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annab-nana · 4 years ago

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colby brock oneshots

Place To Stay (1.4k+)

When y/n’s boyfriend decides to kick her out after a nasty breakup, she runs to her best friend in search of comfort and a place to stay, but she finds out she means a lot more to him than she thought.

Not Just Friends (2.2k+)

Y/n has liked Colby for a long time and the fact that he is very clingy as a friend doesn’t help. One night at a trap house party, they get into an argument and she tells him how she really feels.

You’re Family (1.9k+)

Y/n’s been hanging out with the trap house boys for a little while and has been dating Colby for a month, but when she leaves them, she comes home to her monster of a father. She realizes she can’t keep her father’s actions a secret from her friends and boyfriend much longer.

Scared (2.3k+)

Colby convinces y/n to go exploring with him and Sam at an old abandoned hospital, but things take a creepy and unexpected turn.

I Trusted You (2.2k+)

It took a lot for y/n to find a guy that she could put her full trust in after some of her exes, so after Colby pulls a cheating prank, she reacts differently than what he had expected.

Best Gift Ever (1.8k+)

Y/n and Colby have been trying for a baby for a while now and haven’t had much luck, but when Christmas comes around, Y/n finds out she has received the best Christmas gift ever and shares the news with her husband and friends.

Mistletoe (2.0k+)

Y/n and Colby have been best friends for quite some time now. Both have a small crush on the other but won’t say anything because they don’t want to ruin their friendship. They get into the Christmas spirit before the Christmas party pizza night at Sam’s and of course, Sam has mistletoe hanging around. Guess who gets caught under it.

Intruder (1.9k+)

Colby tries to stay the night in y/n’s apartment without her knowing, like he did at Sam’s, but when she overhears him in her kitchen, she fears someone much scarier is in her home for reasons other than video content.

When The Clock Strikes Midnight (1.9k+)

Colby drags y/n to a New Year’s Eve party that she did want to go to in the first place because she has never had a New Year’s Eve kiss. When he figures out how embarrassed and bothered by it she is, he decides to do something about it.

Spooky Season (3.1k+)

Colby invites some of his friends to go to Suicide Bridge and stay there overnight for a scary video idea to get into the Halloween spirit. They all experience crazy paranormal things, but y/n gets the worst of it.

Period (1.5k+)

Colby takes care of his best friend, y/n, while her monthly visitor is here.

Too Much To Handle (1.6k+)

Y/n reads the comments of a video her and Colby filmed recently and due to the amount of hate, she deals with it in her own way. When she wears a hoodie the next day in the LA heat, Jake and Corey get a little suspicious.

Stuck (1.7k+)

On their way to celebrate the last day of 2019, y/n, Colby, and all their friends get stuck in an elevator.

Not Hungry (2.1k+)

Sam wants y/n to tell Colby and the others about her problem, but her problem beats her to it.

Savior (3.2k+)

Y/n’s life is basically controlled by her abusive boyfriend, but one night at a party that she was forced to go to, Colby shows up and helps her out.

Stupid Cupid (2.7k+)

Normally, y/n and Colby spend Valentine’s Day together because they are both single, but this year, y/n has a boyfriend. Her Valentine’s date takes an unexpected turn, ending with her night spent crying in Colby’s arms.

Who Is He (2.6k+)

While at a normal day of work, Y/n gets an influx of images of what looks like Colby all over another girl. Distraught, she leaves work, talks to her best friend, and goes home to deal with her “cheating” boyfriend.

About Damn Time (2.4k+)

At Playlist, both y/n and Colby are busy meeting their fans and doing several different events, but the fans keeping bugging Colby about him still not having asked y/n out yet.

Wrong Choice (2.2k+)

Y/n has been asked by Colby’s viewers to pull a prank and the one they request the most is a breakup prank. She decides that her first prank should go hard, but she finds it harder to go through with it than to pull the prank itself.

Ten I See (1.8k+)

Jake does a video where he wants to conduct an experiment with Colby and y/n to see if pickup lines really work. Colby has been trying to let y/n know that he has liked her for years, but she has never caught on, so this seems to be Colby’s last resort.

The One That Got Away (1.8k+)

Colby confessed his love for y/n when he is in Kansas, but she wasn’t ready. When she is finally ready, he seems to be taken up by someone else.

↳ Part 2 of The One That Got Away (4.2k+)

Y/n and Colby discuss what was heard the other night and decide to wait a little before trying a relationship. Later down the road, the two may have missed their shot.

House Party (2.4k+)

To celebrate the Trap House 2.0, the boys throw a pool party with all of their friends. Kat brings her friend, y/n, and Colby can’t seem to keep his eyes off her.

Are You Fucking Stupid (3.9k+)

The guys invited y/n to tag along with them as they went to Witches Forest, but after a scarring and emotion-filled event or two, she contemplates this trip being her last with the boys.

Merch Meetup (2.1k+)

Sam has been telling Colby about the girl who helps him design his merch and how he thinks they would be perfect for each other. When she comes over to get started on some of Sam’s ideas, he introduces the two, and Colby has to get closer to her.

Something There That Wasn’t There Before (2.5k+)

After a meaningless kiss one drunken night, the friend group notices a difference in Colby and y/n’s relationship, though they don’t. They barely even remember it, but that doesn’t stop their group of buddies from pushing them together.

Drink & Daydreams (1.3k+)

All of the friends are over at the trap house, swimming, drinking, having a good time, and Colby and y/n can’t get enough of each other.

What A Man Gotta Do (1.5k+)

Y/n’s current song obsession is “What A Man Gotta Do” by the Jonas Brothers, so she plays it all the time. After Colby hears it and listens to the lyrics, he takes into consideration what they are saying and decides to act on it.

Flowers Of Forgiveness (2.1k+)

You and Colby had known each other for five years, dated for two, and you’d think he would remember your birthday, right? Wrong and with birthdays being such a big deal to you, it hurt like hell. He messed up big time and it might be the last straw before your relationship crumbles unless he can manage to save it.

Bar Babe (1.5k+)

Kat insists that Colby comes with them after Sam gets his days mixed up and while at dinner, he catches the attention of a gorgeous girl behind the bar.

Through It All (1.2k+)

You find out some awful news about your best friend but thankfully you have Colby by your side.

Clarinet Encounters (1.0k+)

You are late to band camp and are scared to be caught by the harsh band director, but thankfully, Colby comes up out of nowhere and helps you.

All Of You (1.5k+)

Y/n compares her appearance to the other trap girls at a party and begins to doubt herself and look down on her looks.

Love Her (1.9k+)

Based on “Love Her” by the Jonas Brothers, it’s a series of little stories of the ups and downs of a relationship with Colby.

My Personal Koala (1.0k+)

You try a TikTok trend on Colby where you slip into his lap while he plays videogames, but he does not get it and pushes you away. The little act combined with the bad day you already had did not help your mood when all you wanted was some attention from your boyfriend.

Stay With Me (4.6k+)

When tagging along with the boys on a trip to London, you experience some crazy things when you’re alone in your room at the Langham Hotel.

My Dork (1.8k+)

Sam and Colby invite you and Jake to explore a recently abandoned hospital with them and things don’t go according to plan.

One Day (1.1k+)

After a shower, Colby asks to do your hair which you realized he has done a lot lately and when he tells you why, your heart melts.

In His Arms (3.4k+)

You decided to join Tara and do the box challenge that Sam and Colby did on Kian and Jc’s channel a little while ago, but when it gets down to it, your nerves and the heat become all too much for you and Colby isn’t there.

Birthday Buddies (1.8k+)

You and Sam share the same birthday and Colby conjures up a plan for the party to be perfect for the both of you.

#colby #colby brock #colby imagine #colby x reader #colby fanfic #colby fanfiction #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fanfiction

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gamequeenanya · 3 years ago

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Prinxiety - Purple is More Regal

Rating: T

Summary: When Roman tries to give up his crown, Virgil has to convince him that he's enough. (Human AU)

Warning: Inspired by ANGST fics! Roman angst w/ a happy ending. / trans!Virgil / self harm implications / depressed Roman / implied U!Remus / somewhat intimate prinxiety? but it's playful

Two men were sitting on a bed in Roman's room. It was grand, with fancy red curtains adorning it. The pillows were feather soft, with a hand stitched R pattern. Silence permeated through the air.

"Purple is a royal colour, you know."

Roman's voice had startled Virgil, and he looked up. The man smiled sadly.

"Huh?" Virgil said. Roman seemed broken, his eyes trying desperately to show some happiness. He inched towards Virgil on the bed. When he was close enough, he took off his crown and dropped it in front of him.

Virgil looked up in shock.

"This is for you," Roman shook his head. "I don't deserve it anymore."

"What do you mean?"

Roman turned around, fighting back tears. Virgil came closer, tentatively offering his hand if Roman wanted it. The man held it.

Virgil could tell he was stressed. He massaged Roman's newly bandaged wrist lightly, and brought it up to his lips. The gentle affection made Roman smile.

His wrist had been bandaged just hours before. He'd told Virgil he'd accidentally cut himself on glass. But Virgil knew the truth. The man had run for the bathroom and had a breakdown. He'd heard his heart wrenching sobs. The only thing stopping him from offering comfort was the fact that it would hurt Roman's pride more. So he'd waited until the man recovered.

Now seeing how broken the man was, Virgil wondered if he'd made the right choice.

Virgil moved to hug Roman, his thin, small frame supporting Roman's larger, muscular one. The man hummed gratefully, wrapping his arms around Virgil too. It was wonderful, until Virgil felt a pinching pain in his chest. He winced.

"What is it?" Roman said. Virgil groaned.

"Ugh, I wore my binder too long."

"Alright, I won't look!" Roman said, turning away so as to give him privacy. Virgil took his shirt off and then his binder, tossing it to the side. He slipped his shirt back on.

"'Kay, you can look now."

Turning around, Roman saw Virgil smile up at him. His heart beat faster in his chest and filled him with bliss. Roman wrapped his arms around him and stroked his back. Virgil purred like a cat. He smoothed his fingers through his hair.

Lifting the back of his shirt up, Virgil traced his lower back. Roman stiffened for a second. He stopped.

"A little higher," Roman muttered. He didn't like how that spot still gave him pain flare ups. Virgil did so, moving up, past the "I love you, Virgil" tattoo with the heart and bat wings above it and a rose bush of thorns below it. He traced his mid back now, tickling the red dragon tattoo he'd gotten there. Roman giggled.

Virgil could feel his heart melt. How could anyone abuse this man? He felt rage build up inside him as well, thinking of how Remus had treated him; cutting his skin and calling him worthless.

He continued tracing his upper back, hoping to distract Roman from his sadness. There was a fire and sword tattoo, and next to it a smiling Sheltie, one of Roman's favourite dogs.

The man hummed in satisfaction.

That was good. Virgil thought. He'd waited for this moment for so long. Remus had convinced Roman that he was unlovable, and it took a lot of therapy to undo the damage. Virgil had confessed to him that he liked him as soon as Roman was in a proper mental state to give an honest answer. He'd cried tears of joy and embraced him.

"I love you," Virgil muttered into his neck.

Roman couldn't help giggle and turtle. He lightly pushed him away. Smiling, he said, "I love you too!"

With his hands still lazily clawing at his back, Roman decided to return the favour. Lightly massaging Virgil's lower back, he hummed.

A tattoo was there that said "I love you Roman," with a similar design to his boyfriend's, except his heart and rosebush roses were purple. Scritching up to his middle back he jokingly petted Virgil's cat tattoo. Unlike Roman's tattoos, these didn't cover abuse scars. But they were gotten out of solidarity. He moved ever upward, stroking the bat, pumpkin, ghost, and even the scary spider tattoo.

Virgil leaned in to kiss him. Roman accepted, stroking his hair and kissing back.

Opening his eyes slightly, Virgil spotted the crown still on the bed. It was looking a little lonely, he thought. So, picking the crown up, Virgil placed it onto Roman's head. They parted their kiss, and Roman reached up to feel the crown, confused.

"You really think I am worthy...?"

Virgil nodded.

"But I'm so stupid..." he muttered. Virgil clenched his fists in rage.

"Screw the school system! And screw Remus!" Virgil said, growling. At seeing Roman’s startled expression, he looked guilty. He spoke softer. "You're so intelligent, Ro. Do you think I could ever write a screenplay? I'd have a panic attack just trying to get the formatting right! And your acting? Some people sound like cardboard cutouts, but you make it real." He looked at him with mixed emotions in his eyes.

"That's the trick," Roman muttered. "You have to become the character, and genuinely feel what they're feeling."

Virgil's eyes brightened. "And that's what I mean! Don't ever let anyone tell you you're unworthy because their analysis of you is flawed!"

Roman looked back at him and nodded slowly. Virgil stroked his hair.

"I love you, and you are good enough, understand?"

Roman chuckled lightly. He felt the crown on his head, still unsure. But Virgil's words did make him feel better.

Virgil picked up a notebook from the desk.

"Here, you can write something if you want. If it's important, I can proofread it for you."

"Alright." Roman said, picking up the notebook and a pen. He thought a while, glancing to the side, and at Virgil.

It was tough knowing he'd be scrutinized. But also he knew Virgil would never criticize his vision, just circle errors he wouldn't have noticed himself. They'd agreed upon the sorts of things Roman wanted criticized when Virgil become his beta reader. As silly as some of the ideas were, Virgil trusted that Roman knew what he was doing. Sometimes one's vision doesn't become clear until the end of the story, after all.

He wrote until his idea faded, and he put his pen down.

"Want me to see?" Virgil said. Roman shook his head.

"It's not ready yet."

Virgil nodded, understanding. He simply let Roman sit there and decide what to do next.

Roman looked down at him curiously. "Would you like to switch clothing?"

"Huh?" Virgil looked confused. "Uhh, sure."

He didn't know what his idea was, but let Roman borrow his jacket. The other man turned around, dug through his drawer, and gave him a spare Prince outfit. Virgil smiled, putting it on. He had to admit, he felt good like this.

Roman, on the other hand, looked in a mirror and sighed.

"You know, you're right-" Virgil said, cutting in before he could say something self deprecating. "Purple is a royal colour. You look good in it."

Roman smiled. "And you look amazing as a prince."

"Hey," Virgil said playfully, standing next to him. "I never said I wouldn't wear a crown."

Taking the crown off his head, Roman placed it on Virgil's. Immediately, Virgil took it off and gave it back.

"No, not your crown. A crown. So we can be husbands."

"Alright, my prince," Roman chuckled.

((3 days later))

Virgil would have been pleased with a printed paper crown. But Roman had to go all out, commissioning an actual blacksmith. After it was made, he paid the man and accepted the crown. He'd placed the crown in a box, wrapped it with Disney’s Frozen wrapping paper, and tied it with a bow on top.

When Virgil had opened the box, he gasped.

"Roman, you shouldn't have!"

He placed it on his head, finding it the perfect size. Smiling at Roman in awe, he asked him how he could ever think he'd be worthy of such a gift.

"You're my prince, and you are worthy. You are kind, supportive, and you make me happy."

Virgil blushed for the first time in a long time. "Wha...? No, you!"

Roman laughed, enjoying the cute expression on his face. He pulled out an Uno Reverse card.

"This isn't fair, Roman. I'm supposed to be the one cheering you up!"

"Life isn't fair, dear." He leaned in to gently kiss his forehead.

"Whatever."

Roman gently tickled his sides, making him giggle.

Instead of pushing him away though, Virgil pulled his hands away, but leaned closer to his torso.

"How did I ever end up with someone like you?" Roman said with a smile.

"Hey," Virgil said with a leftover giggle. "I've got five more reverse cards, and I'm not afraid to use them!"

Roman accepted his fate, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

It was so funny, he was always striving so hard for perfection that he didn't stop to think that he might be enough for someone... until now.

#sanders sides #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #fanfiction #my fanfics #angst #hurt/comfort #u!remus

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brandyovereager · 4 years ago

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The Best Possible Arrangement

So excited to publish my first Kataang fic! I’ve been bouncing around ideas to write these two for a while now, and I finally finished something :)

Massive thanks to the beautiful @uh-ohspaghettio for all the encouragement and brainstorming sessions. This would not exist without her.

Read it on AO3

Summary: In an alternate universe where Katara and Aang never kissed or expressed their feelings for one another, Katara finds herself in an unpleasant situation. In order to be recognized as her father’s successor, the Tribe’s council decides she must be married. When faced with a group of undesirable suitors, Aang proposes an alternate solution that toys with emotions the two thought they’d suppressed years ago.

Katara was appalled.

It only took her a few seconds to go from appalled to near-seething.

After the war, the Northern and Southern Water Tribes developed a stronger relationship and many people in the Northern Tribe migrated down to live in the Southern. There was a more significant exchange of culture and ideas, contributing in part to the predicament Katara now found herself in.

Her father, Hakoda, had been chief of their tribe ever since she could remember. It had never affected her much, as in the South there wasn't much pomp and circumstance associated with the title. All it had ever meant was that when the men went off to fight in the war, her father was their leader.

The title of Chief in the Northern Tribe came with much more regalia, and with the post-war intermixing, the life of Katara's family had changed significantly.

They now lived in a palace, one bent out of ice by the best benders in the South Pole. Her presence was now requested at dinners and other receptions with foreign dignitaries. She was expected to dress often in finery unlike anything she was used to, draped across her by maidens specifically assigned as her attendants.

It was uncomfortable to say the least.

Katara was used to wearing clothing designed for function. It mattered more to her that she could bend in her outfits than that she looked elegant. She was used to informal activities and practicing her bending whenever and wherever she pleased. While she still did this to some extent, she now had to deal with pompous old men who found this unbefitting of a 'princess'.

She had no problem telling the sexist degenerates where to shove it, but this often got her (and her father) into trouble.

On top of all these unpleasantries that came with being the Chief's daughter, apparently there was something far more distasteful expected of her.

Sokka was the eldest of the two siblings, and the expected choice for Hakoda's heir. However, a month ago Sokka had pulled Katara aside and explained to her his wish to remain the Tribe's emissary, leaving her as their father's successor. Katara was more than happy to take Sokka's place--with their father’s full support--but the elderly misogynists on the council were not so pleased.

Since the siblings informed them of their intentions, the councilmen had been scrambling to find any reason to prevent Katara becoming Chief, and up until an hour ago it seemed they had come up with nothing. She should have known this would take more of a fight.

The roadblock they decided to place in her way: marriage. The council came to the agreement that she could not assume the mantle of heir while still unwed. They had called her into their chambers to tell her she was unfit to lead without a husband.

It was infuriating. She was sick to her stomach with how much she hated the very idea. It was degrading, sexist, and the perfect trap for them to undermine her. Her father agreed, and had spoken some choice words of his own to the councilmen, but they were unshakable.

She had two options in front of her: One, relinquish the title of heir to Sokka, who--being already married--was considered fit to lead by the council's new rule. Two, marry and have the council go behind her back and consult her husband on Chief's matters instead.

Becoming Chief didn't matter too much to Katara--she was only assuming the responsibility because Sokka didn't want it--but the councilmen's blatant prejudice against her made her determined to win. She would be Chief, and they would respect her as such, even if it meant she had to freeze each of them to their council seats.

---

By the time Katara got back to her room she was so worked up that she was likely to either scream or sob if someone even touched her. She was surprised to find someone waiting for her.

