#*slamming ring down on table* i have enough hands to marry all you motherfuckers starting with gigi luigi

[cognitosclowns]

I wonder if Gigi’s comment about how Cognito has ‘no paid maternity leave’ was just a one off line, or if it’s gonna be foreshadowing to her having a secret kid

#LIKE DOES SHE JUST KNOW THAT BC OF HER FRIENDS AT WORK OR DOES SHE KNOW THERES NO PAID MATERNITY LEAVE FROM PERSONAL EXPERIENCE???? #I REALLY HOPE ITS HER HAVIN A KIDDO <3333 #I WANNA SEE A MINI GIGI RUNNING AROUND #inside job #gigi thompson #MSDNBSD CAN YOU TELL IM HAVIN ANOTHER REWATCH WHILE I WORK ON ASKS? #me : i feel dreadful #inside job : *exists* #me : the world has never been better. I could personally fight the sun and win. My energy is plentiful #The Serotonin Provided By This Show Is Unending <3333 what joy #ANYWAYS YEA LMK WHAT Y'ALL THINK OF THIS <33333 #theories #kinda? #i think thats the tag i had for speculation #IDK MOST OF MY HCS FOR GIGI RN ARE FANON BC WE GET NO FFFFUCKING INFO ON HER #MSNDMSN SHES ALMOST TOO PUT TOGETHER. the most we've gotten is Media Management and She Wants To Be Appreciated <///333 GIVE US BACKSTORY. #GRRKRKRKGRKGRGR #*slamming ring down on table* i have enough hands to marry all you motherfuckers starting with gigi luigi

[wroteclassicaly]

If you want to or feel inspired how about “35. “You could’ve left! You could’ve run away with me!” And/or “78. “Seven billion people in the world and I got put in a room with you. Either I’m cursed or God likes playing house with us.” For Andy from the angst prompts! If you like. No pressure though!!

First off, thanks so much for sending this in! I definitely needed this to work on, and I miss my favorite dramatic daddy! ^_^ I hope you like what I’ve created here? I combined each number!❤️

I think this became more than a prompt, lol... Also, Andy is a total dick in this!

~*~

35. “You could’ve left! You could’ve run away with me!”

78. “Seven billion people in the world and I got put in a room with you. Either I’m cursed or God likes playing house with us.”

The scenery looks ever persistent in its unchanging beauty, you note, manicured nails tapping the glass as you pass by your favorite row of cherry blossom trees.

We must be getting close to home...

That sickening sucker punching dread drowns your insides, liquefying your bones. It’s enough to have you rolling down the window to outstretch your hand and wave your fingers through the whipping, crisp air. Your hair fans out with each rough breeze, creating a spread blanket to shield your left side view. And that is good enough for you right now. You attempt to ignore his rejected sigh.

Your right hand joins your left inside the car, thumb pad attempting to swipe the absent ring where your wedding band used to be out of a nervous habit.

“You gonna do that pitiful ex - wife act all the way to the house, Y/N? We both know I’m the actor in this relationship.” His deep voice, once comforting, is now snide and cruel, a speciality he has taken to reserving for you.

You don’t fight your instincts anymore, knowing you have no need. It’s over anyways, why try to tip toe around your ex - husband that chose everything besides you? When your head falls back against the seat you are wearing a saddened smile, eyes warm and threatening tears, yet they never fall. He looks briefly caught off guard that you aren’t taking your normal “bitch of a high road” and ignoring him.

“You’re exactly right, Andy. You are the one who’s been acting in our marriage.” It’s not a question, but a stating fact that you leave yourself on, batting at his cigarette smoke that he blows in your direction.

You don’t see the tremble his lower lip can’t control, you don’t feel the way his guts swoop into a massive tangle, heart ramming his rib cage with the lashes your words cause. He does what he can do best, one of the deciding behavioral factors that helped destroy your union. He becomes a total asshole.

“Your useless cunt used to get soaked just watching me smoke one of these. When did you get to be such an uptight bitch?” You hear his fingers snap together when he flicks the butt out and closes his side of the window.

You close your eyes and manage your therapeutic breathing ritual before you speak. Though you can’t close off the jagged way your air comes to the surface.

“The night that you left, dumb ass.” You’re not shy with the bitter concert your tone is doling out.

And Andy explodes. You hear him slam his duffel that separates you two in the backseat - onto the floor, his body shifting towards your sought solitude

“You could’ve left! You could’ve run away with me!”

You let him get it out, squeezing white - knuckled around the seatbelt across your chest. Andy slides so fast across the leather and grips a few inches of the belt below where your hand is, reminding you so much of a predator caging its prey. You know he won’t hit you, but that doesn’t mean you’re ready to be this close to him again, not when you know you’re hours away from losing him forever. Gone is the last name Dolan, replaced with who you were before this man came into your life and changed things permanently. Andy noses your jaw until he gets your neck to incline towards him, his nose smashing atop your own.

He’s like a snarling beast. When you attempt to raise your other hand, he tries catch it with his fingers, apparently unprepared for your biting hit across his cheek. You shove him away from you so hard that he falls back into his seat.

Fuck, I could just straddle him and ride him into the seat right now...

The car comes to a stop and prevents your soon to be ex - husband from further acting out his emotions. You gather your handbag and suitcase, heading into the house and meeting the lawyer and former staff at the front doors. You don’t want to see their faux sadness. You give them your bags, moving into what used to be the dining room, now set up into a makeshift lawyer’s quarters. You grip the curved doorknob behind you, jiggling its non-working inadequacies, another habit you’ll never get used to not doing any longer.

Along the fancy marble table, you see places set for a sadness that has your jaw twitching to keep yourself in check. Folders and pens are stacked and ready to go in front of the seats where you and Andy used to set. You have to move your shoulders against the onslaught of memories this room holds. Hell, even the furniture. Fitting that he ate your pussy out and then dropped to one knee with a diamond ring, but an even bigger, priceless sparkle in his eyes when he asked you to marry him.

You’d kissed his slick cum - covered lips and accepted. Then you saw more of him and less of this distant darkness that welcomes in. The very same table you’d became engaged at is the one where you’ll sign off on the ending that is your marriage, your life, and your ties to Andy Dolan. You’re broken from your grieving reverie, Andy striding in behind you and slamming the door closed. You wipe a hand across your mouth and move to a safe distance as to not let him read you. He’s pretty damned good at that.

“Motherfuckers all headed back into town. They forgot some of the files. Did you mail in all the shit that my lawyers discussed on the phone with you?” He’s accusatory, perturbed, seeming as if he’s having to bother with just being here with you.

“Yes, Andy. Unlike you, I’m not high 24/7, and can remember how to converse like a decent human being.” The hell if he’s going to place blame on you.

He snorts and runs a hand through his unkept brown curls, then paths it with a follow through across his delicious bearded stubble.

One last time I could feel that on my thighs if I just sit down in that seat...

“Then I’m not staying in here with you.” You realize, unsure why he even bothered if no one will be back for the hour.

The second your hand hits the door handle and twists you know you’re fucked. You’d forgotten this was one of the many things that never got fixed. And like a fucking cliche, you’re locked in your old dining room with your ex. You rest your head against the door and begin to laugh, your legs shaking uncontrollably as you fold into your old seat anyways, those tears disguised as pain and anguish in one with the humor. Andy is oblivious to your comedy, trying the door himself and taking a second to follow you.

“MOTHERFUCKER! This has got to be some kind of attempt to —“ Andy starts.

“If you accuse me of being the delusional ex - wife, so fucking help me...“ You trail off, warning him.

“Seven billion people in the world and I got put in a room with you. Either I’m cursed or God likes playing house with us.”

“Or you just fucking forgot that this door doesn’t work, a lot like you’ve forgotten every other damn thing that I tell you. Fucking bitch!” You say acidly in his direct direction.

“Oh? Oh, I’m the bitch? That’s so fucking rich, Y/N. Real comedy right there! My hat is off to you!”

He doesn’t jerk on the door, doesn’t attempt to maneuver it. He knows there’s no point from your prior shared experiences locked in here when the staff is in bed, and you two were kept inside for a late night snack or work. It always resulted in you both fucking each other on the floor, Andy pounding you into the door, or bending you over the table until you collapsed in a naked heap, waiting for daylight to be discovered and let out. Andy stands over you, that cocky walk up making you feel the familiar drenching ache. Great...

Angst Prompts

Andy babes tag list : @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @fckinsupreme @littledemondani @xavierplympton @xavier-plymptons @codyfernuk @jimmason @infernwetrust @ferndolan @plymptxn-reborn @9layerdevilfoodcake @instinctsxbaby @icylangdon @lovelylangdonx @langdxn @bloodcoatedeclipse @celestialrequiem @ritualmichael

#asks #kristenwrites #andy dolan fanfiction #andy dolan fic #andy dolan x you #andy dolan x reader #andy dolan #eden fanfiction #eden #prompts

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

Hey! Thank you so much for writing that last thing for me! Still haven't read it lol, but I got so excited when I saw it was canon era! Could you do "Merry Christmas, motherfuckers" or maybe "well, there are worse ways my Christmas could have ended?" Thank you so much, and have the best day ever!

There are cuss words in this. Hospital stay, IV, stitches, staples and surgery are also warnings in this!

“You doing okay, Racer?” Spot asked, running a hand through his hair, before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Well, there are worse ways my Christmas could have ended?" Race looked up at him, a wide grin on his face, despite the pain he was in.

Christmas this year wasn’t what they had anticipated but when did things go according to plan. Race had been in excruciating pain for most of Christmas Eve into the very early hours of Christmas morning. Spot had dropped their twins off at Jack and Kat’s before bringing Race into the ER, only to discover his appendix was inflamed and close to ruptering. The only time things had gone as expected was their wedding day, three years ago. Even their twins’ birth didn’t go according to plan - getting a call just as they were supposed to jump on a plane for a quick get away before becoming dads.

Spot smirked. “You’re not wrong; at least you’re not dead, yet. You’re going to have a simple surgery and you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

“Stupid piece of skin that doesn’t have any use for anymore.” Race glared at his appendix, or where he thought it was located. “Stupid thing that got infected on our twins first Christmas and is close to busting.”

Spot shook his head. “It’s alright. Amelia and Beau won’t know the difference if we’re there or not. They’re safe with Jack, Kat, Ellie, and Aaron and probably have much more fun than we are.”

“It’s the semantics, Spottie. I’m a horrible parent because I’m not watching them play with their new toys and discover all the joys of the day.” Race threw his head back against the pillow, sighing loudly.

Getting out of his chair, he climbed into bed with Race, pulling him so his head landed on his chest. “Don’t beat yourself up, Race. There will be plenty of time for that as they get older. They’re 9 months old . . . they would’ve been playing with the boxes anyways. I’m sure they’re sound asleep right now, not a care in the world.”

Just as he said that, his cell phone dinged with an incoming text message. Pulling open his phone, he smiled at the photo Kat had sent over. “Hey, look at this.”

Kat had sent them a photo of the twins laying on the floor sound asleep, cuddling the stuffed animals Jack and Kat had gotten for them. “See, they’re fine and they don’t care that we’re not there.”

Nodding, Race ran his finger over the phone screen, smiling slightly. “Still it’s hard.”

“I know it is but like I said, at least you’re not dead.” Spot pressed a kiss to his head. “You’re going to kick this surgery’s ass and be back on your feet in a few days. Just think, you can order me around and wait on you hand and foot.”

Race flashed him a smile. “Something to look forward to.”

Spot smiled at that as a knock sounded at the door. A nurse poked her head in with a kind smile. “Mr. Higgin-Conlon?”

“Tony, please.” He nodded as she pushed open the door.

She smiled at the pair of them as Spot slid off the bed and stood beside it, gripping Race’s hand. “Tony, then. My name is Lina and I’m going to start preparing you for surgery.”

Spot turned her out as she started asking him questions about his health and medications. Every now and then he would feel Race squeeze his hand, and he would squeeze it back. There had been plenty of trips to the hospital in the seven years they had been together but this would be the first surgery for either of them. Logically, Spot knew Race would be okay but there was a tiny piece of him that was scared shitless that something would happen and he would be alone, living a life without Race.

The nurse finished quizzing Race and told them she would be back in a few minutes to take him down to surgery. Once the door was shut, Spot turned to Race, putting his forehead to his. “I need you to listen to me for the next few minutes okay?”

“O-okay.” Race’s voice was hesitant as he had never heard that forced voice that Spot currently had before.

“I love you, I am over the moon, batshit crazy about you. You need to pull through this because if you die, I will not be able to carry on. You’re my saving grace, my wide eyed soul and you give me so much strength. I cannot live in this world without you so Anthony Racetrack Higgins-Conlon, you kick the appendix’s ass and come back to me, you hear?” Spot’s chest heaved as he spat those words out.

Race reached up, hand behind his neck, putting his lips on Spot’s. A searing kiss was shared between the two of them before Race pulled back. “I love you too, pooks and I’m going to beat this. I’ve got too much life left to live and I’ve got at least two kids to watch grow up. You can’t get rid of me that quickly, Sean. I’ll see you in a few hours, handsome, and I expect you to give me a searing kiss, like the one I just gave you.”

Chuckling, Spot pulled him back in for another kiss, this time much more gentle. “I love you, snookums and I’ll be here as soon as they tell me I can come back.”

“Love you too.”

Just as the words left Race’s mouth, the door opened and the nurse came back in. “I apologize but it’s time for us to take Tony down. You can come down with us until we hit the last door.”

As they maneuvered the gurney out of the room, Spot kept pace with them, holding onto Race’s hand, squeezing it as they walked down the hallway. “I’m sorry but this is as far as you can go. We’ll give you a few seconds.”

They walked over to the side, giving them a bit of privacy. Spot leaned over to Race, leaning over to kiss him. “I love you and I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Love you too Spottie. Don’t fret too much.” Race kissed him once more, squeezing his hand before they pushed him beyond the doors.

The doors closed behind him with a loud slam as another nurse came up and smiled weakly at him. “You can wait in the surgical waiting room if you would like. Someone will come talk to you when Tony’s out of surgery.”

He flashed her a smile before following her down the hallway to the waiting room. She motioned inside as he pushed open the door. His eyes scanned the waiting room, another couple waiting along with an older lady. He took a spot in the corner, away from the door, pulling out his cell phone. He opened the text message with Kat, letting her know that they just took Race back.

Within seconds, his phone was ringing. “Hi Kat.”

“Hi Spot. How are you?” He could hear the tiredness in her voice.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I’m alright. They just took him back.”

“Do you want me to come down? I could leave Jack here with the kids and come sit with you.” She offered, as he heard something in the background of her phone.

“No, no you stay with the kids. Don’t leave Jack all alone - he might kill you if you did that to him.” He chuckled. “They said the surgery would be about an hour and half so I won’t be here long. I’m going to go down to the cafe and grab something since I’m not sure how long it’ll be before Race can have any food.”

“The kids are alright. Please don’t worry about them.” Kat said. “Let me know if you need anything and I can bring it up to you.”

He smiled. “Thanks Kat. Keeping the kids is more than enough. I’ll let you know when he’s out of surgery.”

“You’re welcome. Don’t stress . . . he’ll be alright.” She said as they hung up.

He tapped his toes as his eyes swept the room. The door opened as a doctor came to talk to the couple, guiding them from the room, leaving Spot and the older lady alone in the room.

Opening his phone, he went to his photos, starting at the beginning. The album had over 1,000 photos in it, everything from photos of them on dates to their wedding to newborn photos of the twins, and every moment in between. He smiled, as he flipped through every one of them, letting himself get lost in the memories.

He stopped on a selfie of the two of them and laughed, thinking back.

“Spot, come on Spot!” Race whined, giving him a look.

Returning his look, Spot looked at his boyfriend. “Why does Kat want us to take a selfie again? And who came up with the ridiculously stupid name - selfie?”

“Uh . . .” Race rubbed the back of his head, looking sheepishly. “Kat didn’t really specifically ask for a selfie . . . I just kinda wanted one of us.”

Spot looked amused, grinning at Race. “So you use your friend to get something that you initially want? Way to go.”

“So you’ll do it?” Race’s eyes lit up at the prospect.

Spot didn’t say anything, but pulled Race closer to him allowing him to take the photo. At the last minute, Race turned and kissed Spot’s cheek as the photo was snapped.

Swiping through a couple of new photos before stopping on one that made Spot smile brightly.

Tugging on his untied tie, Race needed something to do with his hands. Spot came over and grabbed his hands, pulling him closer to him. Spot made quick work of the tie, before pushing to his toes kissing Race. “Can you believe we’re getting married?”

“No.” Race grinned. “Seems like we’ve been waiting for this day for so long and now it’s finally here.”

Spot smiled, kissing him sweetly. “I’ll be at the end of the aisle waiting for you.”

Their photographer has snuck in and snapped the photo without either of them knowing it until they got all the photos back. He glanced at it once more before locking his phone. Pushing himself to his feet, he headed out of the waiting room, walking in the direction of the elevator. Pushing himself in the back corner, he watched as others joined them on the descend.

Getting off at floor two, the scent of food hit his nose as he followed it. He leisurely walked through the cafe, looking for anything that at least sounded good. He grabbed a sandwich and a bag of chips, checking out before finding a table by a window. Collapsing into the chair, he took a bite of his sandwich before looking out the window. The falling rain captured his mood perfectly - he felt like half of him was gone, and in reality that was true. He and Race had been joint at the hip since the day they became friends, people rarely saw one without the other.

He finished half of his sandwich, opting the throw the rest away. Grabbing the bag of chips, he headed back upstairs, hoping he hadn’t missed the doctor. Slipping back into the waiting room, he looked around realizing he was the only one in there. Settling back in his chair from before, he let his head drop back against the wall. He hadn’t gotten much sleep that night due to the pain Race was in. He was up, soothing Race and giving him pain medicine trying to ward off whatever was happening.

He let his eyes slide shut, sighing. He heard the door open, cracking open an eye as he saw the nurse from earlier coming closer to him. “Sean?”

Sitting up, his eyes were wide as she looked at him. “I just wanted to let you know that Tony is out of surgery and in the recovery room. He did really well and he has a couple of staples in his stomach that will dissolve within a couple of weeks. We’ll come get you soon and you can see him. Do you have any questions?”

Shaking his head, Spot let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He smiled at her, watching her walk from the room, leaving him alone once more. Pulling out his phone, he quickly texted Kat and Jack giving them both an update.

The door opened once more, the same nurse poking her head in. “Sean? I can take you back to Tony now.”

Hopping to his feet, he noticed a pep in his step as he followed her back through the winding hallways to the recovery room. Pausing at the door, the nurse gave him a look. “He was awake a few moments ago when I came to get you but he’s groggy. He may not remember a whole lot from today but in a couple of hours he should be good to go.”

“Will he be able to go home tonight?” Spot asked, hopeful at having a little piece of Christmas with the family.

She bit her lip. “Though the surgery went well, we’ll have to see how he is. The doctor is hopeful that he’ll be discharged tonight but we’ll have to see.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for Tony.” Spot smiled.

“You’re welcome. Please let us know if either of you need anything.” She pushed open the door. “Also, when he fully wakes up, please press the red button on the remote on his bed - but we’ll be around in the meantime.”

He nodded, walking into the open door and heading to the only bed in the room. His eyes swept Race’s as his chest raised and lowered. Other than the IV in his arm, Spot would’ve never thought anything was wrong. Well, until he looked at his stomach and saw the white gauze taped there.

Sitting in the chair, he laced his fingers with Race’s, squeezing them gently. “Hey you. You made it through surgery with flying colors. They’re not sure if you’ll be discharged tonight . . . guess they’re going to watch you and make sure you’re alright.”

Laying his head on the bed, he relaxed for the first time since late the night before. He listened to Race’s even breath and closed his eyes, quickly falling asleep.

Some time later, he felt something in his hair but his arm was too tired to swat it away. Groaning, he cracked open an eye, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Closing his eyes once more, he felt something in his hair. Pushing himself up, he looked over at Race, who had a big grin on his face. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself. How are you feeling?” Spot pushed himself to his feet, pressing a kiss to Race’s forehead, before sitting on the edge of the bed..

