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#but no one in their right mind should marry someone after only FOUR MONTHS OF DATING I--
lunarw0rks · 1 month
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────141 headcanons: touching the belly────
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a/n: y'all know i'm a sucker for the the pregs trope so i had to do this request. and i only did the four dinguses for this one, sorry anon ☺️
warning(s): pregnancy, fluff+angst, invasion of reader's personal space/privacy, protectiveness, hurt/comfort?, afab!reader
‧˚₊ MAIN MASTERLIST ⟢ 141 MASTERLIST ‧₊˚⊹
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๋࣭ ⭑ PRICE
⌞one of the perks of being married to john is being supported. quite literally the definition of it, in every form. that goes for your baby too, no questions asked. he's more akin to simon in being traditional while you're expecting. wants you home, resting and not lifting a finger.
he's very particular about who he lets close to you, more than ever now. it makes sense considering his work and the general fragility of a new family. in the same way as kyle, he's constantly stressed. wants everything to be perfect for you and soon to be little one.
always has his eye on you, just like he does all his men. there's nothing he doesn't see or already knows about. honestly, may even spot a bad apple before you do. won't even bother with politeness and will shoo them away before their hand(s) even make contact with your tummy.⌝
๋࣭ ⭑ SIMON
⌞ he was already protective enough before you got pregnant, but he's at a whole new level now. practically a full-time security guard by the time you reach your third trimester. ESPECIALLY when you two find yourselves out and about — which isn't often.
on the off chance that you're at some sort of gathering with simon, he's at your side no matter what. eyeing every person who approaches you, only chiming in when spoken to, out of mere courtesy. as soon as you give him any inkling of discomfort, he's asking you if he should go start the car.
one thing he hasn't gotten used to yet is the touching. how people often belaud pregnant women. cross boundaries constantly to get a feel of them and their bellies. it's already hard enough getting the man to relax, but it's hopeless now with all the new people he "needs" to keep an eye on. it's not a matter of him catching someone touching your belly; he'll already be standing there most likely. glares, huffs, will certainly go as far as removing their hand if it lingers long enough.⌝
๋࣭ ⭑ SOAP
⌞doesn't see any point in excluding you from functions if you think you can handle them. loves having you on his lap or right beside him when he's out, even in pregnancy. as long as you're comfortable and able to signal to him when you're too tired or need something — he's just happy you're there.
most of all, johnny is fiercely protective of the bump. more than he is of you (which is nearly unfathomable, i know). and if there's one thing he loves more than you — it's gushing about you to anyone who'll listen. so, initially, he might not notice someone making you tense while amid his blabbing.
but after so long with him, you've learned to accept the flattery for what it is and remember how easy it is for him to get distracted. a firm squeeze to his hand or a tug to his jacket will do the trick. but once realizes what's happening, he's on it (with his new Dad Speed). finds a way to distract the person and slip you the car keys. promises he'll be out in two minutes to drive you home — and he always is.⌝
๋࣭ ⭑ GAZ
⌞ even though he'd prefer you bundled up in bed and waiting for him, kyle still enjoys doing things with you. he definitely gives a wider berth than the other guys, but he's just as vigilant (if not more). he's more subtle about it, if anything.
it isn't just you to protect anymore, it's you and his baby. so, forgive the man for his pinched brows and clenched fists, he's reverted into nothing but a ball of anxiety the further the months progress.
doesn't mind people having a feel of you, usually, when they only mean well (it's typically older ladies anyhow). but sometimes it's a more unsavory interaction; someone who isn't taking any hints, who can't bear to leave the two of you alone. on one hand, gaz understands — an expectant, attractive couple out on a wholesome shopping trip is bound to lure attention. he takes a slower approach, less hostile to avoid upsetting you anyone. brushes it off with an excuse; "oh, love, you got that appointment today, right? don't wanna be late." and then makes his exit, a guiding hand around your waist.⌝
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froggyfics · 6 months
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The Deadliest Poisons Are The Sweetest - 5
Your wedding day arrives.
Note: (09/15/23) PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER. If you have read this series before this date, please note that I have combined chapters 1 and 2 together. This may seem confusing, but I have decided that as a creative approach, I would like the chapters to be longer. Therefore, the original chapter 4 is now chapter 3. Chapter 4 is new. This chapter and beyond are up to date.
Btw y'all it's gonna get saucy in the next chapter lmao
Feedback is always appreciated. Feel free to message me privately or comment below to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome!
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Word Count: 4,844
This is the closest you’ve been with him in weeks. The intimacy of the moment is warped however, with underlying feelings of inadequacy. 
This is your wedding day. Yet, you feel as though you are imposter. You can feel the red-hot glares of the jealous maidens in the crowd. After all, you are marrying the most eligible bachelor in the entire realm. If only they knew that you felt sick to your stomach, and you wished that they were in your place. 
You don’t even look him in the eyes. You stare at his mouth, as if you needed to do so in order to understand the vows.
“I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”
No, you won’t, you say to yourself. You led me to believe that we could be more, but you tricked me! 
He places a ring on your finger. Your hand suddenly feels like it’s weighed down by a ton of bricks. You nearly choke on your vows as they stumble out of you. When you arrived in Gotham a month ago, you were admittedly excited for this day. However, Damian’s icy demeanor as of late has left you bitter. How could it be possible to be so close with someone one day, and then completely cold the next. It befuddled you. Damianbefuddled you. 
Your vows were sealed with a chaste kiss. Cheers and whoops erupted from the crowd. Through the noise, you could distinctly hear your father’s booming claps and mother’s animated laughs. Of course they were happy! Their daughter was married off – to a prince no less. Your marriage ensured a lifetime of stability and wealth for them. Not bad for a baron and baroness. 
You wobble to the great hall for the wedding banquet with Damian’s hand clasped in your own. It wasn’t your choice to make physical contact – he was the one that initiated.
“Weddings are the end of their lives as they know it. The beginning of a prison sentence. The end of youth.”
This is an act. You must admit, if acting was a respectable career choice, Damian would be a top-notch performer. The vows meant nothing. The kiss was expected. The hand holding was necessary for the performance. 
You sat right next to your husband. Aristocrats, both strangers and now familiar faces, approach to wish glad tidings upon you and Damian. You accept their kind words as politely as you can. All the while, you twist your ring, round and round, underneath the table. 
You light up when Rachel approaches the table. A genuine smile finally crosses your face.
“Lady Rachel!” you call out excitedly. 
You jump when you feel Damian’s presence near your ear.
“How do you know of Lady Rachel?” he asks.
You gape at him while Rachel curtsies shyly. His question is not shocking – you chalk it up to mere curiosity. It’s the fact that he’s talking…to you! Willingly. And the conversation does not revolve around simple greetings or pleasantries. 
You can’t even answer him. Anger bubbles inside of you. He almost completely ignores you for four weeks and now suddenly acts like you should be receptive to his conversation. You have half a mind to ignore him in favor of speaking to Rachel. However, the ring sits heavy on your finger, and you suddenly remember your place. 
He is now your husband. He is the heir to the throne. If there is anyone you should hold your tongue towards, it’s him. 
“We met one week ago,” you reply. Rachel beams at you while you recount how you met her. 
“We’ve only become closer and closer, day by day.” You hold your hand towards her, and she takes it affectionately. 
“The princess is right,” Rachel adds. “It is almost like we have known each other our entire lives.”
Damian speaks only after he gulps his entire drink quickly. “Well, wife,” he emphasizes when he grabs your hand, “I am glad you have made a friend in Gotham.”
He smiles menacingly. You can tell by the way his lips unnaturally stretch over his teeth and the reddening of his face. 
Rachel glances at your conjoined hands and clears her throat. “Well, I just wanted to say that I wish for the two of you to be happy.” She raises her cup and you raise yours with your other hand in support.
“To the happy couple,” she concludes. The edge of the cup reaches her lips, but she does not drink. She instead curtsies once more and disappears among the crowd of people.
As soon as she leaves, Damian releases your hand, wiping his palm on his pants as if you were a leper. You clench your teeth so hard that they squeak in retaliation. You manage to take deep breaths to calm yourself – in and out, in and out, in and out. It’s truly an act for him. 
Everyone looks to be so happy. Not for you, of course not. They are happy for their own selfish reasons. Guests are fed the most delicious food and drink that the realm has to offer. Your parents rub elbows with highly ranked aristocrats. Your siblings dance merrily along the aisles. King R’as laughs heartedly a few seats away from Damian while speaking to his friends. Even Talia seems to be in a cheerful mood, scarfing down her food. 
Perhaps you can attempt to be happy, too. It is your wedding day after all. You inhale deeply to gather confidence.
“Husband.”
Damian doesn’t acknowledge you.
You clear your throat and repeat yourself once more.
He doesn’t even look up from his plate.
“Damain!” you half-shout.
His head shoots up immediately. “Yes, wife?”
You want to punch him in the throat. His polite tone seems genuine, but it sounds fake to your ears. 
“Are you…” You scan the great hall. “Are you enjoying the festivities?”
He nods his head slowly like he has trouble understanding your question. “Quite.” He returns to his plate.
You growl, but say no more. After all, there is no point making a concerted effort at conversation now when you apparently have the rest of your life to do so. You might as well take what little enjoyment you have now and ignore the glaring loneliness that dwells within you. 
The wedding took place at noon, but the reception continues well past sunset. You did not even know that there existed so much food in the entire city. Drinks flowed like a river all night long. Some people fell asleep in their seats, despite the rambunctious behaviors of others. Some people danced and danced until you thought their feet would fall off. 
You remain glued to your seat nearly the entire reception. There were a few moments where you stretched your feet, such as when the guests stacked cakes on top one another, so that you and Damian could kiss over them. You managed to peck each other’s lips without the cakes collapsing to the ground, which made the audience break out into cheers. After all, if the cakes fell, it symbolized bad luck for your marriage. 
As if you needed any more of that already. 
The reception seemed like it would never end. Your posture slowly deteriorated over the hours, until you were slumped in your chair. Muscle aches began to surface for sitting for so long. You wanted the night to be over. 
“Damian!” R’as called.
Damian pushes the table to make room to get up. He travels just a few feet farther to his grandfather who whispers something in his ear. Whatever was said made Damian stiffen and glance at you.
You suddenly develop that prickly feeling when you feel like someone is talking about you. Damian’s glance made you certain that you were the subject of their conversation. The realization made you shift in your seat. You decide to study the wooden table to distract yourself from your insecurity. 
A tap on your shoulder breaks your concentration. You find Damian looking down at you with a stoic expression. As usual, you can never determine what he’s thinking.
“Follow me,” he bluntly says. 
He doesn’t move an inch and you don’t realize until a few moments later that he expects you to get up first. You push yourself from the table and slowly stand up. You’ve been sitting for so long that your knees crack upon straightening. 
Damian maneuvers you so that you remain in front of him. He’s mere inches behind you and his hands fix themselves to your waist. He pushes you forward, directing you towards the door. 
The once lively room suddenly quiets down, until cheers are erupted once more.
You peer behind you to see that nearly everyone is looking directly at you. Men are jeering, throwing their hands in the air. Your father kisses your mother’s forehead while she blows a kiss towards you. Women are clapping obnoxiously. You face forward once again in mortification when you realize that they are cheering for your consummation. Everyone knows that you are walking out the hall a virgin – only to become a true wife by tomorrow. 
You look back again, scanning the crowd for Rachel. She has been one of the few sources of support you’ve had as of late. You just want to look at her, to search for comfort in her eyes. You find her violet eyes eventually, only for your humiliation to turn into sadness. Her eyes do not necessarily brim with tears, but they are certainly glossy. 
You give her a comforting smile as the door to the hall opens. 
Don’t be sad for me, you want to say to her, but the door of the hall closes before your message can be relayed through your eyes. 
Damian continues pushing you from behind through the castle. You are eventually brought to an all-too familiar, yet unfamiliar room. 
It certainly has changed since you were in here last, all those years ago. Damian’s room still exudes extravagance, worthy of an heir. However, small details have changed.
There are several arms-related items laying around. A full armor suit sits at the corner of the room. Several weapons – swords, axes, morning stars – are hung on the walls. Papers are strewn across the room. They’re on his desk and dresser and end tables. Most importantly, the room feels larger than it did when you were a child. Well, that was probably due to the fact that you felt smaller now than you did then. 
The door behind you slams shut. You jump in surprise at the loud noise and see Damian leaning on the door.
You hate it. You hate that you feel so nervous. It’s all too much. This room brings back happy memories that you cannot – should not – dredge up in fear of living in the past. You stand in a room, alone, for the first with someone known as your husband. Someone who is actually a stranger to you still. You can’t help but look down. It may be due to submission or shyness; you’re not entirely sure. All you know is that your girlhood has officially ended, and adulthood is crashing upon you.
You see his shoes from your peripheral. He stands toe-to-toe with you. You can’t bear to look him in the face. No good could come from falling for those green eyes. 
He cautiously raises his hands to your waist. You grow numb as he removes your belt. Your dress puffs out into a shapeless blob. 
He grabs your shoulder and turns you around, your back facing him. You can feel your dress loosening as he undoes your corset, one string at a time. Your breathing quickens at the intimacy of the act. You’ve had maybe two decent conversations with this man, and now, he has full access to your body. The discomfort makes you twitch.
“Raise your arms,” he commands. And you listen. He reaches down to hem of your dress, and pulls upward. You become blind momentarily until your dress is fully removed, and all that remains is your paltry smock. You feel overexposed. Your shoulders, arms, and legs are bare. Bare! You instinctively cover yourself the best you can with your arms, but Damian, while still behind you, firmly grabs your forearms to place them at your side. You gasp when he places a quick kiss on the back of your head.
You remain stuck in place despite hearing the crumpling of clothes behind you and await for Damian to direct you. There’s a creak, and several more creaks, and the crinkling of sheets.
“Come.”
You turn around and are met with a shirtless Damian, already beneath the sheets. He pats the unoccupied space next to him, and you follow his orders. You slink underneath the sheets and lay flat on your back, burning holes into the ceiling. The only sounds that could be heard is your breathing and the crackle of the fireplace. 
You await for his orders once more. And wait. And wait. And wait some more, even as he slips completely underneath the sheets completely. From your peripheral vision, you can see that he turns his back towards you. You bite your lips nervously and you dare lift your arm up in an attempt to touch him.
“Good night.”
His words make your arm drop back down onto the mattress. The finality of his words make you close your eyes. There is nothing to do, nothing to expect. He is an actor, and you are at the whim of his play.
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The extinguished fire from the fireplace doesn’t wake you. Neither does the blearing sun peeking from behind the curtains. What does wake you are the stomps of your ladies-in-waiting. 
Your eyelids instantly open, the crust that developed during the night making it difficult at first. 
“Princess, it is time to wake,” Matilda says in a voice that it all too loud this early in the morning. She wretches the curtains open and sunlight streams in. You hiss at the light, still walking the line between unconsciousness and alertness.
Joan grabs your shoulders and heaves you into a sitting position. In a militaristic approach, Joan, Matilda, and Honora perform your morning routine. You’ve had a month to adjust to their “help”, but it has only become slightly easier to tolerate their grubby hands and rude shoves. You can only say – Ouch! – so many times until you realize they do not care if they cause you pain. You are a job for them. They may be your household staff, but they are certainly still Talia’s minions. 
The hubbub of the morning almost makes you forget where you are and what had happened the night before. You glance at the spot Damian was sleeping just a few hours prior. In his place is the outline of his body on the mattress.
“Where has my husband gone?” You wince when Joan tugs your hair particularly hard while brushing it. 
“You have been summoned by Lady Talia.”
It hangs in the air, but you don’t expect them to answer your original question. It’s the nature of your relationship with them. It only reminds you to formally add Rachel to your household staff. Perhaps an ally in the mornings would improve your days. 
You’re prodded and shoved and squeezed until you are dressed. A green and black gown once again. An emblem of the house that you married into. You are no longer a daughter of a baron – you are now a princess of the House Al Ghul.
You’re led to Talia’s room within the castle. A guard stands upright outside her door, and opens it for you and your brood. Within, you find your now mother-in-law with a table full of assorted small plates. Fruits, cheeses, bread. Your stomach grumbles in hunger, but you doubt you’ll be able to enjoy your meal. Not with Talia. 
“Lady Talia,” you politely greet. 
She waves you over without looking up. As you approach her, she finally glances at you, but now before grunting in disapproval.
She is now your mother-in-law. You must remain polite. You repeat the mantra to yourself several times as you become situated in the seat across from her. Your ladies-in-waiting stand off the side, along with Talia’s servants.
A moment passes. Then two. Then several. Talia says nothing and continues to eat. You recognize that she will not speak to you first, and that you must initiate the conversation. You desperately want to your roll your eyes, but you remember your mantra. 
“Ahem, Lady Talia,” you start. “I have heard that you summoned me. Might I ask why?”
She sharply glares at you. “Do I need a reason to call upon you? After all, you are now my daughter.”
“Of course not.” You smile as sweetly as you can while simultaneously wanting to burst. You stomach rumbles again to remind you that it is empty, so you swiftly gather some items to make your plate full. 
“Will Damian be joining us for this –”
“No,” Talia interjects. 
“Oh.” Silence befalls the room except for the occasional chewing of food. “Is it possible for my mother to come join us? She will be leaving –”
“No. Is my presence not satisfactory to you?”
“Of course it is, Lady Talia,” you grit. She feigns a smile at you, and her eyes sparkle.
She knows that she’s irking you. She loves it.
“Are you close with Lady Rachel of House Azarath?” you inquire. The best use of your time here with Talia is to at least introduce the idea of Rachel as an additional lady-in-waiting. 
Talia sips her tea generously before answering. “Yes, she used to be quite close to my son.”
“Well, her and I have only recently met, but we have become incredibly close. She honestly feels like a sister to me –”
“You’re talking about Lady Rachel?” 
You gulp and shakingly nod your head. “Yes, I am. Erm – like I was saying, she has become a true friend. Since my family will return to my birthplace soon, and I have left behind my childhood friends, I was thinking about having Lady Rachel join my household staff. As a lady-in-waiting.”
Talia stares blankly at you, her green eyes burrowing into your soul. Her façade soon begins to break as her lips twitch and her eyes crinkles. Soon, she releases out a howling cackle. She laughs and laughs, holding her stomach to support herself. 
Joan, Matilda, Honora, and the remaining servants in the room look to one another curiously before they begin to laugh as well. Their laughs start as awkward chuckles until they are bellowing to match their master.
You sit in utter disbelief at the situation unfurling in front of you. There’s a joke hidden in Talia’s laugh, but you remain oblivious to it.
“Oh, oh, my.” Talia wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “Why, yes, of course! Lady Rachel is free to join your household staff.”
Your face is red with embarrassment as the laughs finally die down. You’re not sure what the joke was, and you so desperately want to know. 
The food no longer looks appetizing to you. The measly few bites you had appease your stomach for the time being. Desperate for the attention to be off of you, the course of the conversation is redirected.
“Erm – thank you, Lady Talia. Say, how did you enjoy the festivities yesterday?”
“Ahem, yes, it was fine.” Her joyful tone suddenly reverts to its malicious nature. “I presume you enjoyed your wedding night, especially. How very lucky you are to bed a prince when you are…” She points in your general direction. “Well, when you are…you.”
A forced chuckle exits your mouth. Never have you ever met someone as blatantly, yet simultaneously subtly, rude. It dawns on you that her status allows her to speak however she wants, and that social graces are only for those inferior to her. 
