves about that name and I only told George about it.”

“George? Your husband?” You nodded at his question. “Y/N,” Blaise licked his suddenly dry lips, “Did you ask Kowalski how does The Mad Hatter look like?”

You opened your eyes.

“What are you trying to say, Zabini? That George is The Mad Hatter?” You scoffed, “That’s ridiculous.” Blaise shook his head, “I’m not saying anything, Y/N. But… we all know that Nott doesn’t like telling his cases to people, and Lav and I have no other friends to tell it to. It’s not wrong to be cautious— ”

“This is my husband we’re talking about, Zabini!” You voiced out sternly, glaring at him. “He’s an amazing husband, and a brilliant father to Rafa. He’s the least on the list who could be that sick bastard!” You continued, huffing. “I get it, you and Lavender are dating, but you don’t see me accusing her of a first-degree murder, do you?”

Blaise sighed, used to your short fuse of temper by now, “How did you know about the bakery anyway?” He changed the topic, not wanting to sour your mood even further.

“George told me—” You halted on your words. Huh. George told you. How does he know about the bakery anyway? As far you know, he doesn't really go to this side of town.

And then you remembered Zabini’s first question.

“Did you ask Kowalski how did The Mad Hatter look like?"

Could it be?

“Turn around.” “What?” “I said turn around!”

Click. “Date. March 17th. Subject. None. I want to say something different this time.”

George looked down to his desk, a recorder slowly spinning its inner wheels, prepared to record anything he’ll be saying in the next few minutes. He pursed his lips, purposely pressing hard enough to feel the pain.

Is he a masochist? He’d like to be, in all honesty.

“I wonder what she would say when she found out that I’m The Mad Hatter. That I’m her case,” His lips curled into a growing smile, “That I, am that sick bastard she always talks about at home.”

“I didn’t know it was possible to be jealous of myself, but here we are,” George chuckled. And then he halted, “Jealous? I’m jealous?” He wondered out loud.

He huffed a cynical smile, in disbelief upon his own honest feelings he didn’t know he even has, “So I do have feelings for her after all.”

It was a silent moment of George gathering his thousands of thoughts before his lips moved to conjure a say again. 

“I met Y/N about seven years ago, she had just graduated from the police university and I was running the shop with my brother. She came by to look around and I found her interesting when she told me she’s a police officer,” George continued to talk, staring at the window; watching the cars on the streets continuously moving, reminding him that time is indeed walking away tick by tick. He picked up a small metallic ball from his desk, twirling it around his long fingers in an idle manner. 

“Y/N is… she’s innocent and naïve, yet still so strong and stern and confident. She’s fair and just and kind, the perfect idea of a noble police officer. The perfect idea of a perfect person,” the corner of his lips tweaked a bit, George didn’t realize he doesn’t see the window anymore, instead, he sees you, “My exact opposite. For I am flawed.”

“I wanted to play with her, probably just a bit before I kill her with my own hands, maybe strangle her or put something in her tea—” He didn’t realize his fingers stopped moving the small sphere around, “But then… I realized she’s more interesting than I thought.”

“The first time she said ‘I love you’ to me, which was 3 months after we met, I had the urge to dunk a pillow onto her face to not hear any more of the confession coming out of her mouth,” He said, and he laughed afterward, “But I didn’t, instead I told her I love her too.”

His laughter died down and his eyebrows furrowed in all seriousness, “Love… What is love?"

"... Everyone has an answer of their own and at the same time, nobody does. It’s so general, it's so vague that love is,” his fingers unconsciously moved to the metallic ring on his finger, twirling it slightly, feeling the surface shuffle against his skin softly, “Love is everything.”

George blinked slowly , “After that, we got married, she wanted children so I gave her what she wanted, and Rafael came by a while later.”

Rafael. Rafael, Rafa, Rafi. Their son. Their child. His child.

George was silent for a while. He’s… he’s clueless on how to put it appropriately and how it wouldn’t sound odd, especially coming from him, a serial killer.

“… I think the first person I have truly loved in my whole life is my son. I didn’t even know how I feel towards my own wife before Rafael comes along. He’s… he’s pure and innocent, just like his mother and he has the biggest heart there is and it’s,” George didn’t realize he was smiling wide talking about his son, and he paused at the realization he had come across, “It’s something that I don’t have.”

“I realized I had become comfortable with my current life, with my wife and my son. I-I needed to change that or else I-I would lose my mind,” George suddenly chuckled maniacally.

