#BEEN REPLAYING HIS PARTS ON AND ON AND ON LIKE SOME WIFE WHO’S HUSBAND IS AT WAR 😭

[kelin-is-writing]

He’s the absolute love of my life your honor 😭

[yaymiyas]

THE TALK

warning: yandere!isekai!crown prince, he is very mean in this, female reader

a/n: this is TECHNICALLY not a part two to the introduction but it sort of is….. it jumps from the conversation to the breakfast……..enjoy! ALSO ALSO ALSOOOOOOOO technically its female reader bc you got reincarnated blah blah

looking at the fragments of bacon he didnt want to eat, he let his fingers drum against the edge of the white plate. the fact that you, the daughter of a whore, lover to none, and nuisance to all, was right beside him made his food hard to swallow. the two of you sat in the dining room, and while he sat at the very end of the table with his back facing the door to the kitchen, your usual spot would be that of the opposite side. right across from him, back facing the entering door, but it seems after the poison didn’t hit quite deep enough in your veins, it did affect your brain because, for some reason, you thought it was brilliant to sit directly next to him. you weren’t as talkative as he would have thought of you, ever since you have learned of the activities he had decided to partake in, you started to demand his attention. at first, it didnt bother him much, since he himself started to believe that he was focusing solely on gracie that your suspicions were bound to grow, and grow they did.

for weeks, months, up until the poisoning you were all up on him. he was certain that you were attempting to skin him alive and wear him as a coat it was all mildly unpleasant but more irritating. saer never had a taste for you; rather, he actually hated you. to no one’s fault but his own fathers, he was forced to marry you out of pregnant promises. your father, sir tudor, wasn’t the poorest dope saer’s father has ever seen, but he was the loyalist. he worked on the gwynn estate, doing a multitude of things for the family, automatically gaining the trust of the duke and then the king himself. at the time, king gwynn was more fascinated with how a man with such little knowledge could become his most loyalist man, but that he did. following the pregnancy of both the queen and your mother, he decided that the best course of action was to marry his second unborn son off to the unborn daughter of a freeloader.

an icy shiver runs down saer’s back, forcing him to shake his shoulders and head. looking up from your half eaten plate, raising your head to the sudden movement. he was quiet the whole time, poking at the small slivers of bacon like they were the nastiest things on earth. you werent surprised that he wasnt talking; no, you were actually relieved. it wasn’t because he wasnt attractive or anything, he certainly does look like the main lead; its just the talk you had prior to the breakfast that was replaying in your head. cynthia and amanda didn’t give you much information, since, from the looks of it, they didn’t want to say too much. either their heads were on the line or yours were. you never thought about asking tily, even though she was the one that brought you down here. it just felt too weird knowing she was the one who weirdly had something against you. from your fading memories of ‘obsession falls’, you remember reading online forums and tweets about the whole thing. it seemed like the only real crime edina committed throughout the whole book was wanting her husband to love her. she did everything he had asked of her, from the way she talked to her style of clothing, even to what letters she can reply to. in olden standards, she seemed like the perfect obedient wife. this might have been your first mistake, but you didn’t read too much on saer or his backstory, so you never really understood the reasoning for his hatred of his wife, but you knew it was deep and it was boiling.

clearing your throat, you believed it was a better time than ever to clear the air and get to your point. you never understood why edina allowed things to get as deep as they were, but she was made just to be killed. it sucks that no matter what you do or say, saer will always hate you because you are edina.

“saer,”

“ae.”

that stupid nickname. shutting your eyes tightly and fighting back against any light to seep through, you sighed heavily. the whole time, saer had been watching you carefully. even though it was from the corner of his eyes, he was indeed trying to calculate your next moves. it was kind of silly that your sudden change in physical response is making him antsy, but how can anyone fault him? the last time the air-headed cunt decided to change the way she was reacting, gracie was suddenly engaged to alastair and smiling in his face about it. it was enraging. other than the fact that you were in his life to begin with, knowing that the reason he couldn’t slit the throat of his ex best friend was all because you decided to breathe. those two minutes were the longest two minutes of his life. he watched as your head dropped down on the table, making a very sudden and loud noise with it. saer had sternly told any and all servants to leave the two of you be if any loud, disruptive noises were heard. he even double checked that he sent your nosey maids, cynthia and amanda, home around that time. he knew that if they were present in the building, you weren’t going to eat that poison.