“I am eternally grateful that Prince Damian chose me to be his wife.”
She waves your pleasantry off. “Yes, yes. After all, he chose you out of…every maiden. I am certain you will do your duties as a wife to ensure his happiness. As long as you bear him heirs, I suppose that is all I can ask for.”
The conversation feels unpleasant to you. After all, shouldn’t your marital relations with Damian be kept between you and him? Admittedly, you’re not sure whether you should alert Talia to the fact that you did notbed Damian last night. Sure, you slept in the same bed, but you are certain that is not what she cares about.
The question that she was dancing around finally is brought to the forefront. “Last night was…successful, correct?”
Your hunger has not yet returned, but you abruptly feel the urge to stuff food into your mouth to avoid answering her. 
“Mmhm.” 
She leans in dangerously close. She remains across the table, but it seems like she will pounce on you if you dare utter one wrong word.
“Did you bed Damian?”
You breathe in deeply, having had enough of the intrusion. “Lady Talia, I feel as though my relations with your son –”
“This is a yes or no question, dear,” she seethes. “Did you or did not do your duty as the wife of Prince Damian?” She slowly stands as she asks you her question, her anger palpable. 
“Does it matter?” you counter. “Why is that any of your business?”
“So, you did not bed him.”
You eye twitches in annoyance. “Lady Talia, I did not say that.”
“You don’t have to.” She slams her hands on the table, shaking it. You jump in surprise and grab hold onto the arms of the seat. The other women in the room hold their breath in frightened anticipation. 
“What was the point then? What was it?” She places her hands on her waist and circles you. “There were so many others – richer, prettier, friendlier. Some of them he grew up with. Why you if he doesn’t even want to bed you?”
You remain glued to your seat. Talia looks down at you with rage in her eyes, while you look back with confusion. You don’t know how to answer her question, because ultimately, you’re unsure of the answers yourself. If she had asked you a month prior when you first arrived in Gotham, you probably could have answered that you and Damian shared a sweet encounter from many years past, and that encounter led to your marriage. However, with Damian’s aloofness, you also are uncertain as to why you were chosen to be his bride.
Talia groans in frustration at your muteness. She stomps towards the door, but not before a servant rushes over to open it for her. You watch as she disappears into the hallway, presumably to confront Damian. 
You let out a shaky breath that you didn’t know you were holding. 
“Take me back to my quarters,” you order your ladies-in-waiting. “And send for Lady Rachel.”
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You pace back and forth in your room, practically burning a hole into the floor. A loud knock disrupts your fervent strides, and in comes your rescuer, Rachel.
“Rachel,” you whimper as your nearly run into her open arms.
Her arms wrap around you tightly, like how a snake suffocates its victims, except her hug was full of love instead.
You’re shaken up by your encounter with Talia, but the culmination of the previous 24 hours bears down upon you. You sink to the floor, Rachel helplessly attempting to lift you back to your feet, but the energy is no longer within you.
“Everything is wrong.”
“What is?” Rachel finally sinks to the floor next to you, holding your head to her bosom, holding you like a mother would do to console her child. 
“Everything. This cursed family has brought me nothing but misery. I will be miserable until the end of my days, I fear.”
Rachel gently quiets you and strokes your hair. “No, that will not happen. I will not allow that to happen.”
“It will!” you exclaim. “Damian hates me!”
“He does not hate you.”
“Yes, he does!” Embarrassment sinks into your bones when Rachel asks you to explain.
“Last night was a disaster,” you murmur into her chest.
Rachel stops stroking your head momentarily. “Hmm? How so?” She starts once more playing with your hair.
“I am…still a virgin.”
She pulls your head backwards so that her eyes meet yours. “Do you mean…he has not bedded you yet?”
You cringe in embarrassment. Her shock has only solidified your insecurity – something must be wrong with you. That’s the only explanation! 
“No, no, darling,” Rachel clucks. “Do not hide your face from me. It is not your fault – hey – look at me. It. Is. Not. Your. Fault.”
“Then, what is wrong?” You swiftly get to your feet and resume your pacing. “If not me, then what? It’s silly to think that there is another issue at play here.”
Rachel grabs hold of your shoulders and firmly shakes you. “Listen to yourself! You sound mad.” She looks around the room as if it isn’t empty and leans in close to whisper. “Understand that there may be other factors at play. The emotions of man can certainly affect his…libido. Take it from me, I should know.” 
She releases her grip, but remains planted in front of your face. “I have had…prior relations.”
You nod at her wide-eyed. This is the first you’ve heard of Rachel speaking about her romantic life. 
“Certain emotions can make it hard for a man to perform his husbandly duties. I do not think it wise to push the issue, as to not cause any embarrassment for him.”
You nod your head emphatically, whole-heartedly internalizing her speech. “But – what if he doesn’t bed me tonight either? Lady Talia is already speaking about heirs.”
“Again, do not push the issue. You would rather not face Damian’s wrath.”
A singular, harsh knock interrupts your discussion. In stomps in the subject of the conversation, the man of the hour, your lifeline and your ruin – Damian.
Rachel immediately curtsies out of respect and lowers her head. He opens his mouth to speak, but is seemingly stunned by the presence of another human in your room. He looks back and forth between you and Rachel.
“Husband,” you greet.
The sound of your voice brings Damian back from his trance. He nods his head towards the door and several servants, including your ladies-in-waiting, pile into the room.
“Wife,” he starts. He strides over to you and plants a kiss on your forehead. His lips leave a burning sensation on you, as his sudden display of affection jars you. “Pack your essentials. We leave soon for my father’s.”
“Damian,” you whisper. His face reveals his agitation: his lips are stretched into a scowl and his forehead wrinkles deeply. “Is everything alright?”
His palm reaches to your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. You want to believe he does it lovingly, but your heart can’t take that risk. 
“You should have called upon me,” he murmurs. “As soon as my mother disrespected you, you should have come to me.”
You look down in shame. So, he’s heard of your interaction with Talia earlier that day. “I did not think that was an option. I did not even know where you were.”
He lifts your head up with his index finger on your chin. He bends as best as he could to meet you at eye-level. “Of course, that is an option. You are my wife.”
You swallow hard. The way he’s looking at you, and comforting you – it’s too much. It’s too sudden. You shimmy your way out of his grasp and look to Rachel for support, only to find her back facing towards you and Damian.
“Lady Rachel has been consoling me.”
Damian stiffens and his jaw tightens. “Thank you, Lady Rachel,” he starts. He looks over his shoulder her, and she does so too ever so slightly. Neither face each other completely, however. “You may now take your leave.”
Rachel nods her head and without turning to say goodbye to you, she starts heading towards the door.
“Wait, no!” you call out. You circle around Damian to reach Rachel’s arm. “Lady Rachel is to be my lady-in-waiting. She must remain by my side.”
Damian’s eyes bulge out of his head. “Your lady-in-waiting?” he repeats brashly. 
You huff in irritation. You’re not sure why everyone seems to be so astonished that you want Rachel to be a part of your household staff. “Yes,” you reply. 
Damian clicks his tongue in disapproval. The amorous façade he performed just moments prior is now gone. It’s been replaced with the real Damian – the stoic one. 
“Fine.” He pushes back you to reach the exit before stopping by the door. He doesn’t even turn around. “Remember, just the essentials. 
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eddiemunsonw · 9 months
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Your presence is a gift
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Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Summary: After announcing your engagement to your boyfriend at Steve's birthday party, Eddie quite literally vanishes from your life. Just yours, though. You miss him terribly and when you run into him again two years later yet again at Steve's birthday party, you ask him for clarity.
CW/Disclaimer: A bit of angst with a happy ending I suppose?
Author's note: This fic came to life after seeing a silly text. I've put the image at the end. :)
Words: 4209
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Time flies when you’re having fun, right? That’s what they say. Well, time also flies when you’re not having fun. Unless you’re in an excruciatingly painful disaster, then it’ll feel like you can feel every second painfully ticking by. For you, it felt like a combination of both. 
Every day, he was on your mind. Eddie Munson. Someone you used to consider one of your closest friends. Up until two years ago, you used to hang out several days a week, a little less once you got a boyfriend but you never thought it would change this drastically. To think you hadn’t seen his face in so long felt impossible to you. 
The last time you had seen him had been at Steve’s birthday party two years ago. Since you were sitting on the same stool you sat back then, you couldn’t help but think of him. Honestly, the whole environment reminded you of him. After all, you spent many nights with him, Steve and others here. Playing games, watching movies, talking until the sun came peeking through the trees again. You watched absentmindedly as Steve busied himself with entertaining his guests, occasionally glancing at you with mild concern. You told him you were fine, he just didn’t buy it. Oh well.
You knew it had been quick when you announced your engagement, you had only been dating Trent for about… four months? But he went down on one knee and you were always bad at saying no. Trent insisted on sharing it at Steve’s birthday party. You didn’t exactly want to take the attention away from Steve, but Trent… Well, sometimes it was just easier to agree than not to. Steve had been shocked, but happy for you. Eddie had been… Eddie. And yet he had been nothing like him at all. From being the life of the party he had gone instantly silent, gazing into his glass that he never ended up finishing. He congratulated you eventually, after asking you if you loved him, Trent. And you told him yes. Because who would marry someone who they didn’t love, right? Right.
The year after that, Eddie hadn’t attended Steve’s birthday. Supposedly he was sick but you knew he was simply avoiding you. Steve’s face never held many secrets from you and you could tell that the reason he gave you wasn’t a real one. Your husband had been sitting next to you, indifferent to it all. He frankly found it a little annoying that you were still so hung up over Eddie no longer being your… friend? Was that what it was? It felt like you had lost much more than a friend. 
And that was that. No sign of Eddie since. He canceled on your get togethers, even the group ones, always claimed he was busy with the band which, for some time, seemed like a valid reason considering they were doing pretty well nowadays. However, all of that belief went out the window when you discovered that he did in fact still meet up with his friends. With Steve. Just not with you. Steve didn’t want to meddle, told you that you two should probably talk but Eddie made it impossible. Even when Steve tried to create an ‘accidental run-in’ between you two, Eddie figured it out before you even could arrive and had already bolted. 
You forced yourself to accept that Eddie, for whatever reason, had decided he didn’t want to see you anymore. Maybe he needed time… or something. You couldn’t fathom why, not even when Trent exclaimed that ‘that weirdo’ had probably been waiting to get into your pants and when he realized he couldn’t, he had no more interest in being your ‘friend’. That remark had probably resulted in the biggest fight between you and Trent. Things had felt different after. Though looking back on it, things had never felt good in the first place. It had all just felt… expected and how it should be.
Despite everything, despite Trent’s obvious annoyance, you still sent Eddie a wedding invite. You missed him, you missed your friend more than you thought you could ever miss him. Sometimes, when you had a little too much to drink, you wondered whether there had been more. What if Eddie in fact did have… a desire to get into your pants. What if it wasn’t just a sexual desire. What if Eddie…
It never went much further than that. Eddie being in love with you was such a foreign concept to your brain that you couldn’t even entertain the thought. Not after dealing with your one-sided feelings for him for years. Not after seeing him kiss and take home whoever he felt like over and over and never once looking in your direction. Surely he would have considered you an option if it had been like that.
So, you had invited your friend. Asked Steve whether Eddie had brought it up with him or not. To which Steve responded that Eddie no longer wanted to talk about you. Yet you couldn’t help but hold on to hope. 
It drove Trent insane when you insisted on adding banana flavored ice cream to the dessert options. He told you no one liked banana ice cream because it was rank and that it didn’t even taste like banana. Of course, he figured out who in your social circle did like it. Trent had gotten angry about a lot of trivial things and somehow Eddie was often wedged into the subject. If you were honest, you hadn’t really known Trent all that well before you said yes to his proposal. It was as if the moment he knew he had you, he slowly started to change or rather, be more himself.
Eddie never came to the wedding. No one ordered banana ice cream for dessert.
“Y/N, refill?” Steve interrupted your thoughts. You blinked and quickly propped a smile on your face before meeting his gaze.
“Oh, yes, thank you,” you handed your glass to him and moments later he handed it back to you containing an orange-red liquid. You gazed at it for a moment before addressing him. “Sex on the beach?”
Steve smirked. “That’s the one.” His hand squeezed your shoulder kindly before he joined the others again. He knew it was futile to ask if you wanted to join them, knew you sometimes preferred to just listen along from a distance far enough where you wouldn’t be expected to engage. 
You never could have expected that about an hour later, you would be sharing the balcony space with no other than Eddie Munson. In silence. You went there for some fresh air, he went there to pollute it with his smoke filled exhales. Neither of you acknowledged the other. When you heard the door open you hadn’t even turned around. You had been there a while, so lost in thought that you barely registered it. It hadn’t even occurred to you that he was at the party, that’s how long you had been there. You had never seen him arrive.
However, you didn’t even have to look as much in his direction to know it was him. It was the mix of Old Spice, cigarettes and mint and something entirely Eddie that gave it away. A combination of scents that had quickly become your favorite when you first started to hang out with him. You felt it when he rested his arms on the railing just like you were. You wondered if his heartbeat felt as deafening to him as yours did to you. He could have said something. After everything that you tried, it felt painful to be ignored like that even when you were right next to him. As you were working up the courage to say something, your brain decided to take a plunge into your memory and skip all the polite small talk, instead going for the one thing that had been bothering you for a long time now.
“Why didn’t you come to the wedding?”
Eddie took the slowest drag of his cigarette mankind had ever taken, sighed and lazily inspected the ashes while he flicked them off into the wind. You still weren’t looking at him when he shrugged indifferently.
“Your invitation wasn’t really an invitation.”
An overwhelming surge of emotions clutched and clawed at your chest, begging to be let in or let out, it was hard to tell. You had missed his voice so much. It took you a moment to realize that what he said made no sense at all.
“What do you mean?” Slowly, you dared to look in his direction from the corner of your eye. He was still focused on his cigarette, watching it burn.
“Well,” Eddie started to cite it perfectly, as if he had just held your invite two seconds ago and it was still at the forefront of his mind. “Your presence itself is a gift. We don’t want you to bring any gifts to the wedding.”
For a moment you could only stare at him. Surely he didn’t mean…
“You can’t be serious.”
Eddie’s eyes followed the railing until they landed on your hands and the sublest frown etched into his forehead when he couldn’t spot a wedding ring, or any ring for that matter, on your fingers. Perhaps you were scared of losing it or something. Where was Trent anyway?
“It said I am a gift and to not bring gifts. It’s simple math.”
The indifference in his voice ignites a burning frustration in you. How could he act so casually about this when you had in fact cried (of course not in the presence of Trent) over his absence? How could he act like your years of friendship meant nothing to him, from one day to the other? Eddie, who always fantasized out loud about how you’d still get drunk enough together to think dancing on rooftops was a good idea at the age of 85.
“Everyone got that invitation and they were there,” you gritted out.
Another shrug.
“I’m sorry about that. Maybe they didn’t get it.”
“No, you didn’t get it,” you retorted, your frustration becoming more difficult to contain and be limited to just your thoughts.
“No, Y/N, you didn’t get it. You still don’t,” he mumbled.
You didn’t get it?! Your body was fully turned to him now and Eddie still refused to look at you. It drove you insane.
“Then please, explain to me why you ditched one of your best friends at her wedding after refusing to meet up with her anymore out of the fucking blue?”
“Oh you really don’t think there was something specific that went down that could have possibly caused all of this?” Eddie bit back, his eyes finally meeting yours. You were a little taken aback by the blazing fire they held, though. The hurt within them. As if all of this had somehow been your fault.
“Am I supposed to believe that you were so opposed to the idea of me being happy that you decided you no longer wanted to be anywhere near me, ever again? Is that it? Was it the engagement?”
“Yes. I couldn’t bear watching you throw away the life you had to get with some selfish prick that couldn’t even be bothered to see if you were okay when you tripped because ‘you should watch where you walk’. Who was so fucking different from you he kept wanting to change you, push you into boxes you weren’t. So yes when I heard you were willingly getting into that boat with him forever, I stepped back. What of it?”
He stood facing you directly now, arms crossed tightly over his chest, stance wide. His nostrils flared as he breathed out heavily, eyes wide as saucers as he tried to contain what seemed to be anger, built up frustration.
“Which life?! The one where I just had to miserably watch how everyone around me got settled and slowly slipped into a domestic-white-pickett-fence-with-two-children kind of life?”
“You had us! You had me!” Eddie unknowingly raised his voice, his hands pushed tightly against his chest to stop them from shaking.
“I had friends, yes! Such a crime for me to want something more, huh? Don’t get me wrong, Eddie, but it was only a matter of time before one of those bimbos you hooked up with after gigs became a long-term partner. I’m sure you’ve…” You vaguely gestured at him, his hands, something, because surely he had a great girlfriend by now. Someone that fit him like you never would.
Eddie shook his head vigorously, his wild hair following the movement. He revealed his hands, pointing at his empty ring finger.
“See? Nothing. I’m not like you. I don’t just settle for whoever.” 
You scoffed and revealed your hands.
“No you’re not like me indeed. I got divorced. Guess you win again, congrats.”
For the first time, his hostility faded a little. It was almost as if he wanted to approach you but instead he crossed his arms again, not meeting your eyes.
“Sorry about that, I guess. I didn’t know. Steve never told me.”
“Steve told me you didn’t want to talk about me, so. Not surprised that he didn’t.”
Eddie groaned impatiently, his hands flying up to his hair to run through as he looked inside, where he spotted Steve quickly turning his head away. Fucker.
“He knows why I didn’t want to talk about you though. He should have, I could have— But now instead I’ve been— Fuck!”
“You’re… not making a lot of sense right now, bud,” you remarked dryly.
Another groan, though a bit more whiny.
“Don’t fucking— I’m not your bud alright?”
You rolled your eyes, fed up with him by now. It was as if he had taken four knives to stab you simultaneously with, twisting them occasionally.
“You’re right. You’re nothing to me, apparently. As you wish.”
Both of you were so lost in your own world that you didn’t even notice how Steve had closed off the view to the balcony doors by drawing the curtains to prevent anyone else from coming up. Neither had you noticed that he had in fact locked the doors as well.
“You’re a real bitch, you know that?” Eddie seethed through his teeth, taking a small step closer towards you with his eyes blazing. It was the last straw you needed after this agonizing build up of two years. You had had enough. 
“Oh I’m a bitch?! You literally gave me the cold fucking shoulder from one day to the next, ignored all my calls, all my messages, you literally pretended like I didn’t fucking exist, Eddie! Why would you do something like that, knowing how much it would hurt me? Call me a bitch all you want, but you’re heartless.”
“I’ve been fucking heartless since the goddamn day you stole it, Y/N.”
What? Stunned, you looked up at him to witness the panic that flared up in his eyes and he quickly made a beeline towards the balcony doors.
“Eddie, wait—” 
Eddie shook his head and tried to pry the door open with all his might. He was desperate to get away from you as far as possible.
“Why the fuck can’t I— Steve. Steve! Open the goddamn thing now!”
It didn’t take long for Steve to appear when Eddie started banging loudly on the window. He pulled the curtains around his head, making it look like it was floating amidst the black curtains and promptly shook his head.
“No. Fix it, Munson. Until then, enjoy your stay on the balcony,” Steve told him through the window, right before disappearing again.
“Fuck!”
He kicked against a heavy plant pot for good measure, causing him to swear some more before he meekly faced you again. You had quietly been following the whole ordeal and were still struggling to find the words to respond to any of it.