It was exactly who she wanted to see.

She didn’t know he was back yet, but she was overjoyed to see him right there in her bedroom.

Aang was her best friend. Growing up in the South Pole, the only one around her age was Sokka. The siblings were close, but she hadn’t had a real friend until they found Aang. Since then she had grown to love Toph, Suki, Zuko (begrudgingly), even Mai and Ty Lee, but Aang would always be her best friend. Katara doubted any other relationship she had would ever reach the level of connection she had with him. Their personalities were different in many ways, but they shared the same morals and unwavering hope that made them a perfect team. Even their differences complemented each other.

In the back of her mind Katara had always wondered what a relationship with him...of another kind...would be like. Would they connect so perfectly on that level as well? There had been times she thought he harbored feelings of that nature for her, but each moment Katara thought he was about to mention it, he didn’t. She’d since given up on such fantasies.

That didn’t stop her from wondering.

Despite spending the majority of her time in the South Pole, Katara never had to go too long without seeing Aang. He travelled often--required at various meetings and kerfuffles that occurred as the nations re-established peace--but he had a good percentage of time to himself. He chose to spend that time with her. His last venture had taken him to Ba Sing Se, where he was supposed to spend three weeks with stuffy diplomats, but he’d somehow managed to make it back in two. It was perfect timing.

He’d know how to handle this situation. There was no one she trusted more to do so. Whether he would help her find a solution, or simply comfort and ease her mind, she’d leave his presence better than when he found her. That’s just how it was with him.

Aang turned from where he was sitting on her bed to greet her with a smile, quickly fading into concern when he registered the look on Katara's face.

He immediately rose from the bed and engulfed her in a tight embrace. She buried her face into his chest, letting the tears start to fall as she took comfort in her best friend's hold.

It took some time, but she eventually calmed enough to explain the news she'd received in the council-room. She pulled back from Aang’s arms and sat on her bed--motioning for him to sit beside her. Soon enough, she was venting all of her emotions out to the airbender.

"They've managed to come up with a rule that ensures I will never truly lead the Tribe. No matter what I choose, they will never consider me their Chief. They will either cast me aside in favor of Sokka, or doom me to an unhappy marriage where I'll always be second to my husband in their eyes. Either way, they'll never respect me."

Somewhere in the middle of her talking, her tone turned from enraged to exhausted. It felt hopeless, like they'd managed to get her trapped.

Aang appeared thoughtful for a second, before grabbing her hand and looking steadily into her eyes.

"Becoming Chief, that is what you want, right?"

His voice was calm and firm, confirming her desires before he went on. She nodded her head.

"That's what Sokka and I decided. He and Suki wanted to continue their travels as emissaries and I want to stay here and help repair our tribe."

"Ok, then we're going to find a way for you to do that."

"One of the things I love about you is how hard you fight for what you want, no matter who tries to get in your way. When Pakku refused to teach you waterbending, you challenged him to a bending match in front of the whole tribe. When Sokka told you to stop healing the people in that Fire Nation village, you turned around and did it anyway. If you've decided to do something, there is no stopping you, and we're going to do the same with this."

"How, Aang? I have no good options here. As much as I might want to, I can't just waterbend all those arrogant men into recognizing me as my father's heir." That comment drew a chuckle from Aang.

"They did give you a way to become Chief, as unwelcome an option as it may be. It'll just take some searching to find a husband who won't try to undermine you."

"I don't exactly get much choice with that--another stupid tradition from the North--the noble young men of the tribe have to be given the opportunity to marry into the royal family. There would be a competition of sorts between them to see who 'earned' me as their wife." The disgust on her face was clear as she spoke the words.

It was terrible news though. Noblemen competing for her hand was just as demeaning as the council refusing to make a woman Chief. She would be treated like a prize. It was sickening.

It also meant that most of the young men there were sexist jerks themselves who only saw her as a path to higher status. Many of them would be happy to undermine her.

"That's awful, Katara." She gave a sad nod in acknowledgement.

"There is the possibility that one of the young men would make an acceptable husband." That elicited a small scoff from Katara, and a responding snicker from Aang.

"You can agree to meet them first, you know, before you decide? Just see what your options are before you give up on it. Then if you decide it's not worth it, you can leave being Chief to Sokka."

Aang began to softly rub his thumb back and forth on her hand. It was a familiar and comforting gesture.

"I know your choice seems terrible either way, but I'll be here to help make sure you end up with the option that makes you happy. You're not going to be doomed to a life you can't stand. We're going to find a way for you to be happy, no matter what, you got that?"

Katara felt his arms softly wrap around her and squeeze tight. From her cocoon within her best friend's chest she let out a soft "ok".

#kataang #katara x aang #katara #aang #kataang fanfic #kataang fanfiction #kataang fic #atla #avatar: the last airbender #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla fic #atla fanfic #atla fanfiction

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marveloussupernerd · 4 years ago

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It’s Good Luck - Jumin Han

This is the last part (maybe? Idk) of my Jumin wedding series bc all of a sudden I have baby fever and want to write a pregnant series oop. In fact, I had to FORCE myself to write this ceremony. I might write a reception chapter later, who knows. Reminder: this is part of a mini-series but everything can be read and interpreted as one shots if you’re like me and dislike series haha also idk if this even makes sense but I hope you maybe like it?

Summary: they say rain on your wedding day is good luck. Jumin takes that to a new level and proposes you go outside in the rain before you’re due at the reception.

You had returned to your dressing room, watching as the men in the sharp suits carried your flowers and chairs from the tent outside to the building. Why did it have to rain? Sure, they said it was good luck, and you didn’t truly care so long as you were marrying Jumin, but you had looked forward to the outdoor wedding. You had planned for an outdoor wedding, not one inside.

“Don’t worry about it,” your wedding planner comforted you, noticing your mournful expression as you looked at the heavy raindrops running down the window, “We’re going to do everything in our power to bring the outdoors in. Do you want to give it a look-over before we start everything?”

Honestly? It would make you feel better. You nodded, standing up and straightening out your wedding dress. You followed behind her, taking the back way to avoid any guests, and made your way into their indoor venue.

They did a really good job for such a short amount of time. The wall of flowers was up behind the altar, large flower arrangements were set by each row of seats, and gigantic mounds of flowers lined each side of the aisle. It was pretty. Yes, outside would have been ideal, but whatever. This was lovely as well!

“Is it to your liking?” The wedding planner asked, nervously toying with her watch.

You nodded. “It’s very nice. Would it be possible, maybe, to get a different color table cover for the altar? The cream worked well for the outdoors but now it’s a little too... casual.” You had learned a thing or two from planning the RFA parties after all.

“Would you prefer white then?”

“How about an antique white? You cringed internally; you sounded so uptight. But you knew antique white would look best with the color tones of the room. “Oh! If you don’t have it just normal white will do as well.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it set up right now. Any other changes you’d like to make?”

“Is there any way to dim the lights? They’re a little bright... it’s giving me a hospital feel.” You added awkwardly. Your wedding planner walked over to a panel and immediately dimmed the lights. “Perfect. It’s lovely. Thank you for doing all this,” you turned to her, smiling.

“If that’s all you need, I’ll get somebody to switch out the cloth and then we can start seating guests,” she offered. You smiled and nodded.

When you arrived at your room you were greeted with even more surprises: this time there was a masseuse, table set up and everything. “Hi, are you MC? Mr. Han called for me,” she greeted, holding out a hand for you to shake, which you took.

“Oh! What a nice surprise.”

“Yes, he said it was quite urgent. I understand this all must be pretty stressful. My wedding got rained out too, but the good thing is my husband and I have been married for over thirty years now.” The lady seemed very warm; her presence was comforting. You allowed yourself to sit down on the edge of her table.

“I’m not sure how much time we have, but would you mind doing my shoulders and back? I’ve got a lot of tension in there from everything going on.” You still felt awkward being accomadated so well, but it was something you had to get used to, especially because you were marrying Jumin.

“Of course,” you felt her push your veil to the side, fingers gently working around your upper back. “You weren’t kidding: you are tense. Did you have trouble sleeping last night?”

You let out a laugh. “That tradition that the groom can’t see the bride on the wedding day. I’ve been sleeping next to my fiancée for months now. It was hard not to, and the pre-wedding jitters didn’t help.”

“Well,” she commented, her hands hitting a knot by your shoulders and gently trying to work it out. “I can tell it’ll all be worth it. He seems like a very nice man, and he definitely cares about you.”

“Yes, I’m not sure how many other brides get masseuses in minutes before their wedding,” you joked, a fond smile on your face. A knock at the door. The wedding planner peeked in. “You’ve got about five minutes until it’s go time.”

You thanked the lady and went to take your spot, waiting for your entrance. As you heard the bridal march start playing, you anxiously stepped into the room, heavy bouquet in hand. The antique white looked quite nice, you thought to yourself. It was a good choice. In front of the tablecloth though.

How could he possibly be even more handsome than usual? Maybe it was the light gray suit, a stark contrast to his typical black attire. Maybe it was the glisten in his eyes as they watered with tears. Maybe it was the smile that he couldn’t hide- no, he didn’t want to hide. Walking to him felt like running a marathon; it took forever.

Finally your hands were in his. Him mouthing how beautiful you looked, wiping away a stray tear that leaked down his cheek. You didn’t realize you had such a death grip on his hands until he started gently running his thumb over your hands, easing the tension.

“You and me only, remember?” He whispered softly. You wanted to hug him. No, that would be weird. The priest was quite literally in the middle of his speech. You but your lip and looked down at your shoes.

A hand on your cheek brought your attention up. Was this allowed? Why did you never go through this wedding etiquette?

The words spoken were a blur. Jumin recited his vows perfectly, not straying from the traditional vows. The two of you had agreed that you would rather share those thoughts, those emotions, in private. You stumbled over the words when it was your turn. For richer or for poorer? Not only was the statement comical considering the Hans’ wealth, but why was it so hard to say? Jumin’s lips quirked into a smile upon hearing you fumble, and it made you feel better to see him smile like that.

Finally, finally the moment had come. “You may now kiss the bride.” Swept up in the moment, Jumin pulled you close in one swift motion for a kiss. You had agreed to keep it chaste and sweet, but he hadn’t seemed to remember that part of it!!!!! You pulled away before it got too PG-13, planting a kiss on his cheek and promising him more later.

“How soon is later?” He asked, pouting for what was likely one of the first times in his life. “I just want to embrace my wife. We still have a reception after this?” He groaned.

“You’re so needy today Honey,” you teased, the two of you sharing your own moment at the front of the room while the guests filed out.

“We don’t have to do anything. It’s just... I had trouble sleeping last night without you. You can’t blame a man for wanting to hold his wife in his arms and never let go.” He flushed, rubbing the back of his neck.

The guests had finally filed out and it was your turn to leave, greeting them at the exit. “I’ve noticed you saying wife a lot,” you teased, holding his hand tight, your cathedral-length veil wrapped around his free arm so that you wouldn’t trip or get caught up by it.

“Well, I like it.” It was such a simple statement, but it made your heart race. The two of you finished thanking your guests, and it was time for the cocktail hour to start. You and Jumin had planned about ten minutes together without a photographer or anything just so you could take in the events of the day and reflect together. You had been looking forward to it for hours.

“You know all those things you vowed to me?” You asked, staring out the window as he helped you remove your veil. The rain hadn’t slowed; it was wise of you to move it inside.

“Sickness and health, better or worse, rich or poor, those things?” He listed them off as if they were so simple. It made you laugh.

“How about in grace and in stupidity?”

He plopped your veil down on a bench. “What? My love you’re not stu-“

“You wanna go out into the rain with me? It’ll be fun... and we have about eight minutes after to dry off before pictures,” you proposed. It was an AWFUL idea. It was pouring. You had your hair and makeup done. This dress was designer.

“Truly?” He asked, looking skeptically.

“Yeah in retrospect it’s a bad idea. I don’t know, I thought it was good luck or something.”

Out of nowhere, he swept you into his arms, barreling towards the exit to the building. “Jumin!” You shrieked. “I take it back! I said it was a bad idea!”

“But it’s good luck,” he shouted as he swung open the door, trying to be heard over the rain. He looked cautiously at the puddles forming on the sidewalks, then took a deep breath. “In grace and in stupidity?”

“Of course, my husband.”

It was out of a movie. The dramatic kiss in the rain. All the passion Jumin had wanted to put into your kiss when you were standing in front of all your family and friends. The rain dribbling down your back. It made you squeal. He couldn’t stop laughing. He held his hand above your head, attempting to shield your makeup from the rain. It didn’t help.

What felt like eons later, he carried you back inside, setting you on a bench. He tried to keep a serious face, but burst out laughing. You had never heard him laugh so hard.

“Honey? Why are you laughing? Is it my makeup? Jumin!” Nothing could get his attention.

“We may need more than just eight minutes to dry off,” he chuckled, pushing back soaked strands of hair that were hanging on his face. “I’ll call Assistant Kang and let her know.”

“Was it worth it though?” You asked, trying to wipe your face (and failing).

“Oh absolutely,” he pulled you close to him. “I feel luckier already.”

#mystic messenger #mysme #jumin han #Jumin marriage

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leverage-ot3 · 4 years ago

Text

notable moments from The Homecoming Job

leverage 1.02

Dr. LeRoque: Pardon me, Mr. uh?

Nate: Oh, uh, Nathan Ford. You’re Dr. LeRoque?

Dr. LeRoque: Can I talk to you outside?

Perry: Doc, he’s cool, I found him on the internet.

Dr. LeRoque: Yes, that never goes badly. (to Nate) With me.

Nate: Uh… I’ll be in touch.

(Perry hands him the flash drive and Nate follows the doctor out of the room)

okay but big mood “I found him on the Internet” “that never goes badly”

but also,,, bruh we NEED to know how their clients found them,,, like ??? H O W

- - - - -

Dr. LeRoque: You can’t just come in here and get his hopes up!

Nate: I’m just here to provide options.

Dr. LeRoque: There are no options.

Nate: The Veteran’s hospital …

Dr. LeRoque: Is 400 miles away and has a five month waiting list. Everybody in that rehab room is a reservist. When reservists get out they get sent home no matter where home is or how far it is from the treatment they need. Nobody thought this through. We’re not a rich hospital, I cashed in every favor I had to take care of these kids for as long as I could but I have to go back in there and tell Perry we can’t treat him anymore. I have to do that. Run your scam on somebody with money.

Nate: It’s not a scam. I’m here to help.

Dr. LeRoque: People don’t just show up to help. That’s not the way the world works.

leverage really called out the us government’s negligence and neglect for veterans in episode TWO and we stan them so hard for it

leverage said “go big or go home” from the VERY beginning

- - - - -

[Audition Room]

Sophie: Why? Why? I can’t live like this anymore. With the lies and the filth. No. Help me. I want to be clean. I want to be clean.

(two directors watching are overwhelmed by just how awful Sophie is)

Rogers: Yeah, you understand this is a soap commercial, right?

Sophie: Uh huh. When I thought about Peggy I came up with this idea that the dirt was really this giant metaphor, for sin.

(Sophie’s cell rings, she glances at her purse)

Rogers: You should take that. No, no you should take that.

Sophie: Oh. (answers phone) Hello? When? (hangs up) Peggy killed her first husband.

Rogers: Thank you

I literally scream every time I LOVE SOPHIE S O MUCH WHAT THE FUCK

- - - - -

[Parking Lot]

(one man is laying on the hood of a car and another falls on top of him. Eliot turns away from the car as the last man pulls a gun on him. They stare at each other for a moment, then a phone rings)

Eliot: That you or me?

(man seems unsure as the phone continues to ring)

Eliot: Could be important. Does your mama have your number?

(man looks down and Eliot grabs the gun, punching the man in the neck. The man goes down, choking. Eliot unloads the gun and tosses it away before pulling out his phone and answering it)

Eliot: Yeah? Nothing, why?

“nothing”? I’m-

- - - - -

(guard walks by a painting hanging in a museum gallery. He looks away for a moment, and when he looks back a rope is dangling where the painting had been. A cell phone rings)

Parker: Parker. Shh. No, I wasn’t shushing you.

I love her, your honor

- - - - -

(Parker, Eliot and Sophie come around the corner and head down the hall)

Parker: From the first job?

Eliot: Yeah.

Parker: I put all that money in a Swiss bank account.

Eliot: Millions of dollars and you didn’t buy anything?

Parker: I don’t like stuff, I like money.

Sophie: I bought a little retirement home, an island.

Eliot: Nice.

Sophie: In Dubai. And Tokyo.

Parker: What about you?

(they reach the door which has a small envelope with Sophie’s name written on it. Sophie takes it off the door and opens it)

Eliot: Yeah, I’m not about to tell two known thieves what I did with a multi-million dollar payout.

Sophie: Don’t you trust us?

(Eliot doesn’t answer.)

- - - - -

Hardison: This is our new cover story. Welcome to Leverage Consulting and Associates, founded in 1913 by the great Harland Leverage the Third.

(Hardison points to a painting on the wall of an older man that greatly resembles Nate)

Sophie: I’m sorry. Nate is going to kill you.

Eliot: Did you paint that?

Hardison: I’m gifted.

Eliot: That’s weird

HARLAND LEVERAGE THE THIRD

- - - - -

Hardison: Now Leverage Consulting Inc. is squeaky clean, all corporate taxes on record as being paid for the last ninety years. (He gives them each a cell and a folder) All your identities as partners, your payroll taxes are paid, you guys have pension plans and dental, those are employment records, case files and company newsletters.

(the group walks the halls of the Leverage offices as they discuss the files)

Parker: In 1998 I won the sack race at the 4th of July picnic. Cool.

Hardison: Now these, these are your offices. Now you can bring something like a photo, you know what, a plant! I’m a big supporter of dandelions.

hardison goes hardcore when coming up with backstories

- - - - -

(Hardison opens doors to a conference room that holds a long table with many chairs around it. One wall is dedicated to large TV screens)

Sophie: Nice.

Eliot: My man.

Hardison: Long version or the short version?

Sophie: Short.

Eliot: Short version.

Parker: Shortest.

(Hardison hits a remote the TV screens illustrate his explanation)

Hardison: Photo and video forensics programs, back doors into every electronic banking system in the world, running heuristic data crawls all over the news sites to find our clients, oh also!

Parker: This is the short version?

Hardison: Facial recognition database tied into CIA, NSA and the FBI. But, the real pièce de résistance (changes screens to sports games) DirectTV HD Total Sports Package. NFL, NBA and I threw in a little bit of hockey ‘cause I know you people like that.

Eliot: Hockey.

hardison nests SO HARD

like, bring in all the highest tech into your cozy new office you designed for you and your fellow adopted criminals? heck yeah

- - - - -

Nate: Our client is the cameraman. Corporal Robert Perry. He says that the Castleman contractors spooked and started firing.

Eliot: 5.56 NATO rounds mixed in with some 9 mils from the sub-machine guns. Insurgents would have used AK-47s with 7.62 ammo. It has more of a... (hits the back of his hand to his palm) crack. Contractors shot 'em up all right.

Parker: You ID’d the weapon from the gunshot sound?