Shrugging, Race yawned. “A little sore but mostly groggy.”

Spot reached over and pressed the red button as he smiled at Race. “The nurse said you did really well. They’re not sure if you’ll be released tonight but we’ll see.”

Yawning again, Race hummed. “Okay. You doing okay?”

“Better now that you’re awake.” He smiled.

“Sap!” Race flashed him a smile as the door was pushed open.

The nurse came in, checking over Race as Spot stood back, allowing her to pass between them. She flashed them both a smile before telling them the doctor would be in before seeing about getting Race some food.

Spot sat in the chair, sighing quietly, keeping an eye on Race. He was glad he was going to be okay but just wanted to be home with his family. It would definitely be a Christmas they wouldn’t forget for a long time.

Thanks @deliciouspeachpirate for sending this in!!!

#newsies #newsies fan fiction #writing #ask #deliciouspeachpirate #drabble prompt #christmas drabble #drabble prompts #spot conlon #racetrack higgins

[tryingtobeclassy]

mark lee . . . will you like, marry me?

genre: Mark x reader, best friends au, wedding au

description: Mark and y/n have been best friends for years. And they stay friends until the end. But a night filled with drinks and friends also leads them to a wedding.

word count: 3.5 k

warnings: swearing, alcohol

.         .         .          .          .

There are some mornings when you just know it’s not gonna be a good day. Whether it’s a feeling that gets under your skin, all the way to your bones, or in your case, a terrible hungover. Slowly waking up and blinking your eyes open you could feel a headache already attacking your head. And starting a day with a headache is starting the day in a shitty way. Your body felt heavy and sweaty and the comfiness of the bed didn’t help to feel any better.

Some sunlight managed to make its way through the window and directly into your eyes, making you turn around to the other side, the world turning with you as your head was about to explode. You were still half asleep, just barely having your eyes opened. Looking in front of you something felt out of place. As if it doesn’t belong there. A few more blinks, trying to push the sleep away. And then it finally clicked.

You weren’t lying in your bed. And to top that off, there was someone with you in the bed. Better yet it was Mark. Peacefully sleeping a few inches away from you.

You suddenly screamed as realization hit you and tried to get out of the bed, but your clumsy ass managed to get all tangled up in the sheets and not very gracefully fall to the ground. All of that got Mark woken up as well so already the next moment your screaming was accompanied with his as well.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you yelled at him.

“Me? I was sleeping before you decided to aggressively wake me up.”

“Okay but why am I sleeping in your bed?” you asked and scanned him for a second. “And why are you without a shirt?”

He opened his mouth about to say something but stopped before words got out. He suddenly looked very confused and pointed a finger at you. “I have no idea.”

You were interrupted the next moment as Johnny slammed the door open to check out what’s the reason behind all the noise. “What is happening here?”

“That’s what I’d like to know as well”, you muttered, but Johnny managed to catch that.

“You don’t remember?” he asked.

Both you and Mark immediately said no in unison which made Johnny’s face light up with a sly smirk.

“That face doesn’t look good”, Mark said nervously, already expecting the worst.

“Oh, god, did we fuck?” you screamed as that was the first answer you could pull out of that smirk Johnny had going on.

Mark jumped in his spot, not knowing how to react to your question but realizing it is a possibility, while Johnny just burst out literally yelling as he laughed. “No. Don’t worry”, he said once he managed to catch some breath.

You sighed with relief. Mark and you have been best friends for a while. You went through a lot together, but having sex definitely isn’t something you wanted on the list of things you shared and everything up to that moment kinda leaned towards that scenario so you were relieved when you found out the worst was out of the way.

“So what did happen?” Mark asked.

Another devilish smile formed on Johnny’s face. He took a dramatic pause before finally saying: “You two got married.”

Both of you stared at him for a few seconds while your still tired brains were processing that simple piece of information.

“Excuse me, what?” you asked while frowning, your eyebrows almost pierced together into one.

Mark was silent for a little while longer, looking like he’s deep in thought, before his thinking face softened and he was just “oh, right”.

“Come and eat breakfast and I’ll refresh your memory of what happened”, Johnny said lastly and left the room leaving you two alone.

…

the night before

You were staring at your empty bottle of beer, well aware that another would be a mistake as you were already feeling pretty drunk. But your stupidity was stronger than rational thinking at that moment so you still ended up being like ‘fuck it’ and ordering another one.

When Mark invited you out that night to hang out with some of his friends, you were expecting a chill night. A beer or two and then going home and being in bed by midnight. But turns out you were wrong. As it was almost 1 am and no one was showing signs of soon ending the night.

“We should go and do something fun”, Yeri suggested, one of your closest friends you basically dragged anywhere.

“I wanna dance”, Yuta yelled and started shimming with his shoulders.

“There’s a pretty cool club nearby”, Johnny inserted himself into the conversation.

The whole table was soon enough debating what would be interesting to do next as your butt cheeks were starting to ache from all the sitting.

“Christ, I don’t know if I’m in condition for any of that”, you said throwing your head back and leaning on the wall behind you, the entire picture in front of you moving with you and shaking into one blurry mess.

“You wanna go grab some fresh air?” Mark asked you, seeing how absolutely out of it you are.

“Sounds like a good idea.”

Moments later you managed to squeeze yourself out of the place and outside the bar. It was a pretty chilly night, but it wasn’t stopping a bunch of people to crowd in front of it to smoke a cigarette or two. Your body shook the moment the coldness hit it and you felt like it crawled under your skin all the way to the pits of your soul.

“Fuck it’s cold”, you whined.

Without saying anything else, Mark was already taking off his jacket and throwing it around your shoulders.

“What would I do without you?” you said, your tone more joking, but Mark knew you actually meant it.

“Probably die honestly”, he said making both of you laugh.

It’s true. As awkward and sometimes emptyheaded Mark could be, he was no where near your level of walking around like a living disaster – only the remaining two braincells bouncing around in your head. You two would always be up for dumb shit together, but it was no secret that a lot of times Mark was basically your babysitter.

“You shouldn’t have let me drink that third shot I took”, you said while grabbing your head.

The fresh air was actually doing wonders. You felt some of the dizziness going away, but for all of it, it’s gonna take a day of just laying around and peeing and sweating all the alcohol out of yourself.

“I realized it was a mistake only after you drank it and almost cried over cats five minutes later.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Honestly, I’d probably almost cry over cats even sober.”

“That’s valid.”

The concept of time left you a long time ago that night so you weren’t quite sure how long you were sitting outside on the edge of the sidewalk, just praying that a taxi wouldn’t come by and make you get up from your places. But it was probably quite a while.

“I still remember that one time you got even drunker than tonight at Johnny’s party. That was a wild night”, he smiled while remembering the memories.

You scrunched your face for a moment, trying to remember what he was talking about. “You mean when I hugged you like ten times and didn’t stop saying ‘this friendship is for life’?”

“That’s the one.”

“Lord, why am I so cheesy when I’m drunk?” you said, acting as if you’re embarrassed.

And then a thought popped into your head. A really dumb thought. Really really dumb. “I have an idea.”

Mark looked at you with anticipation, his eyes sparkling in the light making him look like a small cute kid.

“Let’s get married.”

He stared at you for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. But seeing how serious you were he tried to collect himself. “Are you serious?” he asked a half nervous smile staying on his lips.

“I mean if you’re up for it.”

“Wait lemme think about it”, he answered very seriously, but you weren’t sure how hard could he possibly think about it since he wasn’t all that less drunk than you were.

“Sure, I’m in”, he said after a few moments of silence.

Your mind just blacked out for a second. “For real?” you asked as only at that moment it truly hit you what you offered. And it was motherfucking marriage.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol. The fact that you never really thought getting married was a big deal especially since you could always get a divorce. Or if it was both. Or maybe something else. But you didn’t think much of it and both of you got mad hyped the next second and started jumping around and cheering.

“Shit, wait”, Mark suddenly stopped, his enthusiasm just vanishing as a serious face replaced it.

You looked at him confused. How he was grabbing one of the rings on his hand and suddenly kneeling down on one knee. Your hands automatically went up to your mouth to supress a surprised gasp making everything look like a legit proposal. In the night with the flickering street lights around you and almost romantic cold mist stretching through the streets.

“y/n, will you like, marry me?” he asked, the cutest smile forming on his lips.

“Fuck yes I will!”

He softly grabbed your hand, his own hands being so much warmer than your that you enjoyed his touch way more than you’d like to admit yourself. He put his ring on which almost instantly slipped to the ground as it was way too big for your hand.

“I’ll just put it on my thumb for now”, you said and laughed while he was getting up from the ground and taking you in a proper huge bear hug. You felt warm and safe for the few seconds he hugged you like that but were brought back into reality when the smokers crowding on the streets started cheering for you obviously believing you were a proper newly engaged couple.

Once you slid back into the bar and back into the booth the rest was sitting, Mark enthusiastically exclaimed: “Guess who just got married?”

Everyone looked pretty puzzled by the question.

“I literally could not care less”, Haechan said and went back to his beer looking uninterested.

“You?” Yuta asked but was obviously joking which also made him look completely shocked the next moment when you confirmed his answer. “Fucking pardon?”

Most were thinking that you were just messing with them, but Johnny and, ironically, Haechan were the first two to absolutely love the idea and get super into it. “I’m looking up places where you guys can get married right now”, he said while whooping out his phone.

“Are you sure about this?” Doyoung asked, some worry appearing in his eyes. “I mean it’s a pretty big deal.”

“Oh god, don’t be such a boomer, Doyoung”, Haechan protested. “It sounds like fun and that’s all that matters.”

“I’m obviously gonna be your maid of honor?” Yeri asked despite already knowing the answer.

“Obviously.”

The chaos soon erupted at the table. More than half of them got hyped over it in a matter of seconds while the others were trying to explain to you how the idea might not be the best one and how you could seriously regret it once you sober up.

“That’s gonna be a sober me problem then”, you said while nonchalantly waving your hand.

“There’s a wedding chapel like half an hour away with a car”, Johnny interrupted and most of you cheered.

“Let’s get it”, Mark yelled while getting up and so it was in process.

You had a ring, the place was decided. Johnny got extremely into it and ordered some people to get a bouquet and wedding rings while he’d drive with you two, Yuta and Yeri to the chapel and finish all the needing documentation before the rest would arrive.

“Aren’t you a bit too into this?” Yuta laughed while Johnny was drifting through the streets.

“Mark is like my little brother. The only thing I can do is make this the best night of his life”, he joked.

“Every night he spends with me is the best night of his life”, you said acting as cocky as possible while flipping some strands of your hair like a true diva.

“I’m truly blessed to have you”, he followed your act and squeezed your hand while trying to pull of a stare filled with love.

“Ew can you two stop flirting?” Yeri interrupted, a look of true disgust on her face.

“You haven’t seen the horror that’s Mark trying to flirt for real”, Yuta said and you could basically hear a satisfying grin in his voice.

“That’s cold, bro.”

Thanks to Johnny driving like an actual maniac, you arrived sooner than you expected. The place looked quite cute. Like a little church. But pink. It was obnoxiously pink, especially inside, but you kinda liked the tacky vibe it had going on.

“How can I help you?” a lovely young woman at the reception asked.

“We would like to get married if that’s okay?” you said while trying to come off as sober as humanly possible.

She eyed you for a second. If the way you acted didn’t give you away, your breath probably did. But she probably wasn’t all that concerned with it. After all, as long as you paid, she didn’t really give a fuck who and why is getting married.

“And who’s the happy couple?”

Mark gestured at him and you which made the woman shortly congratulate you before she asked for your identification documents and talked you through a bunch of other legal stuff. After around fifteen minutes the most important paper was out that was basically saying you two would be married after signing it.

“One last check, are you absolutely sure about this?” you asked Mark dead serious.

“I’m not backing off now, baby.”

A smile shined on your face once again and you confidently grabbed the pen and signed the paper. You were pretty sure you would be regretting it the next morning, but you didn’t really care. After all what’s the worst to come out of it. You’ll just have to get a divorce at one point, but all the jokes and stories you’ll have will be worth such a minor inconvenience.

The woman told you to wait on the benches in front for a while before the priest is ready. In the meantime, everyone else also showed up, excitedly showing what they got.

“The bouquet is gorgeous”, you said while staring at all the colourful flowers.

You were especially surprised with the rings. Cause apparently they were some cheap crap yet they still somehow looked simple and elegant.

“Wait”, Yeri suddenly yelled, jumping to her feet, her eyes wide. “Who’s gonna walk you down the aisle?”

“Oh, shit, I forgot about that.”

“I wanna do it”, Jungwoo said enthusiastically raising his hand up, looking like a little kid in the process.

You eyed him for a second. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

And just like that everything you could think of was planned out and covered. Soon enough it was finally time to get in. While waiting in front with Jungwoo, you could feel your heart finally starting to act up as the situation finally got processed properly by your brain.

“You okay?” Jungwoo asked worried as he looked at your nervous face and how you constantly wiped your sweaty palms against your pants.

“I’m a bit nervous”, you said. “Excited, but nervous.”

“That’s normal”, he comforted you, sounding like some wedding pro who knows exactly how people feel in these situations. He then reached for one of his jacket pockets and pulled out a little bottle. “We got some whiskey if you want.”

At first you were a bit shocked at him pulling that out from out of nowhere in this moment, but you still took it and gulped a sip. “Thanks”, you said and he gave you a warm and reassuring smile.

It took about five minutes before everyone was seated and the music finally started. You took Jungwoo under his arm and with the bouquet in the other one slowly made your way down the aisle. Everyone stared at you and looked happy and excited. And at the end was Mark. Waiting for you. His eyes sparkling once again, his little smile making him even cuter than he usually is. Once Jungwoo walked you all the way to the front, Mark softly grabbed your hands into his and a feeling of warmth washed over you.

“This is kinda weird”, you whispered to him.

“I know”, he whispered back and you both softly laughed.

“Shall we begin?” the priest asked.

The ceremony was short and sweet. The priest was probably well aware that all of you were drunk and your attention span was at the minimum. You for one were barely paying any attention. You were mostly focused on Mark and how he’d giggle from time to time, his nose scrunching a bit and just looking all cute and precious. You never really stared at him for so long before so this was the first time you got to really appreciate this cuter side of him.

“y/n?” Mark called your name quietly.

“What?”

“The vows.”

“Oh, crap, right.”

You stopped for a second trying to figure out what to say, but your brain was mostly blacking out and not working straight. “I promise that I will not be just your wife, but your best friend. Forever”, you somehow managed.

“And I promise that I’ll always be by your side and take care of you. Even during the stupidest of your ideas.”

Something about the vows felt quite real and you couldn’t help yourself not to smile for a bit. You smiled again when Haechan brought the rings and Mark carefully grabbed your hand putting the little silver ring on. And you did the same. It felt almost weird doing it. You always expected to do it with someone you love with your entire being. And you did love Mark a whole lot, but just in a completely different way. You never, not even in your wildest dreams or fantasies, ever thought of Mark actually putting a wedding ring on you yet here you are.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife”, the priest said and you saw a huge smile shine on Mark’s face. “You may kiss the bride.”

For a second you just looked at each other awkwardly as if both of you forgot this was part of the ceremony. But exchanging a few glances, you agreed on just a tight friendly hug.

“He said kiss the bride, not hug her like some pussy”, Johnny protested from the side making the entire chapel cheer in unison.

Mark glanced at you one last time before he lightly pulled your hands closer to himself and quickly leaned in for a kiss. You felt his soft lips against yours for a second, tasting like alcohol and mint, and already the next one they were gone. Leaving you to your surprise to almost wish for the moment to last longer.

But you were soon pulled back into reality as everyone else started screaming and cheering. From all the noise you somehow managed to hear someone yelling to throw the bouquet so with barely any coordination you did so, hitting Jungwoo in the face in the process.

The moment felt unreal. It felt exciting and like pure joy. Something you expected from a real wedding as well. Everyone was happy. Everyone was up on their feet celebrating. Mark gave you another tight hug even pulling you up from the floor slightly, making you smile even harder. You took a picture with the priest who turned out to be a young really cool dude and like that the wedding was done, the memory created.

You went into the nearest bar for one last round of drinks and once the bartender heard you just got married, the drinks were on the house. Your heart felt full. Your cheeks were basically hurting from smiling so much. You never knew that a moment like that would happen. A marriage that’s basically fake and only legal could make you so incredibly happy.

You didn’t go home that night. Instead you went to Mark’s place that he shared with some of the guys. You both laid in his bed for a long time. Just talking. Laughing about the night. Laughing about so many other stuff. At one point you could feel his hand sneakily grabbing yours and you didn’t protest. It felt warm and nice to be held in his. You felt safe. You felt happy to be so close to him. So close to your new husband.

#I'm literally sacrificing #sleep just to post this #mark #mark lee #nct #nct mark #wayv #nct u mark #nct 127 mark #nct u #nct dream #nct 127 #nct dream mark #mark fanfic #mark lee fanfic #nct fanfinc #nct 127 fanfic #nct u fanfic #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #mark x reader #mark fluff #nct fluff #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Forty

Table of Content or Part Thirty-Nine

Read here on wattpad

Word count: 3.1k

Warning(s): Explicit language, domestic abuse, violence, racial slurring

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By January the band was gearing up for Europe, Tommy and Heather Locklear were working out a schedule their wedding planned for May, and everything else was...well...

The Cathouse is lively as always, Duff and Slash only adding to it's noise and liveliness as they throw back shot after shot.

"So," Slash starts to me, brushing his curly hair out of his face just enough to see me. "I've been thinking about Tans and Axl, right?"

"Okay." I nod, raising my brows a little.

"If they were to get together, not that it's gonna happen because he's a fuckin' pussy but if it does happen I have the perfect name for them." He tells me. "Xanax."

Duff and I furrow our brows a little and exchange looks.

"'An' as in Tansy, 'Ax' for Axl." He explains.

"What about the first 'X' at the beginning?" Duff asks, chuckling a little.

It's as if Duff has pissed all over Slash's dream.

"Oh, damnit." Slash realizes the blonde has a point. "Nevermind."

I give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and Duff laughs.

"Speaking of Tansy, you guys wouldn't happen to know where she's been the past week, would you?" I ask them and they look at each other.

"She's been hanging around Stevie and Izzy a lot, lately." Duff tells me. "Because Steven has weed and Izzy has junk."

"Izzy's been hanging out at my house with Nikki, lately." I tell him.

"We know, he said he saw you naked." Slash blurts and Duff lightly hits his shoulder.

"Well, he's like a ninja. I didn't know he was in the livingroom, Nikki didn't mention we had company over, I got out the shower and had to get my laundry out of the basket I left by the couch and there's Izzy. Just chilling there." I explain. "And I panicked a little and hit the freaking ground like I was being shot at and hid behind the couch until he agreed not to look so I could get my clothes basket."

I swear, getting to see me naked was like an unspoken right of passage. If you hung around Mötley Crüe, you were bound to see me naked at least once.

In Mobile, Alabama, after eating special brownies that—I had no idea were special until Steven spoke the words, "she ate like five of them, we're so fucked, Nikki's going to kill us" to Duff—I over did it apparently and couldn't get my legs to stop shaking so decided I would frolic around the hotel to get the jitters out...naked...with GN'R following after me like an episode of Scoobie-Doo.

They saw every bit of me that day. But I've always thought it made us closer.

"Hey!" The sound of a drunk guy slurring my way interrupts our conversation and I raise my brows.

"Yes?" I reply.

"You up for some fun tonight?!" He asks.

"No, thanks, I'm married." I politely respond, motioning to my ring.

"I didn't ask if you were fucking married. I asked if you wanna have some fun tonight." He argues.

"Look, man, she said she's married." Slash repeats what I said.

"If I wanted the opinion of a ape I would've asked!" He barks at him.

It takes me a moment to register what he meant by it, then it hits me.