“So… What was that about me stealing your heart?” you asked softly and you had half the mind to be amused by the expression Eddie had on his face. There was no world where you wouldn’t find him and his panicky expressions at least slightly adorable.
“It sounds even more ridiculous when you say it,” Eddie sighed, slumping down against the door until he sat on the floor.
“Since when?”
“Since forever, man. How could I not?” He gestured at you as if he hated to admit it, arm dropping back down a little too harsh causing him to curse softly.
“How?”
“What do you mean how? It just happens, and I’m not gonna apologize for how I feel about y—”
“No, I mean,” you interrupted him, “you were always… You never gave me the idea that you even considered me that way.” 
Eddie frowned and rested his head against the door as he let go of a long sigh.
“I literally said you were like Arwen to me. And that Aragorn was my favorite.” His pout was a little childlike, as if it had been something that had bothered him for years on end. In fact, it had. You groaned in disbelief.
“I hadn’t read it by then! You wouldn’t tell me why you thought I was like Arwen and told me to just read the book. Which I never did because I was always hanging with you doing other stuff in my free time. And once I did have the time, you were always hooking up with random girls so I didn’t really feel like it anymore.”
“Why would you not want to read Lord of the Rings because I was making out with random chicks?” he asked, clear confusion on his face. He almost looked a little insulted.
“Because I was jealous, you idiot! I wasn’t gonna read a thick book that I was going to read for you when you were busy exploring other people’s throats.”
“I’m afraid I’m not following, Y/N, what do you mean you were jealous? You always shot me those god awful finger guns with a huge grin whenever I went backstage with one of them.” 
“Oh, was I supposed to pull them back by their hair and say something like ‘He’s mine, you bimbo!’ and stick my tongue down your throat instead?” you asked him with a dead panned expression, causing him to chuckle unexpectedly.
“Uh, yeah?! That’s exactly how I imagined it would go, but instead you were all supportive and nice about it so I figured you didn’t give two shits. I even tried two on one night and… nothing! Not even a jealous eyebrow twitch that I know you can do, the way you do when someone gets the best part of a cake with the extra chocolates on it. I was desperate, Y/N.”
You debated sitting across from him but figured the door would be more comfortable against your back, so instead you hesitantly sat down next to him. Eddie didn’t seem to mind, to your relief.
“Ever thought of just… I don’t know, walking up to me and saying you liked me or something?” you asked with a quip of your brow and a soft smile.
“Uh, right back at you.” Eddie rolled his eyes, though he wore the hint of a smile on his face.
“No but, seriously. You kissed random girls during your shows. All you had to do was pick me instead, no?”
Eddie shook his head.
“With them it didn’t matter. With you… if you rejected me, you’d break my heart.”
The silence settled between you again. Heavy, yet not uncomfortable. Eddie exhaled slowly, his shoulder touching yours so light you could have imagined it.
“And then suddenly you introduced Trent to us. I thought, this prick isn’t gonna last a month. You and him? Nah, not in a million years. But then he did. And another, and another, and another. And then… you were engaged. I was convinced it was all just a horrible nightmare. An awful trick played on me. But I just had to accept that I was some random side character in your life and that I had wasted my chance to become anything more.”
He played with the frayed ends of one of the holes in his jeans and exhaled shakily, his fingers trembling slightly. 
“It’s why I asked if you loved him, you know? I thought… maybe. But you said yes, so I had to back away. I wasn’t going to act fair towards you if I didn’t. I— I was a mess, ask Steve. He got fed up with me so many times but he- he’s a good one, y’know. Of course you know. So yeah, I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. The only reason I’m even here is because Steve promised that you weren’t gonna come. And then suddenly…”
“Here I was,” you finished for him. He nodded.
“There you were.” A sigh, a shy glance in your direction. “As beautiful as ever, if not more. I was so shocked to see you that I forgot to leave.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” you told him softly. “I hope you never will.”
You reached for his trembling fingers and covered them with your own, slowly pushing them apart. Eddie swallowed audibly, his eyes flicking from your hands to your face.
“I’ve missed you,” he confessed in a whisper, his eyes wide and sincere. His thumb softly caressed your pinky.
“I’ve missed you too.” A beat of silence. “I put banana ice cream on the menu, you know.”
Eddie turned his head and smiled in disbelief. “You did?”
“Mhm,” you chuckled softly. “No one ordered.”
“What a waste. I would’ve eaten it all.”
You shared a smile and rested your heads against one another.
“Sorry I wasn’t there,” he said eventually. You shrugged. 
“It’s fine, you didn’t miss anything anyway. Apart from the ice cream, of course.”
“You looked beautiful. Steve has— I’m sure you know but, he had the photo of you and him framed. He wanted to put it up but wanted to wait until he had more things to put up so he could arrange it all at once. But I guess… it’s a bit weird now.”
Steve. Always such a sweetheart.
“I didn’t know, actually. But yeah, a little weird I guess.” 
You both listened to the music coming from inside, your fingers gently drumming along. Eddie’s head too, you noticed vaguely as he moved against your head. At least, that’s what you assumed until you felt his lips on your cheek. You could feel he was holding onto his breath, waiting for your reaction. Hesitantly, he kissed your cheek again, his trembling lips giving away how nervous he was. You turned your head slowly. His breath hitched a little when your lips brushed his, unsure whether to move away or not. Gently, you added the lightest pressure onto his lips with your own and pressed them together into a kiss. You didn’t care that his fingers squished yours a little painfully as he tightly grasped his knee in response. He leaned back shakily, just enough to break apart only so he could press your lips together again. Sweeter, more intentional, more mutual. He shifted slightly, his leg resting on your crossed legged ones a little as his other hand came up to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss he had desired to give you for years. Your lips danced together without a fight for dominance, instead it was all about unity, in the perfect alignment of your faces together. The softest giggle escaped his lips when his nose bumped into yours as you changed angles. He gasped when your fingers threaded into his hair.
The both of you were so lost in the kiss that you didn’t notice Steve peeking through the curtains, needing a moment to discover you were in fact making out against the door. You didn’t notice him closing them again either, however…
“YES!! FINALLY!”
Eddie bumped his head against the door in shock and you quickly broke apart, but only after gazing into each other’s eyes lazily with the dopiest smiles on your faces.
“Was that Steve?” you asked.
“Sure was. Steve!” Eddie knocked on the door before getting up and extending his hand to help you as well. Steve was quick to show up in front of the balcony doors again and removed the curtains before opening them.
“Shit, you saw me didn’t you?” Steve asked guiltily, bummed that he interrupted your moment. Eddie snorted and shook his head.
“No dude, it was your high pitched scream that gave us a near heart attack.” 
“Oh. Well. I’m glad you guys uh… made up. Sorry for locking you out, but I had to do something. You can come back in now.”
As Steve stepped aside, Eddie chuckled and reached for the black curtains to pull them back closed again.
“Thank you, but uhm, maybe later? We’ve got some catching up to do.” 
Eddie grinned down at you as he closed the balcony doors again and wasted no second to wrap his arms around your waist. You beamed up at him, eyes sparkling with delight.
“Where were we, sweetheart?”
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Here's the image I mentioned earlier. Funny how a whole short fic can come out of it, right? :)
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ohtobeleah · 1 year
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Roll Of The Dice // Jake Seresin
Chapter Two: ‘Love at first flight’
Summary: Fighting off flashbacks at every corner he turns, Jake can’t seem to shake the ghost of you that lingers the halls of Miramar.
Warnings: Angst! Graphic Mentions of injuries sustained from a fighter jet accident. Loss of life, reader x Jake Seresin WHUMP!
Word Count: 3.8k
Author Note: I’m on a mission to break your heart. And before anyone asks! I’m genuinely okay! Angst and whump is just my specialty as a fanfiction writer. 
Series Masterlist
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Jake Seresin was and always would be a morning person. He chased sunrises and enjoyed a six am workout as much as the next guy did. Something about the quiet of the morning in the hours between four and six soothed his restless soul. The world was just getting started by the time he’d shit, showered and shaved. But every now and again when his mind just wouldn’t rest—he found himself exhaling a tired groan whenever he rolled over to shut off his alarm. Not exactly sure how many hours or lack there of he’d gotten of sleep. 
Jake couldn’t remember when he’d actually gone to bed. After reassuring Javy he was in fact fine, he kinda just lingered in his room. He did a quick core workout—did a few push-ups, had a shower that hid his tears. He wasn't fine, he was anything but. But he wasn't going to let anyone see that he wasn't a pillar of success, of confidence and charisma. He was Hangman in every aspect of the word. 
Jake remembered sitting down on his mattress and staring at the photo he had tapped to his mirror, he;d ripped it off to place it on his bedside table. Thumbing the ring around his dog tags until he felt another bout of tears forming. Repressing them as deep as he could. But legitimately going to bed? If someone held a gun to his face right this second he’d be dead because he just couldn’t remember. 
Unlocking the phone, Jake noticed that it was still open from a text thread from last night. Rubbing his eyes as he yearned and sat up, he vaguely remembered he’d text you about Rooster throwing your untimely demise at him like it was some sort of sick joke. It was just something he continued to do—he’d text you on and off. Tell you about his day, things that reminded him of you. He’d send you pictures and call just to hear your voicemail. The sound of your voice brought a comfort that was unparalleled to anything else. 
“I know you and Bradshaw were close but fuck I could kill him right now.” The message was green, a red not delivered notification directly underneath told Jake his pleas were going nowhere. That you weren’t sitting in the dorm just down the hall that you used to occupy reading his message with a hard eye roll before shooting back a witty remark about how Jake probably deserved it in some respect. He could certainly dish it out nowadays but taking it was a whole other level. He could take anything anyone threw at him, Hangman could. But anything that involved you? Jake Seresin became a mess of a man, a version of his former self. A man heartbroken and sad and fucking destrort. 
“I miss you so much.” Again the message hadn’t been delivered.
“It should have been me you know, fuck you for leaving me here.” He didn't mean that one, well–partially anyway. Jake meant the part about the fact it should have been him, that much was true. But he wasn't mad at you for what you did. He knew that you were just putting him before yourself. 
“I don’t think I can do this without you.” Again, the message hadn’t been received. Jake started to notice only two months after your death that whatever text he sent you stopped being received. They’d bounce right back to him. Flicking the pad of his thumb against the screen of his phone—Jake sat in his king single bed and read the last message you sent to him. The same message he read every morning and every night. It was the only thing that kept him going throughout the day. 
“Haha! Can’t wait to marry you Headache.”
Jake smiled at the thought of you. God he missed you. Letting his legs drape down the side of the bed he groaned as he stood. Stretching out from the horrendous few hours of sleep he’d managed. 
It wasn’t meant to end this way. Jake was sure that one day he’d just wake up from whatever nightmare he’d fallen into and he’d still be in your arms in the bed you secretly shared for way longer than anyone ever knew about. Noone even knew that he was engaged, emphasis on the was. But every day that past he lost a little more hope that this was all just a dream. He respected the bravery or the general naivety that it took to be laid back and trust in the universe to look after you—but without you by his side he was just stumbling through each day that passed. Chasing pussy like he was playing in traffic just trying to shake the thought of you. 
But even behind the fake facade of the sociopath he let people see, they all knew—Jake Seresin was a heartbroken man just trying to claw his way out of the hole he fell down when he was told you weren’t coming back to him. 
Jake Seresin liked to pretend though that in all the time you’d been gone he was just waiting for you to get home. Come home to him like you had said, so he could marry you, love you, spend the rest of his life by your side like he was supposed to. 
But as fate would have it that wouldn’t happen. Jake knew for a while there he wasted time when he should've been replacing your last name with his. That mistake was his, he knew it. He wore it like a sunburn that might disappear but it never left him. He’d carry you on his shoulder, never set you down—the tattoo of a set of Dice inked permanently into his sun kissed skin. He’d ferry you through the coldness, never let you down. 
***~***~***~***~***~
“Alright Phoenix let’s take this guy out!” Jake gassed himself up as he steady his throttle. Pete Maverick Mitchell had just come racing between him and his wingwoman for this training session. Phoenix Trance. Sending them both into a frenzy as they steadied their aircrafts. “Break right!” 
“Breaking right.” Phoenix had been there the day you died. She’d never be able to erase that memory from the rolodex buried deep in her mind. The image of your blood on Jake's hands still haunted her nightmares, the sound of his agonising scream that echoed through the halls of the hospital made her jolt awake in the middle of the night. She knew why Jake Seresin was the way he was, but knowing didn’t make it any easier to deal with. To tolerate. He’d always been a bit of a cocky jerk but he cared enough about the people around him to know when enough was enough. Without you around? There was no one to reel him in when he got too hot headed and sociopathic. 
“Huh? Where’s he going?” Bob asked as he watched Hangman fly off left into the distance, leaving Phoenix out in the open. 
“That’s why we call him hangman, he’ll always hang you out to dry.” She sighed. 
“Leaving your wingman—there’s a strategy I haven’t seen in a while.” Pete raised a brow at the poor display of sportsmanship and camaraderie he was witnessing play out in front of him  like a car crash. A head on collision just waiting to happen. Maverick knew if Hangman didn’t come back that there’d be casualties. He could easily get a tone on Phoenix and Bob. 
“He called you a man Phoenix, are you gonna take that?” Hangman chuckled to himself as he came back around, looking for an opening to swoop in behind Maverick as he chased down Phoenix. 
“So long as he doesn’t call you a man.” Phoenix responded. “Talk to me Bob—where’s Maverick?” 
“Jesus, his nose is already coming around.” 
“Get him off me Hangman!” Phoenix hissed as she searched for her wingman, Jake froze behind the throttle at the sound of your voice coming through the radio. He knew it wasn’t you but it sounded so much like you that it had his body reacting with goosebumps. The hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention like a ghost had just passed by. 
***~***~***~***~***~
(North Island — United States Navy Fighter Weapons School, October 16th 2014) 
It was, without a doubt—the most accurate assumption you had ever made about anyone in your entire life. Jake had been driving you insane all morning—there was no attempt at teamwork, no camaraderie and certainly no effort to achieve the end result that were the task parameters. Dog fight tactical manoeuvres. 
You’d never heard the tone buzzer more in your life. It was almost comical how badly you’d been performing, but with a wingman like Hangman who spent half his time chasing a pipe dream about going after the top dog—Captain Martin, you were left out in the open more often than not without backup, without cover—essentially a sitting fucking duck. 
“Get him off me Hangman!” You hissed through the radio as you broke right and evaded back into a sharp left. Trying to shake off Rooster who’d been chasing you down for the better half of five minutes. “HANG—“ 
“I’m coming I’m coming, jeez—“ It was the most nonchalant thing you’d ever heard someone who was meant to literally be your ride or die say. Cutting you off before you even had a chance to scream at him for cover. “God you make it sound like you're a paralytic or something? Can’t you fend for yourself there Dixon—“
“Okay, you’re literally no help.” You mumbled as you split your throttle and shut off your left engine, pulling up and back before falling behind Rooster as he raced past. “I’ll just do it myself!” 
“I said I’m coming!” You saw Jake coming up in your peripheral vision. “I was going after Captain Martin—“ 
“I don’t care what the hell you were doing, we’re meant to be flying as a team and I can’t do that on my own!” You were right on Roosters tail just about to line up your missile lock when you heard it ring out via your radio. Hangman had snaked your kill before cutting across in front of you. For a brief moment you got caught in his jet wash—rattling your Super Hornet side to side as it fought the sudden onset of turbulence. “Fucking Christ!” 
“Dammit—“ Rooster sighed as he broke left and headed back to the runway for landing. “Don’t let him get to you Dixon, he’s like this with everyone.” 
“You just left me in your fucking jet stream you dick!” You couldn’t believe this was your knee wingman. The second you came in for landing you’d be requesting another partner. There was no way this guy had been chosen to fly for TopGun. On whose authority and on what grounds? “I could’ve have lost control—“
“You didn’t though, did you?” You were seething, seeing red. You had to turn yourself around and request to land or else you were going to lose it. 
“What the fuck is your problem Seresin!” You haven’t even shut off your engines properly before you were ripping your helmet off to scold Jake. “You’re gonna kill someone one day flying like that you maniac!” Jake remembered all too well the way you shouted at him after you'd come in for landing, barrelling up the taxiway at him with eyes that held nothing but anger, he even swore at one stage he saw steam coming out your ears. “That should have called your Hangover!” 
“Oh really?” Jake was immediately intrigued as you shoved at his chest, Captain Martin instantly rushing to break the two of you apart. “Why’s that sweetheart?” 
“Because you give me a goddamn headache!” Jake had never in his life had a woman speak to him the way you did. He was intrigued by you if at the very least. He’d tuned out what other berating  
comments you were hurling his way as he took you in for all you were worth. The way your eyes kept lingering from his eyes to his lips. The way your nose scrunched when you called him a bastard. The way you must have bitten the very tip of your tongue when you were anxious before a flight because it looked like you’d gone to town recently. The way your hair was pushed out of the regulation bum from your helmet, hair now a mess that you’d surely have to fix after a midday shower. He was infatuated by every little detail. “You’re the biggest risk taker I’ve ever met and I hope to god you’re never the cause of someone’s death Seresin.” 
“You wanna talk?” Jake scoffed out a laugh when he’d finished thinking about your wedding. “I've never seen someone risk so much for such little payoff!” Hangman squared his shoulders as you went toe to toe. “You roll the dice, you take chance after fucking chance and are–out of all of us, the one whos been caught on tone the most.” You were seething, so much so you could taste the iron on your tongue from where your teeth had sunk into the flesh. “What were you even thinking up there? Half the time I couldn’t tell if you knew which way was up or down or goddamn sideways!” Jake went on to hammer into you. “You think I was the one putting you in danger? You were the one flying all over the place like a fucking mad woman!” 
“I dunno Hangman! Maybe if my wingman had his eyes on me I wouldn’t have had to have been all over the shop! If this had been real I’d be fucking dead by now and you know it!” You shoved at his chest again and this time he stumbled back slightly, chuckling with a shit eating chin plastered across his perfect stupid face. 
“Still doesn’t explain the radical manoeuvring—“ He egged you on, wanting you to yell at him some more because it was so fucking cute. 
“Oh well I fucking guess I live by the saying if you put your wingman in a little bit of danger, make him question the safety of his team! you might get a peak at who he really is.” You pressed your lips together into a fine line as you looked Jake up and down. “Turns out you're an open book, coward.” 
“Alright alright that’s enough you too—Dixon, I think you just earned yourself your callsign, Dice.” Captain Martin had to step in to separate the pair of you. “Dice Dixon—huh, it’s got a nice little ring to it don’t you think?” He beamed your way as you raised your brows in shock horror. You’d waited so long to be given a call sign, and as it turns out Jake fucking Seresin would be the mastermind behind it. 
“Sir, all due respect I—“ You were  going to protest the name, explain that you weren’t always like this. Not always such a risk taker—but you were cut off before you had a chance to defend yourself. 
“You want me to come up with something else, Dixon?” Jake just stood behind Captain Martin smug as all hell. “Because I can, and I can guarantee Dice is very tame in comparison.” 
“No sir—“ You shook your head in response as Hangman chuckled to himself. Looking at you like you were the love of his life. “Dice is just peachy.” 
“Sensation Dixon, welcome to the club.” Caption Dixon tapped you on the shoulder. “And as for a set of characters, learn how to tolerate one enough to at least pretend to work as a team while you’re here or else.” He warned, voice stern as he turned and left you and Jake standing on the tarmac. Whoever broke the silence first was buying the first round and you both knew that. 