Eliot: It has a very distinctive sound

D I S T I N C T I V E

- - - - -

Nate: Yes, and lobbyists in every office in Washington, DC. The problem with a cover-up is all the paperwork it takes to keep the lies straight.

Hardison: Internal emails, memos.

Nate: Exactly.

- - - - -

[Roof]

[Hardison and Parker are wearing black and connected to repelling gear)

Hardison: I gotta go back to the office I just remembered something.

Parker (adjusting Hardison’s harness): What?

Hardison: I just remembered gravity and the squishiness of all my manly bits.

Parker: I designed this rig myself. The line is carbon fiber. Five point harness. Weight support here, here, and here. Auto-breaking resistance on the main pulley back here.

Hardison: Okay cool, so it’s tested?

Parker: Not yet.

Hardison: Not yet? When the hell was you gonna test it?

(Parker pushes Hardison off the roof. She smiles, he screams)

Parker: Big baby.

(she jumps after him. Hardison screams until he stops upside down. Parker lowers herself to his side)

Hardison: Seriously? Seriously

hardison’s first time rappelling decidedly Did Not Go Well

- - - - -

Sophie: My company’s focused on meeting senators, but I’m thinking congressmen.

DuFort: You know the great thing about congressmen? Fifty, a hundred grand well spent will get one elected, but then once they’re in the incumbency rate is over 95 percent so you can get an average 18, 20 years’ use out of one of them. In these uncertain times buying a United States congressman is one of the best investments a corporation can make.

[DuFort’s Office]

Hardison: Oh I just threw up in my mouth a little bit. I’m a professional criminal and I find that disturbing

they’re going at america’s THROAT in this one and I love it. thank you john rogers

- - - - -

(while DuFort is distracted Sophie pulls out his wallet and removes the RFID card with her teeth. DuFort takes off his coat to look at the stain)

I am but a simple gay and this was Hot™

- - - - -

the phones hardison gave the team have six main buttons: internet, text, files, to-do, id scan, and mail

- - - - -

Nate: Parker, what’s the status of the voicelock?

[DuFort’s Office]

Parker: Uh, I’ve been sampling DuFort’s speech but I still need a few more sounds.

[Private Party]

Nate: How many?

[DuFort’s Office]

Parker: Well I only need the sounds puh, tuh, oo, ah, eh, oh, ah, ke, a, ef.

[Private Party]

Nate: Ah, only those. Eliot.

(Eliot walks by carrying two trays of appetizers)

Eliot: I’m on it. Pardon. (approaches Sophie and DuFort) Hello.

Sophie: Ooh. Mmm.

Eliot: (to DuFort) Appetizer, sir?

DuFort: Sure, what do you got?

Eliot: I’ve got the pâté d’escargot avec bière d'Argentine and (looks at second tray and grimaces) what looks like old duck, kind of greasy.

DuFort: I guess I’ll have the first one.

Eliot: Of course.

(Eliot offers him the second tray and Dufort looks at him expectantly)

DuFort: Well? May I have some?

Eliot: The greasy duck?

Sophie: Oh, no, no, no, I wouldn’t have the greasy duck.

Eliot: No I wouldn’t suggest it.

DuFort: No, the other one.

(Eliot pretends confusion)

DuFort: The the pâté d’escargot with the bière d'Argentine!

Eliot: Excellent choice sir (gives DuFort the first tray).

DuFort: (takes food) Who is this clown?

[DuFort’s Office]

Parker: Pretty good. Got most of them. Okay, now all I need is ef, uh and kuh.

[Private Party]

(DuFort spits out the appetizer he has taken)

DuFort: This is shrimp!

Eliot: Very good then. (walks away)

DuFort: It’s shrimp you stupid F----!

[DuFort’s Office]

Parker: Oh, there they are. Really loud too

parker being so competent and knowledgeable about voice activation codes? amazing. iconic.

and the whole scene with eliot and the food? hilarious.

also there already another meta post about this but this scene shows just how SMART eliot is,,, like coming up with that on spot??? don’t get me wrong, hardison is “the smartest man [any of them know]” but damn

- - - - -

continuing list of non-weapon objects eliot uses as weapons:

an IV stand

+ bonus

nate: the defibrillator/AED

- - - - -

Perry: Mr. Ford!

(Perry pushes a defibrillator towards Nate, who grabs the paddles. The first man runs toward Eliot with a knife, but Eliot grabs his arm and pushes him toward Nate)

Nate: Hello.

(Nate hits the man in the chest with the defibrillator paddles and he flies backward, unconscious)

eliot looking Impressed™ at nate for that

- - - - -

Eliot: Play time’s over Nate, it’s only a matter of time before they come after us. The tall one, the way he used a knife, ex-Marine, probably Force Recon.

Hardison: You ID’d a guy off his knife-fighting style?

Eliot: It’s a very distinctive style.

two distinctives in one episode

- - - - -

Hardison: I didn’t sign up for any of this. What I did before, nobody got hurt.

Sophie: I stole paintings for a living.

Parker: I never hurt anybody.

Eliot: I actually hurt people, so…

LMFAO eliot but also- notice that sophie never said that she never hurt people, she just said she stole paintings for a living

- - - - -

Sophie: Nate, if anything had happened to this kid--

Nate: You know you guys called on me. You remember? You begged me to run the crew, agreed to play by my rules. Now walk out if you have a problem with that. Walk out any day if you have a problem with that. It’s simple.

(everyone looks hesitant)

Eliot: We finish this one.

Parker: Just one

PSH like any of y’all believe that

- - - - -

Hardison: How do we hit ‘em?

Sophie: Congressman Jenkins, he’s our in. Looked me straight in the eye and told me he’d never even heard of the shooting.

Parker: So?

Sophie: Looked me in the eye? When men are telling me the truth they’re not looking me in the eye. A man only ever looks a woman in the eye when he’s making the effort to lie to her.

Eliot: ...Well you can’t argue with that.

Hardison: Noted and filed

LMFAO

- - - - -

Nate: All right, Jenkins is DuFort’s pet congressman, let’s see if we can get him to bite. The best way to get two people to reveal a secret, get ‘em to turn on each other.

- - - - -

Sophie: You should look out for the signs congressman. Missed phone calls, no more little favors.

Jenkins: Those are the same signs that your wife is cheating on you.

Sophie: That’s right.

Jenkins: What am I supposed to do when that happens?

Sophie (hands him her card): Play the field

- - - - -

Hardison: Congressman Jenkins is very careful. No direct bribes but he’s renovating his house and so far he’s received over $600,000 worth of work for a little over fifty grand.

(Hardison brings up pictures of Jenkins’ house on the screens)

Eliot: Castleman owns the contracting company, huh?

Hardison: I mean, he’s going through like three shell companies but yeah. And this man loves his house. Just check out his web browsing habits.

(Hardison changes the image to a website for wood panels)

Hardison: Look here, see the man spent three weeks picking out the perfect mahogany wood panels. This site is like wood porn.

Eliot: Is his house finished?

Hardison: Not even close.

Eliot: Can I borrow your phone?

Hardison takes out his phone, dials for Eliot and hands it to him.

Eliot (on phone): Hello? Yes, I’d like to cancel delivery on some mahogany wood paneling. Please.

(Hardison tries to help, Eliot walks away)

Eliot: The Jenkins house. Yeah, you know what, do me a favor man, just go ahead and cancel the whole order. Yes sir.

(Eliot leaves the room as Nate enters with a bowl of popcorn and two beers)

Nate: What’s he doing?

Hardison: Yanking the congressman’s chain

I love chaotic (pre)boyfriends

plus at one point it high hey looked like they were holding hands

and eliot’s SMILE at hardison ,,, you soft man, you never stood a chance

- - - - -

Hardison: A woo--whoa, whoa! A wood-- a wooden box?

Nate: A wooden box.

Hardison: Wood? Well, we can put a man on the moon but all our laws go into a wooden box.

- - - - -

Hardison: I mean, break a law, everybody’s done that, my mama’s done that but steal a law. Oh, she’s gonna be a legend baby.

(on screen, C-SPAN news shows the Senate floor where Parker is walking to “The Hopper”. She waves at the camera and puts the fake bill into box.

Parker: The eagle has landed.

Nate: It’s in!

Hardison: Uhn! Go ahead girl! Sexyness! Unh. Rrrnnn.

Nate: Might want to ease up on that a little bit.

Hardison: Just saying.

Nate: Yeah.

Hardison: Between me and you. Between me and you.

Nate: Never leaves the room.

adorable “the eagle has landed” parker + already-gone-for-her hardison ,,, I love it here

- - - - -

(also, again I am reminded that there is a 250 text block limit so imma have to make a part two and apparently this is my life now)

#leverage #leverage 1.02 #leverage 1x02 #the homecoming job #notable moments #mine #leverage season 1 #season 1

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mymelodyheart · 4 years ago

Text

Highland Destiny Chapter 9 ~The Fury & The Beast~

Claire was motionless. She was looking straight ahead, frozen and unblinking. Her awareness was gradually peeling away like she was being split in two. She knew she was no longer in her body and was observing the activities through a goldfish bowl. It was all very dream-like, everything was starting to shimmer like their atoms couldn't hold together, and the colours seemed too bright and the people too close. This sense of detachment frequently happened to Claire when she's about to perform surgery. It was a kind coping mechanism to help her deal with stress and anxiety and aid her surgical work with precision and efficiency.

"Claire! Claire! Are ye alright? Look at me!"

She turned. It was Geillis. Claire looked at her face, and she thought it looked like it was made of wax and it was animated by some alien spirit. She smiled at her friend, but it was an empty smile. "I think I need a drink," Claire murmured. She didn't recognise her own voice - it sounded very garbled and distorted, like someone speaking through a very long metal pipe.

"Aye, of course, ye dae...c'mon," Geillis said as she led her away towards the bar. She was concerned about Claire. She knew that look from their medical student days whenever they performed a mock dissection. Her face would become expressionless, and her actions very clinical. And although Claire was fully functional, she was very robotic. Geillis wanted to shake her and slap her on the face to bring her back, but she couldn't. Not in front of all these people. Instead, she ordered a double whisky and made her drink it straight. Damn ye, Fraser! Damn ye!

It worked. It wasn't long before Claire was sputtering and coughing. And when she came around, the pain was etched on her face.

"Oh God Geillis, what the fuck!" Reality suddenly hit Claire like a massive wallop to her stomach, and the continuous piercing sensation in her heart was returning again.

Joe was there, his firm grip on her arm was supporting her. "Sweetheart, shall we go outside for some fresh air?" he said softly, as Gail looked on.

"No! No! Just let me be, I need a moment alone. Please." Claire's voice cracked. Joe and Geillis knew she was trying to hold it together, but they could only watch helplessly as their friend walked away and headed for the bathroom.

..........

Jamie saw it, plain as day. He couldn't bear it. He couldn't bear to see the pain in Claire's eyes. It was the first thing Jamie noticed before all the insanity began. His head was reeling, and his heart was fragmenting piece by piece as he bore witness to Claire's anguish. In all his life, Jamie had never seen hurt with that much intensity, and it pained him to see Claire like this. He wanted to go to her, but he felt trapped. Confined. Ambushed. Everything was happening too fast for him to get a grip of reality. Annalise's hand felt heavy like manacles on his arm, weighing him down.

"Smile sweetheart, you wanted this remember. Now look happy," Annalise said through her teeth as she smiled and posed at every snap of the camera.

That's when he snapped. Seething, he could no longer go on with the pretence. "There is no engagement!" Jamie bellowed, making everyone nearby jump. Not caring anymore, he roughly grabbed Annalise by the elbow, steering her through the crowd, brushing past stunned onlookers.

"Jamie! Let go...you're hurting me," she hissed as she tried to yank off her arms from his firm grip.

Ignoring her, Jamie led her out of the ballroom and into an empty conference room. He was fervently praying that Claire would still be around once he dealt with this awful mess. Oh, Christ Claire, I'm so sorry! Away from prying eyes, he turned Annalise around to face him, maybe too harshly. He didn't give a damn. "What the fuck was that all about?" Jamie asked in a dangerously, calm voice. He wanted to yell at her but refrained from doing so.

"What do you mean Jamie... I thought you wanted this..." she retorted.

"No, I didna want this. I never did. Neither did ye." He snarled, his temper was quickly mounting.

She glowered at him. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Noticing her confusion, he took a deep breath, feeling frustrated and sick in the stomach. "All these is a fucking farce. Don't ye get it?" He ran his hand through his hair in agitation. "Think back, Annalise, think back for Christ sake! Think back to the time when we started seeing each other. We were dating...we were young....we didn't even talk about any future. Ye loved yer parties, and I was intoxicated with my achievement. Neither of us understood the concept of marriage, let alone even thought about it. When my uncle fell into hardship, I wanted to help. Then yer father came along and dangled the opportunity for me to retrieve my uncle's vineyard...well, that's if I married ye. I dinna ken what he's been telling ye but back then I was willing to do anything to save my uncle's failing business...." Jamie's words came pouring out, unrestrained.

They were both still for a while. Jamie watched Annalise absorbed his revelation.

Then she closed her eyes and exhaled deeply as if a burden was lifted. She lingered a moment to compose herself. "It's all about those shares, then?"

Jamie nodded.

Pondering, she carried on. "So papa bribed you." It was stated more as a fact rather than a question. She shook her head in disbelief and paced back and forth until she found her next words. "Thinking back...you know... us...I did like you Jamie, and you liked me, and we had fun, but we were never in-love, were we?"

"No. We weren't," Jamie admitted. "But I liked ye enough to go through with the marriage. I thought I was doing something honourable by agreeing to yer father's wishes. But I was wrong. I know that now. Ye would have hated me eventually if I married ye and brought ye here to Scotland. Ye've never liked it here. And I don't want to be anywhere else in the world, but here in the highlands." Jamie paused, trying to think about the best way to soften the blow. "If it's any consolation to ye, I would have tried my utmost best to be a good husband, but that's no guarantee for a happy marriage."

" Fils de pute!" she cursed under her breath. " My papa is one manipulative, piece of shit! And it's true...I hate it here. The rain, the greyness, the cold. It rains all the time and living here would have made me miserable." She paused, taking a deep breath. "You see Jamie, I have always followed papa's orders. I had no choice. I've never worked a day in my life, and he holds the purse's string. Sometimes he would threaten me if I didn't comply. His usual threat was to cut off my allowance. So if he says jump, the only acceptable response would be, how high? Do you remember Charles Gauloise? I was in love with him, but he was married. We were having an affair, and I wanted him to leave his wife. So when you asked me to marry you, I thought it was a perfect opportunity to make him jealous and please papa as well. Papa wanted us married because he thought with your name connected to our family name, it would boost his own business. Then Charles found out about our engagement, and when he promised to leave his wife, I broke off our engagement at once. I thought if Charles married me, I would be free from my father's clutches. Unfortunately, Charles' promises were nothing but empty promises. And I fell more than once for his lies; hence, I broke off our engagement twice. I remember now clearly, how relieved you looked when I broke off our engagement. You didn't even look disappointed."

Ignoring the last statement, Jamie demanded, "And how about tonight? What was that all about? For fuck sake, it was like a fucking circus out there. And you fucking knew well I hated all the media attention."

Annalise sighed, feeling resigned. "Everything that happened tonight was papa's design after you told him you didn't want anything to do with Château Cheval Blanc. He was afraid that if your name weren't attached to the business, it would no longer thrive. God, I don't even know why he is hanging on to that stupid vineyard. He hates it, and he doesn't even know a thing about wine-making. So you did do me a favour by telling those people there's no engagement."

Jamie was stunned by the admission, and he softened up a bit. "Christ Annalise, why didn't ye tell me? I could have helped ye. All this would have never happened if ye told me."

"Helped me how Jamie? We were both played. I am hopeless without my father's money. Don't get me wrong, he loves me dearly, but he loves himself more. At least now, I don't have to continue this fucking charade."

"Ye're not hopeless Annalise! Ye're a talented painter. Any gallery in Paris will exhibit yer work, and ye have a well-known name to boot." Jamie didn't know whether to feel sorry for her or feel exasperated at her spoiled behaviour. Either way, he was eager to get this conversation over with and go find Claire.

She remained silent, pondering what he just said.

When she didn't say anything, Jamie continued. "Ye see, I hung on to our relationship because I thought one day ye will agree to marry me and finally I would be able to restore Château Cheval Blanc as a Fraser legacy. But like ye, I couldn't keep this up...so I decided to draw the line and give up the vineyard because..."

"Because you're in love," Annalise added sighing. "It's that woman in red, right?"

Jamie nodded, failing miserably to conceal his emotion as the picture of Claire's anguished face replayed on his mind.

"I saw earlier the way you looked at her. You have never looked at me that way...not once," she said sadly, thinking of Charles.

Jamie didn't want to waste any more time. He had to go and find Claire. "Annalise, I'm sorry...I need to see her now. Will ye be alright if I leave ye?" Jamie asked, his voice hoarse.

She smiled weakly. "Of course. You go get your girl. And I'm so sorry for fucking this up for you."

"No lass, it was me who fucked up. I should have told her the truth from the beginning. Dinna worry." He smiled back in reassurance.

"So friends again?"

"Aye, of course."

"Hug?"

"NO! No hug. No offence but I'm in a lot of trouble already so we will leave it at that if ye dinna mind."

Annalise laughed. "Go then!"

Just as Jamie was about to leave, the door opened. "Jaime, we have a problem. Yer uncle is blind drunk and causing problems," Rupert announced. What the fuck now!

..........

Claire applied cold water to her neck and temple after sitting in the toilet cubicle for the longest time. Despite the heat on her face, she was shivering. Claire didn't want to think of Jamie. She didn't want to cry. All she wanted to do was go home, curl up in a ball and sleep. It's alright Beauchamp, you can do this! Just breathe!

The sudden opening of the door made her jump, and the sound of the music from the ballroom drifted in, reminding Claire where she was. As she turned around, she found herself staring at a very inebriated Dougal McKenzie, Jamie's uncle.

"Weel, weel, what do we have here? The pretty wee lady in red..." he slurred as he swayed on his feet. He had his hands on both sides of the door frame to support himself, and his handsome face was puffy from too much alcohol.

"Dougal, this is the ladies room..." Claire explained, hoping he will turn around and leave. His presence was giving her ominous feeling.

Dougal gave her a lopsided smile as he took a step forward. "Och I see that...an' I can see one very, very pretty lady."

Claire tried to go around him, but he was reaching out for her. Slightly tipsy herself, she floundered a bit and almost lost her balance.

"Come here and give me a wee kiss. I promise not to tell Jamie..." he garbled as he took another step forward.

There was hardly any room to manoeuvre as Claire tried to sidestep him. Before she could make her next move, she was cornered as he pitched forward and grabbed hold of her waist. He pulled her to him as he groped at her breast, but the struggle was futile - he was a large man, and his grip was strong despite his state. She tried to squirm out of his embrace. "Let go of me you damn fool or I'll scream!"

She tried her hardest to push from his chest, but he didn't budge. Then panic set in when he tried to lift her dress, and before she could scream, a large hand took him by the shoulder and the next thing she knew, Dougal was slumped on the floor.

Claire stared in disbelief. It was all like a blur. One minute he was pawing her and the next minute, he's been decked.