it was infuriating to watch them care about someone as lowly as you. not just them, anyone. reading gracie’s letters, asking how you’ve been and to see you before she even utters a word about him, was beyond hurtful. it felt as if his whole world was falling apart, all because you decided to have superpowers and not die. this was the only way to get back at you. he has tried strangling you. he has tried slaying you. each attempt was caught by either maid, cynthia, or amanda. it made him sick to see you get dotted on. seeing the frilly outfits they were making you wear, as if you were a porcelain doll not worth anybody’s touch. you were disgusting. a disgusting being that deserved to die. so why. why were you here? why were you looking at him like he had done something wrong. 

“enough with the causalities, i would like a divorce saer.”

[itostea]

rings (gojo x wife! reader)

in which you want your arranged husband to finally give you a ring

warnings: arranged marriage au (part of the gojo's wife series), gojo calls you his wife, suggestive bc gojo is a menace, reader lowkey downbad, i'm back after 4(?) months oops & lmk if i’m missing anyone for the tag list

There’s a gentle breeze that escapes from the open windows of the cafe you sit in, the quiet chatter blending in with the bossa nova jazz that plays from the speakers. Only a few people reside in the building–some of which include students, friend groups, or strangers just hoping for a nice cup of coffee. 

Your eyes flit to Utahime using a straw to make circles in her drink. She was the one who recommended this cafe, referring to it as an “underground” location–a phrase that you would’ve not expected her to use. Correctly at that. 

“How are you doing with that idiot,” your other friend, Shoko asks. “Do you guys still sleep in separate rooms?”

You watch her reach for a cigarette and frown, your hand slapping hers lightly. “There's a ‘no smoking policy’ here. And to answer your question, no we’re not. We’ve been sleeping in the same room for a little over a month now.”

“On the same bed?”

“Yes?”

“And that’s it?” She drawls, arching an elegant brow as she puts her box of cigarettes away–taking another sip of her black coffee. “Nothing else? You know, like clothes gone, french kissing–”

“Yes that’s it! Keep it down here,” you hiss, shooting another glare at Utahime who stifles a laugh by pretending to drink her tea.

Shoko rolls her eyes, taking another sip of her coffee–this time narrowing her eyes at you. “So why are you sulking?”

“I’m not sulking.”

“Yes you are,” she retorts and you frown when you hear Utahime agree. They’ve always been so sharp. “Something’s bothering you so tell us.”

You purse your lips, gripping your cup a bit tighter as you heave a sigh. You’re avoiding their gazes, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s stupid.”

“We’re not gonna judge you,” Utahime gives you a reassuring smile, nudging Shoko who tries to take out her cigarette box again.

“Okay,” you start. “Something feels like it’s missing. Not that it’s ‘Toru–”

“You call him ‘Toru?” Shoko laughs quietly, rolling her eyes when you narrow your eyes at her. She sighs. “Continue.”

“There's nothing wrong with ‘Toru and I feel like I’m expecting something from him. We’re making progress with the whole husband and wife thing but I guess I just want,” you pause. “I guess I’m just wondering when he’s gonna give me a ring…”

They both blink at you, with Utahime making a sound with her throat. “There’s no way that idiot’s that stupid.”

“But that makes sense. The wedding just happened on paper since the elders wanted Gojo to get married quickly,” Shoko adds. “So? What are you gonna do? Drop hints?”

“That’s not really my way of doing things…”

Shoko rolls her eyes for the nth time, frowning at the lack of coffee in her cup. “Things would be a lot easier between you two if you just communicated,” she says, holding a hand up when you’re about to respond. “But I say give him some time. Gojo might be a lot sharper than he lets on.”

You replay your friend’s words in your head as you dice the carrots mindlessly–throwing them in a bowl with chopped up potatoes. Ever since Gojo told you that he hardly has any time to cook with the sudden rise of curses, you’ve been wanting to surprise him with a home cooked meal: curry rice. After all, you were finally granted some leisure time after a mission so you were more than happy to set up a surprise.