“I can’t believe you just did that—“ Jake grinned as he followed you back towards the hanger. Completely under whatever spell you’d put him under. For whatever reason, Jake had been sporting a pretty intense boner since you came barreling at him down the taxiway. He could tell you were a hot head, easily riled and incredibly defensive. “I’ve waited years for a call sign and you just swooped in and threw the first thing that came to your pea brain at me!” It was so infuriating that he’d made it so damn easy, but all the while you were frustrated Jake ‘Headache’ Seresin had so effortlessly crafted your callsign, you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered inside your chest at his laugh, his cheeky grin—and those goddamn green eyes. 
“And yet?” Jake smirked as he trailed behind you, so close in fact that when you turned around to confront him you smacked right into his chest. Letting out a small ‘Oof’ as you collided with his stature, tall and firm. You couldn’t go there, you wouldn’t. Something about professional decency and how the Navy was against relationships and fraternisation. But against everything that had been drilled into you since day one of the Academy, you couldn’t help but to melt against Jake's gentle touch, the way his hand caressed your forearm and shoulder, steadying you against him. “And yet, Dice Dixon?” Jake questioned again as you stood with him in the empty hall. So close you could feel his breath fanning across your chin as you met his gaze, leaning in the close the gap in a heated moment of weakness. 
“It suits.” You whispered under your breath, ghosting Jake's lips before turning on your heels. Making a quick exit as you called back to him over your shoulder. “Hard Deck, six o’clock, don’t give me a reason to regret this.” 
“Holy fuck I’m gonna marry this girl—“ Jake mumbled to himself as Rooster stepped up beside him, having seen the entire confrontation play out before his very eyes.
“She’s not your type Hangman, take a walk.” Bradley watched as you disappeared from sight and even then Jake's gaze lingered on the last place he saw you. A look in his eyes Bradley had never seen. A glint so bright, puppy love. “She’ll break your heart man, don’t even go there.” 
“Already Broken.” Jake just replied. He’d been burnt a time or two before in the past enough to think his heart was already broken and worn enough that nothing could ever break it again. “You can’t break something that’s already broken Rooster—“ 
***~***~***~***~***~***~
After the eventful run with Rooster, Jake couldn’t wait for a hot steamy shower to sooth his aching muscles and wash away the events of today. He’d flown far too many times to count on one hand and still—the son of a bitch had never been caught on tone. Maverick was good, Jake would give him credit where credit was due. 
Dropping down to the bench that sat in the middle of the locker room, Jake bent down to untie his boots, so caught up in his own head that he hadn’t realised he was in fact the only soul in the lock room. A bizarre and rather uncommon occurrence considering everyone was finished for the day—he must have just been the first one back. 
Being the only one around meant it was quiet. Too quiet, quiet enough to be able to hear the soft but memorable laugh coming from over near the door. 
“Hello?” Jake called out to be met with no response, frowning—he stopped what he was doing when he heard the laugh again. “Trance, are you laughing at your sorry display of—“ Rounding the corner, Jake saw no one standing there. But again the laugh echoed off the walls and he jumped. Searching as he turned to see who was around him. “Who the fucks there?” 
“Are you going crazy there, Hangman?” Fanboy asked as he stood in the doorway of the Locker room. “You know they say the first sign of madness is hearing things that aren’t there.” He chuckled to himself as he headed to his locker. The one beside your old one. No one had been assigned your old locker—it sat empty and unlocked. Abandoned because the admin ladies were too hesitant to assign it a new owner. Not because of your death so much—mainly because the door was busted and didn’t lock. Jake couldn’t help but to wonder if it was because of that one time you’d jammed your hand in the door so hard it left an indent in the flimsy metal. 
“Thought I heard someone laughing.” Jake replied softly as he walked over to where Mickey stood fishing out his jeans. 
“Well, Halloweens coming up, the veils between our world and the next are as thin as ever—you very well might have.” Fanboy said it as if it wasn’t the craziest thing he’d ever mouthed off. “You got someone important on the other side, Hangman?” Mickey asked as he grabbed a towel. 
“Guess you could say that.” Jake barely responded above a whisper as he opened your old locker to be met with nothing but a few spiderwebs. The admin ladies really hadn’t assigned it to anyone since two thousand and fourteen. “I don’t really believe in all that stuff.” Reaching in, Jake picked up what he believed had been a blank Polaroid Card. Dusting it off to reveal the fainted writing written in pencil. 
‘Headache & Dice 2014.’ 
“Ah, I get it.” Fanboy called out from inside the shower he’d chosen. “Still, if you’ve got someone, now's gonna be the time where they’re most active. It’s why the Celtics would wear costumes to blend in with the dead.” Mickey explained. “But they’d leave places at dinner tables and treats on doorsteps for family and loved ones that had crossed over. They’d even light candles to help them find their way back.” Jake wasn’t listening—he was too busy staring at the Polaroid in his hand. You and him at the Hard Deck. You were holding your lips to his cheek as Jake held the camera up high. It couldn’t have been long at all after you had met judging by the date
Smiling softly, Jake pocketed the Polaroid, hearing that same laugh again as he shut your old locker door. It didn’t close properly—stupid thing. 
“You sound crazy Garcia.” Jake taunted as he went back to taking his boots off on the bench. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.” 
“No—probably not.” Fanboy agreed as the shower turned on. “But moments passed do and that’s what resonates after someone passes on.” 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~
Tags: @potato-girl99981 @averyhotchner @dempy @abaker74 @a-serene-place-to-be @starkleila @some-lovely-day @phoenix1388 @auroraboreallisfine @avaleineandafryingpan @kikaninchen-2
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texanwithahotwife · 10 months
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The pool party. The wife gets her “game” back!
I promised more details from the pool party.
For a little background, the wife had surgery back in December and has been very self conscious about her looks. I and everyone else that has seen her naked since has tried to tell her that she looked great was falling on deaf ears. So for the last few months I have been trying to get her back to her former slutty self. On Friday we met a new bull for the first time and all went well, but she still wasn’t 100%, but dealt a lot better. This brings us to the Saturday Pool Party.
Since we her long time friends with the hosts and hadn’t seen the, for awhile, we arrived early and started drinking. By the time the other guests arrived, the wife was well lubricated, but still holding back. As the party progressed, more and more clothes started disappearing, but the wife kept her suit on. At this time she was only one of two clothed. Enter the new guy, we’ll call Bob. Even though Bob was married, he came to the party alone, with a free pass. Pretty much everyone was in the pool at this time and several groups were starting to play. Several people, including the hosts kept telling my wife to take off her suit. She said, someone would have to get it off. Well several tried and failed. About this time she was daring guys to try to take it off. About this time mentioned that she should dare Bob, and she did. I admit she put up a struggle, but he managed to get the suit off. I told her she should reward him for his effort, so she approached him in the pool. Within minutes ites she has her arms around his neck kissing, and obviously trying to get his cock inside her. Now, once my wife puts her mind to something. It’s going to happen. Soon, she was riding him in the pool and screaming with her first of many orgasms.
Something happened, and they broke apart, and she had to leave to go to the bathroom. I went up to Bob and introduced myself, and then told him, he had already met my wife. He was a little concerned, but I assured him that this was why we were here he then told me how lucky I was. About 15 minutes later several people had moved inside to get food including. The wife and Bob.I got there just in time to hear the wife ask where they could go and “play”? They’re were directed to one of the bedrooms and off they went.
Now as I have mentioned before I love watching my wife with other guys, but this time, I let them go knowing I would hear details later. I went back to the pool to have my own fun. After about 45 minutes, Bob comes out the door, and walks straight over to me and state, “ your wife is Fantastic, and I was a lucky man” . Now realize that Bob is a young stud and he is jealous of me, because of my wife.
Eventually the wife comes out , with a big smile on her face and gives me a big kiss. I could tell that wif great “slutty wife “ was back. She gave me a brief rundown of what happened including lots of fucking with a few breaks to recoup and talk. Found out later that he had deposited 2 loads inside her during that time.
I figured they were thru, and it was our time to play as a couple with the host.. she had promised the wife that she was going to “jump her husband.” The four of us headed to a private room, and Bob followed. I assume he didn’t find anyone else to play with. Unfortunately for the host, the husband was having performance issues, so the wife could get him hard, so the host wife stepped in. My wife says, “well I can’t get him hard, but I know who I can, and looked right at Bob”. Well Bob didn’t need a second hint. Within seconds, they were goin at it on the couch while I was eating the Host wife’s pussy while she tried in vein to wake up her husband. Now I got a great show and and understood why my wife had enjoyed the previous times. They fucked for another half hour, before the wife had to to call time. She had to d it that Bob had worn her out.
After exchanging numbers and saying our goodbyes, we went back to our hotel. Now I got to reclaim my beautiful wife. Even though, she was complexly worn out, she was as determined as I was. Now I love ducking a good cream pie, so I was not disappointed. Even though it had been at least 30 minutes since he pulled out for the;last time, I was shocked at how filled her pussy was. I also pulled out several times so she could taste him on me. That really turned her on and I eventually got to add my load to hers and we both drifted asleep.
She woke the next morning with a text from Bob, saying “ he couldn’t wait until next time, and to be sure and tell her hi]us and how lucky he was”. Trust me, I know….
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gloria regali (Eren Yeager x Reader)
For @multi-fandoms-stuff who gave me a push
Summary: You are a Queen who doesn't want to disappoint your husband.
Trigger: Smut, period typical sexism and mentions of violence
Note: the reader is female body and goes by she her pronouns
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The sounds of the cheering crowd reached your ears. They sent you a message. Your husband, the king, has returned after once again fighting on the battlefield.
You let out a shaky breath.
After two years of marriage, you still felt nervous around him. The only time you two are together in the same room is during banquets. Where you sit on the table and watch him talk with his knights... and other ladies in the court. You know, a king has the right to have as many women as he wants in his bed, and your husband is no different from the other reigning monarchs. You've heard rumors. You see, the way the women in the court look at him with hungry eyes.
The only time you are alone together is in your bedchamber. As you lie on your bed afterwards, you silently pray that his seed takes root in your womb. It had been two years with no signs of pregnancy, and the court was already spreading rumours that you had a cursed womb and had failed in your duty to produce an heir.
The need for an heir was necessary. Your husband was never meant to be king; he was the spare. He was his father’s second son from his second marriage after his first wife, the late Queen Dina, died due to the plague. His older half brother, the Crown Prince Zeke, died in battle, and soon after, because of grief, King Grisha died. His second wife, Queen Carla, also died a year later, taken away by the same disease that killed the first Queen. Leaving only your husband as the only surviving member of the Yeager Royal family. Because of the lack of legitimate heirs, the chances of someone taking the throne were high.
Your marriage was one that was arranged based on your family’s success in wealth, status, and fertility. Your family met all of those requirements, and you were chosen right away as the only daughter and youngest child of four children of a powerful father.
You were married by proxy. His most trusted advisor, Lord Armin Arlert, stood in his place. Your husband was away on the battlefield. A rebellious faction had formed on the east side of the kingdom but was crushed quickly by the army.
Lord Arlert was honest with you when you asked him what your Lord Husband was like. He had told you that your husband was a man that was cheerful and passionate about his ideals and had the people’s interest in his mind and heart but after the death of his family in the span of one year has made him quiet, distant and cold.
Your heart ached for your husband, and you wished nothing more than to be worthy of being his wife and queen, to be worthy of bearing his children and furthering the Yeager dynasty. That was your duty as a wife, as a queen, and as a woman.
“Your majesty.” A voice pulled you from your thoughts.
You looked at your lady in waiting, Lady Yara. One of your most loyal ladies in waiting, who has been with you ever since you got married and crowned.
“Are you ready to greet the king?” She asked.
You rise from your chair. "Yes, I am.” You smooth your dress, and you and Lady Yara go to the gate.
“Your window of fertility is open, your majesty. You should make a comment about it to the King.” Lady Yara said as you two walked towards the gate.
You feel your face heat up from her comment. You wanted to scold her for making such a comment out in the open, but she was right. The window of opportunity was wide open and you had to take the chance.
You reach the gate and you see him.
Your husband was walking in, riding his white horse, and his armour was shining under the hot sun that almost made you blind. He changed a little bit after being away for a month and a half. He had stubble and he looked tired.
Gracefully, he gets off his horse and walks towards you.
“My lady.” He says.
“Your majesty.” You said, bowing gracefully.
He grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles.
Your heart skips a beat and the feeling of his dry lips and stubble on your skin.
He puts an arm around your waist and guides you forward.
“I heard that the palace has been running smoothly under your supervision.” He states.
“Yes, Your majesty.”
“And I trust my councilmen haven’t made it hard for you.”
You hesitate. Some councilmen were flabbergasted that you, a woman, dared to interfere in state affairs. It was with Lord Arlert's help that you managed to have peaceful council meetings.
“Lord Arlert has been my greatest ally in the council.”
Your husband had a little smile on his face. Every smile that forms on his face makes you smile as well.
“Armin is not a man who wastes people's potential .” He looks at you with his beautiful green eyes. “I’m glad I have a wife who is capable of ruling the kingdom while I'm away.”
"Your majesty, failing you as a wife and as a queen would be my greatest disappointment." You took a step forward. You put a hand on his neck and pushed him forward so that your lips were against his ear. “I wish to make you happy by giving you an heir that you deserve.”
You can feel him shake a little and then chuckle.
“Wait for me in your bedchambers at night, my lady. And we will both fulfil our duties to the kingdom.”
“I look forward to it.”
In your bedchambers you patiently sit on the bed.
You took a long bath, scrubbed your skin, made sure your hair was properly kept and put on a perfume that Lady Yara claimed that it made any man around you go crazy. Along with that routine you drink that your mother said increased the women’s fertility. You hated the bitter taste but you drank it until there was not a single drop left.
You sat on the foot of the bed and waited patiently but anxiously.
There’s a soft knock on the door. In your bedchamber it was you who had the high authority, this place was your own kingdom.
You pulled down the nightgown, revealing more of your shoulders. “Come in.” You said.
The door opens and your husband comes in. Apparently, he also pampered himself before coming. The stubble was gone, his hair looked more cleaned and freed from his bun. Instead of his armor he was dressed in a white shirt and brown pants. He looked handsome.
You got up from your bed.
“Your majesty.” You said bowing.
“You don’t need to be so formal, my Lady. Not in your bedroom.” He said approaching a table full of wine and some snacks that was prepared by the servants. He prepared himself a cup of wine and drank it in almost one gulp. He looked at you. You know that look. It was a look that made shivers run down your spine. His green eyes were filled with hunger and lust.
“Undress.” He said in a low voice.
With no hesitation you stripped the nightgown from your arms and let it pool down around your feet. You stood before him, naked as the day you were born, in all your glory. His eyes go up and down your body. The first time he looked at you like that, you wanted to run away. It intimidated you. It frightened you. But now all it does is create a carnal desire inside you.
“Lay on the bed.” He ordered.
You completely turned so that your behind was exposed to his hungry eyes. You walked to the bed, sat down and scouted your way into the center. By the time you look at him his shirt was already removed and he was making his way to the bed. He crawls towards you. Like a hunter going after his prey. He stopped when his face was right above yours. He kisses you hungrily. He licked your lips. Bite it. And sucked.
When your lips separated there was a string of saliva connecting you two. 
He lifted his hand and tapped your lips with his fingers. You opened your mouth and he put two fingers inside. You wet them with your tongue and suck. He lets out a grunt. The fingers are removed with a wet pop. He lowers them to your entrance. You grip the sheets in anticipation. He buries his face in your neck and starts moving his fingers up and down your slit. You stretch your neck, exposing your neck which he sees as an invitation to start biting and sucking it.
After enough wetness has been created he slips his fingers inside. You loudly moan at the feeling of him massaging your walls.
“I missed your sounds.” He moaned against your ear while pumping in and out of you at a moderate pace.
“Your majesty.” You moaned and then let out a whine when he stopped his movements.
He removes his face from your neck and looks at you.
“Do you want to repeat that, my lady?”
You know the reason for why he stopped but you dared to tease him.
“Your majesty.” You said it again.
He snapped his tongue and entirely removed his fingers. Making you whine at removal.
“You know what I like to be called when it’s just you and me. Do you?”
“I do.”
He puts his forehead on top of yours.
“Then say it.”
The way he said it made you clench around nothing.
“Eren.” You breathlessly whispered.
At first, when he insisted on being called by his birth name on the bed, you hesitated. It felt wrong. Your husband was no ordinary man; he was the most powerful man in the land, and calling him anything other than 'My lord' or 'your majesty' felt almost sacrilegious. But as he coaxed it out of you by also saying your name, by chanting it like you were some sort of divine being, you let his name out of your mouth without any restraint.
“Eren.” You moaned it once again.
His pupils were so dilated with lust that you could barely see the green in his eyes. He quickly removed his pants and positioned himself between your legs. He grabbed his member and bumped his head against the center. It touched your clit, which made you shudder. When he inserted the tip inside, he grabbed your hips with a strong grip and inserted himself even more inside you. You both moaned at the feeling. Yours was soft. His was louder, more feral.
He remained motionless, breathing heavily and enjoying your warmth around his cock. He gives one thrust, and you let out a mewl. He starts to slowly thrust and listen to your moans.
“This...” He said, but stopped himself when you clenched around him. “This is how a king should be received.” He grabbed the back of your knees and put your legs on his shoulders. The change of positions made his tip hit something inside you and your moans started to become even louder. “With his wife.” He gives you a hard thrust. “...with his queen…” Another one. “Spread and willingly.” Another. “So willingly to please him.” Another, faster, harder. “So willingly to give him an heir.”
He stops talking and buries his face on your calf, moaning into your skin.
“Eren.” You bable.
“Yes. Keep saying my name.”
“Eren.”
“Again!”
“Eren!”
He groaned like an animal. His grip became stronger and his thrusts became faster and harder. You also moaned out loud and gripped the arm that was holding your hip. He touched your nub and it made you shriek. You orgasmed soon after. Your whole body trembled, and your vision got blurry. He followed you after.
He removed your legs from his shoulder and lay down beside you, trying to catch his breath. You were out of breath as well. Sweat ran down your body. Your eyes were closed. You hear him shift in the bed. He grabs your chin and turns your head to the side. Your lips lock in a gentle kiss.
Day and night, you prayed for a healthy son, but you also wanted moments like this every night. Where your husband would kiss you so tenderly and praise you.
It was the beginning of spring when one morning you were getting ready for the day when Lady Yara, out of the blue, grabbed your breasts.
“Yara!” You shouted and slapped her hand away. “What’s wrong with you?!”
She didn’t say anything at first, but she once again dared to touch your breast. This time, her grip was a bit more firm and it almost hurt. You let out a yelp, and before you could once again smack her hand away, she said: “When was the last time you bled, your majesty?” She didn’t say anything at first, but she once again dared to touch your breast. This time, her grip was a bit more firm that it almost hurt. You let out a yelp, and before you could once again smack her hand away, she said: “When was the last time you bled, your majesty?”
You froze. The other ladies who were in the room stopped what they were doing and looked at you, waiting for your answer.
“Before his majesty returned from the battlefield.” You answer. Your heart is beating rapidly.
Yara's shocked face turns into one of joy. “I knew it. I suspected it when I noticed my monthly came along and you hadn't made mention of yours, since we’re both in sync. ”
You let out a shuddering sigh.
“Call for the physician.” You ordered.
“Right away, your majesty."