"Oh my God, oh my God, he's hurt!" she whispered. Claire didn't even notice Jamie standing there. Everything happened so fast that she didn't see him throwing a punch. All her focus was on the injured man, sprawled lifeless-like at her feet. Oblivious to Jamie's presence, she knelt down by the immobile body and checked his pulse. The doctor in her had taken over, and everything else evaporated.

Then he touched her. "Sassenach are ye alright?" Jamie asked softly as he took off his plaid to placed it over her shoulders. He noticed she had been trembling the whole time. To his relief, she wrapped it tight around her.

"Oh Jamie, it's you...please help me turn him over to his side. He's had too much alcohol, he might choke on his own vomit," she said in a voice that was flat and unfeeling. "And please call an ambulance just to make sure he's alright."

Jamie helped her turn Dougal but was confused with her response. Claire seemed to be in some sort of trance.

Then she stood up, pulling the plaid tighter around her. "Right Jamie, I have to get going...and remember, call an ambulance please." She patted him on the arm before turning away,

Gently he touched her, again "Sassenach, please look at me, we need to talk...please..." Jamie was beginning to be alarmed. Oh, God, Claire, please.

The moment he touched her for the second time, Claire suddenly snapped out from her stupor and whipped around to face him, her eyes bright with anger, and her cheeks flushed red. "Don't touch me, " she hissed through clenched teeth. Jamie nearly staggered backwards at the sudden change of demeanour.

"Sassenach please, it's not what ye think..." he pleaded. Jamie was groping in the dark for the right words.

"Not what I think? How do you know what I think! Tell me this James Fraser..." she stepped forward, her face contorted in pain and was mere inches from his, "What am I to you? Huh? TELL ME!"

"Claire, I beg ye, come with me. We have a room here in the hotel..." he implored. He wanted to take her in his arms and soothe her, but he knew there was very little chance of that happening soon.

"A room? Is that it... you think I'll come up with you and everything will be alright? How many women have you taken in that room? And answer my question...WHAT AM I TO YOU? Answer me, damn you." Claire was panting like some wild banshee, and she couldn't stop. "Well, you know what, you fucking bloody Scot, I think you think that I'm just another girl you can stick your cock in and warm your bed while we play little cottage in the woods. That's all I am to you. I'm just another cunt to fuck. Isn't it? Admit it, James Fraser, ADMIT IT YOU BASTARD!" This time Claire was yelling.

Jamie grabbed her arm and pulled her closer until they were nose to nose. His anger was beginning to rise, not towards Claire but because of the whole situation. He only wanted a perfect evening for her, and it was all going very wrong. "Sassenach, ye have a filthy mouth on ye...will ye pipe down please."

"I DON'T FUCKING CARE YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" she yelled.

There was a moment of silence as Jamie and Claire swayed from each other, both stunned by the outburst. They were both hurting and had no idea how to end the madness. Claire wanted so much to be in his arms, but there were so many unanswered questions. And Jamie thought it would be as easy as saying I'm sorry.

He took a cautious step towards her, and for the first time in his life, Jamie bared his true feelings. Gone was the mask. The veil lifted, and his face was one of despair. "Sassenach please, ye're tearing my guts out."

Claire saw his pain, and she wanted to reach out, but before she could, Annalise showed up at the door, her eyes widening at the sight of Dougal's slumped body. "Is everything alright? I heard shouting." At the sight of her, Claire remembered why they were in this predicament. She felt her blood boil all over again.

Seizing control, Claire straightened her shoulder and stared directly at Annalise, "I was just telling your fiance that he should remind his uncle to keep his cock to himself." Claire looked back at Jamie. "I guess he had a boner to pick with me."

Then she walked off, leaving them to stare after her.

"Sassenach! Wait!"

She kept walking, Jamie's plaid still around her and she could smell his aftershave on the fabric. She didn't cry even though her heart was breaking. She kept on walking past a sea of faces aware Jamie was following. She didn't look back. She ignored the nods and glances. She kept walking. Then she bumped into Geillis.

"Claire, we'll take ye home, alright?" She nodded still stupefied from recent events. "Joe and Gail are outside getting the car, and I will get our coats. Will ye wait in the lobby for me?" Claire could only nod again.

Then she kept on walking again, this time towards the lobby, but Jamie was getting nearer. She quickened her pace and was relieved when she saw Tom Christie. Claire went to him.

"Claire! Are ye alright? Ye don't look too good." He touched her elbow lightly, steering her aside.

"No, I don't feel right. Can you please accompany me outside...Joe is waiting for me there."

"Of course..." Tom put his arms around Claire and escorted her out of the hotel. Jamie could only stand and watch as they walked away.

..........

Jamie left the ball early and went to the cottage. It was very dark. He let himself in, but there was no sign of Claire. He went to the kitchen and saw the pile of morning dishes still unwashed. On the counter was a mug of half-drunk Earl Grey tea. It had Claire's lipstick mark on it. Jaime cleared, washed and dried the dishes. Then he went to the lounge and picked up the cushions from the floor and placed them on the couch and then made his way to the bathroom for a quick shower. In the bedroom, he lied on Claire's side of the bed and hoped that when he wakes up the following morning, everything that happened that night was just a nightmare.

#melodyheart #highlanddestiny #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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ziracona · 4 years ago

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The tendency in fandom to take every white girl with short hair, regardless of the status of their canonical interest or lack of interest in women and explicit interest and/or sexual history with everything but, proclaim them a lesbian queen, and then ignore or absolve them of every single horrific act they take in fiction because of this. Is not doing feminism. Women. Lesbians. Or anyone. Any favors. It’s just bad.

Somehow. Some people really do apparently need to hear that...being any specific sexuality...is not a personality trait.

And also. Women aren’t inherantly less vile than men (or anyone non-binary, agender, fluid, etc, else), and whatever bad deeds they do should be judged based on just that—on the deeds, and their context. Not their sexuality, imagined sexuality, or their gender. Becuase none of those things effect whether committing murder is bad. At all. Not even a little. And none of them. Is even a personality trait. Affecting the character’s value as a person.

It’s cool, and good, to see characters with minority identities. And it’s real nice. When it’s whatever you are. But them being whatever. Is not a personality trait. Just a fact. And sometimes. People of any type. Are not good. Pretending any minority status—gender, sexuality, race, disability, neurotype, etc—is a get out of jail free card? Is not. Doing them. Or anyone. Any favors. Personality disorder. Doesn’t make you bad. Also doesn’t make you good. Your actions do. Acting like Amy from Gone Girl did nothing wrong when she date rapes her boyfriend & then frames him for doing that to her & ruins his life, then blackmails her husband who is terrified of being murdered by her into staying with her for the sake of the child she made at a fertility clinic with his sperm without his consent, bc she’s a woman. Isn’t good. Men aren’t more deserving of violence than women. Neither is anyone else. Jane. Left an infant child in an unheated car in subzero weather in a snow storm with zombies around that easily would hear it cry and go eat it. So she could lie and say she already let zombies eat it to bait a man with easily triggerable PTSD who had just lost his family to zombies for the second time into starting a fight. Because he was injured, unarmed, weak, down an eye, and 50, while she was fit, mid 20s, healthy, and armed with a hunting knife. Because she wanted an excuse to kill him without looking bad, because she wanted the 11 year old girl she was co-parenting with him, all to herself. And her immediately responding to the dude throwing a punch by stabbing him in the stomach to escalate the fight from brawl to life or death, then losing her knife, and instead of telling him the baby was alive & she’d made it up to start a fight which could have at any point ended the fight, begging the 11 year old child to gun down her oldest surviving friend with her own hands in cold blood so that she’d get what she wanted? Is evil. As is crying on the 11 year old and using pity as a weapon to get her to stay with her if she gets mad and wants to leave when she realizes Jane staged the whole thing for an excuse to murder, and so is after realizing like a month later that she is pregnant, committing suicide, and leaving the 11 year old that she just manipulated into killing her oldest surviving friend/completely isolated on purpose so she could have her to herself, totally alone in the apocalypse to care for an infant. Jennifer’s Body? Is a fantastic film. And Jennifer didn’t deserve any of what happened to her. But not one single boy she kills during the course of that film deserved it—and explicitly so. Even the guy who could easily have been a meathead jock bully is outside alone crying becuase his best friend just died and he loved him before she decides to lure him off and eat him alive. And acting like it’s totally fine & Needy should have just let her keep eating boys instead of killing her? Is fucked up. None of them deserved to die. And no one deserves death innately more because they are or are not something that is just a factual designator of their makeup as a human. The exchange student was scared and alone and nice, the catholic kid was sweet and Needy’s friend, Chip is a bad boyfriend but he meant well and being stupid doesn’t mean you deserve to die. And this girl ate them alive. That’s not funny. Or cool. Or fine becuase they were dudes. Gertrude Robinson? Chose again and again to betray people who loved her, or trusted her—sold out victims of awful trauma to their worst nightmares. Killed friends in the worst possible ways, like it was nothing. Michael loved her, and trusted her, and tried to care for her, and she without faltering fed him to his worst nightmare and forced him to become it. There is nothing excusable about that action.

Jude Perry? Has 0 redeeming features. Didn’t even stay faithful to her poor gf & was creepy obsessed w Agnes. Literally murdered her co-worker friend just because he was happy, and she wanted to destroy things: that’s it. She didn’t even dislike him. Murdered him because he had a wife and kid and house and it seemed fun, then burned down his house, took his wife’s money, and now checks in on his kid every so often in case he ever recovers from the trauma she inflicted enough to be fun to kill. There is literally nothing good about this woman. Yes. I mean that. Because being a lesbian? Is just a thing. There is no g/b tag, there is no tag at all. Amanda Young? Got kidnapped and tortured and forced to choose between killing a man who couldn’t resist but was conscious to watch her, and letting herself die, and she killed him. Then, instead of responding to that trauma with guilt or responsibility or anger at her captor, joined up with him and started helping him kidnap people just like her. She was not forced, she was not lied to. It does not matter if John was manipulative; she is a grown ass woman and like all grown ass adults, responsible for her own actions and choices. She did not get manipulated pitifully into this—she did not go unwillingly. She volunteered, with a happy vengeance, became obsessed with John and in love with him, despite his complete lack of interest. And she did not even just do what he did. She decided on her own that no one deserved redemption, & she killed them for fun in traps that wouldn’t let them go even if they did whatever awful thing the trap demanded as a price for life, just for the fun and power trip of watching them die helpless & in agony. That was all her, & her alone. She sat in a house full of people slowly dying from organ decomposition over the course of a few hours, for no crime worse than drug addiction—the thing she of all people should have been most sympathetic to—knowing full well at any time she could have saved them and stopped the game, and did nothing. She held a woman in her arms and stroked her head lovingly while she let her die in one of the most inhumane ways possible for the crime of having not been able to break an addition. She got saved by a 16 year old child multiple times, who had done nothing more than shoplift, and stood by while he had to watch a man get his brains blown out, another burn to death in an oven. As his organs slowly dissolved too. Watched the kid kill another human being & massively traumatize himself to save her life. And responded to that by attacking & knocking him out, tying him up, locking him up for days in a tiny safe bound and gagged with an oxygen supply to keep him alive, to be a piece in another game. Left his father, who had shown up to try & save him, to starve to death in chains in a horrible abandoned rotting room, & never even told him his son was alive. Let every other addict die horribly, let that kid sustain permanent damage to his organs that will kill him young, antidote taken or not, took his dad from him, & went back to torturing without a second thought. Kidnapped a woman whose worst crime was being a doctor & dating someone while maybe separated instead of divorced from her husband, put her in a trap that would take her head off with shotgun blasts, threatened her for fun, & then killed her even after she did everything she was asked, because it was more important to her that the old man she was obsessed with think she was special and great, than for the other woman to get to stay alive another day & go home to her daughter. There is nothing sympathetic about Amanda. She’s just not only evil, but too spineless to take responsibility for her own choices & actions, & tries to hide behind a “UwU I am sad & lonely & damaged & having trauma means I can literally torture people to death to feel special & it’s really tragic and sympathetic about me, not evil. Uhm. Some people??? Commit torture-murders?? To cope??” And acting like she’s somehow a victim in this becuase she is a pretty white girl with short hair? Is fucked. Up.

But every. God damn. Time. I see this. Please. It needs. To stop. People go: “UwU pretty girl short hair want” & I go “Ok. I see where u. Come from. Indeed.” But then. They go. “Girl pretty I like. So she was blameless. For this atrocity.” Those words...

Every day. I wake up. Thinking of Janic saying. Iconically. “At least me and Regina George know we’re mean,” and I weep inside. Because I cannot fathom. Or stomach. The lack of responsibility. I will kill. Characters who cannot admit they are bad. Myself. But somehow. They become. Flames. To moths. Of the “UwU pretty white girl short hair. We stan. Victim. Queen. Love her. Never done wrong.” Boy. We all done wrong. Even all my faves. At least once. I think. ...not if we count dogs probably, but people, yes. Ok. Anyway. All this is to say. Characters. Should be judged. Based on what they did. And why. And the aftermath. Not a grouping tag. I don’t mean any of these. Make bad characters. At all. Amy is a great character. So is Jennifer. So are most of them. I have quite affection even. For Jeneffer specifically. But you can like. Character. Without proclaiming. Them perfect humans. Who never did a thing wrong. Or their acts somehow. Justifiable. And ok. And you better stop saying. Ok. Because done. To men. Men do not. Deserve violence. Any more. Than anyone else. No one deserves violence defacto for factors. Outside their control. Wtf. Really people. It’s ok too. For character. To do much bad stuff. And still like character. Villains. And often just complex characters. Sometimes just characters. Do stuff. That is bad. It’s not supposed to be not their fault. Or ok. Also. Women are not a sisterhood. Of flawless beings. Who never hurt anyone or do any bad stuff. They can. And are. Often purpotrators. Of awful acts. And when they are. It is still. Very bad. Still. An awful act. Same level. Even. Of awful. Wild.

In conclusion.

Having short hair. While a girl. Doesn’t make her a butch queen. Who is absolved of all responsibility for that murder she committed. It just makes her a girl with short hair. That did a murder. I’m gonna. Kill someone. Too. And if I chop my hair off. I guess I can get away with it.

#personal #*dances wildly to abba music while delivering speech*#some of you all apparently really need a girl to come fuck up your life bc the lengths to which some of y’all so devotedly seem to believe #women are less evil is astronomical. and let me tell you. from personal experience? a girl can ruin your life. just as easily. and with as #little pity. guilt. remorse. or afterthought. as a man. and it aint any more ok. & you know what? so can a fluid person. or a nonbinary #person. legit anyone. can be bad. or good. and do bad. or good. theyre not defacto worse for coming from X starting point. and theyre also.#OuO not. better.#not everyone who likes or is sympathetic to these specific characters even be like that either like u know what? its possible to both be #sypathetic to a character & not excuse & atand their actions. I like & feel bad for Jennifer. a lot. one of my bros in college loved Jane #from twdg. Not bc she thought it was totally fine she’d been super evil though. its *dances* not that hard actually #also nothin against lovin evil lady characters or evil characters in general. just me or anyone else loving them does nothing to make their #evil deeds suddely ok or vanish into the mist #people have some real trouble w nuance huh. folks like a character & assume that means stanning everything theyve ever done. hate a charactr #and suddenly forget how to factor any outside factors into their view of said person’s actions. its a wild bad ride yo #like i get it. im a girl & ive had plenty of men ruin my life i truly get it. but is there anything truly more detrimental to feminism & to #just treating people decent in general than the WomenDoNoWrong mindset & apologism thrown up like its actually a decent counter t patriarchy #? probably actually yeah im sure there are worse. but its still REALLY not good!! feminism is just a stance that all people deserve equal #treatment & an investment in pursuing that reality. if youre excusing people of horrible actions bc girl & treating violence against non-#women as fine youre not a feminist u actually just suck generally as a person #i also lose my mind how half the characters i see get this treatment aint even lesbians & often explicitly like men yet get both assigned #that & treated like that sexuality is a hall pass for human rights violations. im dyin #this entire thought rant was prompted by reading a post earlier today about bi-phobia & gettin mad about how bi people get treated idk how #spagheti brain exactly went there to here so /fast/ but anyway. same brand of problematic. & i am v tired :] of this :] specifically :]#every time i see that post abt women killers in horror i am like ‘OP hiw are your points so good but all your examples so /terrible/.’ rip #i guess this is just life. and i feel excessively better after screaming jnto the void of my blog #also i get it gertrude robinson wanted to stop the apocalypse but fuck gertrude robinson she has no excuse. nothing could justify what she #did to people who loved her. and shes a well written and layered character whonisnt like just pure evil but she is VERY bad and i WILL kill #her (again) myself if given the chance & i have every right to.#spoilers #again. great charcters. amanda an iconic saw villain. gertrude fascinating. etc. but also. they be doing mad evil deeds & tis not ok

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the-omni-princess · 5 years ago

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Frozen Heart [Honeymoon Drabble]

Author: @the-omni-princess

Summary: After the war against Hydra, King Bucky comes home to take what has been promised to him since he was young, you. But he is not the same person as the young boy that you grew up with. Can she break through his tough shell and bring back the young man she once fell in love with? Or will she be forced to marry the monster everyone thinks he’s become?

Word Count: 1.8K (This was supposed to be a drabble -_-)

Pairing: King!Bucky x Fem!Reader (Royalty Au!)

Warnings: Smutty smut smut

A/N: A honeymoon drabble that literally was only asked by one person ( @cassandras-musings you beautiful human)and I really wanted more smut (legit nowhere to put it story-wise tho) so this was born!

No beta so be warned

DONT READ THIS IF YOU HAVENT READ THE SERIES AND/OR YOURE UNDER 18

[Series Masterlist] [Series Playlist] [My Masterlist]

----

Some people would have told you that dancing the night away on your wedding night in your heels was a bad idea. Those people are cowards. Sure, your feet wanted to murder you, but you were currently wrapped up in Bucky’s arms, so those people could suck your metaphorical dick. You both had collapsed onto the bed of the master bedroom of the cabin at the base of the woods on the mountain. The snowstorm kept you away from your actual Honeymoon destination, a small beach island miles away from the Northern Kingdom, so this would have to do for now. At least you were in a huge wooden cabin, alone (though your guards were set up not too far by), and finally in the arms of your new husband.

Bucky’s right hand reached out interlacing with your left. “Gods, we should have left the party hours ago, My Love.”

You chuckled, sitting up slowly. “We definitely should have. Maybe we would have had the energy to consummate out marriage like you were suggesting earlier.” You were entirely teasing, but you saw Bucky’s eyes widen as he quickly sat up.

“No, no, no, no,” he quickly rushed out. “We can totally do this, give me like ten minutes to calm my heart from dancing before we do anything.”

You laughed at that, kissing his cheek sweetly. “I think I can wait ten more minutes,” you teased before kissing him soundly on the lips. You quickly deepened the kiss, smirking against his lips as he gave you a small growl. “Down wolf,” you pulled away, letting your hand drift over his arms. Somewhere during the night, he had taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, looking like the human personification of pure sin.

You stood, amused as he leaned forward to chase your lips. You gently took off his crown, running a hand through his hair before placing the silver band on the dresser then placed your own crown beside his. You then placed your royal crested ring down, Bucky’s soon joining yours. You moved to take of the constellation necklace, only for a warm arm to wrap around you, tugging you against a thick wall of muscle. “Leave it, babe. Let me help you undress, my beautiful, stunning Wife,” Bucky whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. The dark timbre of his voice sent a jolt of warmth to your core.