Not that it was much of a surprise since he was home earlier than usual–not that you were mad since it was rare for him to arrive home just a little after you did. You perk up, catching a glimpse of his boyish grin that seems to spread across his face. “Oh? What’s this?”

You clear your throat, feeling a bit bashful at how pretty his smile was. “I’m making dinner for us since we haven’t been able to have a home cooked meal in a while.”

“Well, aren't I a lucky guy?” He ruffles your hair as if it were a habit of his, his eyes as soft as his voice the moment he leans down. “You mind if I take a shower first? I promise it’ll be quick.”

“Your shower’s are never quick,” you comment, giggling at how he acts as if he’s been caught. As he leaves, you feel yourself getting giddy at how wide his grin had been when he saw you. You wonder if he always looked at you like that and you have to mentally calm yourself down by reminding yourself to not get too excited. 

By the time you set the plates down, you already hear the padding of his feet against the marble floor. He’s dressed comfortably in a pair of sweats and a pullover, sitting in front of you. He smiles again, murmuring a low “hello” as if somewhat shy. 

You smile in return, observing him as he takes a bite of the food you made. Your heart stops for a few seconds, gauging his expression for any sign of disgust–feeling it explode in your chest when he eats it like a starved man. “Is it good?” 

“So good,” he answers without hesitation, flashing another grin at you–the same grin that makes you feel warm inside. “My wife’s so talented.”

“It’s just curry rice,” you respond, feeling a bit sheepish at how easily he sings praises to you. You realize you’ve been watching him eat for a little over than a minute, your hands reaching to the utensils to try your own food. 

The conversation takes off naturally. He’s asking about your day at work and you do the same; he teases you and you shoot another remark at him. It’s all good-natured until he pauses, looking a little hesitant. “Listen (Name),” his voice is lower, nervous. “I know I should've done this before but it really didn’t cross my mind…”

Your reaction is instantaneous as much as you try to hide it. The ring. Was he going to give you one? Your eyes flit to his furrowed brows and the way he pokes the inside of his cheek. If he’s this nervous, then it should be pertaining to a ring right? You’re already answering before he can finish. “Yes.”

He blinks, peering directly at you. “Really?”

“Really,” you nod, your smile wide as you lean a bit closer to the table. 

He breaks out in a large smile, breathing a sigh of relief. “Wow I didn’t know you liked Netflix so much.”

All of a sudden, the delusions you’ve been building up topple like dominos. Your voice’s stuck in your throat as a wave of bemusement hits you. “Huh?”

“I was gonna give you my Netflix account! I completely forgot to give you it for a while and the kids have been on my ass about it.”

“Y-Your Netflix account?” You murmur in disbelief, wondering if sharing a Netflix account was a golden rule couples had to obey. 

It was Gojo’s turn to be confused, his pretty blues blinking at you. “That’s what we’re talking about right?”

Disappointment drenches you from top to bottom but you quickly mask it with an easy going smile. “Yeah! I love Netflix…”

You breathe a sigh of relief, mentally applauding yourself for not mentioning anything about a ring. You take another bite of your food, not noticing the way Gojo looks at you–gulping as if hiding a secret of his own. 

“I want to give you something,” your husband’s voice is gentle, velvety as he pulls you towards the couch. 

He smells good, you think to yourself–earthy and fresh. It’s faint yet it’s enough to make you dizzy. “Something?”

“That’s right,” he coos, grinning down at you from the couch. Again, you have that undeniable feeling of hope choking you, trying your hardest not to show your excitement as he reaches in his pocket.

Yet, instead of a small, round object, you’re faced with a card. A black card. Not a ring. Your lips part in shock as the initial disappointment becomes surprise. “I can’t take this!” 

You’re left with more disbelief at how his expression seems to fall dramatically. “Why not…?”

“Because I just can’t!” 

“But you’re my wife and I wanna spoil you,” he tries to reason and you have to try not to swoon how he calls you his wife even though you already know it. You clear your throat, shaking your head rapidly. 

“I can’t ‘Toru–”

“Yes you can,” he huffs, his lips falling into a pout that you would’ve found funny if he didn’t just hand you his card. “Trust me on this one. You’ll make me happy if you use it. So treat yourself, alright?”