After Lady Yara left, you sat down on the chair. You feel light-headed. You closed your eyes and started to silently thank the higher beings in heaven for this blessing. For giving what you prayed for day and night.
The physician comes in, and everyone in the room is quiet, watching anxiously as he examines you. After a prolonged silence, he finally confirms everyone's suspicions.
“You are with child, your majesty. Congratulations.”
Everyone in the room shouts with joy. Your ladies in waiting come to you and hug you. Congratulations, fly around. Someone says all the bells in the town should be rung. Someone says that the King should be informed right away.
The King.
“Sent for him.” You say it without thinking twice.
It’s Lady Yara who brings him in, and it's almost comical. A small woman dragging a man who was twice her size by the arm. His facial expression was also comical. He was taken back from Yara’s action.
“Thank you, lady Yara. You and everyone else are dismissed.” You said, fighting back a laugh.
Lady Yara and the rest of the servants bow and leave.
“My lady.” He started. “Is everything alright? Your lady said it was urgent.”
“Well…” You started with your eyes looking at the floor. You felt nervous even though you were excited to tell him.
Before you could formulate some words, his hands cupped your cheeks and lifted your face.
“Are you sick? I also heard that the physician was called.” He asked while inspecting your face.
Gently, you held his hands.
“I’m not sick, your majesty.” You chuckle. “Well, I may be sick for a couple of months.”
“What does that mean?” He questioned.
You removed his hands from your face and moved them down and rested them on your stomach. His eyes follow your movements, and his eyes get bigger when he realises what you were trying to say.
“My lady?” He whispered, he wanted you to say it with your own words.
“Eren.” You started. “I’m with child.”
He lets out a breath and drops to his knees in front of you.
“Thank you, my lady.” He whispered, putting his cheek against your belly. “Thank you.” He said it once again while kissing your hand.
You put your hand on his hair.
You felt happy.
You felt relief.
You felt everything was alright.
As your pregnancy progressed, you started noticing how differently everyone was treating you. Those who used to mock you behind your back were now looking you in the eyes and telling you how grateful they were for this wonderful blessing and how they prayed day and night for a son. You bite back your tongue and just smile.
You also notice how different your husband is treating you. He is more affectionate towards you. Every time there was a banquet, he would make you sit on his lap and his hand would never leave your bump. He'd feed you grapes and whisper in your ear about how lovely you'd become since your belly began to grow. He whispers into your ear that he wants to name the child Alexander, after his grandfather.
Whatever you need, you get it immediately. You are craving a specific kind of meat. The hunters are out in the forest looking for the animal. When you show signs of discomfort, the physicians are immediately called.
He comes to your bed every night, not for pleasure, but to cuddle and lie beside you. He would bring your back into his front and hold your bump, sometimes you hear him talk to the baby. You wonder if he’s seeking pleasure from another woman, but you hear nothing from the rumour mill. You assume he is being discreet for your sake.
The day your child was born was the beginning of winter.
Your labour lasted an entire day.
Your screams echoed through the night.
The sound of your child crying brings you tears of joy.
When you finally regain your breath, you realise that everyone was too quiet.
You open your eyes and look at the foot of the bed. You see the physician and Lady Yara cleaning the crying infant. The physician had a neutral face, but Lady Yara’s face was of disappointment and worriness.
“What is it?” You asked, trying to get up. “What’s wrong with my child?”
“It's healthy…” The physician paused. “... daughter, your majesty.”
You collapsed in your bed, your heart dropped, and you felt numb. All the pain in your body has disappeared.
Tears run down your face.
You have failed. You gave birth but gave birth to a child with the wrong gender. You have brought shame on yourself, your family and your husband.
“Let me see her.” Lady Yara lays the child next to your face. You look at her. Your daughter. Her face was red and she was still crying. Her hair colour was the same brown shade as her father's, and she looks so much like him.
“I’m sorry.” You whisper to her because you know she too is going to receive horrible comments from the courtiers and the affection she received from her father when she was safely tucked in your womb is going to disappear once he learns it’s not the son he was waiting for.
Everyone was quiet and anxiously waiting. They cleaned you and the baby. The bedsheets were changed. They did all of that at a slow pace to make more time before he came in. The king wasn’t violent towards the people around him, and he wasn’t like the other husbands, never raising his hands towards you. But some were apprehensive about his reaction to the birth of a daughter.
You sat on the bed in your finest clothing, and the baby slept peacefully in your arms, also dressed in the most luxurious clothes and well bundled up for the winter cold, unaware of the tension in the room. You envied her and wished you could sleep right now.
A knock on the door You know who that was.
You took a deep breath and pulled your daughter closer to your chest. “Come in.”
You put your head down and close your eyes. You hear him come inside.
“Are both mother and child healthy?” He asked the physician. His voice was calm.
“Yes, your majesty. It was a smooth delivery; there were no issues.”
He didn’t say anything. He made his way to the bed and sat on the edge of it. You didn’t lift your head, and your eyes remained closed. You opened them when you felt a warm hand touching yours. He was grabbing the hand that was resting on top of the one that was lying on the baby’s chest. On the other hand, she was gently caressing her cheek. His eyes were wide with amazement.
“She’s so tiny.” He whispered. “Can I hold her?”
“Of course, your majesty.” You stammered and hesitantly transferred her into his hands. He holds her carefully. One hand on her lower body and the other on her head. She looked even smaller when being held by him.
“She's so beautiful.” He said, bringing her up closer so that he could kiss her forehead.
The cold in your body went away, and in its place was warmth.
“Thank you, my lady.” He said, looking at you. You were shocked. Why was he thanking you? Why wasn’t he angry that you didn’t give him a son?
“She’s not Alexander, my lord.”
“Yes, you're right.” He chuckled and looked back at her. “Alexandra is more well suited.”
The baby, Alexandra, started fussing. He put her closer to his chest, “Shhh, it’s alright, my love.”
You don't know how to feel or what to think.
"Alright, go back to your mother." He said when the fussing turned into wails and she was put back into your arms once again. When she was secure in your arms, he kissed your forehead gently, like he did with Alexandra. Your heart skipped a beat at the gesture.
Nobody in court or in the entire kingdom could deny that Princess Alexandra had become the apple in the King's eyes. Wherever he went, she was always in his arms. Lord Arlert once commented that he had started smiling like he used to before his parents and brother died.
Of course, there are still whispers. About how disappointing it was that the king had no male heir. That his wife couldn’t fulfil her duties. Of course, nobody dared to say horrible things about his daughter in front of him and while he was holding her.
The moment you were told by the physician that you could resume your bedroom activities, you tried every chance you got to invite the king into your bed, but he was always busy. There were problems rising once again on the east side of the kingdom. His days were filled with meetings with council members and generals. When the day ended, he went straight to bed.
You barely saw him, and when you did, the encounters were brief and left no time to make another child. He’s still there holding Alexandra and telling you the things that have been happening.
“I may have to go back to the east to resolve this.” He told you when you were in the bedchambers, sitting in front of the fireplace. Alexandra is on your lap, sleeping. The orange flames made his face shine and the determination in his eyes brighter.
You let out a worried sigh. You knew he was almost unbeatable on the battlefield, but they also said things like that about your brother-in-law, and now his little brother is the one that holds the crown.
“Do you have too?” You asked.
He wasn’t looking at you. His arm was resting on the armchair and his hand held his chin.
“I do, my lady.” He says. “Because if I don’t they may make plans to march towards the capital and seize the palace. We can’t let them think they have upper power towards us.”
“Eren.” You said it softly and he looked at you. “Come back alive, please.”
Eren gets up from his chair and kneels in front of you. His hands go to touch your face and Alexandra’s head.
“I promise you, my lady. I promise I'll come back.”
You closed your eyes and leaned into his warm hand.
He departs the next morning.
In order to distract yourself from your husband's departure, you go to council meetings with Lord Arlert. There you could get updates about your husband and how the rebellion is being dealt with, along with other state matters.
You are accosted by one of the council members one afternoon after a meeting. It was just you and him in the council room.
“Your majesty.” He started, his tone almost sarcastic.
You never like Lord Ross. He was rude and always smelt funny.
“I must demand you stop this foolishness.”
You frown. “What foolishness?”
“You, your majesty.” He spoke in a venomous tone. “You! Coming to the meeting. It 's unsightly!”
You raise your eyebrows in disbelief.
“I beg your pardon!?”
“Coming to the meetings. This is not a woman's place.”
“I’m the Queen! I have a duty to help my people.” You firmly said it.
“And your main duty is being quiet and letting the King rule while you make a son, but even that you couldn’t do it properly. Humiliating the King by giving birth to that spawn.”
You acted without thinking. You stepped in front of the disgusting person and slapped him as hard as you could. Your hand throbbed from the pain, but you barely even noticed because you were angry at the man in front of you.
Lord Ross looked at you in shock.
“DON’T YOU EVER SPEAK ABOUT MY CHILD THAT WAY EVER AGAIN! SHE IS YOUR KING’S CHILD AND I AM HIS WIFE AND YOUR QUEEN!”
You didn’t let him speak. You turned around and fled the room, bumping into Lord Arlert on the way out, but you didn’t bother to say anything to him. You just wanted to wash the hand that slapped Lord Ross.
You were woken up at the sound of your daughter's cries, but just as you opened your eyes, they started getting lower.
You look at the other side of the room and, to your surprise and shock, you see your husband picking up your child and holding her to his chest. He's so gentle with her. His big hands rub her back comfortably and kiss her side of the head while whispering soothing words.
After Alexandra calmed down and fell asleep again, he put her in the crib. You are sitting in your bed as he approaches it. He sits on the edge of it and grabs your cheeks, bringing your face to his for a kiss. You gladly accept it. "Which one?” He whispered into your lips.
“What?” You asked.
“Which hand did you use to slap Lord Ross?”
You pulled back. Was he mad? You couldn’t tell his face was blank and showed no emotion. Hesitantly, you lifted your hand. He grabbed it and kissed your palm, like a mother would kiss a child’s wound.
“I went straight into his bedchamber after Armin told me what happened. What he said to you and our child.”
“What did you do?” You asked.
“I cut his tongue.” He said it so casually, that it frightens you. “I dragged him out of his chambers and cut his tongue in front of other council members.” Your eyes widened in horror. “I did it as a demonstration. For them to see what happens when they talk ill about my wife and child.”
Your hands went to your mouth in shock and horror. 
“Why?” You whispered.
His eyes got widden, not understanding why you would ask a question like that.
“Why?” He asked in disbelief. “Because he insulted my wife. Our daughter. What kind of man would I be if I let that slide? If I let people insult my family like that?”
“Why aren’t you mad?”
“I’m mad at him, my lady.”
“Mad at me, your majesty.” You said. “I failed you in so many ways. I failed to give you a son. I slapped your councilman and made you go into a fit of rage. I failed you as a wife. I…” 
Before you could continue your self-degrading speech, Eren pulls you to his chest. You gasp.
“Don’t ever say things like that about yourself, my lady. It breaks my heart.” He said, pulling your head to his chest. You could hear his heart beat rapidly.
“You have not failed me. You did nothing wrong.”
“I didn’t give you the son I promised.”
“You promised me a child and you gave me a healthy one. I don't care if Alexandra is a boy or a girl. I don't care if we only have daughters. I don’t care if we only have her. I just want a family.”
You look up and you are surprised to see him… crying. Tears stuck in the corner of his eyes. You lifted your hand and wiped away one.
“I thought I would never feel happy again after the death of my family. But you have brought joy once again into my life, way before Alexandra was born. With the way you care for others around you. And…” He paused. “Now that I think of it, my lady. I was so cold and distant towards you at the beginning of our marriage. And I understand if you hate me because of it.”
“I don’t.” You quickly said.
Eren smiled.
“I’m the luckiest man in the world. To have such a wonderful wife and queen at my side.”
He cupped your cheeks and kissed you, but not before saying: “I love you, my lady.”
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Ruined Hallelujah
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Pairing(s): Margaery Tyrell x Baratheon!Reader, Renly Baratheon x Loras Tyrell
Warnings: platonic affair, arranged marriage, femalexfemale, malexmale
Words: 2374
Summary: You had expected such a move from Robert, maybe even Stannis, but never from your brother Renly. He was well aware of your affair with Margaery, even supported it. Yet he had married you off to Robb Stark, King in the North.
The four of you had come to an agreement of sorts. An odd type of arrangement if anyone else were to find out, but you were happy with it. You were in love with the beautiful Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden ever since you met her months ago. It was hard not to love someone like her. She was enigmatic and vibrant and oh so lovely. And somehow she returned all of your affections genuinely. The first time the two of you shared a secret kiss you knew your heart was a goner to the fair maiden.
Then everything changed when you found out that she was to wed your older brother Renly.
Of course your brother knew of your love for Margaery and tried to console you. Tried telling you that it was a marriage of pure convenience. He loved you dearly, his one and only little sister, and the last thing he wanted to do was take part in your heartbreak. It was then that he broke down and told you of his own affair with Loras, Margaery’s brother. The two of you had shared a laugh about the whole situation. Renly vowed that he would make things work between the four of you. There was no reason for anyone to suffer.
That’s how it came about that the four of you discussed with one another how this would work.
Indeed there was no need for anyone to suffer. There was enough suffering on the battlefield.
The War of the Four Kings was raging on in all corners of Westeros. You and Margaery worried constantly about your brothers when they left for battle. That’s when more than ever you found comfort in her arms.
Even worse was the fact that one of the other supposed kings was your now eldest brother Stannis. It had been a difficult choice to make when Stannis demanded that you choose a side to base your loyalty. How could you though when you loved both of your brothers. In the end you chose Renly. Thinking about it you knew that between the two, Renly would be a far better king than Stannis. It had been Renly after all who took care of you most of your young life. While you did stay at Dragonstone for some time with Stannis and his court you didn’t find any joy in such a dreary place. It seemed that you always chose Renly.
On the night of Margaery and Renly’s wedding, it was you who slept with Margaery in their supposed marital bed; naked and sated.
Her fingers carded through your slightly tangled hair as you nuzzle your face between the warmth of her breasts. Giving the delicate skin small kisses every so often. Her sweet perfume still clung to her making your head swim deliciously.
“What’s wrong my love? You were less enthusiastic than usual.” Margaery whispers. Her free hand danced down your arm and briefly brushed against the side of your breast making you shiver.
It was true that you couldn’t even enjoy in the merriment of the festivities. You couldn’t bring yourself to be happy when there was a war going on.
“Should I be offended?” You hear the teasing in the question.
You laugh softly, kissing her nipple before you lift yourself up on your elbows. No matter how many times you saw her naked it was still such a divine sight everytime. You always felt like your body could never compare to her splendor. “I’m sorry. My mind is elsewhere when it should be here with you. I fear that the war has a hold on me though. Brother fighting brother. . . It’s not right yet it seems poetically justified. Isn’t that what history consists of? Brothers waging war against each other.”
“Have faith in Renly that he will make amends with Stannis. Eventually Stannis will see that he’s not fit to be king.”
You snort. “Dear Margaery, you don’t know Stannis. He thinks it’s his birthright to be king. After Robert he is the oldest. I think he may be even more stubborn than Robert was.”
She giggles and squirms underneath you. “Seems that’s a trait for all Baratheons!”
“Am I stubborn?”
“Very much so.” Margaery leans forward to press her lips on your’s and perfectly meld them together. You complied, as you always did, parting your lips to let your tongue dart out and beg for entrance.
“That’s what I love most about you though.” She admits against the kiss “Stubborn and tenacious. Like the warrior Nymeria.”
“Then I shall take it as a compliment.”
With Margaery, your worries were always forgotten.
At least for the time being.
~
“You shouldn’t be having a tourney! We’re in the middle of a war!” You have to stop yourself from shrieking as Renly put on his armor.
“Careful there sweet sister. You’re starting to act like Stannis.” He chuckles. Renly always loved to tease you. Especially when you were angry.
Trying to prevent your cheeks from puffing out as they so often did when you were upset, you cross your arms in front of you. “I’m serious Renly. You should concentrate more on what’s going on.”
“I am. I’m concentrated on what’s going on with you.” He replies more softly.
Perplexed you wait for him to explain.
Renly walks up to you, his armor clanking as he moved, and took your hands. “Margaery is worried about you (y/n). I’m worried about you too. This tourney is supposed to be for you. To get your mind off of all of this. Believe it or not your worry is worrying Margaery.”
You hadn’t thought about it like that. Feeling terrible for unknowingly putting Margaery through that you sink down to sit on top of one of Renly’s trunks. “It’s just so hard to enjoy things now. . .”
“I know. But you’re missing out on enjoying the small things. Leave the worrying to me (y/n). At least for a little while. I want you to enjoy this tourney with your lady love. You know how much she adores you.”
“Yes. You’re right. I’ll go apologize to her and enjoy the days ahead.” With a kiss to Renly’s cheek you pick up your skirts and rush out of his tent to go find the queen of your heart.
*
Lady Catelyn Stark looks over the whole affair with judgemental blue eyes that she had inherited from her father. Ned had always commented that they were their own, unique shade; Tully blue.
Renly wasn’t taking the situation seriously. Here he was throwing a tourney while good men died. He was treating it like a childish game.
A slight flare of anger flickered inside of her as she was walked through the grounds. The crisp air was filled with jovial laughs and the sound of hooves hitting the earth. All while her son struggled to form a bigger army, while her bannermen died at the hands of the Lannisters.
In the background were the clanging sounds of the tourney in full swing. The nearly thunderous cheers that were carried by the wind to Cat’s ears. Her guards lead her in the direction of the merriment knowing full well that King Renly would be there.
Indeed, there King Renly was with his loyal sister between him and a beautiful young lady that Cat could only assume was Renly’s new bride. It was a little odd seeing (y/n) Baratheon in the middle of the royal couple. She didn’t look to be disturbing the picture, in fact her presence seemed to bring together a vision of unification. Both Renly and his queen had hold of both of her hands as she watched with excitement. Cat noticed how the chestnut haired queen would look at the king’s sister. The Lady of Winterfell averted her eyes, feeling as if she had witnessed something she was not supposed to.
After the tourney where a large woman by the name of Brienne of Tarth bested Loras Tyrell, Catelyn was presented to Renly. The young king was all smiles and friendliness as he welcomed her. His young sister however appeared pensive and dare say a little wary of her presence.
“I don’t think you’ve had the honor yet of meeting these two lovely women.” Renly beams and brings his sister’s hand up to his lips for a quick kiss. “This here is my darling sister (y/n). And next to her , that great vision of beauty is my queen Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden.”
“An honor Lady Stark. I’m so sorry about your husband.” The Tyrell girls seemed to be a good diplomat as she puts on a pretty smile and eyes that were filled with genuine condolences. She was indeed a pretty thing suited well for the title of queen. Such a softer appearance than the Baratheon girl beside her. (y/n) still looked uncertain at Cat’s presence. As if she were expecting an ambush from Robb’s army. Smart and cautious she was; something Renly should’ve been. Those rich Baratheon blue eyes drill into Catelyn.
“The Lannisters will pay dearly for what they have done.” Renly releases (y/n)’s hand. “When I take King’s Landing, I’ll take Joffrey’s head.”
“It will be enough to know that justice was done, my lord.”
(y/n), who had been quiet so far, finally speaks. “Your grace, Lady Stark. My brother is a king.”
Even Brienne of Tarth snaps at Catelyn for that slip of the tongue. Renly is quick to calm both ladies down. Margaery squeezes (y/n)’s hand and leans her lips to her ear. Whatever was said calmed the youngest Baratheon. That brief fire in her voice had painfully reminded Cat of her own youngest daughter. They both shared the same spirit.