“Why of course, my dear Husband,” you tilted your head forward, shuddering faintly as the coolness of his metal hand pressed against the back of your neck. Your coronation cape fell to the floor first, then, Bucky slowly unfastened each button on the back of your wedding dress. Agonizingly slow, teasing you. “James…” You warned lightly. He smirked behind you, knowing he was in trouble since you used his first name. Finally, he popped the last button off, helping you tug the lace off your shoulders and letting it billow to the floor in a neat pile. You stepped out of it, turning to face him. He groaned lowly, sounding like it was trapped in the back of his throat. Your wedding dress had a built-in bra, due to the sheer lace illusion all over the design, leaving you in only white lace panties, with a navy-blue lace garter on your upper thigh.

“Fuck me, y/n/n,” he murmured, in pure awe of you.

Chuckling at the choice of words, your hands started to undo the buttons on his shirt. “Well, I am trying to, My Love,” you gave up on the buttons, a rough tug breaking the last two free.

Bucky gasped softly, thoroughly surprised, “Gods, you’re utterly perfect,” he muttered, blue eyes looking down at you.

You took a step back, frustrated, “Can you please get naked already? Your stupid belt hates me,” you sounded bitter, wanting to seem sexy by taking off his clothes, only to be foiled by his pants.

He scrambled to pull his shirt off, and nearly tripped over his shoes and pants as he shimmed out of them. Left in only black boxers, and the necklace you gifted him, he looked back towards you. You sat on the edge of the bed, legs crossed at your ankles, biting your lip as you watched him. “If you wanted a show you should have told me, I would have been happy to oblige,” your eyes slowly made their way above his chest and looked up to see him smirking. Smug. Well let’s change that, shall we?

You uncrossed then crossed your legs at your thighs, pressing them together and making a show out of teasing him. “Oh, trust me, baby boy, I’m getting quite the show,” you practically purred. His jaw went slack, and you couldn’t help the little smirk on your face. “Well? Going to stand there all day, My King,” you made sure to emphasize that, biting your lip as you gave him your best look of innocence. You could practically see him gulp.

“Oh, you’re definitely going to get it,” he growled, firm and precise in his movements as he came closer. He ran his thumb down your cheek, tilting your chin up to face him. “I know you can’t get pregnant again since you already are, but how about we practice?” he teased, “We can christen every single room in this cabin, and then when we go to the actual honeymoon cottage, we can christen every single room there as well.”

You shuddered, nodding as you let your eyes close, leaning into his touch. “I am yours, and you are mine,”

“From this day until my last day,” he finished, smiling warmly down at you. “I’m going to have the privilege and honor of loving you forever,” he sunk to his knees, now below you. He gently spread your legs, pressing a kiss on your inner thigh. “And ravaging you,” he smirked, sucking a mark onto the sensitive flesh. You moaned softly, running your hand through his hair.

“You absolute wolf,” you groaned out as his kisses and marks trailed higher.

He ripped the lace panties off, then tugged the garter off your leg with his teeth. His smirk was feral, “You love it though.”

“That I do, but I liked those panties,” your breathing hitched as he pulled your thighs over his shoulder, taking a long slow lick up your already slick core. You whimpered softly, your free hand holding your weight up.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Bucky didn’t waste any more time. His mouth attached to your clit, making you moan out. He ran his thumb against your folds, thoroughly enjoying your mewling. You knew you were already dripping, but seeing your arousal soaking his hand sent a fresh wave of slick straight to your core.

He slipped two fingers into you, quick to curl them against you just as his tongue swirled your clit. “F-fuck, right there,” you mumbled, falling back onto the bed as your hips bucked against him. His tongue swirled in patterns against you, setting your body on fire as you squirmed against him. He locked eyes with you, sinful, voluptuous, darkened blue eyes which sent a chill down your spine as you cried out. It was then that you realized he was swirling letters against you.

Despite the growing knot in your stomach, you couldn’t help the giggle that comes out of your lips. He paused, giving you a look, “I am literally knuckle deep in you right now, what could possibly be so funny?”

You writhed, still in his grip, biting your lip as blush crept up your cheeks. “Are you seriously writing your name with your tongue?”

He went red, chuckling as his fingers slipped out of you, “Caught me, My Queen,” he smirked, a bit self-assured, but he was going down on you like a champ, so you weren’t about to complain.

You sat up, tugging him onto the bed and straddling his hips quickly as you tugged his boxers off. “My turn for tricks,” you smirked, the vantage point letting you look down on him as you slid down onto his length with a groan. With every roll of your hips up and down his cock, you felt the coil in your stomach tighten. With every fervent shock shooting down your core and up your spine, your grip on his shoulders tightened. “Fuck,” you murmured, rolling your hips harder.

He groaned below you, face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. The coolness of his metal necklace and arm touching your smoldering skin sent more waves of pleasure straight into you. His grip on your hips tightened as he bucked up into you, making you cry out softly as he nudged your g-spot. “Gods, just like that, baby,” he mumbled as you tightened around him.

You moved faster, teetering just on the edge of your release, moaning and panting his name like a prayer. He twitched below you, hips rolling up to meet yours. Knowing he was close you tilted his head up, kissing him roughly, sucking on his bottom lip with a groan. “P-please,” you slurred, seemingly drunk on the pleasure as you tilted your head back, eyes fluttering close. Bucky’s lips attached to your neck, sucking, nibbling, and licking his own marks to claim you.

He latched onto your pulse point, tugging your hips down onto his hard. “Just like that, fuck, I know you’re close. Cum for me, baby,” he groaned, pressing his nose against the back of your ear. His right hand slithered in between your two slick bodies, hastily rubbing tight circles against your bundle of nerves; he was desperate to make sure you came before he did. You cried out, signaling your release as you tried not to collapse on him, still bucking your hips to ride out the waves of pleasure shooting through you. He moaned out against your skin, your own walls milking his release, gripping down on him like a vice as he came hard.

The two of you clung to each other, sweaty and sated, at least for now. He tugged you up the bed, collapsing beside you and cuddling close. “Gods, can we do that again?” you joked, still haven’t caught your breath yet.

He laughed, smiling at you fondly. “Whatever you wish, My Queen,” he kissed your forehead before tilting your head up to give you a sweet kiss, one you would never say no to. “From now until the end of time.” Bucky smiled warmly, finally, for the first time in his life at rest. Finally, able to enjoy life and everything that came with it.

Tags:

Permanent Tags:

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@jsmith509 / @lumar014 / @littlemissporter / @kaylaphantomhive

@damnbuckyishot / @aveatquevale- / @booksbeforebois

@marvelgirl7 / @irreplaceable-spacexual / @mallorydoesstuff / @heartislubbingdubbing / @zeilenkrieg

For a tag, just reply/comment, if I don’t see it, just message me. Tell me what you think! Literally, any comment makes me happy! Like, comment, reblog, interact <3

#Frozen Heart #My writing #bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #King!Bucky #queen!reader #modern royalty au #royalty au #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #Smut #lemon

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honestsycrets · 6 years ago

Text

Hvítabjørn

❛ request | bonding with bjorn in the last trimester of pregnancy [ floooof ]

❛ pairing | modern!bjorn x reader

❛ warnings | none

❛ type | oneshot

❛ gif | not mine

Buckets of paint lined carefully taped walls. The crinkly newspaper was lined down over the crisp hardwood floors, ensuring that no speck of paint would get on the floors you loved so much. Frosty blue dripped from Ivar’s brush as he painted the edges and corners that you left only to him. Bjorn and Ubbe were left to the greater task of painting the rest of the room while Sigurd discussed stupid design options. Hvitserk was probably out somewhere getting pizza for lunch. Probably. Unless he got distracted again.

“We could do paper flowers on the wall.”

“Oh, you don’t think that would be too feminine for my little bjørn?” You say, your hand on top of the round swell that brought them all here today. Sigurd supplies you with his sketches upon his tablet, contrasting greys and whites to go with the blue that you both picked out.

“No,” Sigurd says. “It will be wintery like you asked.”

“It’s going to be prissy,” Ivar says under bated breath, outlining the bottom of the wall. Your head snaps around and suddenly-- so suddenly your eyes water over like a flip of a switch.

“It’s going to be prissy?” You squeal, the upset in your voice is now audible. “Bjorn said it wouldn’t be prissy.”

Ubbe tilts his head and slackens his jaw as he looks at his smallest of brothers daftly. The exhaustion in dealing with you was one thing-- and this baby wasn’t even his! Bjorn drops the roller of paint into its holding place, a splash bouncing onto his jean capris that he always used for painting.

“Babe.” He stops short of your stomach bumping against his firm body. “Don’t listen to him.”

“I just want to make his nursery before he comes.” You say. “One that he’ll like!”

Your lip quivers, pouting out as if you were going to sob right there on the spot. Bjorn leans up and lays a chaste kiss upon your forehead, smoothing his thumb over the top of your palm to console you. Leave it to Ivar to make you worry about manliness or some shit theory.

“It’s a room. Nothing more.” He says.

“Are you sure?” You murmur, bringing your hand over your stomach.

“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s the hormones and paint fumes you’re inhaling. Go lay in bed and wait for me.” He motions you with a raise of his unkempt beard toward the door. You would have gone to lay in bed and wait for him-- but you were always laying in bed waiting for him. Pregnancy was a nightmare with a man who thought that he knew best.

“I’m always in bed.” You complain, teaching to take his hands. “I want to be with you.”

“You’re pregnant. You’ll put him at risk?”

It’s like arguing with a doctor. No matter what you would say, you wouldn’t win. You sigh, looking around the room. Sigurd props open the window before setting his hand to your back. He still has his tablet in hand when he leads you toward your shared bedroom with Bjorn.

For hours, Sigurd lays in bed looking at stupid Pinterest rooms with you. You love your Bjorn, but he wouldn’t do the same. Whatever you want, babe, between watching the game with Ubbe. It was virtually impossible to get an answer out of the man.

At some point after several glasses of warm milk and questionable varieties of week-old popcorn, you succumb to sleep. Again. Your days were fleeting. The crisp daylight, the chirp of young birds and rowdy Ragnarssons had filtered out of your home. What replaced the wonders of the day was your husband beside you, huffing as he slept.

“Bjorn.” You grab his shoulders. “Wake up, baby.”

“Mmm.” He groans, a boulder like grip on his pillow underneath his head. Your tummy prods against him, round with his newest arrival. It’s been a long day of work with his brothers-- and the last thing his ass wants to do is get up, but his eyes spread apart opening despite being weighed down by exhaustion.

“I want to see his room.”

“Righ’ now?” He grunts, stuffing the pillow more stubbornly under his head.

“Right now, right now. So I can pick the decor.”

“Alright.” Bjorn shifts around his pillow, pushing himself up on his muscular arms. Not a sigh leaves his lips as he looks around the room and clearly questions his life choices in that exact moment. With his baby in your stomach though, how could he exactly say no? Bjorn reaches over, pawing your round stomach fondly.

“You want to see your room too?” He asks.

“He does!” You answer for your son. It’s good enough for Bjorn to grab his pants from the floor, sliding them up his ass before helping you off the bed.

“It should be safe now.” Bjorn lets his fingers lace with yours. Down the hall from your large room. Passing the formal living room is the room that was meant for your little boy. Bjorn pushes the door open, slipping behind you with his hands cupping your eyes like a mask.

“What are you doing?” You laugh and take a step forward. You incur small giggle when Bjorn sets one small kiss to your shoulder with his scratchy beard.

“Showing you the room.” He muses softly. “Not a peep.”

“I thought it was just painted!” You peel away his large fingers from your eyes. Before you is a frosty nursery decorated with all the grey faux-aged wood and fluffy white additions that Bjorn wasn’t so fond of. For you, though, he would put god damn flowers on the wall. Well, not really. Thankfully you weren’t that extreme! You step up to a mobile draping over the grey wood of the bed, tickling the furry white bear feet.

“Aw, it's a little bear!” You giggle. “For your little cub.”

“Now he’s my cub?” Bjorn reclines against the wall, arms folded. He hopes no paint will stain on his shirt but it wouldn’t be the first time that he got wet painting the house. You were a woman who liked everything how she liked it and most of the time that meant that he was the one to do the work.

“Of course he’s your little bjorn.” You say. “You’re my winter bear.”

You run your fingers past his crip to the rocking chair in the corner. It's complete with a furry pillow that must have been Sigurd’s doing. In fact, most of the room had to be. The chandelier of antlers would have been all of Bjorn’s touch, though.

Or maybe Ubbe’s.

“Did you do all this?” You ask.

“And the boys.”

For all that talk about a prissy room, it came together in a way that was effeminate for you… but manly enough that Bjorn wouldn’t be utterly terrified by what he had for his son’s room. The boys-- all four of them had pitched in some way or another. It quickly occurs to you that Ivar’s little snip was to get you out of the room as soon as he could. The ass! “Now are you ready for the birth?” Bjorn comes to your side, rocking your chair back and forth playfully so.

“Now I am.” You say. “Winter is coming.”

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke @arses21434, @smileyparrots, @Moosemittens13, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @fangirls94, @mcuimxgine, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102, @astoryoffireandlight, @smokealone, @shaelyn102 @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly--canthrope@cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking , @inforapound @wichesterwife27 , @ladyofsoa

#Bjorn x Reader #Bjorn/Reader #Bjorn Ironside x Reader #Bjorn Ragnarsson x Reader #Vikings imagines #vikings imagine #viking imagine #the vikings #vikings/reader #vikings x reader #Bjorn Ragnarsson/Reader

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zach-the-fox · 5 years ago

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Furiends Episode 2: By Your Side

The gang approaches upon a wide, two-story brick building, grey in color and long. The entire structure appears as if it’s an old, nineteenth-century psychological ward for the mentally ill. Zach stands still as the entire dwelling looms over him with his new friends beside him, waiting for his further actions.

“You okay, Zach?” asks Niji.

“Y-yeah,” Zach responds. “Just a bit nervous…”

“Don’t worry,” Emmy tells him. “We’re here with you.”

“Thank you.” The fox takes a deep breath with his eyes closed. Opening them once letting out air, he proceeds inside the building with the others by his side. He approaches the counter where the receptionist is, wearing hooded robes to mask their identity. “Hello?” The animal turns to Zach’s attention. “I’m here to claim my birth certificate, high school diploma, and card. My name is Zach the Fox.”

“Oh, aren’t you that flawed fox who got evicted yesterday?” asks the receptionist. Zach nods with ears drooping. “One moment, please.” The receptionist stands and ambles to the doorway, where another hooded figure appears. They exchange words in a low tone before the figure beside the receptionist disappears. The receptionist walks back to the fox. “The headmaster will bring them out to you. Please wait while they do.”

“I’m not sure I can…” His entire body trembles. “I’m not comfortable…”

“Zach?” Carly moves in closer to him, as does Emmy. “What’s wrong?”

“This place… I-It brings back so many painful memories…” His shaky paws find their way to his temples. “I… I can still hear the kids taunting me… belittling me… I can still see them standing over… throwing food and other things… I don’t want to be here much longer…”

“Don’t worry…” Emmy rubs her hoof against his back. “We’re not going to be here much longer. As soon as you get your things, we’ll be out, right?”

Zach looks to her, lowering his paws, and nodding. “Y-yes… Not much longer…”

“Zach the Fox.” The hooded figure reappears before the group. In their grip are two eight-by-eleven paper with writings and designs on them, as well as a card with Zach’s picture. “Here’s your papers. Now, I don’t ever want to see you after this. You’ve got it?”

Zach stares at the figure before giving them a single nod and taking the documents. “Yes, Headmaster… You don’t need to worry… I will be gone…”

“Well, if it isn’t the flawed fox?!” utters a voice. Zach and his friends turn to where the source had come from; a grey wolf with a red bandana on his left arm. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Oh… hello, Jay.”

“Jay?” Navy repeats. She looks to the wolf. “Hey wait, you’re Jay the Wolf from Team Rescuers.”

Jay turns to her and smiles. “At your service.” He shifts back to the fox. “You come to whine your way back into the orphanage? Doubt they will accept you back considering all the trouble you’ve caused!”

“He’s not here for that,” the headmaster points out. “He was just collecting his possessions before walking out the door. Isn’t that right, Flawed Fox?”

“What possessions?” Jay asks. “All he owns is that stupid bandana that your worker gave to him. He owns nothing, Mom! He is nothing!”

“I will talk to you later, Jay. I am busy! As for you, Fox, don’t stick around any longer. I expect you to be out of here by the time I’m finished with the other children.” The figure turns and leaves the room.

Jay continues to taunt Zach. “Hear that? You’re unwanted. You always were. Nothing but a flawed fox!”

Emmy, agitated with clenching fists and eyes, steps in front of the fox and into Jay’s gaze. “I wouldn’t pester him if I were you. He’s suffered through a lot, and now he’s left on his own no thanks to you and every one of Heroto!”

“Y-yeah,” Eren adds, on the other side of them. “That’s no way to treat the citizens you save!”

“Emmy, Eren, please…” Carly steps near them, worried of the conflict. Silus moves closer as well, preventing any injuries that may occur to his love.

“You’re defending him?” Jay queries. “A little pipsqueak warthog and a deer with no antlers? Ha! How very interesting for you to defend a flawed fox; very fitting.”

“Hey,” Silus utters. “Don’t talk about my husband that way. That isn’t nice.”

Navy stands beside the group, as does Niji. “Yeah! How dare you talk about our friends that way!”

“Friends?!” Jay chuckles at the idea and crosses his arms. “The flawed fox has no one! He’s been alone his whole life, and always will be. He’s nothing but trouble. You all sound like crazy people saying that.”

“Us crazy?” spurts Niji. “You sound like a big jerk. Nothing but a bully and a pushover. How on Earth did you become a protector of Heroto? You don’t seem like one. You’re probably a fraud!”

Jay clenches his paw into a fist as his expression changes. “What the hell did you just say, Wolf? You want to run that by me again?”

Carly gets beside him. “He said that we were just leaving now. Come on guys, let’s get out of here.”

“Wise choice.” Jay watches as the animals exit the building, giving a mean glare at them.

As the group distances themselves from the structure, they head for the park as a means of escaping. Zach sits on the park bench, hunched over with drooping ears, while Emmy sits beside him, rubbing his back to comfort him.

Carly has her arms crossed as she stands about, looking at the orphanage from the entrance. “Well, they were quite nice,” she says sarcastically. “I thought orphanages were a place to make kids happy until they get adopted… And to think the leader of Team Rescuers was actually a caring kind of person.”

“What a salt bag!” exclaims Navy. She looks to the fox. “We’re so sorry about everything you struggled through, Zach. We had no idea what you’ve been through.”

“You know what, it’s actually okay…” Zach straightens his ears and his position to meet the eyes on his friends. “I’m actually a bit happy that I don’t have to suffer within that place anymore. I may not have anywhere to go or anything to do, but I’m thankful to be free. I am also grateful to have you guys as my new friends.”

“It’s no worries,” Niji says. “I can’t believe that wolf is so sour.”