You frown, murmuring another protest and stopping when he glances at you from under his shades, his lips curling into a coy smile once he sees the guilt in your eyes–his mind piecing things together. “Aren’t you a sweetheart?” He ruffles your hair once more, making your heart do another jump. “Just take it. Please?”

You think he’s doing it on purpose–the way he looks at you as if you’re a diamond among rocks. It’s hard not to say no when someone looks at you like that–harder when it’s Gojo. You sigh. “Fine. But I’m not gonna use it often.”

He grins that smile you like again, his thumb grazing your jaw. “That’s my girl.”

You avert your eyes at his binding smile, ignore how he seems to enjoy teasing you a bit too much. You sigh, ignoring the way your heart flutters all over again. And with the way he watches you, you think his stomach’s doing somersaults as well

It’s early in the morning, dark in the room you share with Gojo–the sun barely awake just as you were. There’s the sound of quiet shuffling, the spot next to your empty. It must be one of those missions, you think to yourself.

You hear him murmur a low curse at the sound of something dropping, feeling amusement at how he tries to quietly put the item back in its original place. You think of falling asleep again but your gut tells you to stay awake, still listening to his quiet pacing. 

You feel how the mattress slightly dips, his cologne filling your senses–luring you to sleep. Out of sheer willpower, you try not to react as his fingers reach down to graze your cheek–try not to open your eyes to see what kind of expression he wore. You wonder if he did this every time he had a mission so early in the morning, feeling an unfamiliar feeling tug at your heart. 

His voice is barely above a whisper as he leans down. “I’ll be back home by dinner today. I promise.”

Part of you debates on falling asleep and it wins, until you feel him shuffle a bit closer. And just like that, you feel cold metal slip on your finger–your ring finger. The material fits perfectly around your finger and your hand twitches as you hear him stand up to leave. 

It hits you a bit later than you’d expect and you would’ve never thought realization would sound like the front door opening. You scramble out of bed, tripping on the blankets as you smile so hard it hurts. 

“Toru?! Wait! Don't leave yet! Toru come back!” 

And like you hoped, he looks back, the metal of a ring similar to yours greets you.

tags:

@maliamaiden, @dookiemeshibear, @icarusignite, @padsgrlly, @katiaesmeralda, @mooncleaver, @jcrml, @istanuwow, @stilinskispjo, @hjjjbb, @delulusuga, @hellogoog, @scrumdillyyumyumpurr, @wordskeeper, @rampagingroses, @demiwizardvampire145, @haikyuusimpsblog, @esmeensheep, @msunknown911, @saebeary, @mysuperrainbow, @scarletevening, @tedbunny333, @tulips-ss, @primapoppy, @realboysrdumb, @ems-tumbo, @a-cloudy-dreamy-day, @evalynanne, @kaiisers, @trisisbasic, @luna0713hunter, @arisucat, @honili, @dovahkiinsbitch, @porridgesblog, @siennahsteaparty, @dee-dreams-and-stuff, @satoruskitchenrag, @moonmalice, @junglewoos, @thisbicc, @heartsoji, @mysticmyth, @phoenixforgotten, @sillygoosegoose, @the-mad-hatress, @kairuthewriter, @batmansleftfoot

[iholdwhatican]

tension

part two to reunions - must read part 1 first!

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

length: 3.2k

author's note: this took wayyyy too long for me to do yall, i'm so sorry. these two have a tight hold on me and i'm in the trenches. i've got some good stuff lined up tho, and i'm super excited to write it heeheehee :) also smut in the future will be much longer and much more detailed, just fyi

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension ; sugar mommy y/n? ; unapologetic flirting with your bff's wife at his birthday party

warnings: sexual content, p in v, not super detailed but still there!

summary: the stressful night of the birthday party continues, and you find yourself pinging between art and patrick like a tennis ball. how the hell did you get yourself into this?

originally posted by iholdwhatican

It took four minutes and 36 seconds of Art and Patrick being alone outside before the anxiety became too much. Your dress was too tight against your skin and the chatter of the guests rattled in your skull. Your mind replayed the anger on Art’s face over and over, convinced that he’d direct it at you the moment he came back in. And if you were being honest, you couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. 

Your blood boiled with the ferocity of it, and an ache in your core begged for another taste. 