Renly stands from his throne, ignoring the worried stare of his sister as he makes his way down from his dais and up to Catelyn. “Let us take a walk, Lady Stark.”
*
You tried, oh how you tried to contain your Baratheon anger. Margaery attempted to soothe you with her soft hands on your arms but you were having none of it.
“How could you do this to me Renly?!” You brushed away Margaery’s touch and advanced toward your brother. “You’re marrying me off to Robb Stark?!”
“My love,” Margaery warned you “your temper.”
Turning on her you snap “How can you be so calm? Do you not love me at all?!”
She bristles at the accusation, her sweet face becoming expressionless as her eyes waver. You knew you had hurt her.
“Ladies, calm down.” Renly beckons the both of you back to him. He had been seated at his desk, the colors of his tent dancing off of him. Loras was in attendance as well, keeping quiet though it was clear that he disagreed with the engagement as well. “This is the only way to truly secure an alliance with this King in the North. It is clear that Catelyn doesn’t really respect my position. Now she’ll have to. I’m sorry (y/n). This is the most beneficial outcome.”
“I would’ve expected such a move from Robert or Stannis, but you Renly? You’ll be sending me away from Margaery.”
“Not forever.” Renly holds a finger up, indicating that you wait for him to explain. “Do your duties. Marry him, bed him until you produce a child, then return to us.”
The very thought of bedding Robb Stark so casually was unbelievable as you gawked at your brother. “You make it sound so easy. Damn you Renly. Not wanting to continue to hear whatever your brother had in store, you barge out of his tent. Margaery was quick to chase after your tail.
“(y/n)!” She calls after you.
Soldiers turned their heads as you made it to a secluded place, far away from the camps and hidden in the shelter of trees. “How can you be so calm about this? You should be just as mad Margaery!”
Even when her own temper was rising to the surface Margaery always played it off calm and collected. You admired and hated it all at the same time. “Of course I’m upset. This is just how the world works, my dear. Women are bartered over like prized cattle. It was the very same for me yet look at us. We’ve made it work.”
Scoffing you fold your arms. “I don’t think my husband will be as generous about the situation s Renly has.”
“He doesn’t have to.” You felt her voluptuous breasts press against your back as she winds her arms around you so that they latched across your stomach. Nose nuzzling against your neck as she places soft butterfly kisses on the bit of your shoulder that was exposed. Her fingers sneakily twist around the ties that crossed at the front of your gown. “Just think of me when he takes you. The sooner you have his child the sooner we’ll be reunited. My heart belongs to you (y/n). I trust you completely.”
Inhaling her sweet perfume you close your eyes already envisioning Robb bedding you on your wedding night. He wouldn’t know your body as well as Margaery did. All your sweet and tender spots that sent you spasming. How you loved it when she kissed the skin under your breast, leaving dark marks all over them. Margaery’s fingers curling into your hair, undoing the curls and pins, as you lapped at her womanhood. How could you possibly lay with anyone else? No one would know your body as Margaery did.
“I don’t want anyone to touch me but you.”
Her forehead presses against the nape of your neck. “I know. Do you think I want that wolf touching you? But I cannot fight him for you (y/n). Maybe if I were a man. I am but a woman. A married woman at that. The both of us must play our roles and enjoy the moments we have with one another. You’ll be back in my arms soon.”
“Will you still love me even if I carry the Stark king’s child?”
Margaery turns you around in her embrace to cup your warm cheeks. “Of course I will. Nothing will change (y/n).”
You hold onto her hands and prayed her words would be true.
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musicfeedsmysoul12 · 11 months
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Cousin Shinsou and Izuku shenanigans in Snipe’s little Cowgirl: (Reminder/information: Izuku is a trans girl in this AU)
-Shinsou totally has the ability to mimic voices right? So he can do accents.
County!Shinsou in Snipe’s Little Cowgirl picks up the ability to do a southern accent and goes: this is me now. And refuses to speak English without it. He then taught Izuku how to do it so she does the same.
-Izuku learns to dance and Hitoshi gets dragged into it cause he’s tall and can move. He proceeds to drag her into going hunting through the streets to look for stray cats in revenge. (Neither actually mind)
-when they met, Bethany (Snipe’s cousin) hadn’t married Dr. Shinsou (he needs a name but I don’t know what I want to use so I will take suggestions or scroll through fanfics to find one) and Izuku didn’t have her egg cracked yet. So these two kids who got heavily bullied are just side eyeing the fuck out of each other and being nervous as fuck. At least until Izuku talks about Eraserhead and Hitoshi goes !!!. Besties after.
-They don’t go to the same school but through Izuku going to Mustapha Private they meet Kirishima and Ashido. I am seriously thinking Hitoshi gains crushes on both for funsies.
-Izuku and Hitoshi have in fact pranked all of UA one time when Snipe had them there while he was doing teacher stuff. Nezu and Aizawa included.
-Hitoshi HATED Inasa when Izuku dated him but tried to be supportive. When the bullshit happened, Hitoshi actually did threaten him.
-I feel like someone tried to blackmail Hitoshi into dating them but Izuku out of NOWHERE would just slam down so much evidence of their bullshit.
-Oh wait. Wait.
These two are the ONLY LGBTQ+ members of the family so far. Everyone else (except maybe Mabel) is straight as fuck. This also means though that the family will go rabid for them.
-Bethany once tried to murder someone who commented about Hitoshi liking boys. With her heel. It was at a gala she went to with Snipe and the kids cause heroes and she was going to throw down with a minor hero.
-I feel like Hitoshi isn’t friends with Yaoyorozu or Iida but he is with Todoroki.
-Yeah that’s what we’re doing. Izuku got the two nerds and Hitoshi got his fellow emo/silent type.
-Todoroki still has his issues though. So does Hitoshi actually cause fuck it I can.
-It’s just when your Quirkless cousin gets into UA and you don’t you get a wake up call you need to buff up and work out.
-Izuku lords it over him for months. (I headcanon there are hero universities for kids who didn’t go to hero high school so she thought he’d go there if he didn’t get in through the sports festival)
-Not that… okay so, Hitoshi didn’t think it would be robots and while he isn’t Quirkist he did think he and Izuku were on the same level for UA. But they weren’t cause Izuku worked her ass off. She didn’t do recommendations cause the ‘favouritism’ issue, but still got in. Hitoshi didn’t. So it’s something he’s got to admit.
-… also now actually it would be fun to explore his assumption Izuku has to work twice as hard as him to be on his level. It’s subtle but it’s a micro aggression I think would be common.
And like I love Hitoshi I do. I also think he’s a dick in the beginning and it’s not to far out he would think that. He’s not Quirkist in the sense ‘Quirkless is useless’ but he does have some thoughts about how Izuku will always be working harder and shit.
Which isn’t wrong. But… *waves hand* yeah.
-So it’s a wake up call when she gets in but he doesn’t and like yeeeeeeeeaaaaaah.
-Shit I should also include Brandon and Jeff in this cause they’re cousins to.
-I wrote half this on night shift but anyways: Brandon is Izuku and Hitoshi’s age and he’s the cousin on the other side of the world randomly texting them shit like: hey so I miiiiight have lit my homophobic teacher’s house on fire. Jeff is like two years younger and he’s an actual legit genius who called dibs about designing their gear.
-All four are chaos. Then when Mandalay marries Snipe Kouta is added and they’re even WORSE.
-CHAOS COUSINS
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always-andromeda · 2 years
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Prompt: Way out There
Character: Klitz
(this prompt idea was too good I couldn’t resist!)
Author’s Note | ugh, I loved writing this. just the right amount of fluff and angst, ugh, I love it. thank you for this pairing request, anon!!
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Finals week always blows. Especially when you've got a three month vacation until the rest of your life begins. With him going to Yale and you staying in your hometown...Klitz is determined to make the long distance thing work.
But between the hours of studying and the seemingly endless amount of pamphlets explaining every aspect of his future university life...he hasn't had much time for you. So he comes to cherish the quiet moments where he gets to soak up your presence.
Head on his chest, lying on the basement couch in his parents house, you say suddenly, "Klitzy? I want to go to Vegas."
"And do what?" he chuckles nervously. Knowing you, you already had a plan in mind.
He loves you. And you give him a confidence he can't remember ever having before. Which is why when you whisper that you want to run away with him, he has to say yes.
And before he knows it, he's sitting in the driver's seat of his car. You're in the passenger side, already squealing about all of the lights and the slot machines and the music. All poor Klitzy can do is swallow the lump in his throat and go along with the plan. He can't break your heart again.
The second you two get within view of the packed Vegas strip, he knows he's a goner. You, on the other hand are buzzing; dragging him along the sidewalk and pointing out the giant hotels.
He's just glad that as enthusiastic as you are about this place, you and him can't get into any of the casinos. Because he's already taking a gamble leaving midway through the day to spend the day in Las Vegas with his girlfriend. If his parents knew about how irresponsible he was being right now, they'd be horrified.
Even more horrified when you and him pass by a twenty four hour chapel. You gasp upon seeing the twinkly lights of the sign and suggest, "Klitzy, we should get married!"
"Babe, we should definitely not do that."
"Why?" you pout at him, already starting to wilt.
"Because we're teenagers. And I'm going to Yale an--"
You interrupt him harshly, "I know you're going to Yale. Everyone knows you're going to Yale. Jesus, you don't have to rub it in."
"I'm not trying to rub it in!" he objects.
"Sure, whatever." you huff defiantly and begin to walk away, finding an alcove tucked in between hotels. 
After a few seconds of mentally kicking himself for bringing up the dreaded college talk, he follows your trail and finds you seated on a bench pressed against the shadowed side of one of the buildings. He always walked right past the little nook, it was so dimly lit and unassuming.
Plopping down right beside you, Klitz stays quiet.
"You know, I'm really gonna miss you, Klitzy." you sniff into the silence. And for a second, Klitz wonders if the way you're shivering is just because of the cold. But it takes all of a few seconds before you're almost sobbing into his shirt and holding tightly onto him like he might fly away.
Taking your face in his hands, Klitz wipes away some stray tears with his thumbs, "Hey, what's going on?" He'd been concerned about how erratically you'd been behaving practically the entire time but hadn't wanted to put too much thought into it. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea as you were breaking down in front of him.
"You're going away. And I can't do anything about it. You're gonna find someone else and leave me in the dust. And I don't want that to happen."
Klitz presses his forehead against yours, "I know it's gonna be hard to do the long distance thing. But it'll be worth it, because it's you. You know what they say; distance makes the heart grow fonder or something like that."
You take a stumbling breath, regaining only a slight amount of composure, "Are you sure you're really okay with doing long distance?"
Klitz has a whirlwind of emotions and anxieties swirling around inside his head. For one, how you're so sure that he'll leave you, he has no clue. He could never just find someone else; you're already his someone.
If anything, he's found himself worrying that you'd move on. You totally could move on and find someone who was more in your league. Someone more popular or more likely to be successful than a nerd like him. But that's just his cynicism talking. And for once, he's not going to let those fears win.
"I am perfectly fine with long distance," he reassures you. "Besides, we're here together now. Wouldn't want to waste tonight being all sad. What do you say we go and have some fun?"
You gaze into his eyes so deeply, Klitz feels like he's never been properly looked at until your eyes had done so. You sniff back some of the remaining mucus stuffing up your nostrils. "Yeah, you're right. God, Klitzy, why do you have to be so sappy and smart?"
Klitz chuckles, "I've always been a man of many talents."
"Well, then, care to demonstrate one of them?" you ask, raising your brows teasingly. Klitz only returns with a perplexed look until you explain, "Kiss me, you dork."
And because he loves you and you give him a confidence he doesn't think he's ever had before, he does.
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magicalmadrigals · 1 year
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Something New, Something True - 1
[Synopsis: Newly married and newly pregnant? Ay, life is never simple for Isabela Madrigal...
I have been wanting to do a little collection of one shots for Isabela for the longest time and so I am finally getting around to doing that. It is going to be so much fun, exploring what married life is like for her while she also navigates her first pregnancy. I think every member of the family will be making an appearance in this, so I hope you guys stick around and enjoy!]
Julieta knew all three of her daughters like the back of her hand, it was one of the things she took pride in, so there was no doubt in her mind that there was something weighing on Isabela’s mind at the dinner table. She had been quiet and in her own little world since they sat down to eat, merely swirling her spoon around in her sopa rather than eating it and doing her best not to make eye contact with anyone, and Guillermo was no help at all. She had glanced over at him a number of times in an attempt to make out what was going on, but she’d been given nothing to work with. Of course, there was a chance that he was just as in the dark as to what was going on with his esposa as she was, but there was also a chance that he knew much more than he was saying.
Ay, who was she kidding?
Of course, he knew more about this.
Despite having only been married six short months, they had known one another for four years now since they met during the rebuild of their home. She deemed him a nuisance in the beginning, feeling all he did was get in the way and make more work for everyone with his clumsiness and inability to even hold a hammer up the right way, she told her so herself, but her feelings regarding him soon began to change. She found it hilarious when he tripped over something or tore into a packet of seeds with too much force, sending them everywhere, and it surprised her little when she came in one night and asked if she thought he could eat dinner with them.
Her little girl had fallen hard for him.
Why on earth it took them so long to get around to getting married, she had no idea, but she was pleased the two of them had let a good length of time go by before making such a choice. It would have been so easy for them to rush into things in the heat of the moment and make a mistake, one they may have come to regret in time, and so she felt they had gone about things in the correct way and she was proud of them for thinking so rationally about it. It was well worth the wait too, honestly, seeing her daughter so contenta and with someone who loved her for her, not only her talent and the family she came from, and reminded her of her worth daily.
It was the sound of a spoon being tapped lightly against the side of a glass that pulled her from her thoughts, causing her to glance the young couple’s way once again, and she was relieved to see Isa was smiling this time.
So, the reason for her being so quiet was a good thing after all.
She could breathe a little easier now.
Once he had the attention of the familia, Guillermo rose from his seat and moved to stand behind Isabela and she watched her daughter reach up and thread her fingers through his when he laid a hand upon her shoulder. “I, uh, I have no need to tell you that I am not the greatest with words because you all remember my wedding speech,” He brought his free hand to the back of his neck and rubbed it nervously, making her and the rest of the family chuckle. “But, not too long ago, Isa and I got some wonderful news and we wanted to tell you all at the time, but thought it would be better to keep it to ourselves for a little while just in case. I think both of us are too impatient to keep it secret anymore though, so we couldn’t be happier to tell you we’re having a baby.”
“A baby? You’re having a baby?” Mirabel gasped from the other end of the table.
Isabela nodded, laughing at her hermanita’s evident delight. “It should be here in late septiembre, early octubre if Gui and I have done our maths right, but neither of us are that good at it and so I wouldn’t quote us on it.”
“And how are you feeling?” Alma reached out and brushed her hair from her face, sitting next to her.
“Just a little tired,” Isabela shook her head. “I had an appointment with the doctor a couple of days ago and he said that things look excellente with me and the baby which is good. All I truly care about is it being healthy.”
Julieta was doing her best to listen to her familia while they asked Isa question after question and she answered them as best she could, but the second she heard they were expecting a baby she was overcome with emotion and all she could focus on was her little girl. It would have been a true understatement for her to say that she was thrilled at the announcement. Not only was she going to be an abuela, something she’d wanted for years, but her daughter was going to be a mamí and there were honestly no words for how delighted she was for her.
She could remember her going on and on as a child, only a little older than Antonio, about how she was going to be the best mother when she was older. Her dolls were her babies and she would treat them as such, always making sure they were comfortable and clean and well presented, and she never gave her a reason to doubt she would make a brilliant mamí to her own child when the time came. Of course, playing dolls and having a real baby to care for were not the same thing in the slightest, but she knew for a fact her daughter had it in her to be amazing. She was so warm, so nurturing and gentle, and those were all things that made up a good mother.
It would be foolish to think she would never make a mistake because she would, lots of them, and there were going to be moments when she felt she was failing and could do nothing right, but that was where she would come in. She would be there to pick her up when she was down, to hold her and make her see she was doing her best for her bebé and her little familia and that was all that mattered. It would be an emotional time for all involved, much like her own pregnancies had been, but there was no doubt in her mind that they would make it through together. It was the way their family had always handled things and that was never going to change.
Not as long as any of them were living.
-----
It was nearing midnight when she was alone in la cocina, a candle burning next to her as she prepared the last couple of things for breakfast in the morning, and she looked up at the gentle pat of bare feet against the tiles only to see Isa there in her nightgown. “Mi vida? What are you still doing up? I thought you went to bed ages ago!” She wiped her hands quickly on her apron and turned to her as she entered the dimly lit room, opening her arms to her with a sigh at the look on her face. It seemed as though she had the cares of the world on her shoulders. Wrapping her arms around her when she all but fell into her embrace, she gently kissed her temple.
“I’m scared, Mamá, I have so many questions and none of the answers to them,” Isabela said in a voice thick with emotion as she curled her hands into her dress and tucked her head into her neck. “I love Gui and I love this baby, but it all happened so quickly and I never expected it to. I thought he and I would be married for a year at least before starting a familia, just like Lolita and Mariano, that was the way it was planned in my head and I liked that plan! I think what worries me the most is not knowing what to do. I don’t know how to be a mamí, I don’t know how to nurse or change or settle a bebé, and I’m worried Guillermo will be disappointed.”
Julieta smiled into her hair. “Do you think us women are born knowing how to do any of those things?”
Isa tilted her head back against her shoulder and looked up at her, closing her eyes when she brushed her hair from her face. “I think you were sometimes. You just always made it seem so easy when we were growing up.”
“Gracias, mi princesa, that’s kind, but I had to learn to be a mamá the same way your abuela and every mujer that came before me did,” Julieta pointed out, easing her away from her and taking her hand so she could lead her over to the table and they could sit down together. “I had already had some practice when your hermanitas arrived, but when I had you I had no idea what I was doing. I was only a few years older than you are now when I gave birth to you and I had a lot to learn. I had to learn to nurse you and I had to learn to bathe and change you along with many other things. It was hard and I was so tired, I won’t lie, but I loved every moment of it.”
“Did Papí help a lot with me?” Isabela raised an eyebrow. “I remember him helping with Lu and Mira.”
“I think your papí helped me more with you than he did your hermanitas,” Julieta told her with a nod. “I was able to do more on my own when they were born because it was second nature to me by then, but with you it was all so new and I needed a lot of help and encouragement. He would get up with you in the middle of the night sometimes just so I could sleep. I remember he used to carry you down to the music room and play the piano until you settled. He was always reminding me of what a good mother I was too though. He helped me to stop caring what people thought of me and to stop listening when they would give me unwarranted advice.”
Isabela brought a hand to her stomach, smiling to herself as she glanced down at where her child was growing safely within her. “Guillermo is the happiest I have ever seen him,” She almost whispered when she looked up at her mother again with tears brimming in her eyes. “He talks to the baby all the time and he can’t help but put his hand on my stomach when he’s around me. He loves this baby so much and it isn’t even here yet, so I can’t even imagine how much more he’s going to love it when it’s born and he gets to hold it. He is going to be the best papí, I know that already, and he has already promised me that he’s going to help when I need it.”
Julieta reached out and laid a hand on her knee. “You need to stop worrying then and just enjoy this, amor.”
“I know and I’m going to try, Mamá, I really am.” Isabela assured her.