Apparently it hits Duff at the same time, because he's lunging at the guy.

The stranger doesn't have time to react before Duff's punching him in the face so hard he falls down, but that isn't the last of it.

He grabs him by his collar, a completely different persona taking over him as he keeps his knuckles in a ball and gives blow after blow to the bastard until I intervene by the fifth hit.

"Duff!" I exclaim, grabbing his arm that's rearing his hand into the air, after trying to get his attention for the past ten seconds.

He takes heavy breaths, his victim's face busted and bleeding, before stumbling back, dropping the guy.

I feel like the entire club's eyes are on us.

Duff and Slash feel it, too, and Duff's grabbing at my hand as the three of us quickly make our way to the nearest exit.

Duff is one of the most level headed people I've ever met. It takes a lot to set him off, but when he is set off, it takes a while to get him calmed back down.

"Motherfucker!" Duff shouts, slamming the door of their apartment after he and I step inside.

Slash went to meet up with Steven and Tansy, leaving Duff and I alone...which is kind of the last thing I want at the moment.

"Who the fuck does that prick think he is?!" He snaps, slamming his keys on the counter.

"Duff." I say calmly as he rubs his face, trying to get control of himself. "Hey." My hand gently grasps at the hand that isn't bruising, and he let's out a deep breath. "It's just stupid bull shit, alright? People like that aren't worth losing yourself over. They'll get what's coming to them, okay?" I remind him and he sighs, his thumb beginning to rub at my hand, causing me to think about the thing that has yet to be addressed.

I find myself pulling away after the shock wears out, jolting back as if to avoid electrocution, looking at Duff with wide eyes.

"I--why did you do that?" I ask him, slightly panicked as if Nikki knows already.

He doesn't reply, just as startled by his actions as I am.

I don't give him time to reply.

"Goodnight, Duff." I say calmly, getting out of there as fast as I can.

I dart to my room and lock the door behind me, my mind and heart racing one thousand miles per hour.

Did he kiss me because I was the only girl there with him? Or because he's drunk and isn't thinking? Has he been wanting to kiss me but didn't want to disrespect me or Nikki by actually trying to do it?

Ding ding ding, we had a winner.

I let out a breath and rub my forehead, trying to get it out of my head.

He tastes like cigarettes and vodka which is a disgusting mixture but it's so Duff. It's a comforting taste.

It was a comforting kiss that, despite being so sudden and surprising, gave me a subconcious sense of peace and comfort, because it came from someone that had only ever given me peace and comfort.

A noise sounds from the closet, interrupting my thoughts, and I open the door and see Nikki slumped over, syringes, smack, and coke residue scattered about.

I clear a path through the drugs and discarded clothes, grabbing at his ankles and pulling him with all my might, out of the closet to attempt to get him to the bed.

When I get to the realization that I can't, I give up, grab a blanket from the bed and curl up next to him.

My hand carefully squeezes at his for a second before I pull it away.

I'm not even sure he remembers kissing me, he hasn't acted like it.

"Didn't you have plans with Nikki tonight?" He asks and I snap out of my thoughts, glancing at the clock to see it's 11:00pm.

"Are you good now?"

"Yeah." He replies. "I'm about to go find Steven and Slash."

"I'm gonna head home, then." I tell him, grabbing my car keys from the couch. "I'll see you later." I assure him. "Stay out of trouble." I add, stepping to the door, skipping on the hug I usually give him before we say "bye."

"No promises." He scoffs and I roll my eyes sarcastically.

"Love you." I say, opening the door.

"Love you, too." He calls back.

Alcohol changes how you go about things, it doesn't plant new intentions. And the way he kissed me let me know he'd thought about doing it for a long time...but I never would've known that had he not done it.

I light the last candle, our house looking like the meeting area for a seance once I turn all the lights off.

A romantic seance.

Nikki's suppose to be home any moment now, if he sticks to his schedule he's had the past couple weeks: wake up at 4:00pm, snort some blow to get his mind going, shower, get ready, leave for the night, get back in around 3:00am mumbling incoherently, babbling nonsense from having so much shit in his system, then pass out. And repeat.

But tonight is different, because he's been cutting back on heroin the past few days.

He hasn't told me he's cut back, but I can tell he has. He's probably preparing to kick it completely for Europe...I just hope he can stick to it.

Not that me waiting to give him a blowjob and have my back broken at three in the morning is much motivation for him to completely quit his problem, but I'm hoping it's an encouraging pat on the back.

I slip my robe off when I hear his Harley pull in, rushing to comb my hair out with my fingers.

The keys are in the door in another moment, fumbling to unlock it.

My heart pounds as my nerves tense up when he comes in, stumbling slightly, slamming the door behind him.

"H-Hey, babe." I say cautiously, testing the water of his mood.

"The fuck is that smell?" He asks me, tossing his keys on to the counter, causing me to jump slightly from the loud noise it makes.

"Uhh, th-the candles." I tell him.

"I can't fucking see." He complains harshly, taking his jacket off, kicking my heels out of his way on the way to our room.

I pull my robe back on, accepting that I showered and shaved earlier for nothing, before turning the lights on and blowing out every scented candle I lit around the house.

Following Nikki to our room, he's digging around in his drawer, glancing at me when I come in.

"I was waiting for you to come home." I tell him, twiddling my fingers.

"Yeah, I saw." He replies, not even looking at me.

"Did you?" I ask, doubt laced in my tone. "Really?"

"Yep." He states, pulling two packed up syringes out, making me feel a little sick at the sight. "I'm about to head back out." He informs me.

"What? Baby, you just got home. I wanted to spend some time together." I try to tell him, walking right behind him as he steps to the door, grabbing his jacket and keys.

"Just fuck yourself, Viv. It's not my job to screw the life out of you anytime you fucking snap your fingers, alright?" He says before shutting the front door and I'm in shock from what he said.

I decide not to let him leave without getting an earful of it.

When I get outside, I'm stepping in front of Nikki's bike just before he starts to leave, and he groans out in frustration.

"I've been up since 8:00 in the morning, Nikki. I'm tired, too, you know? I don't necessarily feel like it either, but I shaved and showered and made myself look sexy and even burnt my nipple lighting all those freaking candles so I could surprise you and we could have a good time and what the hell do you do?! Come in with your pissy, asshole, unappreciative attitude. Do you know how many guys would kill to have their girlfriend or wife waiting naked for them when they get home, ready to do whatever the hell they want?" It's obvious my scolding has him feeling guilty, but he doesn't say a word. "But I guess that's not a big deal to you because you're use to naked girls throwing themselves at you all the time so..." I scoff out, shaking my head a little, keeping myself from crying. "I'll see you when you get back." I give up, waving my hand.

"It's one night, Viv. I don't know why you are so bent outta shape over it." He comments and I turn back around, glaring at him.

"It's not just one night. It's been two years of trying to do nice things for you and you can't even appreciate it because you're so taken over by the need to find your next fix as soon as you can." I explain to him.

"Like I don't do nice things for you?!" He gets defensive, getting off his bike, walking to me. "This fucking house you love so much?! That fucking car you drive?!"

"I never said you don't do nice things for me, I just--"

"What about the fucking ring on your finger?! You know how many girls would love to be married to Nikki Sixx and have the expensive house and luxury car?!"

I roll my jaw, raising a brow.

"I didn't ask for the fucking car, I didn't ask for the fucking house and I sure as hell never asked to be married to you!" I throw my ring somewhere in the driveway, storming back into the house to pack my shit up with him trailing behind me.

I start snatching my clothes out of the closet and onto the bed as he just stares at me.

"The fuck are you doing, Vivian?!" He barks.

"Leaving. You can get one of those other girls that would love to be married to Nikki Sixx--or at least think they fucking do--and they can have the expensive house and the luxury car." I snap, opening my top drawer, getting the clothes out of there, too.

He's suddenly grabbing my clothes and throwing them in the floor in an attempt to stop me, but it just pisses me off even more.

"Get the fuck out!" I demand, shaking, tears toppling over my lashes, my finger pointing at the door.

"No!" He argues. "You're not going anywhere and neither am I until you quit pitching your fucking fit!"

"God, I can't even leave without you ruining it, Nikki, you ruin every thing!" I scream out in aggravation.

"Then why the fuck are you still with me?!" He shouts back, coming closer to me. "If I'm so fucking bad then why the fuck aren't you gone?!"

"Because I love you" is what I want to say, and I can tell he wants me to say it, too.

But I don't.

"Because I don't have anywhere else to go and I don't have any money!" I lie to hurt him, and I can tell it makes a impact.

He looks like he could cry right now...but he gains what's left of his composure, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a wad of cash, throwing it across the room angrily, causing the bills to fly in different directions.

"Fetch." He orders, motioning to the money he threw, and I blackout for a few seconds, coming to after shooting pain rocks up my knuckles, my hand, and my arm, causing me to cry out.

Nikki's got blood coming from his nose, his eyes squeezing close, I'm assuming it's because he's trying to talk himself out of beating the shit out of me.

I broke my hand, and his nose.

Nikki and I sit in silence as Doc yells at us, pacing back and forth in our living room.

"You're grown adults, acting like fucking toddlers! When the hell is this gonna stop, huh?!" He throws his hands up, motioning to us.

"She fucking punched me!" Nikki outbursts, wincing as he holds his nose with an ice pack.

"Because you told me to 'fetch' like some cheap hooker!"

"I threw 4k at you, Vivian! I don't know if you can count but four-thousand dollars isn't fucking cheap!" He shouts at me.

"Neither were all those fucking candles I lit!"

"Alright, hey! Hey!" Doc claps loudly, screaming over us to break up our argument.

We both shut up, scowling straight ahead, refusing to admit either of us is wrong.

"I-I am at a loss at this point, guys." Doc goes on, sitting on the coffee table in front of us. "You're kids. You've been together five years. You're kids." He states lightly, raising his brows. "And you're fighting like you've been married for forty years and just want out. And I hate to say that because I know neither of you want out but you just don't know how to talk to each other when you get angry." He points out. "Nikki, you don't know how the fuck to treat her when you're on junk. Plain and simple. If you're on junk, you're a fucking asshole, especially to Vivian. I'm not saying get help, but you might wanna learn how to balance being fucked up but being respectful especially since you don't have a problem, right?" Doc sarcastically adds. "And, Vivian. Your first response to shit that rubs you the wrong way, is to just start swinging at people and blow things out of proportion and that's not right, either." He gets at me next, and my anger is immediately replaced with guilt. "I mean, look at each other." He tells us and we glance at each other, looking defeated by Doc's good points. "If the cops could see how you two treat each other sometimes, you'd both have cases of spousal abuse." He rubs his forehead. "Press is gonna talk, fans are gonna talk, we'll say it was a bike accident, you two ran into a fucking bush or something and that'll be that. But you two need some fucking help or something because I'm not going to Europe with you two acting like this, got it?"

"Yeah." I agree.

"Nikki?" Doc asks, looking at him pointedly.

"Got it." Nikki replies quietly.

"I mean I want you two to act like you did when you first got together because when I met you guys, you couldn't get enough of each other. Now she's having to babysit your sorry ass most of the time, and you're beating him like an ugly stepchild." Doc tells us.

We don't say a word.

"Now, let's get to the hospital so his nose doesn't heal like the fucking ugly duckling and your fingers don't look like busted carrots. His face is a quarter of our revenue, and your fingers need to be pretty so they can showcase that nice ring that needs to be sitting back on your finger as soon as possible."

Yes. Because God forbid Vivian and Nikki, or Tommy and Heather, or Vince and Sharise, or whoever the fuck, have an obviously imperfect marriage to the outside world.

Smile, pretend you're on your honeymoon and can't get enough of each other, and whatever you do: keep the wedding rings on.

Even at the times when you want to throw it in with the towel.

Don't fuck up an already fucked up thing because that's not what we do.

#nikki sixx #vince neil #tommy lee #mötley crüe #the dirt #the dirt movie #gateway drug

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Sweet Drunk

Main Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Koge Naegi (OC) 

Rating: Teen 

Words:  1,451

Genre: Humor / Romance

Warnings: Cursing, Alcohol, Butt Slapping

a/n: I was needing something fluffy, and I kinda wanted to do a parallel to Freaky Drunk. So we have some cute and fluffy drunk Bakugou. ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡

“Oh shit, motherfucker, who put that ledge there?!” 

“You designed it, my love.” Koge called to her lover as she sat on the couch in their living room, having been watching some late-night television while waiting for him to get home. It may have been around three in the morning at this point, and she was admittedly a bit tired, but she had found that she just couldn’t sleep. One, because she missed him while he was out drinking with his friends. Two, because he would not stop texting her, and the frequent buzzing of her phone and conversations kept her up. At first there weren’t any, until he started getting drunk. The complaints, ‘I miss you’s, and random drunken babble were amusing at first, but in the end, Koge just wanted him home so he would shut up. 

“Why the fuck-- ow! Why the fucking hell did I put ledge?!” The thumping of shoes and shuffling of a jacket prompted Koge to peek up over the back of the couch, watching as Bakugou plopped his wallet and keys on a small table they kept in the entryway. With a small roll of her eyes, Koge turned and sat up on her knees, leaning forward with her elbows on the back of the couch. 

“That’s a good question, but I don’t think it really matters. Had one too many shots, did you?” Koge couldn’t resist the small smile on her lips as Bakugou finally looked at her, his own grin breaking his face at the sight of her. 

“Utsuro! What are you doing awake, how long have you been here? It’s like two-- three in the fucking morning.” Making his way over on surprisingly steady feet, he stood in front of her behind the couch, letting his arms slip under hers to wrap around her torso. Giggling, Koge wrapped her own around his neck, giving him a firm kiss on the cheek. 

“You goof, you’ve been talking to me since you walked in. And I couldn’t sleep, I was worrying about you too much.” Heat rushed to her cheeks as Bakugou placed sweet kisses along her neck and shoulder. “So sweet.” 

“Sweet, sure. Sweet like your fucking ass in those shorts, damn.” As his hand came down hard onto her ass, Koge squeaked and tried to shift away, but his grip on her kept her in place. “No, no, no, you don’t get to go anywhere! Your ass is sexy from this angle.” An even harder smack made Koge nearly cry out, but she shoved her face into his neck to keep from being too loud. 

“Ow, Katsuki! Don’t spank me so hard! You’ll make me wake up Matsuki.” Sitting up, Koge cupped his cheeks with both hands, squishing them together against his malicious smirk. With the puckering of his lips from the pressure, she kissed him roughly, which only made him squeeze her tighter. The hot taste of whisky on his lips wasn’t all that bad, but his breath is what made her pull away. “Ick! Stinky boy.” 

In retaliation, Bakugou blew some hot air in her face, making her squeal and try to escape his grip again. “What’s it smell like, Utsuro?! Huh?!” Unable to get away, Koge whined and once again hid her face in his shoulder, only to be subjected to another smack to her ass. 

“It smells like whisky and buffalo wings! Oww, can’t you be gentle? My butt is sore enough from last night.” Her grumbling request seemed to work, as Bakugou instead began to pat some type of rhythm using both hands on her corresponding cheeks, humming along with it. Giving a roll of her eyes, Koge let him, though it wasn’t any particular song that she recognized. “That’s better. You’re usually so sweet when you’re drunk, I don’t know where this attitude came from.” 

“I missed you!” Bakugou whined, suddenly crawling up over the back of the couch to sit beside her. She was nearly immediately in his grip again, pulled over onto his lap to sit facing him. “I know that it was a guy thing, but fuck, it’s hard for me to have fun without you.” 

“I could tell you missed me,” Koge settled into place, running her fingers through the messy blonde fluff on the top of his head. “You wouldn’t stop texting me.” She didn’t bother complaining as his hands fell back to continue his random drumming against her butt. “But I missed you, too. I bet it was a lot of fun.” 

“It was whatever.” Bakugou leaned his head back with a sigh, hazy crimson glare scanning the ceiling. “Most of it was boring stupid shit and trying to swat women off of me like they were fucking flies.” 

Giggling softly, Koge let her fingers trace along the strong form of his jawline. “Oh really? Well, that’s because you’re just too damn cute for your own good.” 

Cupping her hand in his, Bakugou gave her palm a firm kiss, trailing softer ones up along her fingers. “Fuck, you smell good.” Then, as his lips passed over Koge’s engagement and wedding ring, he stopped, his brow furrowing as he gazed at them in confusion. Koge couldn’t help but giggle as he looked at them, turning her hand over to see the front. 

“Katsuki, what are you doing?” 

“Oh shit, we’re married, aren’t we?” 

Instantly, Koge burst out into giggles, finding his genuine confusion and excited statement absolutely adorable. “Oh my god, yes my Katsuki, we’re married! We have been for two months.” 

“Shit, that’s fucking awesome! Only two months? What the fuck is wrong with me, I should have married you way fucking sooner.” With a small tug, he pulled her body against him, wrapping his arms back around her waist with his face shoved into her neck. The feeling of his strong hands caressing her petite figure brought a fluttering to Koge’s stomach, putting her own arms around his neck. 

“Sooner, huh? How long have you wanted to marry me?” 

“For-fucking-ever. I should have married your dumb ass right out of high school. I love you.” 

“Aw, I love you, too.” 

“No, no. I love you,” As if he needed to get some grave point across to her, he got her to sit up before cupping her cheeks with both hands. “I love the fucking shit out of you. You are my life. Do you get it?” 

Unable to stop the tears building up or smile on her lips, Koge clutched onto the front of his t-shirt tightly. “And you’re mine, Katsuki.” 

“I would die for you. I would fucking step on a Lego for you.” Bakugou couldn’t resist a chuckle at his dumb commentary, which Koge joined in with her own giggles. “My love for you is bigger than fucking space-- no! Bigger than my fucking ego! Which is bigger than space!” He could barely get the words out before he was cracking up laughing, hugging his wife to him tightly as she struggled to catch her own breath. 

“Katsuki! Oh my god, shh! So loud!” She silenced him with a kiss, to which he responded by placing many all over her face. He ended with a rough raspberry to her cheek before scooping her up, slamming her down playfully onto the couch beneath him. Latching her arms and legs around him, Koge resisted the urge to squeal, though found she didn’t need much help as he caught her lips in another kiss. 

Once he released, he nuzzled his face into her neck, resting his body down comfortably against hers. “Fuck, I just want hold on to you forever.” 

Smile stretching across her face and cheeks flushed, Koge buried the side of her face into his hair, softly stroking his back with her nails. “You can, my love. Forever.” 

As he settled in against her, his head comfortably on her chest, Bakugou gave a loud yawn. “Mm… My Koge…” In nearly the same instant, he was out, breathing becoming steady as he fell asleep. Softly massaging the back of his neck and scalp, Koge took a quick glance at the baby monitor to make sure it was on before she settled her head against his. It was rare that Bakugou would be so relaxed and comfortable, and even though he was intoxicated, Koge knew that every word he said was the truth. Beneath that rough exterior that he showed to the world, there was a soft and cuddly lover inside, and she felt blessed to be the lucky one to experience it. 

“My Katsuki… I’m the luckiest girl in the world, and I love you. Even if you do smell like whisky and buffalo wings.” 

#bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bakugou x oc #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #oc #original character #koge #bakugou x koge #bnha fanfiction #fanfiction #bnha writing blog #cutesuki-oc

[phoebehalliwell]

Hi! I’ve recently fallen down the Charmed rabbit hole again and I fount your blog, which is amazing btw !! I LOVE YOUR CHARMED NEXT GEN FIC!!!! I also really enjoyed your thoughts about Phoebe's kid! I wish they would have lived in the actual show. How do you think Phoebe’s child living would have impacted her relationship with Coop? And the whole twice blessed prophecy?