“I would lose my mind and I would be alone all over again. I would be alone all over again without my family because— ”

Despite the crazy cackles coming out his mouth, his eyes were watering profusely, wetting his cheeks and he whispered dreamily, “Because I would kill them.”

“He was a tall man, probably in his 30s, ginger, got a long face and a crooked nose. Why?”

The words of Richard Kowalski as soon as you asked him what does The Mad Hatter looked like had you speechless.

No way. No fucking way.

George couldn’t possibly be The Mad Hatter! Godric Gryffindor, that’s bloody ridiculous!

“Not a word to anyone, Zabini,” You voiced out sternly as soon as you got into the car. Blaise was about to open his mouth to protest, but a look from you was all it took for him to close it back dejectedly. 

“There’s like a hundred of guys fitting that criteria, Blaise,” You sighed out, massaging your temples at the sudden stress. The lean man sighed, “I’m not saying anything, Y/N.” “Yes, you are,” You glared at him, “But just because my husband fits the same criteria of The Mad Hatter, it does not mean he is The Mad Hatter.”

“How do you even know for sure? Do you even know him?” His rude comeback had you scoffing in offense, “Excuse me? Of course, I know my husband! I married him for almost 10 years!”

“Then what’s his hobby?” “Playing with Rafa.” “What about his favorite meal?” “He likes hot chocolates and my roasted chicken.” “Do you know his family?” “Just Fred— wait,”

You groaned, “Why am I even answering you, you have no right to ask about my personal life, Zabini.” You shook your head in disappointment, looking away to the window, “This conversation is done. We’re not talking about this anymore, do you understand?”

A sigh. “Yes, chief.”

You leaned your head to the window, watching the trees passing by as the car driven by Blaise continued to glide the streets effortlessly. You sighed quietly, obviously upset that a good friend like Blaise would think such a thing about your husband. The father of your child! Unacceptable!

But that stubborn little voice inside of your head kept singing. It kept singing what-ifs. What if Blaise was right? What if George is the Mad Hatter? What if your husband isn’t so innocent after all? What if you don’t even know George Weasley truly?

What if?

That tiny screaming voice seemed to be volumized into the maximum height, because now on the top of your head, was ‘What if everything is true?’

With that one tiny push, Chief Detective Y/N Weasley found herself standing in front of her husband’s office room. The dark greyish door at the end of the hallway had never looked so intimidating.

You had never questioned why George would have it locked at all times, you only thought his office is strictly his own free space, and you wanted to respect that.

Taking a deep breath, you reached for the doorknob. Quietly gulping as you gripped the metallic handle with your palm, pushing it down to open the door and by your luck— or by someone’s plan— the door was unlocked.

But now, all questions ran through your head.

You stepped inside, taking in the unfamiliar space in your house that you had ever seen only once or twice during the 7 years of your marriage. The black walls with white simple baseboards had given the room a minimalistic aura, but considering you are now suspicious of your husband for being a wanted serial killer, you couldn’t help to feel the air in the space eerie and chilly.

You came back home at 3 pm, knowing fully well that your husband and Rafa’s schedule that they were in the park by now, and will be back home no later than 5. It’s a perfect time to snoop around your own house. 

A monitor desk was right in front of the door, fully furnished with a computer and all the things needed for a workspace. You walked slowly to the desk, a simple set of metallic drawers had shown themselves to you. There was one particular large drawer, though, that was locked with a little lock. 

You wondered, what’s so important in that drawer for George to lock it?

Fortunately, the skill you had picked up from police university had deemed usefully functional. A few friends of yours had taught you how to pick a lock before, and due to legal reasons, they didn’t teach you anything. You quickly retrieved two bobby pins from your dressing room, trying so hard to be quick as you realized the clock was ticking. You started to pick the small lock.

“I believe,” You started talking to yourself, a habit you hadn’t realized, “Johnson had taught me like this,” Turning the bobby pin to the right, “then this,” and to the left, “And then this,” and pushing the upper bobby pin into the lock.

Click!

You huffed in disbelief, an impressed look on your face, “Thank you, Angie,” You spoke to yourself again as you removed the lock quickly and pulled the drawer in your direction to open it.

As it rumbled under your touch, as you felt the weight of the drawer with your arm, as your eyes laid upon the content of the drawer, the only thing you said, and in confusion; may I add, was:

“… Recorders?”

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