“Good,” Julieta leaned in to stamp a kiss onto her forehead. “Now, I think you should go and get some sleep.”
“Am I allowed to say that I think you should do the same?” Isabela asked with a smirk.
Julieta couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “I suppose I should. Why don’t we go up together?”
Wordlessly, sharing a smile, they rose from their chairs and tucked them in before she wrapped an arm around her daughter and let her cuddle up to her. She picked up a candle in order for them to be able to see as they left la cocina and walked through the courtyard, quietly making their way up the staircase when they came to it. Once they were outside her room, she took her arm from around her only to lift her hand to her cheek and brush her thumb against her skin. Her beautiful little girl. Her baby. She always made her so incredibly proud. “I want you to know you can always come to me if you ever need to talk,” She whispered. “I am always here.”
“I know, Mamá, and I love you for it.” Isabela smiled, kissing her on the cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You will. Buenos noches, mi vida.”
“Buenos noches.”
Turning around once she’d shared one last smile with her mother, Isabela opened the door to her room before walking inside and closing it carefully behind her. Casita turned up the lights ever so slightly so she could see where she was stepping as she made her way back to bed, but once she climbed in – careful not to knock her sleeping esposo – they turned back down and she hummed as she laid down next to him and got comfortable. Feeling relieved and as though she could get a little sleep now, she tucked a hand under her cheek and closed her eyes and that was when she felt Guillermo move closer to her beneath the covers and take her in his arms.
“You okay, querida?” He murmured in the darkness, clumsily kissing her neck as he brought her back against him and brought a hand to rest on her abdomen. “I could have sworn I heard you get up. Where did you go?”
“I needed to speak with mi mamá about something before she went to bed,” She laid a hand over his and felt her heart swell when he curled himself around her and held her a little tighter as she relaxed in his embrace. “I feel so afortunada to be getting to do this with you. Starting a familia, I mean. I was a little worried about it before, I admit it, but mamá really helped and I’m not worried about it as much anymore. I’m just so excited.”
“Good,” He buried his face in her neck. “You don’t need to be worried. You are going to be the best mamí…”
“I was more worried about letting you down than anything.” She sighed, lacing her fingers lazily with his.
He chuckled. “No, mi amor, you could never let me down.”
“You really mean that? Never?”
“Not ever.”
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makahimetenshi · 6 months
Text
Perfect connection - Arthur Maxson x Fem Sole Survivor
These are the lemmon chapters between the story Follow me inside the wastelands. Mostly to make their relationship more intense and passionate I would say this is in the middle of chapter 13 and 14, at that early point of their relationship
If you are very very very delighted with one fic and want a continuation I didn’t write or post you can donate me at least $5 bucks, most of this fics have next chapters I don’t finish because lack of motivation but hey a $5 is a $5, I see a few reviews and comments that fics that are abandoned months laters receive comments of wanting to know what happens next. Here it is, I finished my handling with you all, enjoy the fic
Lately, inside his quarters, Nora was dressing cute. He didn’t understand the reason but he loved coming inside after a long day of work to admire that beautiful pre-war wife fantasy in blue laundered dresses.
Coming in to had lunch together was a dream, he will find her doing some very mundane and chill stuff like for example cleaning the windows of his quarters and oh boy he could love more the fact that he was giving her that…security…to feel safe.
When Nora cooked for him even if she didn’t eat she felt…plenty…she cherished this domestic life with someone, she enjoyed the time she had with Nate back then.
She felt happy, never thinking it was possible to recreate this peace in this new world
Waiting for the food on the table was a dream come true for Arthur, he didn’t even allow his mind to create fantasys like this before, a plate of hand cooked food with love, the experience was fulfilling in everysense, the noise of the food cooking in the pan, the smell of the ingredients, the little spoons Nora gave him to test, the goodloking view of his woman and the food…How much time it passed since he felt so in peace? This felt correct for both.
While he waited for her to serve the food he fantasied…with a life were the bombs never dropped, were they both married, him as the working husband waiting every morning for his glorious wife in the most lovely and cheerfuls dresses to serve him a breakfast made with love, both smiling happy to have the other at their sides with the radio on background just like now.
Nora would kiss him on the cheek leaving the warm plate on the table, Arthur would reciprocate the little kiss with a thank you. The fantasy balloon exploded but he had something equally as good right in front of him
It was a shame she wouldn’t want to eat much with  him.
-You look tired –she said serving glasses of wine for both.
-I always look tired, im doing much better with you around –he said cutting on his lunch
-Its that’s so? –it was, he felt less anxious knowing she was waiting for him in his quarters because of the  impriosioment time- and here I was thinking I was just a burden.
-Not at all, never think that –Nora sometimes had…dangerous thoughts…she had chips and mindsets difficult to change. Never would bother him at all- you look beautiful-gosh Arthur worshipped her so much
-This old thing? I should bring you things from  my home, since you are now the only man Im going to dress now on –Arthur smiled as his cheeks blushed, eating on his meal. Nora walk around him placing her hands on his shoulders and for some reason…he felt like a piece of meat, gosh he was her prey. She leaned down hugging him by the shoulders hiding her face in his neck, just breathing
-You shouldn’t feed me if you are looking  for a long session of sex
-Don’t tell me you end up all heavy!
-A bit, also the breath –she laughed and started to leave cheesy kisses on his cheek. As he chew he thought he never reminded to feel this…loved
His chest felt warm and full around her.
After finishing his meal he loose no time in taking her up from the waist, delighted with the play of the fabric in his arms, lifting her happy to hear her laugh and throw her into bed, took the chance to crawl in four on top of her and oh my the view was…beautiful, he caress her cheek paying attention to the length of the dress over her long legs but didn’t rise the fabric, just sneak a hand under and start moving up slowly, pressing his fingers against the inner side of her tight, moving up and down slowly to a side an another, looking at her eyes when his fingers moved to close to between her legs, loving the way she shivers entirely
His fingers started to play with her crotch, touching the skin of her legs and the very warm of her panties. Nora melted under his touch, letting him o and look at her eyes, this feels so intimate. Once he robbed the first moan a hand sneak into her panties from the top, fingers slipping down in her folds because of how wet she was…The hand on her cheek moved to grope one of her breast even with the dress on, massaging it firmly taking another moan from her lips.
A finger sneak between to touch her clit, her arms wrapped around his neck delicately  as she closed the eyes enjoying the sensation –Arthur…-she said as his finger moved touching her soft bud, damn she was wet.
Another finger started to play with her nipple, Nora wanted to reciprocate, trying to lift one of her knees up to touch him but the man pushed down her leg abandoning her breast to make her stay still in place
-Nono, this is for you –he said mumbling as a second finger started to play with her clit.
-You are okay? –a third finger started to move around her wet and hot entrance, he wouldn’t lie to himself this had him aching for his cock to get inside so bad, he wished that instead of his finger it was the head of his cock playing with her fluids but nono, today he wanted something different but damn she was wet and hot.
-Yeah –he said lying but it was all worth it when he heard another moan again- unbutton yourself honey -without loosing time Nora unbutton the dress in the chest area, his hand moved up to grab the other boob, his head going down to hatch her nipple, sucking, she scream a bit and that went directly to his hard cock, the third finger buried inside her and a fourth one sneak between her folds to play with her clit.
He can feel her breath changing, since his lips were sucking and licking her nipple so close to her chest, biting a bit making her shiver entirely, gosh her moans sounded so sexy, so feminine, so seductive…The third finger started to move up and down, the others massaging her clitoris in different directions
-I wanna touch you –she said loving the finger inside her.
-No –and then a second finger get inside, Nora turned her head to the side leaving her neck exposed
-But honey…-his theets would move delicately on her nipple, causing her to shiver again for the sweet tease.
-Do you like it? –he ask before sucking more, her hips started to move unconsciously against his hand.
-I love it but you…-out of nothing the two fingers inside her started to trust and move faster, so much faster that it seriously started to make her moan out and loud.
-I wanna see you cum- Arthur gave a slow and big lick to her entire breast, from the underboob to the top, moving his fingers faster
-Bite –she order, and he did, biting soft on her boob, her whole body shiver in pleasure-Oh gosh –her hips jerked and then he make a third finger inside- Ah yes…
His hand started to move faster inside, the wet sounds making his cock hurt from how turned on he was,  his lips will start kissing up to her neck, biting little and slow up on her skin. Without noticing and drived by desire his own hips started to trust and move against the woman leg, moving down his body to seek some friction against her like a dog.
-So beautiful –he said feeling his underwear wet, probably in precum now he was groping like that against her.
-Deeper- she order, and he started to trust harder and deeper is fingers until he cant anymore- Arthur…-she whined
-Mmm what you need is another thing –he said before biting on her neck, making Nora scream.
-Yes! –her hands gripped on his back, moving him around, gosh this was the moment were she wanted to take things by force, Nora will seek for her own pleasure.
-You don’t enjoy my fingers? –Arthur groan at feeling her hands on his back, wiggling against her leg.
-I do but I need something longe-...–ohsushutshutshut not the hook! Arthur will twist his fingers into a hook pressing on her sweet spot with his pads making the woman a mess of moans and overstimulation. It was complicated because It was absolutely so much! So much she cant deal with the sensation growing up to her chest! –Arthur! –she whined pretty unsure if she liked it or not but it was too much!
-Do not underestimate me –he laughed at her expenses and she pulled harder from his coat frustrated.
-Just give me more! –as soon she said that Arthur hand started to thrust harder inside, gosh with three fingers inside she felt good but the deeper he reaches the better, her fingers tangled in his coat as his lips started again to suck on her neck, licking around the vein.
The free hand started to twist and squeeze her nipple between his pads, obviously he don’t wanna hurt her but when she was desesperate it was difficult to mark the line were it was too much.
Arthur keep grinding against her leg, he was so stubborn sometimes, denying himself things just to reach goals, today he wanted to make her cum with his fingers only despite how BAD it makes him, and if it was the goal he will do it. It would be so easy to just burry his cock inside and she will love it but he was a man that fulfils objectives
The view of her fingered in a prewar wife dress was so hot, same with the red marks in her tits and neck, and there she was clinging to his back because she needed him.
-When I done with work tonight I gonna…–that’s right they were in a break for lunch, in a few minutes he should come back to the command deck to work.
-Ahhh you are going to leave with your cock like this? –a leg raised to touch his hard crotch with her knee, making the man moan, Arthur started to trust his fingers harder.
-Yes –he said looking at her eyes, defying her
-You are not going to last all noon –the man made the hook again, making her lost all control and grip HARD of his coat- stop!
-Do you want me to stop? –he asked pressing harder, Nora clenched her theets
-Just that! –the man laughed and moved down to leave kisses on her cheek as he moved his fingers harder
-Don’t defy me honey-today they were honey to each other, not elder, non sentinel-tonight im going to fuck you senseless –oh yes she wanted that, hearing it made a wave of heat crush in her entire body.
-Im close –she said closing her eyes, still, keep moving her knee on his crotch, because she liked to please him, and he wouldn’t move away because he needed it too.
-I know –the man can feel it from the way her walls were pressing and sucking around his fingers- you are gorgeous.
-Keep going –of course he wasn’t going to stop, the wet sounds between his fingers and her entrance were enough incentive. Nora pulled down his head from the motherfucking beard for a kiss, she was the one sneaking her tongue inside but oh boy she needed it.
He was experiencing new things with this woman everyday and damn this was the hottest kiss he ever had. Arthur will keep groping against her leg, god he needed the relief, he was going to be thinking all noon in her unable to work, god he may use some crotch armor down there to cover
-The breakfast was good but im already looking for the dinner tonight- he purred against his mouth, she bited his lip making him shiver and moan out, she smiled.
-Oh did my lunch leave you hungry? –she stop a moment opening her mouth, smile fading- damn Im coming
-Hungry is not the word…-he look at every centimeter of her beautiful face contracting for her orgasm- wanting more
-Arthur im coming –she said feeling something burn inside so bad
-Yes you are –gosh she looked beautiful, he could feel it on his fingers
-Im coming! –she was so wet! So slippery! So soft!
-Cum honey –It didn’t take long before her face contracted in an orgamsn, hitting hard her body, making her legs tremble and spams with force as she pulled hard from his coat and…his beard…
Even without interrupting her collapsing to the orgamsn he wouldn’t stop looking at her, looking up even when her hand pulled his head down by the beard. He wanted to appreciate her face enjoying.
-Arthur…-Nora mumble looking to a side tired, breathing in and out, that’s it, she needed his hand out from her insides.
-Look at me –he order and she did, opening her eyes to look at his handsome superior- tonight I want to drink from you, so you will stay like this until I arrive –she nodded obediently- then we are going to eat dinner
Nora took a moment to answer, tired, still feeling the orgasm rocking her body.
-Are you sure you don’t want to save this for dessert?
Arthur laughed, leaving a kiss on her cheek before separating standing up on his knees to look at his hard work, moving his three fingers up her clit playing with the slick before moving out making her tremble in overstimulation and loss, watching the mess he had on his bed: the most powerful woman of the commonwealth with her legs all open and wet in a beautiful prewar wife dress open, showing his bite marks, the bites of enjoying her tits.
-I don't think I can hold on
-Bring some vodka, I have an idea of how you can drink some other…dessert…
God this was going to be a long noon.
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loveofshows · 2 years
Text
More hc for the leaving au except Kara marries Winn instead. This will focus on Kara and Winn, since I didn’t really focus on them when I answered @cyclone-rachel
Winn has always been in love with Kara since the moment they met. He never had to courage to say anything and eventually his feels for her dims a little, until his feels are non-existent and he goes and dates. And when he moves to the future at Brainy’s insistence, he finds someone for him.
But that love doesn’t last and he’s back to his present, wishing Brainy good luck. He doesn’t see Kara until the day after he arrives and that ‘crush’ that he had on her come full force. And Winn knows that the missing piece his hearts was missing was Kara.
He doesn’t do anything, he doesn’t want to be the jerk that takes advantage of a heartbroken girl. So he promises himself that he’ll do whatever he can to be there for Kara. And the promise cements itself when she tells him that she’s pregnant. And he makes sure Kara knows he’s there for whatever she needs.
And he’s there. Every time Kara calls for something, whether it’s just her being lonely, or for her craving, Winn drops everything he’s doing, doesn’t matter if it’s important or sleeping or not, Kara’s more important.
And it takes Kara awhile to realize that Winn means his promise. Even with her friends telling her that he does. It isn’t until she enters her second trimester, with an upcoming ultrasound, that Kara has her on moment. It’s a week before the appointment and she doesn’t want to be alone for, even if all her other appointments she usually has Alex with.
Everyone she’s talked to are busy that day and they would love to come, but they can’t. And Kara understands, really she does but it still makes her feel alone in this. Her thoughts stray to the last three months, and Winn flashes through her mind. He’s the only one constant, and it’s too the point where if she wanted to talk he’s the first person she calls.
And she knows Alex will be there for her if asks or her mom, but they have other things to do and they can’t always be around when she needs them. But lately it’s been Winn she calls. So with that that, she calls him and he doesn’t hesitate to say yes.
The day of the appointment, he’s at her apartment with breakfast from her favourite place and coffee. ‘Decaf. It doesn’t matter if the two of you are Kryptonian, Kara. You’re getting decaf.’ She’s pouting but secretly it warms her heart at how much Winn cares.
They go to the appointment, and it’s the first time someone mistakes Winn as the dad and neither of them correct her. They go through the motions, and Kara gets a little emotional when she sees her baby. She’s pretty sure Winn teared up too, but she doesn’t mention it. She cried to the first time she saw her baby.
Later, when’s she home by herself, she reflects and Winn and her and what that means. And she finds that slowly, over the course of three months, her feels for Winn have seeded and rooted in her heart.
She doesn’t know what to do with what she’s discovered but she knows two things; she doesn’t want to move on, at least right now. The hurt of brainy leaving still fresh even though it’s been four months. And two, if she did, she wouldn’t mind if it was Winn. When, if, ever she was ready.
But as time goes on, her feels for Winn grows and vice versa.
It it’s until Alura is two does Kara know she’s ready. Winn had surprised the two by showing up with a packed picnic basket and herding them to Alura’s favourite park for the day, claiming that he hasn’t seen them for a while and wanted to spend the day with them. (Even though he was over the night before for a movie night, but Kara doesn’t mention it)
They spend the day together, Alura playing on the jungle gym with Winn chasing after her and Kara sitting on the blanket watching. It brings a smile to her face every time she thinks of them together, which usually turns into a frown when she thinks of brainy and how it should have been him. But not that day, that day the thought doesn’t come to Kara until later when she’s in bed. And she feels guilty, but it’s been three years, and she doesn’t feel as heartbroken as she was on the day Brainy left. And her feelings for Winn grew into a tree, that she was afraid her heart might explode.
You’re allowed to move on, Kara. And it’s okay to move on with Winn. You need to be happy too. Alex’s words whisper into her ear, and she tried to deny that she loved Winn, but there was no fooling Alex.
Against her better judgment (she knows this is a conversation that needs to be face to face, but she can’t), she spontaneously texts Winn her confession. She stuffs her phone under her pillow and waits for him to text back. He doesn’t, and as the minutes go by, the more anxious she gets.
Twenty minutes later there’s a knock on the door, and the second Kara opens it, soft hands cup her face and pull her into a kiss. It happens so fast, it takes her a minute to process what’s going on.
The kiss tells her everything she needs to know and more. After, when they need to breath, Winn rests his forehead on hers and looks at her with so much awe, it steals her breath away. ‘I love you too.’
They date for a couple of years before Winn asks her to marry him. The wedding doesn’t take place until the beginning of the new year, (the year that Alura turns five)
The weddings small, only close friends and family and the reception is held in the Tower.
Alura is extremely happy that they are together officially, she has referred to Winn as her dad since she could talk, and now it feels more real.
Alex and friends are happy that they finally confessed and stopped running circles around each other.
Brainy doesn’t come back until two, three months after Alura turned five.
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tryst-art-archive · 1 year
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September 2010: "This Is a Story About a Knife"
            The first boy says, “You’re the kind of girl I’d want to marry, but I’m only twenty. I’ve got to live life and experience things, and I need a companion I can do that with.”
            “And that isn’t me.”
            “Right.”
            “I’m going home,” you say. “I’ll catch the last train home.”
            “Wait,” he says. “Take this.”
            “I can’t take that.”
            “I was going to give it to you anyway since it’s your favorite. Take it.”
            And he gives you a knife.
            A couple of weeks before that, he says, “Let’s do it.  Let’s jump. Right now.”
            “What?” you say.
            “Let’s do it. Let’s jump.”
            “What, no. The windows only open two inches, anyway.”
            “So?” he says. “It’s glass. We’ll crash through. Come on.”
            He pushes you toward the window, and you say, “No. Stop it.”
            And he stops and frowns at you.
            Five years before that, a preteen says, “A whole bottle. Nothing. Fucking worthless Motrin. I need to try it with Advil.”
            “Is that stronger?” you ask.
            “Yeah,” she says. “But it’s fucking hard to find around here.”
            And the lack of Advil in your hometown becomes a running joke.
            Four and a half years after that, the youngest roommate says to the drop-out, “Can you call an ambulance? I cut myself pretty bad.”
            She says, “Oh my god” and “Don’t you die on us,” and she tells the police, “You’re not an ambulance!”
            The EMT says, “Blood is the one thing we can replace.”
            The third roommate says to you, “I’m going to the store because we’re out of paper towels.”