!!!!!!!!!!! thank you!! and i’m so glad you like my fic (which i promise i am still working on)!!

as far as phoebe’s kid + the twice blessed prophecy, i have written on that au here, but i think if the baby really had been born it would not be the twice blessed but i do think they would still probably give that plotline to wyatt just bc. i also think that having a child and being a single mother would really further the need for coop bc dating as a single mom while still having a career is hard enough but dating while you’re a single mom with a full time job and a magical half demon baby who was lowkey the antichrist for the better part of the first trimester is a whole new can of worms. i think she still would have had a relationship with jason dean but i think it would be very short lived as i don’t think that he would be ready to commit to a family. and then by the time we hit season six and piper and leo have broken up and jason has left phoebe and yada yada yada phoebe would really be like huh. love isn’t real. we’re all gonna die alone.

and so she’s sitting at a cafe with paige at the end of love’s a witch and is completely ranting about how love is dead or whatever and paige is just like yeah. uh huh. yep. totally. yeah. yeah. i know what you mean. yeah. uh huh. bc it’s totally Not the time to bring up the fact that she has a date with richard on friday and phoebe’s just going on and on like “okay bc look at olivia! she was doing what she was doing out of love!! and she was killing people!!! just an evil, sad, lovesick, ghost. like me. you know cole was my longest relationship? that was like,,, the most successful relationship i had, and it wasn’t even remotely a success!! he turned me evil, paige. i became evil. because that’s what love does. it bring out the worst in people.” and paige is sitting there like jfc i think i need to bring in a shrink or something when all of a sudden the dude pulls up a chair at their table and is like “hi hate to interrupt but i couldn’t help but overhear and you’re wrong” and phoebe’s like who the hell are you and paige is like yeah fuck off buddy private conversation here and this guy’s like “look. love is the strongest magic we have” and paige is like “ehh i think other, stronger magic” and phoebe’s all like “okay, i don’t know who you are, but you don’t know me and you don’t know what i’ve been through okay so you don’t get to sit down here and try to talk to me about love. bitch.” and this guys just like “actually, i do. my name’s coop. it’s nice to meet you, officially.” and he holds out his hand for a handshake and phoebe’s looking at him like imma judo flip u motherfucker but then something catches her eye and she snatches his hand and flips it over, staring at his cupid ring and she’s like no. she grabs her coffee and storms out leaving coop and a Very Confused paige sitting at the cafe table. she turns around at the exit and gestures to paige like come on let’s go get out of here so paige grabs her croissant and purse awkwardly and leaves and coop’s like “i hope everything goes well with richard!” and paige is like????? so she pulls phoebe aside like Who Was That and phoebe’s like “that was the most annoying, pesky, interfering magical creature there is out there. that was a cupid.”

and later that night phoebe would be tucking her child asleep (who in this story is a little girl named prudence) when she hears “you love her, and it doesn’t seem to bring out the worst in you.” and she whips around to find coop leaning in the doorframe and she’s like “you better leave before i vanquish you” and coop sorta just laughs softly and he’s like “i get it. you’ve been burned before. but actively fighting love? it’s not you, phoebe.” and she’s like “tf do you think you know about me” and coop’s like “i know you believe in love. true love. the kind that takes your breath away, where it's the first thing that you think about when you wake up in the morning. you wanna know how i know that?” and phoebe just glares at him in a very defensive stance like yes i want to know but no i will not play into your stupid little monologue and coop’s like “i read your column. not many people could write like that. you help people find love every day, you help them reach out, take risks, open up their hearts-” “okay you know what i’ve had enough of your little sugar coated soap opera speech. go bug someone else.” and phoebe pushes her way past him and beelines for her bedroom, slamming the door and coop’s like :|

and the next morning phoebe’s eating cereal and by eating a i do mean just pushing wheaties around in a pool of milk while dency and wyatt play in the playpen and piper comes in with a mug of coffee like “good morning how are-” “am i a cold hearted cynic?” “...you doing this fine friday morning??” “i’ve got a cupid on my ass” “i’m going to hope you mean the magical kind and not some bad tattoo situation” “i mean, yesterday i was saying that love brings out the worst in people and now i’ve got this 6′2″ cupid with a square jawline following me around. but like,,, don’t i have the right to say that??? all love has done is hurt me. i’m allowed to bitch a little about it!! like! mind your own business??? goddamn! and you know-” “phoebe i just woke up save the onslaught until after 10am please” and phoebe just sorta pauses and goes back to pushing her cereal around and piper says “and i’m not calling you a cold hearted cynic but... you have changed” and phoebe’s completely ready to rant again like “pfft of course i’ve changed you think you can be married to the source of all-” “zp! not til after 10!” and phoebe slumps back and watches as dency draws a small pattern in frost on the tile floor and you can tell she’s sorta mulling over what coop said blah blah blah this episode is the vortex demon she gets knocked into a world based on her innermost desires and in it she’s happily married and in love in an apartment of her own raising her daughter and writing her column blah blah blah she takes one look at her finger that very much has a wedding band on it and is like “cupid!!!! cupid u fuckin bastard get down here!!! cupid!!!” and no response and she’s scowling like “coop??? coop!!!!!!!!” and he’s no where to be seen and she’s like wait shit i think this is the alternate whirlpool vortex things i gotta find my sister blah blah blah chris knocks paige into phoebe’s world and paige is like “okay what’s the catch” and phoebe’s like “what catch” and paige is like “you know, the catch! what makes this not reality. like in my world, magic was practiced openly, and everyone knew about it. come on, chris said the realities were shaped my like our fantasies or wants... is anything different here??” and phoebe’s like “oh you know uhh not really everything basically the same um but you know i have my own apartment here where i live with dency...” “oh my god wait where is she now who’s taking care of her?” “oh uh well that would be my husband.” “cole’s alive????” “no! not cole! i don’t know who he is actually but he seems nice :)” and there’s a beat where you can tell paige really wants to Get Into What This Means and phoebe really Doesn’t Want To Talk About It but then they both seem to agree that they’re being hunted by a demon so maybe this can take a back seat rn blah blah blah they kill the demon and the end of the episode paige is about to go on her date w richard and her and phoebe have a little heart to heart and paige is like i think you should talk to the cupid bc i think maybe your whole hating love thing might just be a front like i think you’re trying to convince urself of something blah blah blah and phoebe’s just like :/ maybe so.

alright blah blah blah next episode phoebe’s like “coop?” and coop, suddenly appearing behind her is like “yeah?” and phoebe’s like “i give up. so uh work your little cupid magic or whatever and i guess let’s do this thing.” and coop like lights up he’s like so happy and he’s all like “great! let’s get started!” and phoebe’s mentally preparing for a series of really boring dates but then coop surprises her by not doing that??? like he doesn’t set her up with anyone at all bc he’s all like you need time to heal and find urself again???? which honestly phoebe isn’t complaining about and like phoebe will be feeding baby dency in the kitchen and coop will pop in like “what are your thought on taking a pottery class?” and it’s happened before where she’s been so swamped with work that she doesn’t have time to pick up supplies for dency so coop will just go out and like buy diapers?? and gradually phoebe feels herself opening up more and more and one night she’s at p3 and this guy come up to talk to her and she doesn’t just scowl him away and she finds herself having a great conversation and she see coop wink at her from across the bar.

and you know things go well with this guy yada yada yada but one night she goes out on a date and her sisters weren’t able to watch lil dency for her so coop was babysitting and she comes back home to see coop sending out small pink glowing projections from his ring and her baby just laughing uncontrollably trying to catch them and phoebe gets why she has been ready to dive fully in to the guy she’s been going out with. coop says it’s just nerves bc of her past relationships and that it’s completely fine and understandable but phoebe knows better. or at least now she does. she’s in love with coop.

#i feel like this Completely went off on a totally different tangent than what was asked but uhh im postin it regardless #charmed #phoebe x coop #💌 #margaretsminiessays #phoebe halliwell #coop halliwell #dency halliwell

[holylulusworld]

Angry Anniversary

Request: Jared x reader where they are married and have a special event probably like their anniversary and Jared comes home late from work and is super tired and kinda stubborn but the reader is hurt but understands and yet try to give him a good night and when they are in bed, Jared falls asleep after a good BJ without even consider the readers feelings, she gets pissed but does not wake him up, sleeps in the guest room .....2) and get bed him the worst kind of silent treatment everrrrr, she doesn't even acknowledge his presence in the house when they have guests over probably the spn casts and a few notice it. Jared had to confront her and they fight about it and they have the BEST ANGRY SEX EVER with a lot of fluff afterward.

Pairing: Jared x Reader, Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins

Warnings: angst, language, silent treatment, arguments, smut, angry sex, rough sex, hair pulling, spanking, dirty talk, dom!Jared, unprotected sex (you are smarter)

Waiting patiently, you smile. You got the perfect gift for Jared to your fifth wedding anniversary. But the more hours pass you are sure he won’t make it to dinner.

Blowing the candles out you sigh. You even cooked his favorite meal. He could’ve at least called you to tell you he’s not going to make it.

Three hours later you are almost asleep on the couch when you hear the front door opening. Seeing you lying on the couch in a dress Jared feels a pang in his heart.

He wanted to be on time for dinner, but he had to film a scene with a new cast member for at least ten times.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles planting a kiss to your head.

“Do you want to eat dinner?” You ask hopefully.

“Honestly I’m beaten. Tired and my body aches. Sorry.”

“But I cooked the whole day and wanted to spend the evening with you. Jared. It’s our anniversary.

“I was working my ass off. I’m tired, okay. I’m not in the mood for dinner or anything else. We have a party next week. Isn’t that enough?” Jared mutters not understanding why you insist on eating dinner.

“Sorry, it’s okay. Let’s have a rest then. I can throw the food away tomorrow.” You say trying to hide the disappointment you feel.

“Good.”

----

Beyond tired Jared lies onto his pillow waiting for you to come to bed. Crawling onto the bed you smile at Jared. Seeing him wearing only his boxers you decide to take things in your own hands.

When you do not lie down Jared looks at you crawl up his legs. The moment you drag his boxers down his eyes widen.

“Baby?”

“Shh…just enjoy, Jared.” You say in a low voice. Gently starting to pump his length you chuckle when he starts growling. Tongue darting out you give the head a few kitten licks.

“Shit. Just like that.” Jared growls.

Spreading his legs wider so you can lie down onto your stomach below him Jared watches you with darkened eyes.

Licking all sides of him you look up at your husband. After wetting your lips you slowly swallow his length until he hits the back of your throat.

“God. I love the feeling of your lips around me. Go ahead. Give Daddy what he needs.” Jared says.

Starting to move back and forth his hard length your place one hand onto his stomach. Gently stroking his skin, you enjoy the noises he makes for you.

Low growls leave his lips when you feel his cock twitching violently. Using your free hand to massages his balls you bob your head faster.

Spilling his cum down your throat Jared closes his eyes. Completely relaxed now he barely realizes when you release his dick. Kneeling between your husbands’ legs, waiting for him to return the favor you can’t believe that he starts snoring.

He fell asleep. That motherfucker has the guts to fall asleep after you helped him relax.

“Asshole.” You mutter angrily. Grabbing your pillow and blanket you storm out of the bedroom to spend the night in your guestroom. He won’t get any satisfaction for the next days or even weeks.

----

The next morning Jared wonders why you do not lie next to him. Your pillow and blanket are gone.

Walking out of the bedroom he can hear you talking to someone on the phone. The moment he enters the kitchen you hang up.

“Morning. Uh…who was on the phone?” He asks but you do not answer. Not looking at him you grab your cup of coffee to walk out of the room.

“Baby? No coffee for me?” Jared tries looking at the empty coffee pot.

Following you into the dining room he sees the candles and the dishes from yesterday still standing on the table. There’s a gift lying on the table too.

“I’m sorry. Okay. It was one hell of a day.”

Still not answering you start reading the newspaper. It seems like you don’t even see Jared.

“It’s getting ridiculous, Y/N. Come on. I said I’m sorry. Let’s have dinner tonight instead.”

Hearing your phone ring you turn to leave the dining room. Ignoring Jared’s boring looks you act like he’s not even around.

----

One week later you still do not talk to Jared. You even slept in the guest instead of your bedroom. Walking around to greet your guests you ignore Jared calling your name.

Even in front of his colleagues and friends, you don’t talk to him. Ignoring his whole existence you talk to Danneel and Jensen. When Misha waves at you to come around you excuse yourself.

“Did you have the feeling Y/N is mad at Jared?” Danneel asks her husband.

“Don’t know but somethings off. He’s grumpy as hell and some minutes ago he called her name and she ignored him completely.”

“Maybe we should ask him?”

“Let me handle this.”

“Okay.”

Walking toward his friend Jensen can see the looks he gives you. Trying to get your attention Jared calls your name again but you do not react.

“Hey…uh…Is something wrong? I mean Y/N doesn’t talk to you. She even ignores you calling her name.” Jensen says.

“I came home late at our anniversary and wasn’t in the mood for dinner.”

“Dude! At your anniversary? Did she cook?”

“Yeah. My favorite meal. She even bought me the watch I wanted. Since that night she doesn’t talk to me. Even ignores me.”

“You better fix this…beg for forgiveness.”

“Beg? She’s stubborn not me. I will not beg her.” Jared mutters angrily clenching his jaw.

----

After the last guest left the house you kick your shoes off. Yawning you want to go to the guest room but Jared blocks your path.

“We will talk things out. Right now! Stop acting like a selfish child!” Jared says narrowing his eyes.

“Selfish? I’m selfish? Seriously? You come late. Miss the dinner I prepared for hours. I was understanding and help you relax and you have the guts to fall asleep after I blew you off! The only selfish person in this house is you!”

“That’s ridicules. I was beyond tired. You helped me relax. I didn’t plan on falling asleep!”

“Nonsense! You let me take care of your needs once again. When was the last time you cared about what I need or want? When was the last time you made me cum?” You spat and Jared’s eyes darken.

“Are you telling me you didn’t cum?”

“Yes, I do!” You talk back and Jared loses the shit. Grabbing your arm harshly he drags you toward the bedroom. One swift motion and he rips your dress open.

Slapping his face, you want to kick his shin but he pushes you onto the bed. Yelping you struggle against his strength when he slides your panties down.

“Wet! Little slut! All wet for me! You like me manhandling you?”

“Fuck you!” You spat.

A devilish grin on his face Jared flips you over. Trying to crawl away you get dragged back by strong hands.

“Stop wiggling.” The tall man mutters unclasping your bra. Kicking and wiggling you squeal when Jared slaps your ass. Angrily looking over your shoulder you give him a glare.

“You better not hit me again!” You warn but his hand lands on your ass again…and again.

“I will show you what happens when you act like a child!” Jared mutters.

“Asshole!” You grunt and he slaps your ass again.

“You will pay for that.” You mutter but when the next slap hits you a moan escapes your lips.

The noise of his zipper catches your attention. You won’t give him the chance to find satisfaction so you try to crawl away once again, but his rough hands already grab your waist.

“Stop fighting me! I’m your husband and I will teach you how to be a good girl!”

“In your dreams, Padalecki.” You snarl.

Turning around you push against his chest. Ignoring your outburst he strips his shirt off. Of course, he sees you ogling his chiseled torso. Grinning he believes you give on so he strips his pants off, follow by his boxers but all he gets is a slap to his face.

Giggling you get off the bed to run away but he’s faster with his goddamn long legs. Dragging you toward the bed he tries to kiss you but you push him onto the bed instead.

Almost pouncing on him you straddle his lap. “Give me that cock!” You order and he helps you sinking down on him. Normally you would go slow and let him feel you but right now you are too angry.

Starting to ride him hard and faster right away you fist his hair harshly. Growling Jared watches you bouncing up and down his thick shaft with all your strength. To punish him you raise your hips to let him slide out of so that only the tip remains and slam back down. Repeading the move you can see a dangeorus glimmer in your husbands eyes.

“Little brat!” Jared grunts.

Grabbing your waist roughly he flips you onto your back. Hands pinning yours down he chuckles when you squirm underneath him.

“Bad girl.” He whispers in your ear and then he starts thrusting. Crying out you can feel him hitting your cervix with every hard thrust.

His hips crash into yours in abandon. Your screams echo through the room while your husband is busy showing you who you belong to.

“Jared…” You whine but he doesn’t stop.

Every pump of his cock makes you cry out louder. Your whole body on his mercy you squeeze your eyes shut when you feel the coil is close to snap.

Rocking into you without getting slower Jared grins down at you when he feels you pulsing around his member.

“Shit…fuck. You squeeze me so hard, Baby.” An almost inhuman noise leaves Jared’s lips the minute he fills you with his cum.

“I’m still mad at you! An orgasm won’t change that!”

“I’m sorry, Baby. Can you not forgive me? I love you. You know that.” Jared whispers.

“You made me feel like our anniversary means nothing to you.” You sniff.

“No, please no. Let me make it up to you. I’ll take a week off and we can spend it together. We can have a short vacation. Anything you want.”

“I want my husband to not treat me like I’m self-evident.”

“Please never believe I think about you that way. I love you. You know I do. I’m really sorry about what happened.”

----

Snuggling closer to Jared you draw a heart onto his chest with your finger. Gently kissing the crown of your head he looks at your wedding band.

“I love you too, Jared.” You finally say and he sighs.

“I swear from now on I will try to care more about your feelings.”

“I know you care. It just hurt.”

“How about I cook us dinner tomorrow?”

“No way! You said you want to care more about my feelings. Not poison me with your food.” You tease.

“I could at least try.”

“Nope. We order pizza and cuddle on the couch. Maybe I let you see me naked again.”

Growling Jared looks at you in his arms. “Just maybe?”

“Maybe…”

“Please…”

“Fine. But only if you don’t fall asleep again.”

“Deal. Love you, Baby.”

“Love you too, Jared.”

Forever Tags

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 @negans-lucille-tblr

If your name is crossed out Tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason. Sorry.

#spn #spn fanfiction #request fill #supernatural rpf #spn rpf #rpf fanfic #Jared Padalecki #Jensen Ackles #jared x reader #jared padalecki one shots #angst #smut #jared padalecki x reader #jared padalecki fanfiction

[youngster-monster]

caution: friendship, handle carefully

Frank doesn't have that many friends left from service. Or before that. Doesn't have many friends left, period.

But he does have one number, scratched in an uneven hand on the back of an old receipt. "If you ever need help," muttered with an East European accent that never truly faded as the paper is pressed in the palm of his hand. "If you want to talk."

Frank was headed for the kind of mission you come back from with a hole in your file, the kind that wasn't so much redacted as burnt from records. John was headed home.

"Never took you for a talker, Wick," he says in a way that means, thank you.

John had shrugged and hadn't said 'you're welcome' because he didn't need to, and that was that.

It's been years. Frank isn't even sure John kept the same number.

He dials it anyway.

It rings, and rings, and rings, long enough he expects to be redirected to an answering machine any second now. But Then-

A click and a voice on the other end of the receiver, gruff, saying, "Yeah?"

"John," he greets with an odd sense of relief. "It's Frank. Castle. Wanna grab a beer sometimes?"

There's a long silence. There usually are, with John. The guy never says anything without deliberation. Then, finally, "Yeah."

They meet up at Josie's. The booze is terrible and there's a dead rat slowly mummifying in a corner but there aren't any nice places where Frank feels comfortable going to. Nobody will call the cops on him here. Worst things he can stumble on is a firecracker reporter, and at this point he's half hoping for it, even if he won't admit it.

Still he feels a bit guilty when John walks in, looking like his suit cost more than the entire bar and every dusty bottles in it. Not for long though. John doesn't seem to mind it himself. He eyes the room, something like curiosity or wariness in his expressionless face before his gaze settles on Frank. Recognition flashes briefly in those dark eyes of his and he joins him, sits opposite to him on the wobbly chair. Frank chose the booth in the furthest corner so they can both have their back to the wall as long as they don’t sit opposite of each other, out of habit. John immediately goes back to watching the room and Frank knows, from past experience, that he's cataloging each gun poorly hidden under a hoodie, each probable weapon. Frank did the same moments ago.

It takes a few seconds during which Frank stays quiet, watching him watch the patrons of the bar. Then John blinks, panther-slow, dismissing them all as noon-threats, and turns to him.

"Hello."