“We’re here for you, Zach,” Eren tells the fox. “We’ve got your back.”

Zach manages a small smile. “Thank you…” He looks at his newly-obtained items. “Well, now that I have my documents, I can start looking for a job. That’s not going to be so easy, though… It may be a long time until I can support myself and find a place of my own…”

Silus places two hands on his shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about that. Like Eren and I said, we’ll take good care of you. In fact, we have a spare room at our townhouse, so you’ll have plenty of room. We’ll make sure you get set up.”

“I guess that means we should call it a day then?” Niji asks. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Everyone exchanges farewells as they all split and part. Zach follows Eren and Silus as they head for home.

***

The three animals walk through a door and enter into the living room area. A set of stairs against the wall lead up to a balcony with three doors appearing. Under the balcony is a modern-style kitchen complete with a stove, microwave, and pristine countertops. A square dining table with four chairs rests behind the sofa and television set.

Zach stares it amazement as his mouth is in the shape of a small ‘o’. “Whoa…”

“Nice place, right?” Silus asks. “We’ve just moved in not so long ago. We came from the town over.”

“Deersburg?” Zach guesses. Silus nods. “I remember going with Team Rescuers there. The citizens were not very friendly towards me… They saw me just the same like Heroto. Did they treat you guys fairly there?”

“Zach,” Eren begins. “You are me in Deersburg.”

Zach’s ears stick up as high as they can be, while he looks at him with surprise. “W-what?”

“I’m going to start making dinner while this conversation drags on,” says Silus. “It’ll be some time.” The newt drops his stuff on the couch and ventures into the kitchen. Using his four arms, he searches cabinets and takes out essential tools and ingredients needed for tonight’s dinner.

“Let’s sit down and talk,” suggests Eren. Zach follows the deer to the table and sits across from him.

“So, what do you mean by that, Eren? Are you saying that you were the same way in Deersburg as I am here?”

Eren nods. “The other deer don’t like me… They think I’m an abomination...”

“W-why?” Zach gets his answer when the young deer removes his cap. On the top of his head are small humps sticking out where the antlers would be. “Uh, I’m sorry, but what am I looking at…?”

“My antlers… They’re just small, I know… I’ve had them since birth, though…”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Everyone thinks it’s funny… All the other deer have beautiful, pointy antlers and meanwhile all I have are these nubs! They all made fun of me for it; they thought I was a freak… I was constantly bullied and picked on for it… I never made a single friend…”

“Oh… I’m very sorry, Eren… I don’t see anything wrong with your antlers. They’re actually quite cute-looking on you. I like them.”

Eren manages to cope a small smile. “Gee, thank you, Zach… You know, it’s funny because Silus said the same thing when we met…”

“Really?” Zach asks. “How did you two meet?”

“Come on,” Silus cuts in. “Don’t tell him the story, Babe.” He lets out a chuckle.

Eren shifts to Silus. “You know I have to, Honey.” The deer then turns back to the fox. “So, Silus was a big adventurer before he met me. He came to my hometown not too long ago and saw me there. And from the moment he laid eyes on me, it was love at first sight.”

“Aw, sounds romantic!” Zach comments.

“It wasn’t immediate,” Silus adds. “Eren always played hard to get; I was trying to woo him, but every time I tried to, I didn’t succeed.”

“Why is that, Eren?”

“Because I felt he was stubborn and distrusted people,” Eren explains. “I saw him as a thick-skinned newt. He wouldn’t leave me alone without trying to step it up. Silus really wanted me, but I wasn’t so sure of him.”

“How did you guys end up together, then?” asks Zach.

Eren continues with the story. “One day, I was walking in town when this group of deer began pushing me around and took my hat… Everyone could see my tiny nubs, and they all laughed at me for it… I couldn’t take it, so I ran into the alleyway, saddened by my appearance… Then, Silus came and found me… He asked what was wrong, so I told him everything…”

“I eventually found the deer and dealt with them,” Silus butts in. “I retrieved Eren’s hat back and returned it to him. After that, he decided to give me another chance. After that day, we’ve become a beloved couple.” A slight “aw” sounds from the fox. “Of course, I would always get into trouble when I would defend Eren, so we decided to move.”

“We’ve traveled quite a bit before settling here,” Eren finishes. He looks to Zach. “But after learning about your story, I’m not sure I feel comfortable with Team Rescuers blaming you for everything, as well as the town of Heroto. Yet, I share the same experiences with you.”

“I’ve lived with being singled-out all my life,” says Zach. “It’s rough, and I struggled… I envy you, however… I wish I could have someone to love… Someone who would love me for me, and not hate me for every little flaw…” His head droops, along with his ears. “If only I had my own “Silus”, then I’d actually feel like I’d have a reason to live… A reason be happy…”

Silus walks over and places two hands on his shoulder for comfort. “You’ll find someone eventually… It took a while for me with Eren, but you��ll manage. And you don’t have to worry about anyone bullying you. We’re your friends; we’ll take care of you.”

The fox looks up to the newt and manages a small smile. “Thank you… I also want to give my thanks for accepting me. You both, Carly, Emmy, Niji, and Navy… Thank you, guys.”

Eren reflects the fox’s expression. His look changes quickly upon noticing the dark smoking billowing from the pot on the stove. “Whoa!”

Silus turns and sees what the deer had. “Oh no!” He rushes over and makes haste with his arms. “Not again…”

The deer faces Zach again. “Don’t worry about that. Silus sometimes screws up on dinner. However, this is the third time he’s done this.”

“Does this mean we’re bringing in food?” Zach asks. The couple laughs. @carlycmarathecat @emmy-the-absolute-goof @rainbow-strike @pink-unicorn-boi @ask-choro-mama

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maevefiction · 6 years ago

Text

Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 50

Luke and Simon finished up their move on November 30th, and we closed on the penthouse December 2nd. I’d been busy getting things sorted at the office, and though Tom had begun packing there was still much more to do before the company we’d hired to relocate all our worldly belongings showed up on December 15th. We figured that would give us just enough time to settle in before Christmas, which Diana would again be hosting this year. There were boxes everywhere, and at nearly seven months pregnant my ability to navigate tight spaces seemed to diminish a little more with each passing day. Since we’d been back there’d been intermittent discussions regarding what to name Prog, but everything we came up with just didn’t seem to fit. Roland had always been my first choice, but that fucker Simon had beaten me to it, and while I could technically still use it, I harbored zero desire to have to listen to him calling me a copycat for the rest of my natural life so it was officially off the table. Tom’s first choice was William, but almost immediately after mentioning it he recalled that was my ex-husband’s name and into the ‘nope’ pile it went. By the weekend of the 10th we’d gotten to the point wherein we were wrapping and packing our collectibles, AKA the socially acceptable term for adult-owned toys, at least in our case, anyway. Tom had donned his Indiana Jones fedora after finding it in the spare room and was humming the theme on and off while wielding a tape gun as if it were a weapon. I’d flopped down on the bed, at which point he’d decided to see if he could land the hat on my belly. One toss was all it took, which wasn’t surprising because an easier target would have been a challenge to establish, and I just let it remain there because removing it would have required entirely too much effort on my part. Prog decided to give it a kick, and with that, just as I’d know he was a boy, I knew his name. I sat up, hat in my hand, eyes wide. Tom stared at me, concerned.

“Everything all right?”

Nodding, I waved the fedora at him. “This is it. The name. His name.”

Tom’s left eyebrow rose as his head tilted to the right. “Fedora?”

I rolled my eyes. “Really? No. Not fedora.”

He pursed his lips, one hand rising to stroke his jaw. “Surely you don’t mean to call him Indiana. Though, that is rather cool, if I’m honest…but it sounds awful in conjunction with Hiddleston, doesn’t it?”

I sighed heavily in exasperation at his lack of comprehension, be it genuine or a ruse, as to where I was going with this, shaking my head as I lowered my chin to my chest briefly, then turned my gaze back to him.

“No, Tom. Not Indiana. His name is Henry. Henry Thomas Hiddleston.”

His hand shifted from his jaw to cover his mouth, nearly concealing a gasp of surprise. He walked around the bed to kneel in front of me, fingers grazing my belly as he leaned forward. “Oh. Oh my. That’s it, you’re spot on. Henry. Hello Henry. Wow. Okay.” He looked up so his eyes met mine, a huge smile spreading across his face. “Guess we’ll call the dog Indiana, then.”

“Cat. We can call the cat Indiana.”

He pouted. “A house isn’t a home without a dog, Maude.”

“You know what? You’re right…a house isn’t a home without a dog. A hot dog. Which is what I want, like, right now. Help a girl up so she can go grab one out of the fridge, m’kay? All cold and salty…mmm…”

He obliged, taking my hands and providing a gentle boost. “I’d be more than happy to cook for you, you know…”

“Thank you, but…nope. Cold hot dog. Maybe two. Or three.” He stuck his tongue out, shaking his head in mock disgust. I shrugged. “Can’t be helped. What Henry wants, Henry gets, you know?”

He kissed the top of my head. “Oh, I know. What ‘Henry’ wants, is it?”

As we entered the hallway, I punched him in the arm. “Listen, I’m going to milk this whole pregnancy thing as much as possible. It’s the first time in my life I’ve had a legitimate reason to behave like a diva on a regular basis.”

“You’re no diva, love. You’re a goddess…my goddess, thank the stars…and should be treated accordingly.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that.”

He smirked. “Well, I feel as if I’ve achieved what I’d always thought was an impossible victory.”

“Whatever. Hush up and fix me my hot dog.”

“Hmmm, I thought Henry was the one who…”

“Is that how we treat the goddess, Tom? Is it?”

Bowing deeply, he took my hand and brought it to his lips as he gazed up at me. “No. No it is not. Shall I make it up to you by delivering your meal to the couch so you can sit back and elevate your legs?”

I patted him on the head as he rose. “That’s more like it. Also, yes please. And thank you.”

“C’est mon plaisir, Maude.”

“Oh god, not the French.” I’d developed a bit of a kink for it over the past month, which he’d graciously accommodated. Rear entry was really the only position that worked well for us of late, and my libido had tanked considerably. Him talking dirty always got me in the mood, though, and when he spoke in French it was like my stupid maternity pants just fell right off. Once he’d discovered that saying literally anything in that particular language got me fired up, even if I had no idea what the fuck it meant, he began making a habit of interjecting it into our conversations when I least expected it.

“Votre chaud chien vous attend.”

I recognized a good bit of that, especially the words for ‘hot’ and ‘dog’. “Pretty sure hot dog in French is just…hot-dog, Tom.”

“That’s not nearly as erotic as chaud chien, is it?”

I groaned. “No. No it’s not. You suck.”

He grinned. “We’ll see.”

****************************************

Once all our stuff was in place and put away, it became apparent that the penthouse was downright vast as far as space was concerned. The sofa and chairs blended in nicely with the modern design, and the tree of life rug looked perfect in front of the built-in white shelf that ran the length of the closed stair railing, but they seemed so much…smaller. Even the dining table was dwarfed by the openness, though it was, at least in part, sort of freeing…less cluttered living. The bar-style island required the purchase of new chairs so we could eat there when we felt like it, and I insisted upon the kind with backs as opposed to bar stools because I knew I’d end up ass over teakettle otherwise. Admittedly, there was an awful lot of white cabinetry throughout, but the floor to ceiling windows let in so much light it seemed much more New York flat-ish as opposed to New Orleans house-ish. The entry point was on the lower floor, within the rectangular portion of the building. Just inside the main door and to the left was a guest half-bath, with a hall door that led to two large bedrooms with full en suites. In the entryway, next to the door to the bedrooms, was a hall closet. Directly across the entryway from the closet was the double-door entrance to the circular portion of the building. Straight ahead through the doors and on the right-hand side of the circle there was a staircase to the second level, and to the left was a door to another small hallway that led to two more en suites, one average-sized rectangular bedroom and a a second three-sided bedroom comprised of two traditional walls and one curved measuring twenty-seven by eleven feet overall. Down past the staircase and on the left was the entrance to the twenty by eighteen-foot master suite, with a full quarter-circle glass wall on one side overlooking a forty by nine-foot terrace. The bath was also quarter-circle in shape, and the dressing room rectangular. We sacrificed some of the dressing room square footage in order to put in a door to the other semi-circular bedroom, figuring it would be an ideal location for Henry’s nursery. The upstairs footprint was identical to that of the lower level, though wide open except for the small wall that served to support the kitchen cabinetry. There was another half bath just off the kitchen in the squared-off dining room area, as well as sliders to the large private outdoor deck that overlooked Regent’s Park. Where to display our book collection was our biggest conundrum…the only section of appropriate public wall space was in the living room opposite the television and stairs, but the couch was backed against it so they’d have to be above and behind us, which would make it impractical to peruse them easily since they’d be difficult to reach. There was space for shelving downstairs just before the staircase, but not enough room for everything. The entry area was also an option, but still, not enough room. We decided to store them in the smallest bedroom until we’d grown accustomed to day-to-day living in the penthouse and had a better feel for the flow, especially since there were more pressing issues that required our attention at the moment. Issues like ‘holy fuck, what actually, like, goes in a nursery anyway and where do we buy this shit’.

The answer to ‘where do we buy this shit’ was simple…the internets, thank you very much. As it turned out what goes in a nursery was also answered simply and included a.) place for the baby to sleep, b.) place to dress the baby and conduct baby-waste removal and related clean-up activities, c.) place to store the things required for item b and finally d.) a rocking glider which was sold under the pretense of baby feeding and baby rocking but was more than likely a spot for the parental units to collapse because they were too exhausted to walk another fifteen feet to their bed after completing all of the aforementioned tasks. Things got complicated when the morons with minimal baby experience attempted to choose the design style for the nursery components while trying very, very hard to be mindful of the form over function rule but wound up falling down the ‘oh, we might need this too’ rabbit hole. There was the Baby Bay, a white three-quarter crib that attached underneath a mattress so there could be co-sleeping without the danger of rolling over and suffocating the infant, which seemed like a great idea since I’d decided I’d give breast feeding a go. Next was a tripod bassinet for upstairs that came complete with a curtain to block out light in case Henry needed to crash out while we were doing Adult Things. It looked like a teepee, and I questioned its stability but Simon said it was perfectly fine and that he’d ordered them for their old place above the office, which would function as a family-friendly home-away-from-home for him and Luke going forward. For when Henry was awake, a baby lounger was evidently required, and I chose a 3-in-1 bouncy-recliner model with a light wood base and a micro-fiber seat, finding myself left bitterly disappointed that such things, if available, were not easy to find in an adult size. All of the furniture was either white or grey, or white and grey, other than the clear acrylic rolling bookshelf, which looked like it was straight out of Magneto’s prison cell. The crib railings were white and the sides grey, and the nightstands and dresser/changer combo mimicked the same design, both sporting grey sides and white drawers. The glider was oversized...really oversized, and I was pretty sure Tom and I would be able to squeeze into it together when I was no longer a sci-fi movie sized dinosaur egg with appendages. It was grey mock-tweed, as was the ottoman, both with brushed chrome bases. We’d found a Mima Xari aluminum and black stroller that screamed ‘Maude! Shiny! For baby!’ but was priced at a ludicrous $1700…after watching several videos and evaluating the cost of the individual components we’d still need to purchase if we went with a different model, I gave in, reassuring myself that this was one of those rare instances wherein function and form melded perfectly. We copied Luke and Simon’s car seat and baby wrap choices since they’d been researching prior to the actual conception of the girls, and other than incidentals like diapers, clothing and bedding, Tom and I felt we were prepared for Henry’s arrival. Or at least we felt as such until we thought of yet another ‘oh, right, that’, which, for me, was a significant indicator that no one is ever fully prepared for such a momentous event and that parenting would probably be like everything else in life…a total ‘fake-it-‘til-you-make-it’ scenario. Shit happens, you deal with it. Which just happened to be my specialty.

Christmas at Diana’s was peaceful, joyful and chock full of hilarity. No painful family secrets to be revealed, no anger, no resentment…a simple gathering of people who’d endured a great deal of ups and downs over the past twelve months and were feeling incredibly blessed to be in each other’s company while not-at-all politely competing for the title of Scrabble Champion. I knew that trying to keep the fact that I was carrying a boy under wraps would likely be an epic fail, so once we’d settled in on Christmas Eve Tom mentioned that we’d learned the gender and since we might slip up we’d prefer to tell everyone prior to such an occurrence. James wept at the news, beaming with pride as he strode toward me. I could feel myself bristling initially, but when he kissed his right palm and then placed it on my belly and said ‘first a granddaughter and now a grandson…how fortunate a man am I to see this come to pass’ I realized I’d read his reaction entirely incorrectly and felt like a huge jerk until I was distracted by a plate of scones being circulated among us.

As part of her gift to us Diana asked if we’d allow her to paint a mural in the nursery, which was a fantastic idea, but drew attention to the fact that we’d yet to choose a theme. This was unacceptable in parenting circles, apparently. Worse, even, than not having a birthing plan that laid out every detail right down to the specific piece of music you wished to play as your baby emerged from your womb. Every theme we’d considered left us feeling ‘meh’ at best…they were either too gendered, too boring, too busy, or just plain fugly. Dr. Seuss had been a viable option for a day or two, but the more I stared at the bedding the less interesting it became and boom…suddenly, meh. On Christmas morning, after all our other gifts had been opened, Diana left the room briefly and returned with a large box wrapped in red foil and set it on the floor in front of the sofa Tom and I were lounging on. From her expression I discerned that she was both excited and nervous about us seeing the contents inside. She smiled sheepishly.

“Now if you don’t have use for any of this, please don’t think I’ll be offended. And please don’t you be offended by my presumptuousness…it’s just that Tom was always very fond of…well, I’d best let you open it before I spoil things, shouldn’t I?”

Inside was a plastic tub, which Tom lifted out and placed beside the gift box, jaw dropping as he removed the lid.

“Mum, my god…is this what I think it is?”

She nodded. “I saved all of your layettes and other special items from when you were babies, both because I love to look at them from time to time and because I thought you might want them for your own babies someday…” She trailed off, sniffling.

Tom began removing onesies, rompers, footed pajamas, tiny t-shirts, shorts, and overalls…all of them bearing at least one character from the Winnie the Pooh series. I watched them pile up on his thighs until one in particular caught my eye. I reached for it, surprised by the fact that it was in such beautiful condition all these years later. It was a jumpsuit, the sleeves, collar and and ankle cuffs a cream-colored cotton, the rest a green, brown, yellow and cream plaid flannel with four white decorative buttons down the front. To the right and towards the bottom was an embroidered Pooh raking leaves, and to the left and near the shoulder was an embroidered Tigger appearing to be leaping out of the jumpsuit pocket while tossing leaves into the air. I couldn’t stop staring at it, Diana’s voice when she spoke sounding as if it was emanating from another room.

“I’d always loved Winnie the Pooh, and so did Tom, right from the start. He’d get so excited when I’d sing him the theme song, even when he still fit in those clothes, his legs and arms flailing about…”

Sarah snorted. “That’s still how he dances, to this day.”

I smiled because she sure as shit wasn’t wrong, but could also feel myself tearing up as my fingers traced over Pooh and Tigger and the softness of the flannel, picturing Diana singing to Tom while he was wearing it, then imagining myself singing to Henry while he was wearing the very same garment. The tears began to flow, running down my cheeks in spite of my best efforts to not cry. I looked up at Diana and found her frowning, concern in her eyes.