Another three minutes and 18 seconds passed while you downed half of your second glass of wine. You made conversation with a few people who caught your eye, making sure all the food and drink were up to par. Not that you really could care about that right now. Your mind was a jumble of thoughts about the two men on the balcony. 

Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick, Art, Patrick

“You look like you’re gonna puke.” 

For the second time that night, Patrick Zweig’s voice made you jump. 

You looked at him, catching sight of that damned smirk that made your stomach flip, and furrowed your brows. One quick scan of the room came up empty for your husband, forcing the anxiety in your chest to worsen. 

“Where’s Art?” You asked, not missing the way your voice wobbled slightly. 

“Relax.” Patrick responded, resting a hand on your shoulder, “He went to the kitchen, I think. I didn’t kill him. And he didn’t run for the hills either.” 

You decided not to comment on how easily he’d read your worries without you saying anything. For some reason, you were an open book to him. 

A deep sigh left you. You licked your lips anxiously- which immediately caused Patrick’s eyes to fall on your mouth. 

“What happened out there?” 

The man gave you a shrug, letting his hand fall back to his side, “Nothing, really. We just talked for a bit. He told me I could stay, as long as I stopped flirting with you.” 

“So does that mean you’re going to stop?” The idea made you slightly unhappy, which in turn filled you with guilt. Why were you so excited by his flirtations when you had a wonderful, loving husband who treated you like a queen? 

But then Patrick grinned, and you knew the answer before he said it, “Well, I’ve never been one to do what I’m told.” 

A smile grew over your lips, and you tried to hide it with an eye roll, “Why don’t you mingle? Try some food. I’m going to find my husband.” 

He didn’t miss the enunciation you put on ‘my husband’, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened as you said it. You didn’t give it time to linger, instead turning away and moving towards the kitchen. 

You knew the look Patrick had in his eyes. You’d seen it a dozen times in Art’s. On the court, over a board game, in all sorts of scenarios. And every time, even now, the look sent a chill down your spine. 

That expression was clear, resolute competition. 

Just as Patrick had said, you found Art in the kitchen. With his back to you, you had a perfect view of his tense shoulders and hanging head as he poured himself a glass of water. He was all wound up, and you knew it was your fault. Now it was your responsibility to fix it. 

You stepped up behind him, sliding a hand between his shoulder blades. He didn’t hesitate to lean into the touch, a subconscious reaction. He knew it was you just by the feel of your hand on him. And, even if he might be furious, he still found comfort in it. 

“Hey…” You breathed, leaning to the side to meet his gaze. Art looked at you over his shoulder, a half-smile quirking his lips up, “How are you doing?” 

“Hey.” He responded, turning and sliding his hands over your hips. Your chest pressed against his as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your hairline. Then he just lingered there, breathing in your smell, “I honestly don’t know. I just- it was so weird to see him.” 

“Yeah, of course it was.” Your words reached him in a soft, comforting tone. The guilt of putting your perfect, doting husband in this situation was enough to make you feel like you had barbed wire around your neck. You had to pay penance- somehow. You rubbed your hand in circles over his back, “I’m sorry, sundrop. I don’t know what I was thinking when I invited him.” 

Sundrop. A nickname that went way back to the early days of your relationship. Art was an energetic puppy dog with a halo of golden curls and a smile that made your insides feel hot. He was what you pictured a personification of the sun to be, hence the pet name. He pretended not to like it, but his eyes always sparkled a certain way when you said it. 

Art pulled his head away to peer down into your eyes, his own pensive and confused, “No, baby, don’t be sorry. It was a great fucking surprise. Just… a surprise.” 

You shook your head. He was so fucking good to you, “You’re allowed to be mad at me.” 

“Mad? At you?” In one quick motion, he picked you up and set you on the counter. Your legs opened for him without hesitation, allowing him to slot right in between them, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

You fought the blush rising in your cheeks and rolled your eyes, “You think too highly of me.” 

“No. Never.” He replied instantly. He kissed your chin. Then your jaw. Then your neck. Then down your throat, “As far as I’m concerned, you’re God.” 

“Art-” You argued, though you weren’t sure what for. You tilted your neck back and offered yourself up to him. 

“I could spend my life on my knees for you and be happy.” His words were muffled as he mouthed at your neck, sending shivers down your spine. This, combined with the kiss from earlier, was making you ache with need. You were half-tempted to end the party early and take your pretty husband to bed. 