"Hey," Frank greets, pushing a glass of Josie's least shitty whiskey toward him. "You look good. Civilian life treating you well I see."

John takes his drink and grunts, noncommittal. "Can't say the same of you," he says, making the barest hint of a nod toward Frank's busted, bruised face.

Frank drinks his whiskey and makes a you don't know the half of it kinda sound. John nods in understanding and takes a sip of his own glass. Gotta hand it to the guy: he doesn't even bat an eye at the taste. Weaker men outright spat it back.

It's Josie's best whiskey, which makes it a solid 2 on the greater scale of whiskeys.

They don't say say anything else, for the full hour they stay at Josie's, sipping their drinks. Somehow neither of them can find the energy to talk. But it's... Nice. To sit with someone he knows, someone he's friendly with, and just enjoy some casual friendship like drinking in silence and resolutely not talking about the many way their lives went to shit since they left the army.

John wears a gun in a shoulder holster, hidden under his perfectly tailored jacket. Frank has a gun strapped to his side, barely covered by his coat. Happy, well adjusted people don't do that.

He wonders, distantly, how it went wrong for John. If it went something like it did for him. He doesn't ask.

He gets his answer, eventually, because they keep meeting on a semi-regular basis. Sometimes Frank is away on a job, and sometimes John goes radio silent for a while with no warning. But every week they're both in town, without fail, Frank's text proposing a night out will be replied with a simple "OK" and John walking into Josie's at 9p.m sharp.

He never learns to dress to the occasion (or lack thereof).

And at some point, they start talking. About nothing, at first – the weather and national news and Rome, when it turns out they've both been there before. Even though John gets a weird look on his face at the memory. Then the good old times, when Frank figures it's better than thinking about what came after. They both have fond memories of their drill sergeant – terrifying as she was, in comparison to the war she was a real sweetheart.

And then one day Frank has a bad day and gets really, really drunk and says, "My family's dead."

John's face falls – the first real expression he sees the guy make. His brows furrow together and his mouth twists and when he says, "I'm sorry," he even sounds like he means it.

And then Frank makes a dumb choice and asks, "How's your wife?" Hoping that someone else's marital joy can banish the fog of misery hanging over the day.

Because he's seen the golden bang around John's finger, so much like his own. It's not a stretch to guess he got married.

John's face- closes off. His eyes darken even as he looks down into his drink.

"She died," he says, short.

Frank hisses through his teeth. "Shit. Sorry."

John slams back his drink and doesn't say anything more.

They still meet up the next week. 

And the one after that.

And somehow... They open up about it. Frank, first, full of righteous rage and drunken inhibition. Then John, quieter, clipped replies to questions he doesn't dare ask.

"It was cancer," he says when Frank whispers he lost them in a shooting, and,

"Everything I did- to be with her," 

And,

"She made me a better man."

"Cheers to that," Frank says, blinking away the tears he refuses to admit are in his eyes.

And then one time it's John who offers information instead of reacting to Frank's monologue. He stares at the crowd, or what passes as such in Josie's, and says,

"She left me a dog. So I wouldn't be alone."

By the tone with which he says it, he was fond of the animal, and it didn't end well.

"What happened?"

"Guy killed it for a car." 

Not with: for. Frank nods and carefully doesn't ask for more details. John has always be the scariest motherfucker he knew. He doesn't know what happened to the guy responsible and he doesn't want to know. Pretty sure he got what was coming for him, anyway: he trusts John to do that much.

Turns out they have lot of stuff in common, once they got to talking – Frank doing most of the work on that, for once. They both have a rescue pit bull (Frank doesn't mention the context of the rescue in question). A love for guns and black clothes. Army background. A dead wife. 

And, as they're soon to find out, nosey friends.

Frank knows exactly what kind of man D'Antonio is from the first look he takes of the guy, even before he knows his name. Young, rich, beautiful, powerful, the kind that's born into power and grew up learning how to keep hold on it.

He also knows, immediately, that he's a mob boss – he has that look to him, too put together, too clean, a smile too sharp. Frank would bet anything that each and every of the thousand bucks worth of designer clothes this guy is wearing has been paid in blood money.

They exchange a look, John and him, and Frank is surprised to see John as relaxed as he was before the guy's arrival. A quirk of his eyebrows, quietly curious rather than wary, tells Frank he knows the guy – knows what the guy is as well. He tilts his head slightly as the man sprawls next to him, both an acknowledgment of his arrival and a question toward Frank. 

Can you let it be?

Frank looks at John, the most dangerous man he's ever known and only sees the edge in his eyes, the predator glint that says he's ready for a fight whether or not he wants there to be one. Frank isn't sure he could take John back then, let alone the man he became. Isn't sure he wants to. 

Honestly he's just tired. Tired of the corruption, the mob's mark on every stone of this city, old friends getting their hands bloody for people barely more corrupt than their own government. He came here to drink with a friend. That's it.

He nods once, shortly. He'll let the mantel of the Punisher down, just this once. Mostly because he doesn't pick fights he has no way to win. He gets the feeling John is doing the same – putting down something far too heavy for his shoulders. The predatory glow goes out of his eyes and he becomes the same melancholy, quiet man Frank knew. The danger never goes out of the lines of his body. It doesn't leave Frank's, either. It sits, tense and ready, in his shoulders, down his arms, to the tip of his trigger finger resting lightly on the gun strapped to his thigh.

As a show of good faith he puts both his hands on top of the table. The mob boss looks an obnoxious mix of amused and satisfied as he watches the silent exchange. John politely pretends he couldn't kill Frank with the handful of napkins he's absently folding into little triangles. The atmosphere grows that kind of lightning storm anticipation, the air heavy with the stare of three killers eyeing each others. 

"What are you doing here?" John asks the guy, his voice quiet yet crystal clear despite the noise in the bar.

He shrugs, careless from the quirk of his smirk to the shift of his shoulders. He acts with the ease of a man perfectly sure of his own invincibility. He knows who's the most powerful person in the room, Frank realizes, and it's the one holding the leash of the most dangerous one.

What did John get himself into this time?

"I was in the neighborhood," he says, never mind that someone dressed like he is would never be caught dead in a neighborhood like this one. "I thought I would drop by, see how my favorite investment is doing." At John's dark look his smirk grows and he adds, "Not you, John. My family has a few businesses in the area, one of which I'm quite fond of. You're just a social call. Though you are my favorite something alright."

John grunts and goes back to his drink. His 'friend' isn't going to drop it that easily, though.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" He says, nodding to Frank.

"You're a grown man. Introduce yourself."

The man sighs like John is asking him a great favor. He turns to Frank. His smarmy smile doesn't quite make it to 'friendly', or even 'polite'. "Santonio D'Antonio," he says, offering him his hand. "I'm a friend of John's."

Well that's bullshit if he's ever heard it. 

"Frank," he replies, not bothering to appear welcoming. He doesn't shake D'Antonio's hand.

"Lovely." He drops his hand and throw his arm around John's shoulders instead. John tenses up at the touch then forces himself to relax. If he were anyone else, Frank bets he'd be rolling his eyes. "Tell me, how do you know each other? Did you serve together?"

The guy can't seem to take a hint. Frank grunts, noncommittal, and glances over his shoulder. If the guy brought any of his goons–

If he did, Frank doesn't know about it, because the first person he sees when he looks up isnt a mob enforcer. It's Karen.

She noticed him too, and is staring at him openly. He's sitting there, drinking with people who are obviously not law-abiding citizens. In hindsight it's weird enough to warrant some staring.

She mouths a word, her furrowed brow turning it into a question. Frank?

He looks away. Better not bring any attention to her. But she's... Hard to look away from. His eyes are drawn to her like she's a magnet. It's been a long time since they've seen each other.

When he focus back on her she's frowning. She mouths, Intel?

He darts a look at D'Antonio. The guy is busy pestering John into letting him take a sip of his drink, not paying any attention to Frank. He shakes his head minutely. Karen's frown deepens.

Trouble?

Another look at the best dressed duo of the room. John relents to D'Antonio insistence with something almost like humor in his dark eyes. D'Antonio gets all of three seconds to look smug before he takes a sip of Josie's least shitty whiskey. He splutters and grimaces, probably doesn't spit it back only out of personal pride. John snatches the glass before he can spill it, cobra-quick.

Frank looks back at Karen. His eyes widen when he sees her walk to the table, spine iron straight. He glares, hoping to convey how bad an idea that is. She ignores him completely even as she sits right next to him, primly folding her legs and all but slamming her drink on the table. She smiles her reporter smile, her eyes jumping from Santonio "obvious mobster" D'Antonio and John "concealed carry is a fashion statement" Wick.

And then, because hanging out with Red has apparently turned her brain to mush, she extends her hand to them and say, "Hi, I'm Karen Page. Frank might have told you about me?"

"I can't say he has," D'Antonio says pleasantly as he shakes her hand. "But I've only been there for a moment."

John throws him a look above D'Antonio's head while the two are busy pretending to be polite with each other. There's a question in the tilt of his head.

Friend of yours? it seems to say.

In response he glares at D'Antonio, daring him to keep his grubby, mafioso hand on Karen for a single additional second. D'Antonio pretends he can't see it. 

John offers her his hand next. She seems surprised by his quiet voice, at odd with his dangerous exterior, and the way she looks at him afterward is more cautious than outright suspicious.

Great. 'Karen and John getting along' is one nightmare scenario he hadn't thought about. This woman has a gift for befriending dangerous people.

He can't find it in himself to begrudge her presence. She easily distracts D'Antonio from him, asking him about his accent and Italy and what he's doing so far from home. D'Antonio is a man who like to listen to himself talk, and though his hold on John doesn't relent he doesn't pay any more attention to the two silent men at the table.

It allows Frank some time to just... Look at Karen. It been a really long time. She looks tired but unhurt, like maybe she got herself a survival instinct since the last time he saw her. Or maybe she just got better at getting in and out of trouble with minimal harm. Yeah, that's more likely, seeing how she's currently sitting across a mob boss and talking about the cultural differences between Italian and Italian-American cuisine.

John is doing the same opposite to him. His eyes track every movement D'Antonio makes with almost casual attention, like a cat watching the comings and goings of its humans. Frank wouldn't call his expression fond, but it's close enough that he doesn't know what to think of it. What the fuck happened in the last years for John to become friend with a mob boss?

Yeah. Pretty sure he doesn't want to know.

Frank and John drink quietly, both keeping an attentive eye on their respective unexpected tagalong. After maybe an hour, hour and a half, D'Antonio gets up.

"It's been a pleasure to meet you, miss Page... Frank," he says, then, to John, "Walk with me? "

It doesn't sound like a question. John doesn't take it as one. He rises after D'Antonio and, with a nod to the two of them, they leave.

"So that guy was absolutely a mobster, right?" Karen says after a bit.

Frank empties his drink in one long swallow and slam his glass on the table. "Yep," he says, dragging the word.

"And they're definitely fucking."

"Y- what?"

Karen gestures to the empty seats opposite to them. "That guy, Santino? Definitely fucking John. Or he really, really wants to."

"Yeah, I think you've had enough."

"Don't tell me how to live my life," she says. She gulps her drink down and adds, "But I'm gonna head out now."

He gets the nagging feeling she'd have left an hour earlier if he hadn't been there. Like she was rescuing him from D'Antonio. Pointless, but then again... She did work a small miracle in keeping him off Frank's back. 

His lips quirk in small fond smile. "I'll walk you to your car."

#writing #john wick #frank castle #the punisher #karen page #santino d'antonio #FRIENDSHIP

[dreamwritesimagines]

Bad Habit 6- Trainwreck [Billy Russo x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for the amazing support, my lovelies! ❤️

Billy Russo x Reader, Karen Page, Frank Castle, Matt Murdock, Foggy Nelson.

Summary: Sometimes, a gun can mean many things.

Click here for: Bad Habit 1, Bad Habit 2, Bad Habit 3  Bad Habit 4 Bad Habit 5

Click here to see the playlist for the first 4 parts!

Warning: Explicit language, cussing, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 3524

Please tell me what you think

Gif’s not mine! 

“Okay, think.” You muttered to yourself. “Think!”

You had left Karen’s office in a rush, in a desperate need of fresh air –as much as you could get with two bodyguards that was a sign of Billy’s Don’t Die approach- and then made your way to the café, the only place which could get your mind off the feeling of impending doom that was your brother. You were so distracted that you had completely forgotten about the way you looked, or that your friends had no idea about what had happened to you, so as soon as you walked inside and Vicky turned to look at you, she froze.

“Damn it,” You mumbled, “Vicky. Hi.”

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck happened to you?!” She asked as she put the tray to one of the empty tables, and made her way to you, but was stopped by Simon. The guy sitting close to you looked up at you, and them, frowning slightly before going back to his newspaper.

“Ma’am, please keep your-“

“Simon,” You threw your hands up, “My dude, you gotta chill. It’s fine.”

“What is happening right now?” Vicky asked you, completely confused and you shrugged,

“Meet my uh… my new friends.”

“Nice to meet you.” Isaac said and Vicky and Simon both turned to look at him, making him seem to regret his decision about opening his mouth.

“You too.” Vicky mumbled, mouthing “What the fuck?” to you, before smiling at Simon.

“What happened to your face?”

“Long story.”

“Make it short.”

“I got mugged.”  You stated, “So there.”

“You okay?”

You nodded, crossing your arms, “Mm hm.”

“And these are your…bodyguards?”

“Friends.”

“Friends that stop people from getting close to you?”

“Overprotective friends.”

“Do you even have enough money to get bodyguards?”

You shot her a look, “You’ve seen me getting excited over a five dollar tip, do you really think I have enough money for bodyguards?” You asked, “Courtesy of Billy Russo, charmingly hot guy who wants to teach me how to shoot a gun.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the customer’s head snapping up and staring at you for a couple of seconds, but he averted his eyes when you turned to shoot him a quizzical look.

“How to shoot a gun?”

“Yep.” You turned to Vicky “I have a gun now.”

“I haven’t seen you for like a day?” Vicky seemed sincerely confused, then waved her hands “Walk me through it.”

“Okay, so the hot guy who gets off on guns-“

“Billy.”

“Yeah, he took me out, then drove me home after I almost killed myself with spicy Chinese food. Then Karen asked me to go outside, you know, her technical ex-“ the customer lowered the newspaper a little but you paid no attention to that, “And his partner, they were all drinking outside. So I was going there, I got-“ You cleared your throat, “I got mugged. Woke up in the hospital. Billy dropped by my house, got pissed, and now I have bodyguards and a gun, because apparently that’s what happens when the former Special Forces rich boy gets pissed.”

“My head is spinning.”

“Dude, you’re telling me-“ Your eyes found the figure behind the counter and you frowned, “Who’s the new guy, where’s Liz?”

“Liz’s boyfriend got this allergic reaction or some shit, she had to go to hospital. That’s the part timer.”

“He’s cute.”

Vicky wiggled her brows, “I know, right? Sit down, I’m getting you a piece of cake and coffee, you look like you’ll need it, and we can talk on my break.” She took a look at Isaac and Simon, “Your bodyguards want anything?”

“No thank you ma’am.”

“Come on, I’m buying.” You shrugged, “Apple pie?”

“Coming right up.” Vicky walked to the counter and heat the pies and prepare the coffee while you sat down to the closest seat, and Simon and Isaac took another table –which you guessed was the standard when it came to protecting people and being invisible at the same time. The customer that you had caught looking at you fixed his hat, then cleared his throat.

“Sorry ma’am, I couldn’t help to hear.” He said and you rolled your eyes.

“Jesus Christ, are we in the Princess Diaries now? Why does everyone keep calling me ma’am?”

That seemed to made him chuckle, and you narrowed your eyes,

“You look familiar, have I seen you somewhere before?”

He shook his head, “Don’t think so. I’m Pete.” He extended his hand, “Pete Castiglione.”

“Y/N. Nice to meet you.” You shook his hand, “So what’s up with ma’am, Pete? Do the stitches make me look old?”

“It’s an old habit, from Marine forces.”

You raised your brows, still trying to find out where you had seen him before, “You served?”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded, “Sorry for eavesdropping.”

“Well, I’m in a public space, so not like I can exactly blame you.”

“Just wanted to say-“ he looked like he was fighting off a proud smirk for some reason. “You said your man was in Special Forces?”

You could feel the burning spreading your cheeks, “I wouldn’t exactly call him my man.” You shrugged, trying to play it cool, “But yeah, this dude I’m…” You did air quotes “This dude I know. Yeah?”  

“Just wanted to say that if he’s giving you a gun, that’s some serious shit.”

“Hold the fuck on, was that symbolic?” Your jaw dropped, “Jesus, motherfucker doesn’t tell me anything about army gestures!”

Your string of cusses seemed to make Pete smile and you heaved a deep sigh, leaning back.

“My life is a legit shit show right now.” You pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes until you could see the small dots of lights in the darkness, then pulled your hands back to fold them behind your head, making a face, while Vicky served Isaac and Simon their slices, then came to put yours onto the small table, winked at you and walked back to the counter. You whined, pushing at your apple pie with the fork.

“Dude…” You heaved a sigh, “Fuck coffee, I need booze.”

You grabbed your phone from your pocket and found Karen’s contact, then took the phone to your ear.

“Karen?” You said as soon as she picked up, “Code red. Bring your ex-boyfriend and his ex-boyfriend.”

She only paused for a second before answering.

“Which bar?”

Escaping bodyguards seemed to be easier than you had originally thought it would be. All you had to do was to say you would use the employee bathroom, walk into the kitchen and escape from the backdoor. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel guilty for dodging Isaac and Simon, but you just felt like you needed to breathe, so you took the metro, met Karen, Matt and Foggy at the bar and now you had been drinking for three hours straight.

“So like, from a dude’s perspective-“ You slammed the shot glass down and looked at Foggy. “From a dude’s perspective, the fuck is this?”

“Don’t ask me. Creepy dude in the café gave you your answer.”

“He wasn’t creepy!” You defended Pete, “He was really nice. He enlightened me about…about stuff.”

“About a dude giving you a gun might have a deeper meaning?”

“When you put it like that…” You mumbled and Foggy scoffed.

“Does this mean your schoolgirl crush on Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is gone?”

“Fuck no, we’re gonna get married!” You snapped, “I mean…we just gotta meet first.”

“Such a great start,” Matt stated and you shot him a look.

“And that’s why you won’t be invited to the wedding, Matty.” You chastised “It’s true love!”

Karen pressed her hand to her lips to hide her laugh, but Foggy made no effort of hiding his own laugh, making you flip them and down another shot.

“You know what I’m gonna do?”

“You’re gonna call the pretty boy with the gun fetish.”

“I’m gonna call the pretty boy with the gun fetish!” You slammed your hand on the table, nodding and Karen grabbed her beer bottle before it got knocked over, while shaking her head fervently.

“No, Y/N, give me the phone.”

“I’m not giving you my phone.”

“Give Matt your phone.”

Matt held out his hand, bowing to the inevitable.

“I’m not giving Matt my phone.” You said, and Foggy snorted,

“What if he promised to introduce you to Daredevil?”

Matt rolled his eyes, “He’s drunk.”

“We’re all drunk, Matt.”

“That’s why it’s not a good idea to call the pretty boy.” He motioned for your phone and you shook your head.

“I gotta ask him what the gun means.”

“You got rid of his bodyguards and now you wanna call him?”

“Mixed signals thing is my shit.” You said and stumbled as soon as you stood up, but managed to find your balance by holding onto a stool, and walked outside

“Don’t get mugged!” Karen and Foggy called out after you and you nodded slowly, finding Billy’s name in your contacts and hit call.

He answered on the first ring.

“Where are you?”

You hissed in a breath “I’m guessing you talked to Simon and Isaac?”

“No shit.”

“And you’re pissed.”

“And you’re drunk.”

You leaned on the dusty wall of the bar, “A little,” You confessed, “But hey, I got a gun now!”

“Don’t shout that in public, please?”

You rolled your eyes, “I got a question for you.”