“Oh goodness, I’m so sorry, I didn’t…”

I smiled through my tears. “No, no…please don’t be sorry. This…these…all beautiful…I just…I don’t have any of this sort of stuff and I’m so grateful that you do and that you’ve chosen to share it with me. With us. It means more than I can ever properly express. Thank you, Diana. So much. I don’t suppose that mural can be a scene from the Hundred Acre Wood, could it?”

She gasped, her own tears glimmering with flashing colors, reflecting the tree lights. “Really? Well what an unexpected and perfect gift for me…yes, yes. I have one in mind already, actually…”

Tom leaned in to wipe my tears with his thumbs and kiss my cheek, grinning. “That’s our theme problem solved then, eh?”

I nodded, snuggling into his side. “Yep. Only one thing left on our list, really.”

He draped his arm around my shoulders. “And what’s that?”

I patted my belly. “Convincing Henry to exit the premises as scheduled.” He laughed, and I pointed my left index finger in his direction. “It’s a legitimate concern.”

“It’s not uncommon to go past the due date, is it?”

I shook my head. “No. But I’m crossing my fingers that l he’ll take after me as opposed to you in regard to timeliness.”

As he began to speak Diana interrupted him. “Maude, perhaps it will ease your mind a bit to know that Tom was the only child I bore that wasn’t late. All downhill after that though, as far as being prompt goes, I’m afraid.”

Tom attempted to speak again, only to be interrupted by me this time around. “So there IS hope after all…even if it’s fleeting, I’ll take it.”

****************************************

Tom opened and held the Bull & Last’s heavy wooden entry door for me so I could waddle my way inside. Though I was now officially five days beyond my due date, we were out and about on a Friday night to meet Luke and Simon for a Tom’s day-late birthday and early Valentine’s Day celebration dinner. It was their first time out of the house together sans children since Persephone and Esmerelda had arrived on December 28th, and probably Tom’s and my last for a while. I’d covered the Prosper office from that point until Luke had returned on February 1st and I’d wanted to keep working, but Tom very gently suggested that perhaps I should take some time off to relax before Henry joined us. An argument ensued and I may or may not have called him a sexist asshole prior to discussing the matter via phone with Dr. Phillips who agreed that it was probably best to take it easy since I’d begun experiencing some edema, which he’d mentioned a week earlier but I’d decided to ignore. I considered calling him a sexist asshole as well, but Tom had clicked the end call button before I had a chance to properly evaluate the situation. After he retrieved a bag of truffles from the kitchen for me we’d had a little chat wherein we attempted to establish why I might be feeling the need to keep working, during which I stared him straight in the eye and said very matter-of-factly that there was a human growing inside me and it was going to come OUT of me and there was nothing I could do about it but maybe if I just kept going things would stay just as they were forever. AKA, I was scared shitless about the entire process, I felt powerless, I didn’t like feeling powerless, so I did something that made me feel powerful as a distraction so I wouldn’t have to face reality. Classic Maude, Impending Motherhood Edition. The fear had remained until three days ago when Henry did a somersault that nearly knocked me off the couch and I began having to pee every forty minutes or so. A few hours into that fuckery I was willing to try anything to get labor going, but when I’d gotten up this morning I’d found myself in a state of quiet acceptance. I’d gotten my wish…I was going to be pregnant FOR-EV-ER.

We spotted the free birds at the corner window table, all the way at the back of the main room to the left of the fireplace. My black leather boots, which Tom had kindly put on for me since my feet and I hadn’t seen each other in four weeks or so, clunked as we made our way across the wooden floor. As we drew closer Simon stood and clapped.

“Oh honey, I love that dress…” His clapping ceased as he tiled his head from one side to the other. “Maude. You’re waddling. Which you weren’t doing when I saw you Tuesday. Wowza.”

“Yes. The waddling. I’m aware. Also, I can’t wear pants anymore and this is the only dress I could squeeze into that was suitable for public consumption but, you know, yay that you love it, I guess.” It was a tea-length black mock-turtleneck sweater dress, the merino wool blend making it possible to go without a coat, which was necessary since none of those fucking fit me any longer, either. I sighed as Tom pulled out the chair nearest the fireplace for me, then lowered myself down like a sloth. There was no need for him to push me in because my belly was already mere centimeters from the table. Simon was directly across from me, and he walked around the table and squatted next to me, tapping on my stomach gently.

“Henry, I’m sure it’s cozy in there, but you really need to come out and play with us. Your friends Seph and Ez can’t wait to meet you.” The girls were, not surprisingly, gorgeous…both blonde, Seph with Luke’s brown eyes and Ez’s eyes a shade lighter than Simon’s grey ones. I’d held them both, separately, which was terrifying enough, thank you very much, but every time it was Ez’s turn Henry became far more active than normal. I’d even made a point of testing the theory, and it totally panned out. Seph, nothing. Ez, kicks and shifting aplenty. I had not a clue what the deal was, but it was fascinating nonetheless.

I patted the top of Simon’s head. “I appreciate your efforts, kind sir. But I think he’s just a tiny bit…dare I say…stubborn. And I have no idea where he gets that from. Certainly not from me.”

Tom sat, pulling his chair forward. “Not from me either. It’s an unsolvable riddle, in my opinion.”

We all laughed as Simon returned to his seat, took a sip of his wine, planted a kiss on Luke’s cheek, then lifted his glass high. “Cheers, dear friends. To laughter, love and life.”

Tom and I raised our water glasses and Luke lifted his very full beer mug carefully, all of us clinking in the middle. The waiter arrived with menus, and I stared at mine for entirely too long trying to find something that appealed to me. All of the entrees were a no, so I ordered sides – a bread basket, Buttermilk Chicken & Aioli, and Triple Cooked Chips. Tom opted for the Chargrilled Onglet, Simon the Chargrilled Aged Cote de Boeuf, and Luke the Beer Battered Haddock. Halfway through dinner I reached across to snag a piece of beef from Simon’s plate and felt a pop, then a rush of warm liquid between my thighs. I froze, and my expression was presumedly cause for concern because, in unison, the three of them asked if I was all right. I took a deep breath as I put down my fork and leaned back into my seat.

“Well, I’m pretty sure my water just broke, so…I mean, I don’t know?”

Tom whipped his phone out of the back pocket of his black dress pants, and I heard him greeting Dr. Phillips as I pondered my predicament. On one hand, I was thrilled, and on the other, frightened. Weren’t there supposed to be contractions first? Because I’d yet to have any, so did that mean something was wrong? I’d read about labor over and over but my ability to retain information had declined considerably throughout my pregnancy, which was a common occurrence. I shook my head.

“But yet I remember that relatively unimportant fact in a rather ironic fashion.”

Tom told Dr. Phillips that he didn’t recall me mentioning anything about it, then passed me the phone. He was white as a sheet, and I could tell he was trying very, very hard to not freak out. I took it from his shaking hand and held it up to my left ear, Dr. Phillips’s tempered Scottish accent causing me to envision Sean Connery, as per usual. He resembled him, really, though shorter and much rounder. Grey hair, bald on top with a closely cropped beard and piercing dark brown eyes. Kind of like a cross between Santa Claus and James Bond, in the business of delivering presents and a being a huge hit with the ladies.

“Maude! Finally some news, eh?”

“Uh-huh. I felt a pop, then a sploosh…but I haven’t had any contractions…is that normal? I know I knew the answer to that but I just…don’t anymore. Oy.”

He chuckled. “Hormones wreak unexpected havoc, don’t they? Yes, it’s normal. But, you should head to the Portland tonight to check in. Labor usually begins within twenty-four hours after the amniotic sac starts leaking, and being in hospital reduces the risk of infection. Which is quite minimal, mind you. So, Tom said he couldn’t recall you mentioning any pain. Be that as it may, I’ll ask you in any case…have you experienced any pain?”

“Other than my lower back screaming at me, no. And that’s nothing new. I mean, it does seem worse today than usual but…oh, shit. Back labor. Is this back labor, do you think? Also, as I do for all medical professionals forced to interact with me while I’m experiencing any sort of pain, I’m going to go ahead and apologize now not just for this singular instance of the use of profanity but for the hundreds of others you’ll likely be hearing until this whole birth thing is done and over with. So, sorry. Anyway…back labor?”

“At what point did the intensity of the pain increase, Maude? A general timeframe is what I’m after here, so precision isn’t essential.”

Throughout the entire duration of baby-harboring I’d kept as active as possible, doing yoga, walking outdoors and on the treadmill in our new gym, dancing when the spirit moved me…and I’d only gained twenty pounds. Up until four weeks prior I hadn’t felt constrained in any way, really, but by then I’d gotten so large that yoga was no longer possible and once the routine stretching ceased the muscles in my lower back became stiff and sore. It was most noticeable when I was standing for long periods and eased when I resumed a sitting position. When Tom and I had gone grocery shopping last night the pain had definitely been more pronounced, and it had continued even when I was in a horizontal position, trying to get some sleep between bathroom trips. I hadn’t thought anything of it because, frankly, I expected random physical components to begin failing the longer I continued to schlepp Henry’s estimated nine-plus pounds around. I squeezed my eyes shut as I answered the question, embarrassed by my ignorance.

“Um, almost twenty-four hours ago.”

There was a long pause, followed by Dr. Phillips first inhaling, then exhaling deeply. “All right then. As I said, next step is getting you to the Portland. May I speak with Tom again, please, Maude?”

I laughed. “You’re going to tell him that I’ve probably been in labor for a whole day and we need to bust a move so I don’t give birth right here or something, aren’t you? Sure, you can talk to him…but I’m going to put you on speaker, okay?” I tapped the button, then handed the phone back to Tom, who wasn’t quite as white but still far paler than normal. He cleared his throat, then spoke.

“I’m here, Dr. Phillips. We’re about fifteen minutes away from the hospital. Will that do?”

“Get there just as soon as you can. Maude, if you begin to experience contractions, be sure either you or Tom track the time between. I’ll make sure everything is ready by the time you arrive. If things escalate quickly, call emergency services first, then me. All right?”

Tom nodded, then remembered Dr. Phillips couldn’t see him. “Yes. Thank you. We’ll be leaving immediately.”

Dr. Phillips assured us that everything would be fine, wished us luck, then hung up. Simon, who’d remained refreshingly subdued during the exchange, began babbling as Luke sipped his beer.

“Ohmygod, okay, this is happening. It’s happening. Do you need us to drive you? We can drive you and bring your car down later. You have your go bag with you, right, Maude? In the car? Have to remember to get that on the way out…”

I covered my face with my hands, my voice muffled as I spoke. “No. I do not have my go bag. My go bag is sitting in the hallway at home, where I put it so I’d remember to ask Tom to put it in the car when we left. It was in the car, but I decided to reorganize it for the hundredth time yesterday. Hence why it’s sitting. In the hallway. At home.”

Tom gently pulled my hands away from my face and held them in his own, placed a kiss on each palm, then released them. “We’ll figure it out, love. First things first…we need to, as you said previously, bust a move.”

Luke stood, and Simon followed suit. “Simon can use our vehicle to go back to the Atrium and pick up your bag, I’ll drive you in yours and we’ll all meet up at the hospital.”

Just like they’d transitioned to a family vehicle, Tom and I had purchased a Range Rover Sport right after the holidays. I wasn’t a Jeep, but I’d deemed it acceptable, at least in the gunmetal grey body color. What I wasn’t prepared to deem acceptable was someone chauffeuring us in it on our birth pilgrimage…we’d decided that it would only be the two of us in the delivery room, hospital staff being the only exception, and I’d assumed it would be only the two of us on the way there as well. As I pushed down on the table and began to stand with the intention of stating that we’d be fine on our own but I’d really appreciate them picking up the enormous bag of shit I probably didn’t even need and dropping it off at the hospital, my first official contraction hit me like a freight train. I’d read that they were supposed to feel like menstrual cramps, but to me this…this felt more like food poisoning cramps on steroids. Once it passed I realized I had no concept whatsoever of how long it had lasted, or whether or not I’d remained silent. I didn’t recall having spoken, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t uttered some sort of reflexive primal scream. With the pain gone I was able to stand fully erect, and as I glanced to my right toward the bar no one was staring back at me so I figured I was in the clear as far as making a spectacle of myself went. For now, anyway. I turned to Tom, who was now standing as well, his eyes wide. The flash of utter terror I saw in them before he smiled at me changed my stance on being chauffeured.

I nodded. “Luke, that sounds great. Thank you. Simon, you have the key, right?” He nodded in turn. We had a set of keys to their place and they had one for ours, just in case of an accidental loss, lock-out or in the event of an emergency situation. I would have thought the latter wouldn’t be the first time they’d be needed, but hey, the universe is full of surprises, isn’t it? Fucking A it is. The sensation of something crawling down the inside of my left leg diverted my attention downward, scanning the wooden floor and hoping I wouldn’t see any droplets of amniotic fluid. Nope, so far so good…but the chair I’d been sitting on hadn’t been so fortunate. It was shiny, as if it had just been wiped with a wet cloth, which it had been, in a way…but it was a woolen wet cloth, also known as my dress. I grabbed my napkin and dried the wood as best I could, then found myself wondering what the fuck to do with the soiled square of cloth. Putting it back on the table for our waiter to pick up would be super gross, and I’d left my purse in the car. Tom took note of my dilemma and reached out, grabbed the napkin and stuffed it into his front pants pocket. He was wearing a maroon sweater over a white button-down, and in that moment I loved him so fiercely it startled me. A sense of renewed energy and an almost absolute power flowed through me, and I took two steps toward him, then grabbed on to both of his forearms.

“I’m ready. Let’s go have this baby.”

He inclined his head in the affirmative, and I released him, then turned around and began to make my way toward the heavy wooden doors, pushing the one marked ‘exit’ outward. Tom was right behind me, close enough so no one would notice if there happened to be a dark spot on my dress…not that I gave a single fuck. I waddled my ass out into the night and down the sidewalk toward our car, my love in tow and my mind set on one purpose, and one purpose only…finally meeting our son.

#your light in the mist #chapter 50

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lubdubsworld · 7 years ago

Text

Yours, Truly.

Kim taehyung x OC

Surprise !! i wrote a new fic!!!!!

Part 1

“He’s going to prison, Y/n. There’s really no way around this. Corporate espionage while working for the most ruthless CEO in the country: was your husband out of his goddamn mind? Did he honestly think he wouldn’t get caught? Taehyung is one of the smartest guys in the country . Wonho honestly fucked up big time, this time around, Y/N… I really don’t see how he’s getting out of this unscathed….” Yoongi shook his head repeatedly and I bit my lips, willing myself not to collapse entirely.

Over the course of a few days, my entire life had been thrown into complete chaos. Last week, Wonho and I had been talking about getting a new car, the one we owned now having far outlived its capability. He’d told me that he had been saving money to maybe take me out on a small vacation to Jeju Do. And we had even been talking about possibly starting a family.

But then everything had come crumbling down and now, my husband of six years was in prison, accused of stealing important product designs from his company and the CEO, Kim Taehyung , was pressing charges , seeking the maximum term.

I bit my lips, hoping desperately that Taehyung’s vicious attack had nothing to do with our history. It had been so many years since we had broken up (could I even call it that? We hadn’t even dated each other properly, had we? We’d been too young for that. Eighteen years old and floating in our own sense of self importance).

We had both been young and reckless back then, and we had made mistakes. Words had been said, cruel unforgivable but surely, surely the sting of it had faded for him just like it had for me? Did he really still resent me for what had happened?

We had both moved on, hadn’t we? It wasn’t like Tae to hold grudges.

“You don’t understand. Taehyung is a friend. He’s… we grew up together. He’s not cruel or unreasonable, he’ll understand. “I said, wishing I could believe my own words.

“He’s not unreasonable but he isn’t a fool, Y/N. Wonho shouldn’t have done what he did. I’m surprised you’re actually on his side.” Yoongi gave me a look and I flushed.

“I’m not on his side. He’s my husband, Yoongi. I can’t just leave him because he made a mistake. Everyone makes ill-advised decisions. You know that it was probably not him who decided to do this… someone tricked him into it. Wonho would never do something like that.” I said firmly.

Yoongi grunted.

“You’re right. He’s too much of a coward to come up with something like that, anyway.” He said sharply and I flinched. It was a little true. Wonho had never been brave when it came to things. But I had loved him nonetheless and I knew that he didn’t deserve to go to prison over one stupid choice. I couldn’t let that happen.

“So are you saying there’s no way we can defend him?” I asked miserably and Yoongi nodded.

“You can only talk to Taehyung and maybe convince him to go easy on him. I don’t see this turning out well for us , otherwise.”

I nodded. I’d been coming to terms with this for quite a while and I thought I was ready. I could do this. This wasn’t some awful monster. This was Taehyung. I could still remember us, together, holding hands as we picked our way through his grandmother’s fields, carefree and young. The Taehyung of my childhood had been kind and handsome and so beautifully generous.

Surely, he couldn’t have changed that much?

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

As I rode the elevator, up to the fifty sixth floor, I gazed out of the glass doors, the bustling offices, the employees as they rushed about the busy day. The place looked like something out of a movie, the towering pillars and polished furnishings letting everyone know just how big Kim Corp., was . And Taehyung was the undisputed king of this sprawling, successful empire. I stared around the men and women , who rushed about doing their duty and I wondered how Wonho had ever been so foolish. It wasn’t like him to be so reckless. All our lives, we had lived boring drab lives. Cautious in every decision and in every life choice. How did the man decide that it was okay to betray the company that had done so much for him.

Wonho had joined Kim corp., as an intern, when we had both been seniors in college . Back then, Taheyung’s elder brother Namjoon had been running the company temporarily and Tae himself had been studying abroad to take over the company. Wonho hadn’t been the smartest guy but he had always been a really hard worker and the company hadn’t ended his internship and instead they had offered him a position as a junior engineer. He had been twenty two then. And now, seven years later, Wonho had just thrown it all into the dust heap because he couldn’t resist temptation.

I felt the first bit of resentment, coupled with anger.

Did he not care about me? About us? About how his actions would affect our marriage? How could anyone be so foolish and irresponsible?

I gripped the strap of my bag a little tighter, trying to ground myself. I was so nervous and just a little scared. What if he didn’t even remember me? God that would be embarrassing.

“Mr. Kim is free for an hour right now. You can meet him immediately.” The young lady standing next to me gave me a bright smile, eyes warm and kind. She had introduced herself as Taehyung’s secretary and on the ride up; she had shown me a couple of pictures of her dog, and her two toddlers.

The elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open, revealing a large open plan office, with sprawling free space, tasteful furniture and glass walls all over. I glanced automatically at the corner office, where, sure enough , a tall strapping figure stood facing away from us, bent over a sideboard.

I swallowed nervously.

I hadn’t seen Taehyung in a long time. At least a year or so just physically. Wonho and Taehyung didn’t really run in the same circles and the only two occasions we’d met had been during formal office parties and even then, we hadn’t ever exchanged words. Taehyung was always surrounded by his board members or his gorgeous model girlfriend , Yeonhee.

We hadn’t spoken in close to a decade.