            And the first boy tells them, “He probably did it when you were home so he could change his mind.”
            Half a year before that, the first boy says, “I tried to kill myself when I was fourteen. I took all the pills in the house and tried to cut my wrists, but I did it wrong.”
            “Wrong?” you say.
            “I did it the wrong way, and the pills made me tired so I didn’t get very far. I should have done that first.”
            “Oh. Someone found you?”
            “Yeah. My mom found me when she got home.”
            “What made you do it?”
            And he says, “My dog was dying.”
            A year later, he says, “You’re going to kill yourself.”
            “No,” you say. “I’m not. I wouldn’t do that.”
            “Yeah you are,” he says. “And you’re smart so you’ll find some place isolated, and we won’t find you.”
            “I’m not going to kill myself,” you say.
            “Yeah you are,” he says.
And a couple of months later he says, “Wait, take this” and hands you a knife.
            A few months after that, the new boy’s friend says, “You have a knife? What kind?”
            “Something Black Ops or something,” you say.
            “Can I see it?” the friend asks.
            “I haven’t even seen it yet,” the new boy says.
            The friend says, “Smith and Wesson. Nice. This is a good blade. What do you have it for? Protection?”
            And you say, “More or less.”
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talktomeinclexa · 2 years
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Mend The Heart You Broke (Heal The Wounds You Caused)
By: TalktomeinClexa
Rating: Mature
Warnings: None in this chapter, Panic attacks, Depression, Suicidal thoughts in other chapters
Status: WIP (6/9)
Summary: Clarke and Lexa led the perfect life. Married, two children, a big house, a group of reliable friends. Until Lexa cheated on her wife and the idyllic picture was smashed to bits. Three months later, Clarke is still trying to put the pieces of her heart together when Lexa slowly comes back into her life. The path to forgiveness will force the artist on a self-introspection journey that won't leave anyone unscathed. But isn't true love worth the fight?
***
Chapter 6: Come Home
Life thrives on being unpredictable. A lesson that Clarke should have learned by now. Yet, when her phone rings with another unexpected news, she is caught by surprise.
Dring dring
“Clarke Griffin-Woods speaking.”
After kicking Lexa out, she tried to go by “Griffin” again, only to burst into tears at the first call she received. Since the divorce is on permanent hold — and she doesn’t feel the need to let everybody and their cousins know about the state of her marriage — she reverted to her married name without too much heartache.
“Hello, Ms. Griffin-Woods. This is Marcus Kane, the owner of Arkadia, the gallery downtown.”
“Mr. Kane, hello. What can I do for you?”
She has had the occasion to visit the gallery a few times over the years. It’s not the MoMA or the Guggenheim, but it hosts an extensive collection of local and international artists on their way to fame. They have crossed paths in previous exhibitions and social events, one of Clarke’s former teachers doing the introductions.
“Well, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I recently decided to expand and acquired the building adjacent to Arkadia. In order to celebrate this and the new artists who have signed up with my gallery, I plan to organize a large exhibition for Christmas. And I was hoping you would like to take part in it.”
Clarke’s heart hammers against her ribs at the thought. Her name has gained some traction in recent months, and she has had more commissions than ever before. But to take part in an exhibit in Arkadia? That would put her on the map. Both a thrilling and terrifying prospect.
“That’s a very enticing offer, Mr. Kane. What would it consist of exactly?”
“Well, I currently have space for four of your paintings. Possibly more, depending on a couple of answers I’m still waiting on.”
Four of her paintings. Clarke’s mind goes on overdrive as she reviews the ones she has in storage or ongoing. With most of them being commissioned, she has only two pieces that could be submitted. None of them good enough, she fears, to fit the bill should critics be there. She can’t miss this chance to shine and take her career to the next level.
Enthusiastically accepting the challenge and thanking Mr. Kane for thinking of her, she wonders how to tackle the main hurdle in her path: finding time to paint while raising two children.
The following Sunday finds her nurturing a glass of wine at Raven’s, the Latina and Octavia listening to her with rapt attention.
“That sounds like an amazing opportunity. It’s what you’ve been dreaming about for years.”
“I know. Obviously, I said yes. But how am I going to manage with the twins? They are at day camp right now so it works, but what will I do once they are back in school? I’ll have to pick them up at three most days, and with the chores and my other commissions, it won’t leave me much time to prepare for the exhibit.”
Octavia hums as she brings her glass to her lips and swallows a sip of red wine. If someone can understand Clarke’s dilemma, it’s the cop married to a firefighter. Her and Lincoln’s shifts were a nightmare to synchronize at the beginning of their careers and even worse once they had Chris and Aurora. Clarke babysat them more than a few times over the years when a nanny canceled at the last minute. Things are easier now that Indra — Lincoln’s mother — is retired. But knowing how much of a handful Aurora can be, the artist doubts Indra will be willing to take care of the twins too.
“I wish I could help,” Raven starts, sensing she might be the only available option, “but I’ll be working on an important project in the coming months. I know that Anya will be happy to have them here from time to time, but it can’t be more than occasional.”
Clarke leans heavily against the back of her chair, bracing herself. Raven has proven to be more open-minded about the whole situation than expected, but Octavia wasn’t shy about her anger toward Lexa before. Which makes sense considering that her father cheated on her mother and then took off, never to be seen again.
“Don’t worry, I understand. Actually, I was thinking about asking Lexa to move back in.”
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alyjojo · 3 months
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January ⛸️ 2024 Monthly - Libra
Whole of your energy: 9 Swords
For the preshuffle, you can’t see the path ahead of you, and there are a lot of things you feel you don’t know or understand, but you’re trying to be patient and “let the pieces fall where they land”. Some of you could be thinking of reuniting with someone that’s attractive & fun, but are they reliable? Because you want something serious, or you are and want someone to match your depth. In meditation, it was day, night, day, night, and you’re moving from watching tv to doing sudoku at the table, to work, to sleep, to tv again, it’s like a monotonous cycle where you’re constantly “busy” but more like you’re trying to keep yourself distracted. Meaning, if something came in and jolted your heart 💘 into action, you’d no longer have an obsession with sudoku, you’re just bored.
9 Swords above 4 Cups, these two cards pretty much cover the vibe here. It’s just blah, everything is blah, overthinking, mental prison, feeling dissatisfied, apathetic, and bored. Either you’re avoiding someone or they’re avoiding you, it’s like you/they don’t want to end the connection officially, or directly discuss things, because what’s the point? If you’re not avoiding someone. then you’re avoiding spending money, meaning a lot more time at home. Sudoku. App games. Nonogram Color is my jam, personally. Could just be a case of the winter blues for those up North, the social scene is empty, people are busy, everyone is broke, half stopped eating gluten for New Years, etc.
What’s going on in January:
The High Priestess:
She who knows the truth. Queen of Wands is the person being avoided, for that story, and there is no real communication between you. If you’re married, someone could be keeping secrets. Whoever is in this energy is in 2 Swords, they think about leaving but feel like they can’t, or they shouldn’t, or they’re stuck because of xyz…essentially keeping themselves stuck. 8 Cups is on their mind a lot though, or yours, and it’s being kept quiet and ignored until it’s an actual decision being made. Or not. For some this is just you, or what you’re needing, 4 Cups doesn’t make a decision, they lose opportunities because everything is “blah”, all four cups aren’t IT, is it even a loss? You’re feeling stuck but you’re not feeling the confidence, attractiveness, social charm & enthusiasm or drive that it would take to get yourself back out there, away from whatever has you stuck right now.
The Devil:
This is what’s keeping you stuck, I assume it’s a relationship, but what kind idk. Could be marriage, work, someone you look up to like a parent or older sibling, could be anyone, that’s put you in this frame of mind. The Devil has us in chains, moving in toxic cycles over and over again until we realize it and stop. This cycle is about working together after difficult experiences, 9 Wands. Or actual battles, painful experiences, then they want to cooperate, or expect it. Like you owe them that, if a person, or that could be your way of behaving that’s toxic, apply however. 8 Cups at the bottom again, you just want to leave it behind. Or switch the roles, someone wants off the merry go round to nowhere. Like there’s no need for 9 Wands, painful perseverance, if it doesn’t exist at all, and why should it? This could describe addictions or toxic behaviors that don’t add anything and only take away from what could be a decent relationship - 3 Pentacles. This could also be someone you work with, making the dynamic harder to just overcome, we don’t tend to be as blunt or cut & dry with casual acquaintances, and one could be stepping all over your boundaries.
4 Cups:
You don’t even care anymore. Sudoku. Constantly juggling work and sleep, pretending you’re busy, pretending you’ll get back to them or call them when you are free, you’re making it clear you’re not really interested in this anymore. It’s also possible that this is the major change in you this month. The main energy can be you stressing out whether someone is cheating or not, are they talking to other people, are they flirting with Bob?? With this row it’s complete apathy, fk it, let Bob have them if that’s even a thing, you don’t even care, and don’t know why you ever did really. Or switch that, if someone is pulling back that’s why, they’re done being upset about this, back and forth and back and forth.
King of Swords:
Oi. Well this is damning for some of you, here are the mind games. King of Swords is an intelligent person, worldly, experienced, he’s seen some shit and knows the answer to just about everything in the most logical & detached way. He can be pretty cold, but not mean, it’s just either black or it’s white, period. Clarified by The Emperor, this is a boss personality, an authority, here’s how we are doing things and here’s how we’re not doing things. It’s about 50/50. For half, this person sets rules and boundaries for their own benefit, like “do as I say not as I do”, essentially mind games centered around control and “who is the boss”, seeing as they’re the self proclaimed boss. For the other half, this is the person being fkd with, they’re standing up for themselves through any bs mind games or perceived power trips, and putting an end to that, enough is enough. Could be you on either side of this. Could literally be your boss, and they’re open to communication but will do what they’re going to decide is right and that’s that.
The Chariot rev:
No progress, no movement out of this situation, 8 Cups officially comes out to clarify that this is playing on your mind but you don’t actually leave it behind. I asked for advice, 6 Pentacles rev is breadcrumbing energy, just enough to keep you hanging on, 2 Swords showing confusion, indecision, ignoring, there’s a major lack in *real* communication…and 5 Cups. You don’t want to hurt them, but they’re not really giving you anything worthwhile either. Or switch it. For someone it’s definitely a boss, maybe they won’t let you take sick time, vacation time, they don’t listen when you suggest improvements to any toxic bs going on, or they’re part of the bs gang so what can you do? No matter the situation, the Divine Timing Oracle is very positive for you, hopefully you won’t be blocked by a rev Chariot for too long. Have faith things are as they should be, or this Oracle wouldn’t come out.
Signs you may be dealing with:
Libra, Aquarius, Pisces, Cancer, Capricorn & Taurus
Oracle: ✨
30 Divine Timing ⏱
How often do you feel that you want things in your life to change NOW? Not two years from not, not even two months, but: Right. This. Instant! Seldom do we see the whole picture of why our lives are unfolding the way they are. We don’t need to. What we need to do is surrender to the way things are right now. This doesn’t mean to not take action when a situation is untenable. What it means is to let your life unfold before you so that you have access to all the information, all the lessons, and all the people you will need to go where you are headed. Divine timing is at work in this situation. Try not to fight it. Instead go within during meditation and ask the questions you want answers to: “why not now?” “how can I best prepare myself?” “what lessons do I need to learn prior to the change I want to see?” You will get answers.
We enter into January as:
The Emerald Stone 🧩
“The heart knows what the eyes cannot see.”
There are times when things happen to us and no explanation is possible. Often our journey brings us full circle, leaving many of us to wonder why. The Emerald Stone is inviting you to follow through in whatever is before you. Going back is not an option. Forward movement will change your entire perspective on life - for the better. You may now be able to hear something that you have been told many times. Your reward will be a closer relationship with yourself. If Emerald Stone sparkles for you, it is with the understanding that you are now developing a new perception of things. The Stone welcomes you out of the dark and into your heart.
What is to be learned in January:
Salmon Chairs 🌷
“Come sit in my chair and feel my love”.
People, places and events are being drawn to you beyond your wildest imagination. Aim higher, for you will draw even greater experiences into your life. It is time to step up to the next level. All “things” are energy and will be drawn to you when you allow your energy to grow. The Salmon Chairs is being brought to you as a gift, to raise your faith and self esteem. It is a gentle and profound change in the way one relates to themselves, and the world. We create the life we feel we deserve. Often we feel we must do something to prepare, yet Salmon Chairs says “Stay in the light of truth, meditate, and relax - if you drink in the light and allow spiritual wealth, you will be surrounded by material wealth.” This is about subtle action, and receiving is an action. You are being told to sit still and receive the bounty that is coming to you. Salmon Chairs can also signify a love relationship in the wings, it’s your choice to receive it. It may also be a present relationship that’s moving to the next level, both spiritually and physically.
Salmon may be a lucky color 🩷
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youmightaswell · 1 year
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Die!
The Angelina of India
[NOTE: I decided to do a throwback travel story from 2008 when I spent three weeks in India, touring Goa on a scooter. Hilarity ensued.]
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Aside from the fact that everywhere we went men wanted to take pictures of or with us and ask us about ourselves, a life-changing event occurred in India that made me feel like Angelina Jolie must at times.
I tell Stef that because of her idea to do this she will owe me money for at least 15 years of therapy.
I’ve traveled to many faraway places with Stef and the one thing that annoys the shit out of me is her idiosyncracies around food. For example, when we were on a small island off the coast of Venezuela, instead of ordering the common rice/beans/chicken she would terrorize unsuspecting waiters by asking for things like creme brulee and broccoli. And then look to me to convey what she wanted in Spanish. To them, I was a douchebag by association. Que buena!
So when we got to India we were in an area with rows of restaurants. Of course, Indian restaurants. We sat down and she complained saying she wants REAL Indian food. I replied, “Stef, an elephant just went walking by on its own. This is as real as it gets.” Then she insisted we go to the Italian restaurant. In INDIA! [She complained about the risotto there and was annoyed they didn’t understand what cappucino was.]
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We were on the beach and she told me that when she was in Indonesia there were people who’d take you to their homes and prepare an authentic meal and teach you how to cook it. After the cooking lesson you sat down with them and ate it. Sounds fun, right?
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So Stef got the brilliant idea that we could offer one of the poor women on the beach who hawked pens and did nails money to invite us to her house to cook us a dinner.
The plan seemed to work fine when Stef got the girl who did our nails on the beach to do it.
Her name is Kamla and she is 24 with 4 kids. She got married [arranged] at 15. The other women on the beach also have the same stories. Only one says she likes her husband. The rest—not so much.
So there was much to orchestrate to make this happen. First, Kamla leaves the beach daily at 6pm to take a bus to Mapusa which on scooter should be about 30 minutes. In the bus, about an hour and a half. We nixed the bus idea right quick and offered to pay to have someone take her on scooter and we’d follow on our own.
Keep in mind we were on our own rented two-dollar-per day motorbike. When I asked for a helmit they hemmed and hawed and finally gave me a football helmit—held together with duct tape. Did I mention the brakes on it worked only sometimes? And more so, Stef and I had gotten into a near-fatal motorcycle accident just a year before leaving Stef with two metal rods in her arms and me with a fucked up jaw.
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 The sun began to set and we followed. And followed. And followed. Women there sit side sadle on the backs of bikes, saris flowing in the breeze. Even sitting properly and holding on for dear life I thought I was going to die.
Finally (!) we got there. But there was about to change my life. About 25 little kids ran out and surrounded us, some scared, some fascinated, so wanting to touch us. They had never seen a white person. These were poor kids from Karnaktka who came with parents to Goa for the tourist season so the families could make money to bring home during the rainy season. We were taken to Kamla’s “home”. It was a 9X9 room with a dirt floor, stone walls, rigged electricity to handle a small light and tv. No refrigerator, no running water. There was a small hot plate and just enough room for 4 people to squat on the floor. At night they slept, sans bed, all four (2 kids and parents) on the floor huddled together. Bugs crawled about. Rice was left on the floor. Dirt, bugs, squalor. Christ!
We could NOT eat here. Yet, we were.
In India I overpaid for everything. On purpose. I figured that as a good deed and holiday charity, I’d give to the poor. I offered to pay Kamla her month’s rent for the meal. She seemed pleased. My stomach did not.
As we sat on the floor tons of kids lined up at the door to get a glimpse. It was a bit overwhelming, but fascinating. There was mass chaos; Stef just sat on her Blackberry texting a friend, trying to remove herself from the situation. I had no option but to engage and so I sat teaching the mass of kids the ABC song and counting. They were really eager and smart.
When they got too loud and buzzed around us like bees, I turned up the music and got them all to dance. I’d scream “Dance Party” and show them and then everyone would start to wiggle. So fun!
Meanwhile Kamla was preparing the meal. Grinding vegetables into the dirty floor, putting rice bugs had crawled on into the pot.
I couldn’t meet Stef’s eyes. I could tell she was about to FREAK OUT!
I was glad I chose to wear pants and a shirt as opposed to a little summer dress. I knew they didn’t look kindly upon women who exposed skin and I was happy to be covered to avoid bites from malaria-ridden mosquitos.
Then she served the “chicken”. This is a word Stef and I promised to NEVER say to each other again. It was jet black and floated in a red water. This was NOT chicken. It was fiberous and had white strings in it. It was less appetizing than eating rat.
I could not put that in my mouth. Stef started chewing hers, all eyes on her and when no one was looking spit it out into her bread. Not a very good plan overall. I, instead, decided to appear selfless and feed the meat to the small boy who never gets it because the “chicken” is too expensive. He appreciated it and so did I. Not a morsel touched my lips.
I did eat the rice and couldn’t avoid eating the sauce. She made lentils with vegetables which tasted good but knowing where it all had been freaked me out. She made a salad too but we declined trying to explain that raw veggies were not good for Westerners.
Considering they had no running water and even the best running water in India was toxic, we declined drinks also when handed warm water. It was not from a bottle.
The biggest trauma of the night was after the dinner. My stomach was rumbling and it was all I could do to not throw up in their scant square. I asked to use the bathroom. What was I thinking. I was brought out in the pitch black to a gate. Out in the open it was a square area, mud and shit on the ground (HUMAN!), no hole. Two girls, no bathroom came to mind.
Basically I’d have to squat admidst other people’s shit in order to at least pee. Why had I worn pants again? I might have considered peeing had I been wearing a skirt. Better to pee on my own feet than to attempt a move of pulling down long pants, underwear and squatting in the dark trying to avoid flies, bugs and other’s shit.
She stood there with me watching. WTF?
Finally I told her I couldn’t do it.
The big problem was that I had to pee so badly and the thought of going on the scooter for a long bumpy journey was horrifying. We hightailed it out of there, very much worse for wear and tried to figure out how to get back to Candolim.
It was only then that we discovered our ghetto scooter pretty much had no headlight. So there we were, stomachs churning, my bladder about to burst, cows crossing our road paths in the dark, lost, far from anything even remotely touristy with no light.
At one point I think Stef and I were aboutready to stop and just cry.
But, we made it back, an hour later. We showered like ten times each, peed and I pretty much Purelled my whole body.
We couldn’t laugh about it yet. It was too new. Comedy is tragedy plus TIME. We needed TIME.
A few nights later we tried to tell new friends of our experience.
I still can’t say the word “chicken” without getting nauseous. Stef owes me BIG TIME! But I also owe Kamla and those kids for giving me a heartwarming experience that I will never forget. The joy these kids had in their faces, having so little else reminds me that each day is a gift. Although, the chicken, well, that is another story.
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