“I got many questions for you.” He said and you groaned,

“Fine, wait for your turn first. What does the gun symbolize?”

There was a pause, “I’m sorry?”

“Like what does that mean? What does the gun mean?”

“…How drunk are you?”

“Is it like a code in the army?”

“Yeah.”

You held your breath, “What does it mean?”

“It means you shoot your attacker.” He said calmly, “Where are you?”

“In a bar.”

“Where?”

“In New York.”

He let out a breath, as if praying for patience, “Y/N…”

“I’m fine, I’m with friends,” You said, “We’re gonna leave in an hour or so.”

“Send me the address; I’ll come to pick you up.”

“Billy, you don’t have to-“

“You’re drunk, it’s night time, and you live in a sketchy neighborhood,” His voice was stern, “Send me the address when you’re ready to leave.”  With that, he hung up and you huffed out, then made your way back inside.

When you, Karen and the boys were ready to leave, it was very late and you were the only people in the bar. You stumbled your way out of the bar and grinned when Matt pulled you upright.

“What a gentleman.” You teased, making him chuckle.

“Jesus, you’re wasted.”

“Is that the guy?” Foggy asked you and you turned to look at the direction he was staring at, still giggling. Billy was leaning against his car, busy with his phone and you heaved a sigh at how effortlessly handsome he looked. If your hormones were more out of your control, you’d probably start serenading the guy with a poem right there and then.

“Do you know a word that rhymes with scruff?” You asked Foggy, who only shot you a look “Hey, how’s this; You look like you like it rough, also I like you and your scruff.”

“Shakespeare, get out the way.” Foggy commented drily and you scoffed, but by the time you could walk his way he had already seen you, so he pushed himself off the car and approached you silently.

“Miss Page.”

“Mr Russo.” Karen, by some miracle, managed to look sober and professional even after countless shots. You were still holding onto Matt’s arm, so he extended his other hand towards Billy.

“Matt Murdock.”

“Billy Russo.” Billy introduced himself “I watched you and your partner in the Frank Castle case.”

“Which was basically a disaster.” Foggy mumbled after shaking hands with Billy.

“I thought it was a great job actually.” Billy said silkily, “Not many lawyers in Hell’s Kitchen stand up for what’s right anymore, good to see there are exceptions.”

“See?” You slapped Foggy on the arm, “Told you, jackass.”

“You ready, Y/N?” Billy turned to you at last and you nodded.

“Do you guys need a ride? Miss Page?”

“No thank you,” Karen smiled slightly, stealing a look at you “Matt and Foggy are taking me home.”

“We are?” Foggy asked, but stopped talking as soon as Karen raised a brow, shooting him a warning look. “Yeah- yeah we are.”

“See you guys later!” You said as you pulled away from Matt and made your way to Billy’s car. You got in and buckled your seatbelt, then he started the car while you rolled down your window, enjoying the night breeze on your hair, leaning your head back to the seat. For the whole road, both of you were silent, partly because you were trying really hard to regulate your breathing and not throw up in his extremely expensive car. He eventually pulled over in front of your house in the ‘sketchy neighborhood’ as he put it and you took a deep breath.

“Thank you.” You muttered, without opening your eyes and he chuckled,

“Anytime.”

“Are you still pissed?” You asked, and opened your eyes, “Would a poem help you feel better?”

He drummed his long fingers on the steering wheel, deep in thought. It was more than obvious that he was still angry about you dodging his bodyguards, but it was also obvious that he was so used to not showing his emotions, so he just fell into silence, as if he couldn’t decide how to react. You turned around so that you could see him better.

“What did the gun mean?”

He licked his lips, and turned to bore his eyes into yours, making your heart beat faster.

“Do you question everyone or should I feel special?” His voice was way too calm as it washed over you, and you rolled your eyes, slipping a little in your seat, and leaning your knees against the dashboard. You ran your fingernails over the worn out fabric of your ripped jeans, trying to find the right words.

“I’m not good with the whole…” You cleared your throat, “I can’t think when people are around me. You, or Karen, or…even your bodyguards. I just- I can’t think. People distract me.” You let out a laugh, “You, especially. It’s like this week is…” You trailed off and he waited patiently.

“I’m way too drunk, man…”

“This week is what?”

You licked your lips and ran your fingers through your hair, pulling at the roots hard enough to hurt.

“I should probably go.” You mumbled and pushed the car door open, then walked to your building but of course your head started spinning once more. You grabbed at the door handle and out of the corner of your eye, you saw that he got out of his car, then made his way to you.

“Fuck, I can’t even be mysterious and shit without a head spin.” You muttered as you fished your keys out of your bag, pulling your earphones and pens along with it. You huffed out as you tried to find the keyhole and looked up at the windows, seriously considering buzzing one of your neighbors, but by some miracle you managed to find the keyhole and open the door as soon as Billy reached you.

“You should go to sleep,” You tried to play it cool as you grabbed at the iron handrail and climbed the stairs slowly.

“I know. I’m still walking you to your actual door.”

“No offense, but I’m not gonna sleep with you when I’m this drunk.” You said as you reached your door, jingling the keys in your hand, “I really wanna remember it when it happens, because you look like you’d be really good at it.”

That seemed to make him smile a little, and he shook his head,

“I’m not that much of an asshole,” he said as you leaned your back to the door, grinning up at him,

“Billy?”

He leaned his hand to the wall beside your head, “Hm?”

“What is gonna happen to Isaac and Simon?” You asked him and he shrugged,

“Why?”

“I don’t want them to get into trouble. Isaac is like a puppy.”

“Oh no worries, you’ll see them again.”

You played with the hem of his dark green shirt, “You know, it sounds like you’re actually worried about me.”

He looked down at you, sides of his lips turning upwards with an amused smile and he pursed his lips as if he was trying to hide it, bowing his head a little.

“I’m using my right to remain silent.” He quoted you, and you giggled,

“You’re cute.”

“I’m not cute.”

“You’re very cute.” You teased him, “Not cuter than Isaac, but you have your moments.”

“Is that so?” He raised his brows “Well, it sure as fuck sounds like Isaac needs a new job.”

“No!” You protested, making him chuckle and he pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, making you close your eyes momentarily.

“I don’t like competition.”

“Good thing there’s no competition then.”

“At all?”

You frowned slightly, and snorted, “Billy, if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, stop thinking.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Matt is technically Karen’s ex. You don’t touch your friends’ exes.”

“Wouldn’t know, I actually touched a couple of my friends’ exes.”

You made a face, “You just know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you Russo?” You asked him and tried to find the keyhole while he leaned his back against the wall, arms crossed.

“Just saying,” he said, “I mean, he’s got that whole gentleman lawyer thing covered-“

“That’s because he is a lawyer and a gentleman, it’s not that surprising?”

“And you know what they say about lawyers.”

“Is it worse than what they say for private military contractors? Jesus-” You managed to find the keyhole but this time the door didn’t budge. You rolled your eyes, pushing it a little.

“Wrong key?”

“No, it’s- I think it’s jammed-“ You pushed at the door a little and heard the lock slide with a click as Billy’s head shot up “Finally-“

What happened next; happened in a second. Before the door could open with your push, Billy had already tackled you to the ground as a deafening gunshot echoed through the empty hall, and you heard the bullet whizzing through the wooden door and hitting the wall behind you. The sound was so loud that your ears started to ring and Billy pressed your head to the floor with his arms while shielding your whole body with his, his weight pressing you down as the echo stopped and left you breathless, and you heard a scream coming from your neighbor’s apartment, probably due to fear. When there were no more gunshots, he pulled back slightly, and looked down at you, his eyes frantically searching your face as the ringing got a little better.

“You okay? Are you hurt?”

You mentally checked yourself and shook your head, still panting, “Y-You?”

“Stay here.” He demanded as he got off of you and cocked his gun, his whole body on alert as he took a step into the apartment, looking around with his gun ready to shoot at any small movement, as if a switch inside of him had just been flipped. You tried to regulate your breathing and see through the mind numbing panic,

“Billy!” You whispered and as he walked into the living room and you tried to stand up on your shaky legs but it was only for a second before your legs gave up due to fear and you fell on your knees, hard. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and dug your fingernails into your palms, trying to pull yourself together before you grabbed at the iron handrail again, this time to pull yourself up. You tried to put some of your weight on your trembling legs, and a spark of pain shot through your stomach.

Of course. You had just popped your stitches.

Billy walked back to the door after checking your bathroom and bedroom, and touched the gun mechanism facing the door while you crossed your arms over your stomach, hiding the wound.

“I’ve seen this before,” he muttered, his fingertips following the string that tied the gun’s trigger to the door “Supposed to fire as soon as you open the door.”

You gulped, still trying to make sense of what just happened, “How did you-?”

“I heard a click,” he said slowly, and shot you a bitter smile, “Experience.”

You pressed your hands to your knees, doubling up to keep the pain from showing on your face, but as soon as you did, the small folded paper lying innocently on the floor caught your eye. Billy’s eyes followed your movements as you picked it up.

“Don’t touch that-“ he started but it was too late. You unfolded the paper, and all of a sudden, your breathing got way, way worse when you recognized the handwriting.

Hi sis. We need to talk.

Part 7 is here! 

#billy russo #billy russo imagines #billy russo imagine #billy russo x reader #billy russo reader #billy imagine #billy imagines #billy x reader #ben barnes #ben barnes imagine #ben barnes imagines #punisher #the punisher #netflix's the punisher #marvel's the punisher #marvel #netflix #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #frank castle #karen page #foggy nelson #jigsaw #daredevil #the punisher imagine #the punisher imagines #punisher imagine #punisher imagines

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

The one where Bucky and Steve get married

Summary: Where Bucky is the world’s deadliest bridezilla, Steve gets a ‘close’ shave with a Cold Steel Recon knife, Bucky gets sentimental about flowers, and the boys get married.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers; Best Man Sam Wilson, Best Woman Natasha Romanoff; Tony Stark gets a license

Warnings: Bad language words, lots of sassy Bucky, brief mention of knife play. So much fluff. A bit of SMUT, so please follow the rules and be 18+ to read (or at least skip the shaving scene).

A/N: Here’s my story for @hellomissmabel ‘s birthday and 2k follower celebration, congrats again Annie! The idea was to include ‘yellow roses’ into a story, and in case you didn’t know, yellow roses are all about new beginnings. That’s always an excellent theme with our favourite boys, right?

A/N 2: Want to read it in Chinese instead? Find the translation here!

MASTERLIST

***** THE BIG DAY (EARLY MORNING)

Steve Rogers is wrapped in a warm, fluffy blanket burrito when the bedroom door slams open. It booms like canon fire and he jerks awake with a shout, tumbles off the bed, and smashes his head on the nightstand.

Scrambling to untangle from the sheets, he scrubs the grit from his eyes and looks around in a panic.

Bucky Barnes stands in the doorway, wearing nothing but electric blue boxers and a massive smile. He’s holding his toothbrush in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

He is the only human being on the planet who drinks coffee while he brushes his teeth.

He’s fucking weird.

Steve loves him so fucking much.

“Wakey, wakey bitch! We’re getting married today!” Bucky takes a huge slug of coffee, and pops his toothbrush back in his mouth. He’s grinning at Steve while he brushes, flecks of white foam dripping to the floor.

“You’re fucking weird.” Steve mumbles, collapsing back to the floor.

Bucky laughs at the top of his lungs.

*****

SIX WEEKS EARLIER 

Sam sprints alongside Steve. He has so many questions.

“So, you’re doing all the traditional wedding shit?”

“Jesus, of course. Bucky insisted. His list gets longer every damn day.”

Sam’s picturing things like ‘make everyone do the Jitterbug’ and ‘recite old-timey poetry’ so he’s intrigued.

“What’s on his list?”

--- 

Bucky slaps a piece of paper on the table. Steve glances at the headline.

ALL THE SHIT I WANT TO DO AT MY OUR WEDDING

“The hell’s this?”

“We’re getting married asshole. We need to plan.”

“I’m aware you dick, I just thought you got a wedding planner.”

“I fired her. She was fucking with my vision. Anyway, these are things I want.” 

Steve picks up the list. “Writing our own vows, string quartet, customised rings. Sure, these are easy enough. Can I veto us doing the YMCA though? I hate that song.

“No. It’s my wedding and I want to do the YMCA.” The look on his face indicates he is unlikely to be swayed.

“Jesus, bridezilla. Fine.” He keeps reading. “How are you going to throw a bouquet, you’re not carrying flowers?”

Steve looks up.

Murderous Winter Soldier bridal glare.

“Okay, okay, sorry, we’ll find something for you to throw. You want to give fake grenades as party favours?”

“You’re supposed to give party favours that reflect who you are as a couple and since I really like grenade launchers and you really like having grenades launched at you, I think this is good. Maybe later that night, we can have people roll them on the floor and you could jump on them and remind us all that you’re an idiot with no sense of self-preservation.”

Steve clenches his jaw.

Murderous Winter Soldier bridal glare is back.

Steve lets it go. Back to the list. 

“Shoving cake in Steve’s face – what the fuck is this about?”

“It’s a tradition. Don’t argue with me.” 

“But why do you get to do it? Why can’t I shove it in your face?”

“Uh, because it’s my wedding and you said I got to pick anything I want, and this is what I want. Don’t ruin my special day Steve.”

“I’m not, I was just – “

“No excuses. Get on board the wedding train punk.”

Steve crumples the paper into a ball and throws it at him. “You’re a dumbass.”

“Choo choo motherfucker.”

--- 

Sam has to stop, he’s laughing too hard at this point.  

“He also wants everyone to stand up when he walks down the aisle.” Steve shrugs. “But you know. Whatever makes him happy.”

Sam’s nearly hyperventilating. “This is the best damn conversation I’ve had all month. Has he made any decisions you’re actually pissed about?”

Steve huffs irritably. “Well, there’s one thing. This whole ‘carrying someone across the threshold’ shit. He said he was carrying me, I disagreed and said I wanted to carry him. So we had an arm wrestling contest to decide.”

“Yeah? And?”

“And Bucky is a dirty, lying, cheating cocksucker.”

“So, you’re saying you lost?”

“What I’m saying, is that I don’t know why I’m still surprised when he cheats at everything, after knowing him for a hundred god damn years.” Steve retorts, scratching his chin. “He’s a real piece of shit sometimes.”

“True. But he’s your piece of shit.”

“True.” Steve agrees. “Thank god.”

*****

THREE WEEKS EARLIER 

Bucky likes lists. He makes them for everything. Sometimes he makes lists and puts ‘make a list’ on the list, just so he can cross it off. 

He’s sitting at the kitchen counter chewing on a piece of beef jerky, reading his latest updates.

SHIT TO DO BEFORE MY OUR WEDDING

Confirm the cake (Cake tasting was a religious experience. Bucky swears he saw the face of God in that buttercream frosting.)

Pick my entrance song (The best song. He found the best fucking song.)

Order flowers (He’s already picked them out, just needs to place the order. He really hopes Steve gets the sentiment.)

“You better move your ass if you need to order flowers. They book way in advance.” Natasha is leaning over his shoulder, stealing his beef jerky and examining his list.

“Don’t take my fucking things Natalia.” He snatches for the beef jerky, but she ducks away.

“What kind of flowers are you getting? Do I need to help you? I don’t want you to ruin this.”

“Yeah thanks, it’s not real hard, just a couple yellow roses. I’ll manage.”

“Sounds lazy. Tell me why.”

Bucky smirks at her, before it fades into an honest to goodness smile. She watches the adoration flood his features. He tells her a story.

“Did you know, before the serum, Steve was colour-blind?”

Natasha raises her eyebrows. “Interesting. That wasn’t in the files.”

Bucky hums. “Yep. Couldn’t see much besides shades of grey. Remember him saying, when he opened his eyes coming out of that tube, actually saw colour, first thing he noticed was Carter’s red lipstick. Shocked him so much he threw up on her shoes.”

He barks out a laugh at the image. It’s one of those stories Bucky loves to tell, partly because it’s endearing as fuck.

Mostly because he lives for the embarrassment on Steve’s face.  

“Anyway, back in the day, all the guys used to wear flowers when we went out Saturday nights. There was an old lady who had a stand outside the Fulton Street El, and I always stopped to negotiate – I’m a master fucking negotiator, by the way – to get us a couple.”

--- 

1939, Brooklyn: Steve’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, a battered tin of shoe polish in one hand, his worn leather boot in the other. He glances to the rusted silver clock on their bookcase, wondering when the hell Bucky’s getting home, when he hears heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs.

He’s a whirlwind when he bursts through the door, throwing his bag on the floor, toeing off his shoes as he walks.

“I know, I know, I’m late! Don’t be mad, had to make a stop.” Bucky’s breathing fast, sweaty pieces of hair plastered to his forehead when he rips his flat cap off, flinging it across the room. His bright blue eyes are wild with laughter as he throws a packet of parchment paper into Steve’s lap.

He keeps talking, struggling with the buttons of his shirt, his voice muffled when he gets too impatient and tries to rip it over his head instead. “I stand by it Stevie, cross my fucking heart, I’m the most charming motherfucker in Brooklyn. Wait’ll you hear the deal she gave me, god damn.”

He finally gets the shirt over his head, leaving his dark hair sticking in every direction. “Lemme have a quick wash and we’ll go.”

Giving Steve a roguish wink, he rushes off, dirty clothes flying as he strips.

Steve rolls his eyes. He opens the packet and two yellow roses drop to the floor.

---

“So why yellow roses?” Natasha questions. She’s still eating his beef jerky.

Bucky goes back to his list. “One, roses are my favourite. And two, I always get him yellow. Used to be the only colour Steve could see.”

Natasha pauses mid-chew. She opens her mouth to speak, but for the first time in a long while, she can’t find the words. It’s the most genuine thing she’s ever heard him say.

“That’s – really sweet, Barnes.”

“I know. M’fucking awesome.”

*****

THE BIG DAY (EARLY AFTERNOON) 

Steve stands in the bathroom, perusing his face. Running his hand over his beard, he makes a snap decision.

“Think I want to shave.” Steve announces, glancing at Bucky in the mirror. “Might be nice. Fresh start or whatever.”

Bucky’s lounging against the bathroom door. He’s been wandering around the compound all day in those electric blue boxers, shouting directions at everyone, and for some unknown reason, he’s now paired them with his black combat boots.

Seriously. He’s so weird sometimes.

Seriously. Steve loves him so fucking much.

Bucky sizes him up, before giving a decisive nod. “I agree. And you should let me do it.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “Not likely. I’ll end up with some shit moustache or missing half an eyebrow.”

“Like I would do that. I’m not ruining my wedding photos with your face looking stupid.”

Steve’s lips twitch.

“Fine. Give me a shave.”

Bucky’s delighted. He stomps back into the bedroom and grabs the desk chair, dragging it into their cavernous bathroom. Situating it in front of the mirror, he pushes Steve down and drapes a towel over his shoulders. Fumbling under the sink, he knocks over every bottle he sees, until he finds the half-empty can of shaving cream stashed at the back. He flips the lid off and throws it across the room, aiming for the trashcan. Missing completely.

“Nice one.” Steve comments.

“Shut your pie-hole.” Bucky replies.

Giving the can an aggressive couple shakes, Bucky sprays every last bit of cream into his hands and pauses, peering at Steve with a look of intense concentration. Then his face clears and he slaps his hands onto Steve’s cheeks, smearing the white fluff all over his face and neck.

Steve belatedly realises this may have been a mistake.

When he’s finally satisfied the shaving cream is spread evenly, Bucky gives him a mocking salute. Steve’s momentarily confused when Bucky then props his boot on the chair between Steve’s knees, until he reaches down the side and pulls out his newest tactical knife. A shiny Cold Steel Recon 1.

“No.” Steve argues.

“Yes.” Bucky insists.

“Jesus.” Steve sighs.

Flipping the knife to switch his grip, Bucky climbs into Steve’s lap. He grinds his hips down, rubbing against Steve’s crotch with an exaggerated groan. Steve’s hands automatically grip his hips, locking Bucky in place, a look of resigned patience on his face.