I bowed politely as his secretary left, taking a deep breath before cautiously making my way to the entrance to his office. He straightened when I knocked politely and as always, I felt the breath get punched out of my lung at the sight of him.

Taehyung was frighteningly beautiful and I wondered how people stayed next to him on a day to day basis. His good looks, his tall strapping stature and the deep, deep tenor of his voice all screamed intimidation.

“I thought Sia was mistaken. It really is you. Long time , huh? ” He said after a minute of just staring at me.

I licked my lips nervously.

“Hello, Tae.” I said softly and he smiled a little.

“Come in. Take a seat.” He turned on his heel, moving to stand behind the huge oak desk that took over most of the space in his office. I watched as he leaned against the polished surface, fingers playing with his cufflinks as he continued to stare at me, eyes roving over my face, the modest cut of my dress and down to my hands, as they lay clasped on my lap. His gaze lingered on the simple white band of my wedding ring and I noticed the way he swallowed , looking back up at me with an unreadable look on his face.

I bit my lips for a second and decided to just do what I’d come here for.

“you probably know what this is about… “ I began softly but he held a hand up.

“Is this about your husband. Y/N… He leaked information about a product I haven’t even patented yet. If my team hadn’t caught it so fast, I could have ended up losing billions of dollars.” He said shortly.

I stared down at my knees, embarrassed.

“I’m … I know you have every right to be mad. I just…. I want you to know that Wonho would never do something like that on his own. Someone put him up to it, I’m sure of it… I just…”

Taehyung scoffed.

“you’re right. Someone did put him up to it. But that still doesn’t change the fact that he chose to go through with it. He chose to steal. And choices have consequences.” He said shortly.

“Taehyung, please… I know you’re upset but please go easy on him, I swear he didn’t mean it, please could you just-“

“Before you continue, I want you to know that nothing you say is going to change my mind about pressing charges. I’m trying to do the right thing here. Your husband did something criminal and downright sleazy but I don’t want his name dragged through the mud . “ He stopped and his eyes softened, gaze warm as he looked at me.

He continued with a much gentler tone.

“I’m doing it for you , Y/N. You’re …someone special to me and I respect you enough to not put you through the every public scandal of having a criminal for a husband. So I’m being generous. If he doesn’t put up a fight, he can just serve his time, maybe even less than ten years and he can be out on parole even earlier. I’m not being cruel. In fact, I think I’m being way more reasonable than I ought to be…”

I nodded. It felt rude to pursue the subject when he was being so nice about the whole thing. And deep down, I knew he was right.

I stood up slowly and hesitated a little.

“I’m really… I’m sorry we had to meet this way. I’m very proud of you, Tae.” I said genuinely and he smiled levelly.

“Don’t worry about it. Like I said, you’ll always be special.” He said voice deep and low. It tugged on my heartstrings and I had a sudden overwhelming urge to cry. Long and hard.

“You’re… you’re special too.” I said.

“Take good care of yourself, Y/N.” He said gently and I nodded before turning and walking out of the door.

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

When I reached home, fumbling with my bag for the keys to our shared apartment, I found Yoongi sitting on the small wall on the side, feet tapping impatiently on the floor and he jumped down when he saw me, eyes serious and mouth set in a straight line.

“Yoongi? What’s wrong?” I said confused and he swore a little.

“Your husband is a bigger son of a bitch than I thought!” He said urgently.

I frowned.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“We can’t talk about this here. Come on, let’s go in.” Yoongi grabbed the key out of my hand and fumbled with the key. Once the door was opened, I followed him in , heart racing .

“What happened? What’s wrong?” I said desperately and he groaned sinking into the couch.

“Y/N, before I start, please tell me you have an account of your own with money saved. “ He whispered and I felt my stomach turn over nervously.

“What? No… of course not. I’m… Wonho and I had a joint account , what’s wrong?”

Yoongi stared at me.

“your account is empty.” He said bluntly and I froze.

“what?”

“Your account. There’s nothing in it. The guy’s bankrupt.”

“Yoongi what are you even talking about? We’re.. We were supposed to be buying a car, and going on a vacation. He told me he saved money and stuff .” I stared at him in complete confusion.

“Y/N…listen to me carefully. He was cheating on you for a long time.” He whispered , reaching out and wrapping an arm around me.

I laughed in disbelief.

“What? That’s impossible..” I said sutomatically staring at him .

“I had to go through all his finances and he spent all his money on this woman . “ He grabbed his briefcase and fumbled with it before pulling out a file. He slid it to me and I stared at the papers. Pages on pages of bank transactions. I stared at the vendors.

Dior, Gucci , Tiffany’s.

Expensive restaurants. Resorts. Fashion Boutiques. Salons. Car rental places.

I could only stare .

“What…who?” I whispered, confused and utterly thrown. It felt like someone had ripped the ground right from under my feet and I couldn’t draw in my next breath. This couldn’t be real. There was no way Wonho would cheat on me. Calm, placid Wonho who called me baby and loved me with his whole heart. Who made me pancakes in the morning and piggy backed me across the beach every weekend.

There was no way my husband would cheat on me. The very idea of it was insane. Wonho was so awkward and gentle. How would he even…

“it gets worse…” Yoongi said softly and I stared at him.

“Worse?”

“The woman he’s been seeing, she’s the one who made him steal all that data from the servers . she’s the daughter of one of Taehyung’s rival companies apparently. The girl is in college. And he’s taken an insane amount of loans from different places. Apparently she has a thing for sport cars and he’s rented a bunch of them over the past six months.”

I felt bile rise up inside me in a rush and had to clamp my hand over my mouth before running to the bathroom. I hurled into the porcelain sink, my stomach emptying of its content and my gut twisted in pain and betrayal.

Wonho cheated on me. He cheated on me with some woman and possibly destroyed my whole life in the process.

I took a deep shuddering breath, flinching when I felt Yoongi’s soothing touch on my back.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” He said gently and I stared at him.

“How bad is it?”I whispered.

“It’s bad. Y/N. You’re going to have to give up most of your possessions, the car and also the apartment.”

I whimpered in disbelief. I had been paying the mortgage on our modest but beautiful apartment for well over six years now. Every Won of my salary had gone into the apartment. Into maintaining it, setting it up, and making a home out of it.

He had destroyed everything.

“What do I do?” I said desperately. “ I can’t… I have nowhere else to go… Yoongi… “

“First things first. We’re filing for divorce and cutting him off. You don’t want to get roped into this anymore, Y/N…”

“Wait..no…” I said softly and he stared at me like I was crazy.

“What do you mean, no?” He said sharply and I swallowed.

“I… I need to see him. I need to meet him, please…” I begged. Maybe it was all a mistake. A misunderstanding? It could be right? Maybe it was some kind of identity theft or something. Maybe it wasn’t Wonho who did all those terrible things. These things happened, right? It was possible.

Yoongi just looked at me. Then he sighed deeply.

“He’s still being investigated. We can see him, but Taehyung’s lawyer is probably going to be present.” He said. “it’s better that way actually.”

I nodded. It didn’t matter.

I just had to see his face. I had to look him in the eye and hear him say it wasn’t true. That it was all just a mistake.

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

“He doesn’t want to see you.”

I just stared at the man, not understanding.

“What do you mean, he’s my husband ….I want to see him…” I said angrily.

“Well, he wanted me to inform you that he’ll be filing for divorce and that he’s also going to get another lawyer. As of today, Min Yoongi ssi, you will be taken off the case.”

“Well, good riddance.” Yoongi muttered under his breath next to me. “ Y/N… let’s go…”

“No!! I can’t just….!! “ I felt myself struggling to keep my composure. “ He’s my husband!! I was married to him for seven fucking years!! He … He just … He cheated on me and he emptied out all my money …. I need an explanation!!”

The man gave me an unimpressed look.

“Lady, I hate being involved but you should make yourself scarce. He’s got another woman in there with him and if you go in there, you’re only going to get hurt.”

“She’s… she’s there?” I whispered, wilting. Oh, God …I’d never suspected. Never even dreamed. Had I been that big of a fool?

The man nodded.

“She’s paying for his defence. Or at least that’s what she’s saying. You should cut your losses and get away from him. He seems like bad news.” The man said shortly, before turning and leaving.

I just stood there , staring after him.

“Hey.. Y/n… listen to me. He’s right. We need to get away from the guy. If you get involved things are goin g to get messy. Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go yes?”

I nodded bleakly staring at my feet as I walked away.

Seven years, I thought blankly.

It took less than two days to destroy something I had spent seven years building.

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

Late that night, I sat on the couch, head buried in my hands as I stared at the bills in front of me. My husband had sold a lot of things and I was essentially without a home and a car but Yoongi had removed my name from most of the other loans. He had contacts and he used them well, which meant that I wasn’t liable for all the money my husband borrowed against his own name.

But it still left me helpless.

I didn’t have enough money to rent another apartment. The money I made right now, as a secretary at one of the printing presses downtown, about now was no match to what my bills would be , if I had to live somewhere close to the office and buy groceries and pay my bills too.

It was a disaster.

I stayed hunched over my knees , wondering how I could dig myself out of this gutter when my phone buzzed.

I glanced at it curiously.

The number was unfamiliar.

“Hello?” I said confused.

“Y/N?” Taehyung’s voice was hesitant and distinct, my mind making the connection at once.

“Tae?”

“You recognized me?” There was a bit of a pleased tone in his voice. “ I just… my lawyer told me what happened today? How are you holding up?”

I stared at the papers on my table, a nice testament to how my life was currently in shambles.

“I’m…fine I guess. I didn’t see it coming.” I laughed nervously.

“He’s asick son of a bitch. I’m going to pummel him into the ground. Just wait.” Taehyung said stiffly and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

“Tae, please….”

“I’m serious. I almost broke his fucking jaw when I heard…. That fucking imbecile… Who in their right mind would cheat on-“ He stopped , as though he had said too much and I felt warmth bloom inside me.

“I’m okay. I’ll be okay…”

Taehyung didn’t respond for a second.

“I spoke to Yoongi hyung too…” He said softly.

“Oh…? Oh yeah. I forgot you guys know each other too…” I said apologetically.

“Yeah… Y/N… i… I have an offer and it may be silly but , please you should consider it.”

I frowned.

“Offer?”

“Yoongi told me that you’re looking for an apartment and a way to pay your bills. Your current job isn’t exactly the best, pay-wise?”

I flushed, suddenly upset.

“Yoongi had no business telling you that.. it’s not… It’s my own problem…” I said swiftly.

“No, no…it’s not his fault…he just mentioned it because of something I told him…”

“What?”

“I’m looking for a live-in housekeeper.” Taehyung said hesitantly . I straightened.

“You’re-“

“You’ll have food and lodging for free , in addition to your salary. You don’;t have to do much other than supervise the maids and make sure my meals are cooked on time and run my budget for the monthly expenses. Pay the workers and all that. It’s a relatively simple job and I was hoping…”

I took a deep breath.

“I can’t live with you Taehyung…” I rasped out, my voice breaking.

He was quiet for a second.

“I… I know we have a bit of a history, Y/N…but I really care about you and I hope you’ll reconsider. And it won’t be just me. You know Yeonhee lives with me right?” He said softly.

Somehow that just made the whole thing ten times worse.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” I said swiftly. I remembered the few times I had seen Taehyung with his girlfriend. Each time my heart had hurt. I really didn’t need front row tickets to their love life. It sounded like the worst kind of masochism.

Taehyung was silent.

“the offer still stands. Please think about it , angel.” He said gently.

I felt my stomach lurch at the long forgotten name. A flash of memory that was just too painful to dwell on.

“Tae… Don’t call me that.” I whispered , feeling the tears sting.

“I’ll call you again after a couple of days, okay? Think about it.” He said softly before hanging up.

I stared at the floor in complete defeat. I’d forgotten how hard it was to say no to Kim Taehyung.

#taehyung smut #taehyung fics #bts smut #bts scenario #taehyung #bts v #v #v smut #bts kim taehyung

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meetmeatthecoda · 6 years ago

Note

First of all ... A+ for the new fanfic on ao3 !! now for the new fanfic Red and Lizzie #22 please 😊

AU Prompts

22. two miserable people meeting at a wedding au

Hello anon! :D Thank you for the lovely compliment, even though it’s been a million years since you originally gave it. I’m sorry about that… but I finally filled your prompt! :D I hope you can still enjoy it

“I now declare you husband and wife!”

The wedding guests cheer and Liz joins themreluctantly, managing with considerable difficulty not to roll her eyes.

Long live the happy couple, Liz thinkswith disgust.

She watches as Tom, her cheating ex-husband,and Jolene, the home-wrecker he cheated with, turn to beam at the guests in theirfolding chairs. They raise their linked hands in celebration before walking upthe makeshift aisle of their backyard wedding. Liz personally thinks it’s alittle sloppy, but she supposes they had to go cheap, considering it’s Tom’ssecond wedding.

And Jolene’s third.

Liz stands with the friends and family ofthe bride and groom, watching and listening as they break off into groups andgush about the new couple, leaving Liz feeling very much like an outsider. Ifit hadn’t been for the frilly invitation she received in the mail, written inJolene’s girlish handwriting – seriously, what self-respecting female over theage of fourteen draws little hearts over their i’s? – than Liz wouldn’t havecome to this stupid excuse for a wedding at all.

But she does have a sense of dignity.

And the invitation was clearly a tauntfrom Jolene, who took far too much pride in stealing Tom away from her when shewas about ready to get a divorce anyway, and Liz couldn’t stand thinking of hersmug expression as she put the invitation in the mail, fully expecting Liz to makesome half-hearted excuse and not show up.

Over Liz’s dead body.

So, to prove a point, Liz decided to donher short, blue dress, complete with silver heels and matching clutch, and goto her ex-husband’s second wedding.

Without a plus one of her own.

And now she needs the bar.

Liz works her way through the small crowd,now milling around in the large backyard, waiting patiently for their turn tocongratulate the newlyweds. Liz suppresses a scoff at the thought of standingin front of Tom and Jolene, gritting her teeth and plastering a smile on herface, and gives them a wide berth, heading instead to the large table set upunder the oak tree at the back of the yard that is serving as the bar.

Liz is evidently the first guest with thisidea, causing the bored-looking bartender manning the table to straighten up asshe approaches.

“What can I get you?” he asks genially.

But before Liz can answer, a man issidling up to the bar next to her, looking almost as miserable as she feels,leaning both arms on the table and not waiting for the bartender to ask.

“Double scotch on the rocks.”

Liz’s eyebrows raise at the curt order,but the bartender doesn’t seem taken aback. He just nods quickly and turns backto her.

“And for you, ma’am?”

“An aviation cocktail, please.”

The bartender nods once again and goes offto make their drinks. Liz glances over at the man who so rudely took theattention of the bartender away from her. He is handsome, middle-aged, andwell-dressed in a grey suit and blue tie.

(His tie matches her dress. What a weirdcoincidence.)

And he’s looking at her.

“Aviation cocktail, huh?” he says to her.“Good choice.”

“Thanks,” she says back, surprised that he’stalking to her. “It’s a favorite of mine.”

He nods in easy agreement. “Tastes likespring, doesn’t it?”

Liz smiles despite herself. “Yeah,” shemurmurs. “I’d go for a scotch like you, I could certainly use it, but hardliquor tends to go straight to my head.”

The man turns fully to face her, his facebrightening as he takes her in. “Mine too,” he agrees. “But, in this situation,I couldn’t ask for anything better. This is the last place I want to be.”

“Ha!” Liz barks a sarcastic laugh. “Jointhe club.”

The bartender returns then with their drinks,a small glass with amber liquid for the man and a tall wine glass with crimsonliquid in it for Liz.

The two of them go straight for thealcohol by unspoken agreement, postponing their conversation for a moment. It’sonly when Liz has taken several grateful gulps from her glass and the man hasdowned half his scotch that he turns back to her.

“I bet I have it worse than you,” he saysruefully, raising his eyebrow in challenge.

“Oh yeah?” Liz can feel hysterical gigglesbeginning to bubble up in her chest. “Wanna bet?”

The man chuckles in response. “Sure, what’llit be? Another drink?”

“Deal,” Liz says immediately. She’ll needall the alcohol she can get her hands on. “You first.”

“Okay,” the man says, obviously confident.“I’m a former co-worker of the groom’s mother. The last time I saw her wasabout…ten years ago. And today’s the first day I’ve clapped eyes on her son. Itruly don’t know why I was invited, I think it may have been a mistake.”

Liz nods sympathetically. “That’s rough,”she allows, and he nods solemnly. “But I think I’ve got you beat.”

His eyebrows simply raise in question. “Doyour worst.”

“I’m the scorned ex-wife of the groom.”

He winces immediately, his confidentexpression melting off his face in an instant. “Oh dear,” he murmurs. “And thebride, is she –?

“The woman he left me for? One and the same.”

“Ah,” he grimaces. “Yes, you win, handsdown. Another cocktail, please!” he calls down the bar to the now busybartender, who nods in acknowledgement. “Why did you come then, if you don’tmind me asking?”

Liz shrugs. “There’s no secret to it. Whatwould I look like if I didn’t show up to my ex-husband’s second wedding, whichI was explicitly invited to in what would seem a gesture of good faith?”

“Petty and weak?”

“Bingo,” Liz says, draining her glass andpushing it towards the other side of the bar. “Even if the aforementioned‘gesture of good faith’ is actually a cruel jab from the vindictive new wife.”

The man nods unhappily. “A rock and a hardplace,” he murmurs sympathetically.

(A handsome man who sees her plight. Ather ex-husband’s wedding. How unusual.)

The bartender reappears to slide a freshcocktail towards Liz, whisking away the empty glass without a word.

“Hence, the alcohol,” Liz says with a grinthat feels more like a grimace, raising her glass to the kind man who justbought her the drink. “Thank you, by the way.”

“It’s my pleasure, uh…?” he trails off,clearing asking for Liz’s name.

She swallows her mouthful before hasteningto answer. “Liz.”

“Lizzie,” he finishes with a kind smile.“I only wish I could do more.”

It’s at that moment that the DJ starts up,playing some god awful, gag-worthy romance song as Tom and Jolene take to thesmall square of the yard that’s been designated the dance floor. Liz can’t stopherself from actually rolling her eyes this time, taking another sip of herdrink to fortify herself.

The mystery man at the bar next to her watchesthe dancing couple for a moment before looking down thoughtfully at his own glass.Liz watches as he comes to some sort of decision before he throws back theremainder of his scotch in one smooth gesture and turns to her.

“Actually, perhaps I can,” he saystentatively. “May I ask you to dance, Lizzie?”

Liz blinks in surprise, looking curiouslyat his outstretched hand and then back to his earnest eyes.

(Maybe she should trust this handsome, understandingman with the blue tie. He can’t be worse than Tom. And she has a good feelingabout him.)

“Yes, I think you can, uh…?” she trailsoff the same way he did, asking for his name.

“Raymond,” he supplies helpfully.

“Raymond,” she smiles. “I think that wouldbe nice.”

Liz sets her half empty cocktail on thebar and takes Raymond’s waiting hand, letting herself be escorted to thedancefloor by a man who clearly isn’t her cheating ex-husband.

Maybe this stupid excuse for a weddingwon’t be so bad.

And maybe she won’t need as much alcohol asshe thinks.

Because maybe she has a plus one afterall.

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