You bit your lip when he ran his tongue over a sensitive spot above your collarbone. If he wasn’t in between them, you’d be squeezing your thighs together. 

When Art pulled away, his eyes had darkened. Dilated pupils and heavy breaths told you all you needed to know. He was just as fucking horny as you were right now. His hands held your hips tighter. 

“Do you think we’d be left alone long enough for me to show you how much I mean it?” He asked. It was almost as if he were begging. As if he couldn’t bear the idea of doing anything other than dropping to his knees and devouring you. 

And God, when he looked at you like that, you had no choice but to say yes. 

Unfortunately, fate intervened, and you were kept from making a scene at your husband’s birthday party. 

“Hey, you two, quit snogging and come entertain us!” One of Art’s tennis friends called, sticking their head into the kitchen. The big grin on their face told you it was just teasing, but you still felt your face burning with embarrassment. 

“It’s my birthday, let me do what I want.” Art jeered right back, lifting you off the counter and back onto your own two feet. You laughed airily at the comment, feeling more light-headed than anything. 

Before following his friend back into the action, he whispered a quick, “Later, okay?” to you. And then he left you standing in the kitchen- touch-starved, foggy-headed, and excruciatingly aroused. 

It was then that you realized you didn’t even get to ask him what happened with Patrick.

Upon re-entering the party, you found yourself taking note of two things- or rather, two people. One, Art- conversing with some friends from the foundation with a big grin on his face. Two, Patrick- having his fill of finger foods from the refreshment table. He was alone. And though you tried to fight it, you found yourself gravitating towards him. 

“Do they not have food where you’re from?” You teased, falling into place at his side. Your gaze slid over the spread before flicking up to his face. 

You’d caught him mid-bite, and he attempted to swallow quickly and regain his composure. Something warmed slightly in your chest. Endearing. 

“Well, I’m kinda… in between places right now.” He explained, tongue stuck in his cheek to clear out residual bits of food, “And there’s never stuff as good as this.” 

You let the compliment slide away, instead focusing on his more troubling response, “Are you homeless?” 

“What? No.” He chuckled, as if the question were preposterous, “I go all over for tennis. It’s just easier to stay on the move.” 

You raised an eyebrow, “And on off-season?” 

Something in his expression darkened, only for a moment, and then he was back to cocky smiles and overwhelming confidence, “I’m too busy to care about that. And what’s it matter to you, anyway?” 

“I’d like to think I’m a good person.” You said, plucking a snack off the table and popping it into your mouth. You chewed it halfway before continuing, “And a good person worries if they think someone they care about isn’t doing well.” 

Patrick grinned at you for five long seconds. And it took him actually saying the words to realize where you’d slipped up. 

“You care about me?” 

Shit. You had not meant to say that. Why was this man so damn good at getting every little thought in your head to spill out of your mouth? 

“If caring about you means I don’t want you sleeping under a bridge somewhere, then sure.” 

“Okay, I would never let it get that far-” 

“I wanna help.” 

He blinked, “Help how?” Briefly, very briefly, you thought of your bed. Your comfortable, spacious bed, perfect for three individuals. You could picture it- you, safe and sound and nestled between the two men. Art, your lovely, obedient husband on one side, letting himself love and be loved. And Patrick on the other side, nice and cozy with a roof over his head and a full belly. 

The image flashed in an instant, and you were left with hollow, heavy guilt. You swallowed. 

“How much do you need?” 

“Huh?” You rolled your eyes at him, “How much money do you need? To keep you afloat for the next little while. And I’ll send you home tonight with leftovers.” 

Patrick let the words wash over him, slowly smiling as they did. He took a step towards you, close enough that one tiny shove would have your bodies pressed together. You could smell him, all sweat and cigarettes and woodsy cologne that made your head spin. You’d been wound up all night, and this was absolutely not helping. 

“You gonna write me a check? Use your hard-earned money to get a practical stranger a hotel for a couple nights?” He murmured, heavy on the charm, “What would your husband think?” 

He knew he’d gotten under your skin. He knew what he was doing. He was fucking enjoying this. 

You tried to hold your ground, looking up at him through your lashes, “It’s his money, actually. He makes sure I never have to work unless I want to.” 