Clasping Steve’s jaw in his fingers, Bucky tilts his head back and forth, a sculptor looking for the perfect angle. When he finds it, he turns Steve’s face to the side and leans forward, the sharp edge of the blade positioned carefully at the bottom of Steve’s sideburns.

Something about the whole thing seems familiar.

--- 

1944, France: The rain is coming down in actual sheets at this point. Bucky trudges to the entrance of the tent, his blue overcoat draped over his head. It’s completely soaked and heavy as hell.

He’s so pissed off.

Ducking under the tent flap, he shakes out his hair and glares at Steve.

“You know what? Fuck France. Fuck Hitler, fuck Hydra, fuck Phillips, fuck the god damn rain, fuck everything.”

Steve looks up from the cracked mirror in front of him, towelling away the remaining bits of soap from his newly smooth face. “So, honey, how was your day?”

Bucky grunts. “Fucking terrible. I’m so ready to go home.”

“You look like shit. If you sit, I’ll give you a shave.”

“I’m out of razors, got nothing until the next mail delivery.” Bucky sighs heavily, flinging himself onto Steve’s cot, disappointment roiling through his gut. His face itches like hell.

“Use a knife. Works just as well.”

Bucky sits up and wonders why he hasn’t thought of this. “Well fuck me sideways Stevie. Still some brains left in that thick skull after all.”

Steve snatches up the bowl of soapy water and plunks it at their feet, splashing Bucky’s mud-covered boots. He grabs the remainder of his soap, and scrubs his hands together, getting a good lather.

Standing above Bucky, he tilts his head and looks down, a devilish little smirk curling up his lips.

Bucky looks up warily. “I’m going to regret that last comment, aren’t I.” he states flatly.  

“Possibly,” Steve mumbles. He sinks down onto Bucky’s lap, straddles his thighs. Pats soap on his face. Grinds himself against Bucky with a breathless little whine.

“Aw hell.” Bucky whispers hoarsely, his hands reaching up to grip Steve’s ass tightly. “You’re such a little tease, Rogers.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. Yes, you really fucking are.”

---

A great idea pops into Bucky’s head.

Steve spots the sudden gleam in his eyes, and grunts. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop. I’m serious Buck.”

The gleam is replaced by a look of pure innocence, which is to say, a look that spells absolute trouble.

“Put your hands behind the chair Stevie.”

“Yeah, no. Not happening.”

Bucky presses the knife a little closer, the blade biting into Steve’s skin. “If you don’t, I swear to god I’ll shave a bald strip straight through your hair.”

“Well, then I guess our wedding photos will look pretty stupid, and that’ll be on your head.”

Bucky tries another route. His husky, wheedling voice usually works.

“Please baby? I just want to try something.”

Success.

“I hate you.” Steve mutters. Folding his arms behind the chair, he links his fingers together and looks at Bucky with a martyred expression.

Bucky taps his metal fingers against Steve’s bare chest, marvelling at the splotchy pink flush that’s creeping across Steve’s torso. Keeping his knife balanced on Steve’s cheek, he stands, still straddling the chair, while his hand drifts down to the waistband of Steve’s sweatpants. He slips the tips of his fingers under the fabric. Nudges Steve to lift his ass so he can tug them down.

Bucky grins.

Steve huffs.

Bucky slides his hand down.

Steve clenches his teeth, trying to stay still.

Bucky wraps cool fingers tight around the base of Steve’s cock and gives a good squeeze.

“Jesus Christ Bucky,” Steve hisses.

Fun fact. Bucky’s been ambidextrous his entire life. It’s one of the reasons he’s so good in combat, can switch hands in a knife fight, can shoot from any angle. His brain can always disconnect the movements, allowing him to use each arm independently and equally.

Right now, he wants to use one exceptionally slow. And the other, well, maybe less slow.

Bucky carefully scrapes the first path down Steve’s cheek with his knife, cleanly removing a line of gold bristles. He hums ‘Here Comes the Bride’ as he wipes the dirty blade on the towel.

His other hand grips Steve’s cock, pumping him with lazy strokes.

Steve groans quietly.

Another deliberate, scratchy slice down Steve’s jawline. Metal fingers move faster, his wrist giving a little twist at the upturn of every stroke.

Steve groans louder.

He balances the knife on Steve’s upper lip, noticing the sweat beading Steve’s forehead. He leans forward and licks it away. Drags his knife down. Jerks Steve’s dick faster.

Steve starts swearing.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Bucky murmurs. Steve says nothing, just gives him a soft grunt.

That won’t do.

Bucky stops moving and nicks Steve’s skin with the blade when he doesn’t respond. “Answer me.”

“Gah! Yes, yes it feels good. Really fucking good.” Steve rasps, closing his eyes. 

“Okay then.” Bucky’s mollified. He repositions his knife on the other side of Steve’s face.

Steve catches his bottom lip between his teeth, harsh pants in his throat when Bucky’s hand starts stroking him again, while the blade moves leisurely over his cheek, over his throat. He feels warm breath on his face and opens his eyes to find Bucky nose to nose with him, a sly smile on his face.

“You gonna come for me?” Bucky growls low, lips brushing lightly against Steve’s. He twists his wrist again, rubs his thumb over the tip of Steve’s cock one more time, and it’s that signature move that drops Steve over the edge. He comes hard, hands still linked behind the chair, hips bucking while he fucks himself frantically up into Bucky’s hand.

“Fuck, fuck, shit, that’s – fuck.” Steve chokes.

“Tell me about it.” Bucky says smugly.

Bucky keeps up the gentle, leisurely strokes while Steve catches his breath. His blade makes a few final swipes across Steve’s face, cleaning up the remaining shaving cream.

He tosses the knife carelessly over his shoulder, where it clatters in the sink. He sits back in Steve’s lap, assesses his work. Gives himself a verbal pat on the back.

“Damn I’m good. At shaving and hand jobs. I could make a career out of it.”

Steve gives him his annoyed Captain face. Bucky likes that look. It’s hot.

“Can you shut up and get me a towel, I have cum in my fucking hair.”

“Just leave it there.”

“What?”

“You’re supposed to wear white Steve, it’s our wedding.”

“Oh my god.”

*****

20 MINUTES BEFORE THE BIG MOMENT

Bucky barrels into the room, just as Steve’s fixing the knot on his tie.

He skids to a stop, and they turn inspect each other, a matching pair of shit-eating grins lighting up both faces. 

Bucky’s dressed head to toe in black, a dark blue dress shirt his only concession to colour. Steve’s a mirror opposite, dressed in navy blue, a black shirt completing the look.

“You realise we’re not supposed to see each other before the ceremony.” Steve reminds. “It’s bad luck.”

Bucky snorts. “We’ve fulfilled a lifetime quota of bad luck, Fate can kiss my fucking ass at this point. Besides, I got something for you.”

He produces a small parchment bag, and cracks it open, pulling out two bright yellow roses.

For the first time all day, Bucky’s voice softens, all hints of snark and sarcasm vanishing.

“Not sure if you’ll remember this, fucking surprised I remember, but, uh, yellow roses are kind of our thing.”

The bashful nervousness on Bucky’s face promptly melts Steve’s heart.

“Buck. Yeah, ‘course I remember.”

They’re quiet for a moment, contemplating the decades of misery and horror and death they’ve waded through, to get here today.

Worth it, Bucky thinks fiercely. Completely worth it.

He quickly pins a flower on his jacket, and moves closer to Steve with the other.

“Anyway, so I’m telling the florist all about us, and she mentioned something.” He pushes the straight pin through the thick fabric, hooking the rose onto Steve’s lapel. “She told me yellow roses have a meaning. You know what it is?”

Steve shakes his head. Partly because he likes to hear Bucky tell a story. Mostly because there’s a lump in his throat and he can’t speak.

“Yellow roses, they mean new beginnings. Chance to forget the past, get a fresh start.”

He gives the flower a final adjustment, stands back to admire. Lifts an eyebrow at Steve.

Steve nods slowly. Curls his hand behind Bucky’s neck and pulls him close. “Sounds good to me.”

*****

THE BIG MOMENT 

The enormous canopy resembles a clean white circus tent, sitting at the edge of the compound’s property. Like the master tactician he is, Bucky had paced out the measurements eleven different times, picturing every minute detail of every possible scenario, before he settled on this configuration. 

About fucking time all those years of intricate ops planning came in useful.

Guests are filing in, the chatter of familiar voices rising and falling. They kept the invitee list small. Bucky might have invited the entire population of New York City if Steve had let him (he wants everyone to witness the best god damn day of his life), but Steve was hoping for something more intimate.

“Okay. After all Steve,” Bucky told him graciously. “It’s your day too.”

They also agreed on a small wedding party. Three friendly faces standing up with them. Sam and Nat were a given. The third was somewhat of a surprise.

--- 

Tony strolls into the kitchen while Bucky’s making another list and Steve’s making another coffee. 

“Boys. Who’s officiating your wedding?”

“Well – “

“No problem, glad you asked, I’m happy to do it. In fact, here’s my new officiant’s license. I was ordained through Google at 10:43 this morning.”

Steve glances to Bucky, who looks up from his list. He scrutinises Tony for a minute and shrugs.

“Works for me. Long as you don’t fuck up my special day, I don’t give a shit.”

Tony claps his hands together. “Excellent, there’s the tearful appreciation I was hoping for.”

---

Steve stands at the front of the aisle, hands jammed in his pockets. Sam and Tony are flanking him, trading amused glances as Steve fidgets nervously.

Just like Bucky requested, there’s a four-piece string quartet set-up behind them, the violin and cello a soothing sound on his nerves. Until Steve’s realises they’re playing a medley of Britney Spears and Led Zeppelin.

Which, okay, it makes sense. Bucky’s two favourite artists.

Literally, Bucky Barnes is so fucking weird.

Literally, Steve Rogers is so fucking in love with him.

There’s a change in tune and the crowd turns to stand.

At the far end of the aisle, Bucky steps up with Natasha at his side.

After an internal debate with himself, Bucky asked her to escort him down the aisle. Said he was afraid if she went first, no one would pay attention to him, and since it was his big day, that would really piss him off. In reality, he had a minor panic attack at the thought of walking by himself. Not that Nat needs to know.

Although, she probably definitely knows. After all, it’s Natasha.

Bucky meets Steve’s eyes, and for a moment he forgets to breathe.

People say a lot of shit about weddings. About how you’re going to feel when you see your person at the other end of the aisle, about how it feels like there’s no one else in the world except the two of you. How everything around you goes quiet.

Steve always scoffed. “Dumb.”

Bucky scoffed louder. “Lame.”

Both realise in this instant, how utterly wrong they were. It’s actually true. Time stops. The world fades away. You really do only see each other.

Natasha urges Bucky forward, and Steve’s ears prick at the song the violins are now playing. Bucky decided to go with ‘Sexy Back’ as his entrance song.

Of course he did.

It’s a lifetime until they reach the front of the aisle, but they finally arrive.

Natasha releases Bucky’s arm, flashing a fond smile as she considers them. Satisfied with what she finds, she gives them both a gentle slap on the ass, and takes her place behind Bucky.

Steve gives Tony a nod to begin, then turns every ounce of his attention to the man in front of him.

“Dearly beloved, and some who are less than beloved but you were invited anyway, we’re gathered here today to celebrate the union of two very old souls. And yes ladies and gentleman, there will be several old man jokes through the night, because hey, you’ve all met me. So, Steve Rogers and James Barnes. Two guys who have – who have literally walked through hell on earth, just to find each other. If you’ll forgive my sickeningly sappy sentiment for a moment please, let me just say – love is rare. When you find it, if you find it, hold on tight. If you’re lucky, you might end up with something even half as great as what Cap and Barnes have.”

Tony Stark, a fool for love. He’ll never live this down.

“Anyway. Let’s cut to the chase. They want to say some things to each other. Barnes, you’re up.”

For all his bravado, Bucky suddenly feels like his mouth is full of sand. But then Steve gives him a wink, and the anxiety disappears.

Bucky clears his throat.

“Stevie. I’ve spent too many years lost in my own head. Stuck behind the glass, terrified and screaming, with – with no one to hear me. I thought I’d be trapped in there forever, but then you showed up, kicking down every door to get me out. Nothing’s ever come easy for us, Fate’s kicked us both in the balls over and over, but here’s the thing. If I had to go through everything again, for even the slightest chance I could end up here today with you, I’d walk straight into the fire with a smile on my face. Don’t have to be scared anymore, I know you’ll always bring me back. ‘Cause you – you’re the only god damn thing I’ve ever been sure of.

Bucky’s practised in front of his mirror every night for months. On one hand, he’s annoyed with himself for choking up at the end. On the other, he’s pretty proud of the way Steve’s face has gone all scrunchy. He chalks it up as a win.

Steve clears his throat.

“Buck, I’ve spent damn near all my life chasing you. Trying to keep up when we were kids, following you into the war. Running across the globe to get you back once I found you again. My whole life, it’s been pivoting around this one single thing, this – this anchor. And that’s you. I’ve loved you since we were kids, and I’ve been in love with you, hopelessly, madly, and completely, since before I even knew what it meant. I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth Bucky, into hell and back, if it means I get to wake up beside you every morning, and fall asleep with you every night. I’ll love you a million different ways, as long as you’ll let me. Now until forever.

Steve knows there’s an endless supply of sarcasm, lewd innuendos, and dirty jokes Bucky has stored up over the years, ready to fire at him in a moment’s notice. But with these words, he’s finally turned Buck speechless. And it’s pretty fucking awesome.

“Rings and vows?” And yes, Tony might kick his own ass later, when he thinks back to the pathetically high-pitched register of his voice in this moment.

Steve reaches behind, feels Sam slip the ring into his hand. He picks up Bucky’s right hand, takes a deep breath.

“I, Steven Grant Rogers, take you, James Buchanan Barnes, to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to love, through good times and bad times, and everything in-between. I promise to stay at your side, to stand with you and for you, from now until death should part us.”

Bucky blinks rapidly as he looks back at Steve, trying to keep the tears away. He reaches blindly behind him, feels Natasha drop Steve’s ring in his hand.

He grips Steve’s right hand, gazing at his fingers for a moment. Before the wedding, they had agreed since Bucky would use his right hand for the ring, Steve would do the same. To everyone else, it’s a small thing.

To Bucky, the gesture is priceless. He looks up into Steve’s sky blue eyes.

“I, James Buchanan Barnes, take you, Steven Grant Rogers, to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to love, through good times and bad times, and everything in-between. I promise to stay at your side, to stand with you and for you, from now until death should part us.”

Bucky slides the ring on. He turns Steve’s hand over and presses a kiss into his palm.

Christ, there’s not a dry eye in the fucking house, Tony thinks contemptuously. As he furtively dries his eyes. He nearly shouts the final words in a rush, praying to get them out before his voice cracks.

“By the power vested in me by the state of New York and the official paperwork I got off the internet saying I’m legal to perform this ceremony, I now pronounce you married.” Here Tony pauses for a breath, glances between them. “Okay boys, you’re good. Go on and make out.”

They stare at each other, savouring the moment. Steve and Bucky. Bucky and Steve. It’s one hell of a love story.

Like magnets, they come together, and because Steve knows Bucky’s a sucker for overly dramatic displays of affection, he goes in for the kill, spinning him sideways and dipping him back.

Clapping and wolf-whistles surround them. Friends laughing as the kiss goes on and on.

They finally break apart, foreheads still touching to catch those last words, the ones spoken for each other’s ears alone.

“We still doing that whole end of the line thing?”

“Nah, not long enough. Till the end of time, Buck.”

 *****

(For anyone wondering, much to his chagrin, Steve did in fact dance to the YMCA at his wedding. Phil Coulson has 43 high-res photos to prove it.)

*****

TAGS: @buckyappreciationsociety @stentorian-lore-n @4theluvofall @eve1978 @ihavemymomentsstill @psingh97 @badassbaker @justreadingfics @palaiasaurus64 @mrshopkirk @lovelynemesis @whiskeyandwashitape @interestedbystanderwrites @psychicwitchphilosopher @hellomissmabel @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19

#bucky x steve #bucky x steve fic #stucky fic #stucky #bucky barnes x steve rogers #stucky imagine #bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes x steve rogers fic #bucky barnes fic #steve rogers fic #annies2kbirthdaycelebration

[hookedonapirate]

Tangled Up In blue

Chapter 16

Summary:

Fear for her unborn child, a bruised and broken Emma Swan is determined to escape an abusive marriage. After she drives a long way from home to a small town in Maine, she doesn't think her life could get more complicated... that is until she ends up falling for her OBGYN, a blue-eyed British man who's shielded his heart from love long ago. But he may be just what she needs to begin her healing process and start a new life for her child. If only nothing gets in the way.

Rated M for a violence, language and eventual smut.

*BEWARE OF TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!*

I know I've already put out many warnings so far and you're probably sick of them, but this chapter definitely deserves one! There is a flashback in the beginning that includes sexual assault and attempted rape (surprisingly not by Neal), graphic depictions of domestic violence to a pregnant woman in early pregnancy and crude language.

I've never written anything like this and I wasn't planning on going into too much detail but I wanted to capture a glimpse of Emma's life with Neal more thoroughly. And after my beta reader and good friend, Rouhn, read it over, I was told it is was pretty rough and intense. So, if you're not interested in reading that you can skip to the chapter break which takes you back to the present. You really won't be missing out on anything important if you skip it, but it may make you more pissed at Neal (and probably at me) and give you a better understanding of how she was treated in Tallahassee and also of her appreciation for the people of Storybrooke.

And apparently I'm bashing Snowing in this chapter, I got 2 reviews that told me so. The chapter features abuse and attempted rape and if me “taking jabs at Snowing” is what people take away from this chapter then so be it. Excuse me for addressing��real life issues and portraying David as his usual protective self. I'm not changing the story or the tags.

Thanks for all of those who read, follow along and support my story!

AO3 FF.N

Chapters: 15 16 17

~~~

About Five Months Ago (nine weeks pregnant)...

Emma looked in the mirror, carefully studying her features as she touched her cheek and shifted her face, eyeing the image in front of her. She dropped her hand, letting it fall to her belly through her red uniform. She was wearing a short dress with a white frilly skirt underneath that rested on her thighs and white stockings with red heels. She feigned a smile, making sure that she was able to mask her pain and the soreness of the bruise on her cheek that was covered in a heavy amount of makeup. Neal had lost more control than usual. He knew that something was going on.

He knew that Emma had changed physically and emotionally. He knew that she was keeping something from him and struck her in the face. Emma had pleaded with him, assuring him that she just wasn't feeling well, which thankfully he accepted... for now at least. He told her to cover up her bruise before she went to work and left the bedroom. He let the issue rest for the moment but she knew she wouldn't be so lucky when she came home from work. Eventually Emma would have to tell him the truth. Especially since she would have to schedule a doctor's appointment soon. There was no way she would be able to keep that from him.

She walked away from the sink and reached for the door handle of the ladies room. She paused briefly, exhaling a long breath before leaving the restroom and going back to work.

A few of Neal's friends were sitting at the bar, looking in her direction as she went to grab her tray and retrieve a few beers before heading to her next table.

As she gave one of her tables their drinks, another crowd of loud and boisterous men entered the bar. New faces. They looked to be around her age, one of them was really attractive. Blue eyes, brown hair, tall and strong-looking. As they sat at one of the tables, she approached them with a friendly smile. The guy eyed her immediately, scanning her from top to bottom and licking his lips like he wanted to devour her as he sat closest to her on the left. Her heart raced as she greeted them, trying to ignore the attention he was giving her.

“Evening, gentlemen, what can I get you?” She asked them. The others gave her their drink orders as she wrote them down, and finally she looked in his direction, catching him openly staring at her breasts. “And for you? What would you like?” She asked him as politely as she could muster.

The other men were chatting amongst themselves as he lifted his eyes. His elbows rested on the table as he raised a hand from the surface, waving her closer. She swallowed thickly as she stepped up to him and leaned in, allowing him to whisper in her ear. She was used to men hitting on her. It was her job to tolerate it. Her boss would fire her otherwise. She brought in lots of business and received a hefty amount of tips by flirting and being overly friendly with the customers. And Neal had no objections, in fact he forced her to keep the job. They needed the money. And he liked knowing that he had a wife who all the men wanted but could never have. In fact, Emma was pretty sure he got off on it. Although if she ever reciprocated the feelings, she would surely be punished.

“I'll take a Long, Slow Comfortable Screw Up Against A Wall,” the man spoke in a low, husky voice, his breath hot in her ear. Emma trembled, her hand shaking uneasily as she wrote down his order, although the way he looked at her with hungry eyes, she was certain he wasn't referring to the cocktail drink.

“Coming right up.” She smiled tentatively as she tucked her notepad in the pocket of the white apron wrapped around her waist.

He winked at her. “Mmmm, I can't wait, sweet thing.” As he spoke, his hand reached over to graze her thigh just below her skirt. “Fuck… nevermind the wall, I'll take you right here bent over the table.” He moved his hand up her skirt and firmly squeezed her butt. She retaliated by pulling away and slapping him in the face, storming off before he could grab her wrist.

She hurried to the hallway that led to the kitchen, out of view from the customers and she leaned her back against the wall as tears swelled up her eyes. She wanted so badly to leave this town and never come back. Away from Neal, away from this bar, away from everything in this dreadful town.

She managed to refrain from crying and straightened her posture, blinking away her tears as she maintained composure.

Before she could walk away, a pair of strong hands grabbed her arms and pressed her into the wall, making her gasp.

“How about we pretend you didn't just slap me and I won't tell the manager about your rude behavior?” The same guy from before asked as he stepped into her space, his lips inches from hers. Her stomach turned. He smelled like cigarettes and alcohol and she turned her face away from him.

He grabbed and yanked on her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You didn't answer my question,” he spat before moving his hand to one side of her face to hold her in place as he started kissing along her jaw. Her whole body tensed up. She screwed her eyes shut, trying to think of how to proceed. She didn't want to lose her job but she certainly didn't want to be touched and god knew what else this guy had in mind for her.

She opened her eyes as he continued kissing her. “What do you want me to do?” she asked quietly, her voice shaky. The man smiled against her skin and pressed her more firmly against the wall.

“I want you to let me fuck you against this wall. No screaming, no resisting, got it?”

The air escaped her lungs and she managed to nod as a tear slipped down her cheek. Certainly someone would walk by soon and save her. She was sure of it.

“That's a good girl.” He growled, kissing and sucking on her neck as his hand crept up her skirt, his thumb running over her covered folds. He lifted his head and whispered obscenities in her ear as he pressed his erection against her stomach. “Fuck, I can't wait to have you. So goddamn sexy,” he breathed as he thrust his hips into her. She gasped, her heart pounding nervously in her chest.

He started kissing the swell of her breasts as he fondled her clit. She felt utterly nauseous as she looked up towards the ceiling, praying that someone would catch them. She didn't need this, she put up with this enough as it was in her own home. But she didn't want to lose her job.

The man let go of her and started unzipping his pants, certain that she wasn't going to fight him.

However, she took full advantage and lifted her knee, attempting to nail him in the crotch, but he was quick to grab her leg and stop her. “You stupid, bitch. I told you to not to fight me!” He wrapped her leg around his waist and slammed into her against the wall, making her cry out.

“Let me go!” She shouted but the loud music and chatter of the bar drowned out her pleas. She shoved her hands against him but he was too strong. He gathered her wrists against the wall with one hand as his other one finished undoing his pants, his body firmly pressed into Emma's to hold her still. He ripped her skirt trying to get to her panties and she struggled against him but he only became more forceful.

Emma closed her eyes, sobbing with tears as the man was suddenly peeled off of her. Exhaling in relief from the heavy weight being lifted from her, she opened her eyes and saw Neal pushing him against the opposite wall. “Get your hands off my wife, you motherfucker!” Neal punched him in the face as Emma wiped her tears and the runny mascara from her cheeks and straightened her dress, feeling deflated. Her stockings had been ripped and tattered and her body was stiff as she watched the guy sliding to the floor, putting up his hands in surrender.

“I didn't know she was married. I'm sorry.” There was fear in the man's blue eyes as he looked up at Neal. He sharply grabbed Emma's hand and showed him the ring on her finger.

“See this ring? She's mine! Get your own!” Neal growled possessively and kicked him hard in the side a few times, making him wince and groan in pain before Neal started storming off, his grip on her hand tightening.

“Ow, you're hurting me,” she cried as Neal tugged her down the hall. “Grab your shit!” he demanded and finally released his grip. “We're leaving. I'll let your boss know.”

She complied and grabbed her purse before meeting Neal at the exit door. He grabbed her arm, his fingers painfully imprinted in her skin as he walked her out and led her to his car in the parking lot. She held back tears but didn't fight against him.

He opened the passenger door, his eyes black and full of anger. “Get in!”

“But what about my car? I have to be back here tomorrow.”

“I'll bring you back,” he said impatiently, “if I decide to let you keep your job. Now get in the fucking car!” he yelled, his voice echoing through the night air.

She immediately got in the vehicle and he slammed the door shut before taking long strides to the other side, claiming his seat on the driver's side. He turned on the car and pressed his foot madly on the gas pedal, the tires screeching against the pavement as he pulled out of the parking lot.

They were silent the whole ride home. Uncomfortably silent. An unsettling feeling crept inside of her gut. She didn't know what she was in for, but she was certain it wasn't going to be good.

Neal entered the driveway and hastily got out of the car, approaching Emma's side as she undid her seatbelt. He ripped the door open and grabbed her arm harshly, yanking her from her seat. She yelped, her eyes stinging with tears and her stomach full of knots as he pulled her inside the house.

After he shut the door, he slammed her aggressively into the wall, holding her in place. She cried out in pain as tears escaped her eyes. “Please, don't. I tried to stop him,” she pleaded, her voice strangled through her tears.

He sighed angrily. “You like the attention, you ungrateful whore!” He slapped her across the face, causing her head to whip to the side. She cried out, holding her cheek, her face and eyes stinging red as she looked at him in fear. “I saw the whole thing! Here I came to the bar to apologize for how I acted before and there you were flirting with some asshole, letting him put his hands all over you.” He stepped away and swung his arm, knocking a lamp over from the end table, letting it crash to the ground, the base of it shattering on the hardwood floor.

“Then you should have seen… I tried to stop him.”

“Bullshit!” He grabbed her shoulders and aggressively shoved her into the end table, causing her to fall to the floor along with the table, her hands pressed into a few ceramic pieces of the lamp as she laid helplessly on her side.

She started sobbing uncontrollably as she looked up at him. There was rage in his eyes. “It's true! You're the only one allowed to touch me!” she wailed out. “I swear, I tried to push him away but he wouldn't leave me alone.”

He knelt down in front of her, his voice much more quiet as he grabbed her hair, yanking her head back. She cried out in pain. “I want to believe you, Emma… but you've been keeping something from me for weeks now. If only you were as good at lying as you are at telling when others are lying.” He let go of her and slowly stood up, looking down at her in disgust. “If you lose your job because of your whorish ways you'll be be lucky if you see the daylight ever again.”

Emma's heart was pounding in her chest as he towered over her. He stood in front of her stomach and he lifted his foot back, ready to kick her belly when she held out her hand in defense.

“Wait! I'm pregnant!” she blurted out in a desperate haze of panic, making him pause. “You'll hurt our baby! Please!”

He immediately surrendered his foot, shock washing over his features.

“I was going to surprise you. I wanted to make you a special dinner and tell you over candlelight. That's why I kept it from you,” she cried softly. “I love you. And I want to have this baby. I want to have a family with you. Don't you want that too?”

He knelt back down, his eyes growing softer as he cupped her tear-stained cheek, brushing his thumb over her skin. “We’re having a baby?”

She nodded, forcing her lips to pull into a smile. “We are. I haven't been to the doctor yet, but I took a few pregnancy tests. I'm sorry I kept it from you. I just wanted it to be a surprise.”

He leaned into her and she gulped dryly ready for him to attack again. To her surprise his lips curled into a smile as he kissed her forehead before offering his hand and helping her sit up. He threw his arms around her and buried his face in the crook of her neck. She winced in pain, her body sore from being pushed around. “Are you happy?” she choked out as she returned the hug, sighing in relief.

He pulled away slightly, still grinning from ear to ear. “Are you kidding? You and I are having a baby.” He helped her stand up and he stayed on his knees in front of her, kissing her belly through her waitress uniform, wrapping his arms around her waist apologetically. “I'm so sorry, Emma,” Neal murmured against her and started crying into her belly for hitting and pushing her. “I was upset because I don't wanna lose you. I just love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered, to appease him, cringing at the words.

“I'll take you to the doctor when your bruises are healed, Em. I can't wait.”

“Me neither.” She cupped the back of his head, tears streaming down her cheeks again. She never wanted to tell him she was pregnant. Now what was she going to do? She needed to escape more than ever, but how? She needed to think of something soon. But maybe for now, he would back off. Maybe he would show a little bit of mercy while she secretly thought of how to execute her plan of escape.

After a while, Neal stood up, hugging and kissing her tenderly and she didn't even attempt to fight him. She was too exhausted and sore and she didn't want to upset him again. She cupped his cheeks and kissed him deeply through her tears. He grabbed her waist and picked her up, carrying her to their bedroom, actually showing her kindness and compassion as she pretended to enjoy being intimate with him.

As they undressed each other and fell into bed in each other's arms, she was disgusted with herself that she allowed him to control her that much. As she wrapped her legs around him and allowed him to kiss her and caress her and let him take her, she hated every moment of it, but at least her baby was not in any immediate danger. And that's what would get her through - knowing that she would do what it would take to keep her child safe.

~~~

Present Day (thirty weeks pregnant)...

Emma helped Killian inside, her heart aching for him. His face was bruised, his bottom lip swollen and cut, and he was holding his side in pain as they walked through the loft.

“Whats going on?” Mary Margaret asked as she and David stood from the sofa, a mixture of concern and confusion in their features.

Emma walked Killian into the kitchen and pulled out a chair from the table and sat him down as her roommates followed behind her.

“Sorry to interrupt, but there's something you should know,” Killian told them as Emma went to the bathroom to retrieve some alcohol and bandages. She also grabbed a washcloth and dampened it with warm water under the faucet. “You might want to sit down for this.”

David and Margaret exchanged looks as Emma emerged from the bathroom.

“What is it?” David asked as he sat at the table beside his wife. Killian sighed as Emma set the supplies on the table and leaned in to clean his lip with the washcloth, making him wince. She gently grabbed his chin to hold him still while she worked. “Thanks, Emma,” he said graciously as she set the washcloth down and poured some alcohol on a cotton pad.

“Don't thank me yet,” she smiled teasingly. He hissed as she applied it to his wound.

“I got into a bar fight this evening,” he went on. “But before I tell you with who, there's something you should know first.” Emma finished tending to the wound and got up to get him an ice pack for the swelling. She sat back down and applied it to his lip. He smiled appreciatively and took over holding it before she and Killian turned to face David and Mary Margaret from across the table. “And hopefully you'll be gentle with a man who's already taken a beating,” he said playfully, but they weren't really amused. “Although, you should see the other guy.”

Emma lifted Killian's shirt up and inspected his ribs, running her fingers gently over the tender spot as he hissed in pain. “Maybe I should take you to the hospital.”

“No need, love. It's just a cracked rib. It will heal on it’s own,” he assured her. “But, do you have any painkillers?”

“Of course. I'll get them,” Mary Margaret said as she got up to retrieve them from the bathroom cabinet. She came back a moment later and filled a glass with water before handing Killian a few pills along with the water. He swallowed them down before setting the glass on the table.

“Now, what were you going to tell us?” David asked as Mary Margaret took back her seat.

Emma drew in a breath before she began. “Well, recently I switched doctors.”

David and Mary Margaret looked at her even more confused. “How come?” the brunette asked.

Emma swallowed thickly as she glanced at Killian, then back to her roommates. “Killian and I are dating.”

They were both silent, their faces white with shock.

Killian took Emma's hand, her heart beating wildly in her chest. “I know how this may seem, but I genuinely care about Emma. She's…” Killian turned his head and flashed her a smile as he entwined his fingers with hers. “She's made me feel things that I haven't felt since I lost my wife.”

“So… this is the guy you've been seeing? The one who bought you the car?” Mary Margaret asked her.

Emma nodded. “Yeah.” She glanced over at David and he looked a bit angry.

“So, you're dating one of your patients?” He asked, not believing what he had heard.

“Aye. Former patient.”

David sighed and stood up sharply, resting his hands on his hips. “And here my wife was going to seek your help so we could get pregnant-”

“David,” his wife pleaded. “Please, sit back down.”

“I don't understand how you could let this happen,” he said angrily, ignoring her, “going after one of your patients.”

“I'm the one who started it,” Emma explained. “He helped me and showed compassion and I… I like him very much.”

“But he didn't stop it,” David said, his voice cracked and harsh as he glared at Killian. “You're a professional who has your own practice. You should have stopped it,” he told him. “Mary Margaret, we’re getting a different doctor.” David started to walk out of the kitchen.

“Neal's here in town,” Killian blurted out before David could leave, causing him to stop in his tracks.

Emma's heart stopped in her chest and she felt like all of the blood was drained from her body as David turned around, his features etched with worry. Suddenly she couldn't breathe. She sensed that he was here, but she was still not prepared for this.

“Emma, I'm so sorry to have to tell you,” Killian said softly. “Liam and I saw him at the bar. He made some crude comments and I knew it was him right away.” Killian squeezed her hand gently, flashing her a weak smile. “He knows about us. And Liam sold him the car before he knew who he was. Apparently Neal's been in town for a while, hiding out.”

“Emma, it's okay. You'll get the restraining order tomorrow and everything will be fine,” Mary Margaret said encouragingly.

“Yeah, but it's just a slip of paper,” Emma breathed, realization settling in. “It's not going to stop him from coming after me.”

“Which is why I would like you to stay with me for a while,” Killian said softly, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “If you want to. I have a good alarm system and Neal won't be able to break in.”

Emma looked to her roommates, trying to gauge their reaction to Killian's offer.

“But what about when she's not home? What are you going to do, keep her imprisoned?” David asked bitterly.

“David!” Mary Margaret scowled at her husband.

“No, of course not. But he will be less likely to attack when she's at work surrounded by a town full of people who care for her.”

“I'll do it,” Emma finally replied, drawing their attention. “I'll stay with Killian. My baby and I will be safe there,” she assured her roommates as she put her hand on her belly, “I'll do what I have to do to keep him safe. And I don't want to put the two of you in danger.”

“And I'd gladly risk my life for her,” Killian said adamantly.

“What and we wouldn't?” David asked, offended. “We care about her too.”

“I know, mate,” Killian said, starting to get irritated. “But there's one other thing you should know.” He paused, sighing heavily. “He has a gun.”

Emma started to panic, her eyes blowing wide. “No… I can't stay here. I can't stay in Storybrooke at all.”

The three of them looked at her, confused.

“I can't put any of you in danger. It's all my fault that he's here and I won't let him harm any of you trying to get to me.”

“Emma…” Killian pleaded in a shattered voice. She released his hand and stood up from her chair. “I should just surrender myself to him.”

“Are you insane?” David asked, appalled. “No way we’re letting you do that. You're staying with Killian.”

Killian shot him a bewildered look before he stood up and held his ribs as he walked over and took her hands. “Please, love. When will you realize how much we care about you?”

“I know that, and I care about all of you too. That's why I don't want you to get involved.”

“We already are, Emma,” Mary Margaret assured her. “Like it or not, we’re in this no matter what.”

She released Killian's hands as Mary Margaret approached and gave her a hug. Emma smiled weakly, sighing into her embrace. She didn't like this, but what other choice did she have? To keep running on her own with no way to protect her son? No support, no shelter, nothing except her car and the road. “Thank you,” Emma breathed in surrender.

“Of course, what are friends for?”

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Killian.”

“It's okay. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about setting up an appointment to get checked out.”

“Don't worry about it,” she laughed weakly as she pulled away and David took his turn, hugging her as well.

“You're family to us now and we fight for our family.” As David pulled away, they heard someone clearing his throat from behind Emma.

“What and you let me miss out on this special family moment?”

Emma turned around and they all looked at James who flashed them a questionable look.

“James,” Emma cooed, happy to see him as she came up and hugged him. “It's not really what you think.”

He looked at her confused as he pulled away, seeing the worry in her eyes. “What's going on?”

“Neal's here in town,” Emma replied.

“What?” James asked in both shock and rage. His hands balled in to fists. “Where? I'll take take care of the bastard.”

“Good luck with that. As you can see I already tried,” Killian told him as he came to Emma's side and put his arm around her shoulder. She grabbed his hand and carefully wrapped her other arm around his waist.

“And you've been in how many fights? One or two? I've been in dozens. I can take him.”

“Alright, just calm down,” David told his brother, putting his hands up. “No need to get hasty. Why don't we all just rest, especially you, Emma.”

Emma shot him an offended look. “Why because I'm pregnant?”

“Yes,” the four of them answered at once.

“We don't need you stressing out, love.”

“Don't you think it's a little too late for that?” she asked him.

Killian gave her a small smile and kissed her cheek. “No, I don't.”

“Killian, why don't you just stay for the night and we can help Emma move her stuff to your place tomorrow,” Mary Margaret suggested.

“Are you sure you don't mind?” Killian asked.

“Of course not. Right David?” Mary Margaret asked her husband with a stern look that told him he really did not want to fight her on this.

He sighed, officially relinquishing his stance on the former issue of Killian dating his former patient. “Of course not.”

“Emma's moving?” James asked, lifting a confused brow. “Did I miss something?”

“It's just temporary, to keep Emma safe,” David replied.

“Well, if he's staying with Emma tonight, I'm sleeping on the couch,” James announced as David and Mary Margaret started to head for the stairs.

David grumbled and put his hands up in defeat. “Fine. I'm too tired to argue.”

James smirked in success. After they disappeared upstairs, Emma headed with Killian to her own bedroom. “Goodnight James.”

“Night, Emma. Goodnight Killian.”

They went into her room and she shut the door before she helped him into bed. She helped him take off his shirt and jeans and they laid in her bed as she was careful not to bother his injury.

They talked for a bit. Killian told her about his conversation and argument with Liam. He told her how he struck his brother for making some comments that were uncalled for, although he wouldn't tell her specifically what they were.

She didn't like that they fought over her. She didn't like that Neal hurt him. It made her feel guilty that she interrupted this small, quiet town by calling it her home. She didn't like it one bit, but she did love the fact that she felt loved and cared for. She loved feeling like she had an actual family who would always be there for her.

“It will be alright, Emma,” he affirmed confidently, his voice calm and soothing as he kissed her temple. She wanted to believe him, she really did. But how could he possibly know? He sounded like the Nolans, always putting their faith in things they couldn't possibly know the outcome of. Emma sighed in surrender and nodded. “I'll be staying home with you at my place. I've decided to take a few days off of work.”

“Good, you need to rest and heal.”

“And you need to not worry. Promise me, love?”

Emma nodded and smiled weakly. “I promise.”

He smiled back and lifted her hand, pressing his lips softly to her knuckles before lowering her palm to his chest. Her heart fluttered and she snuggled closer to him, resting her head next to her hand, listening to his heartbeat and slow breathing. It calmed her for a bit, although she was nowhere close to feeling restful.

Emma looked up at Killian after a while and smiled when she saw that the painkillers had knocked him out. She kissed his forehead and reached for the lamp on her nightstand, turning off the light. She sank her head on the pillow and tried to sleep, but she was wide awake. She couldn't even close her eyes knowing Neal was somewhere in Storybrooke.

~~~

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#cs ff #cs ff au #cs #captain swan fanfiction #abuse and attempted rape