“Guess he treats you pretty well. And look how you’re taking advantage of it.” His hand lay on the table next to yours, his fingertips nearly brushing the skin of your wrist. How bad would it be if you closed the gap? 

You bit your lip, “You’re allowed to turn me down.” 

“I don’t think I’d ever turn you down, Mrs. Donaldson.” 

Something about that title, something about the way he said it, made your blood run hot and cold at the same time. It reminded you of the myths of sirens. Beautiful monsters of the sea that used their voices to bring others to their demise. Talking to Patrick had that same type of allure, and the sense of danger. 

“Then tell me what you need.” 

“What do you think I need?” 

Oh, you could think of a few things. But you could also feel a pair of eyes on you, and you knew exactly who they belonged to. Part of you wanted to tempt him, see if you could get another reaction like out on the balcony. However, you quickly shot the idea down. Not right now, not in the middle of a crowded party.

Lips curving into an innocent smile, you pushed yourself a step back from him, “I think you need a nice place to sleep. And a few good meals. And maybe a hug.” 

The sudden switch-up took Patrick by surprise, but he handled it smoothly and responded only a beat later, “You’re offering?” 

“At least for the first two.” You didn’t know what you’d do if you were in his arms. With the way you were feeling now, with two glasses of wine in your system, your boundaries were getting blurrier and blurrier. How humiliating. 

His bottom lip jutted out into a pout. Which unfortunately dragged your gaze right down to his mouth. It took you a moment too long to meet his eyes again. 

“What, we can’t hug? Don’t you consider me a friend?” 

“I do.” You shrugged, tucking loose hair behind your ear, “Maybe I’m just not a touchy person.” 

A lie. You knew it, and you could tell by the look on his face that he knew it too.

“Yeah.” He smirked, sounding the opposite of sincere, “Art’s wife isn’t a touchy person. Sure.” 

You needed a cold shower. Or to go have some one-on-one time with your vibrator. Or maybe move to the seaside and spend your days going mad in a lighthouse. You weren’t sure. All you knew was how increasingly hot you were feeling. 

“Speaking of Art, go talk to him. Try to make amends. Meet some of his friends.” You suggested, glancing over at your husband. He wasn’t watching you anymore, at least not straight on. But he had a radar when it came to you, and he was very diligent in keeping tabs. No matter what.

“You trying to get rid of me?” Patrick asked lightly. No heat behind the words. 

“Oh, yes.” You admitted, placing your hands on his shoulders and pointing him towards Art, “Find me again before you leave and I’ll have your check.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned at you over his shoulder, sending a wink before sauntering off. 

Finally, you felt like you could actually get a breath in your lungs. 

The party had ended. Guests went home, Patrick got his check and headed to a hotel you recommended, and you and your partner left all the cleanup for the morning. You barely gave it a second glance as you went up to bed with him, your hand held tightly in his. 

Art fucked you like a starving man that night. You barely got into the room before his lips were plastered on your skin, his hands unzipping your dress with quick precision. He was usually much more reserved, but something about tonight had made him ravenous. And he wasn’t the only one.

You ended up on his lap; bare chests pressed together, skin sweaty and breaths heavy as you rolled your hips into him. His hands clutched your thighs, keeping you close, fingers pressing into the flesh. You pulled on his hair and his head immediately fell back. As if he were a puppet for you to position and use however you wanted. His eyes looked up at you with a fire in them you’d never seen before, but the adoration, the reverence, was all too familiar. 

Your name fell from his lips over and over again like a prayer. The single word weaved with threads of devotion, possessiveness, desire. A song joined in chorus by whatever nonsensical phrase entered his head. I love you, so perfect, all mine, please, please, please. 

He was claiming you. Marking his territory in his own special way. It didn’t matter that Patrick wasn’t here to see it, or that he probably would never even know. As long as Art could tell himself that you were his, he’d be okay. Jealousy was a good look on him. 

You could feel your core tighten with each and every movement of his hips against you. You weren’t going to last much longer. But by the look in your husband’s eyes, neither was he. 

Parted lips claimed yours in a messy kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth and exploring every open space. Then you were being flipped over; back pressed into the mattress as Art rocked into you with reckless abandon. He intertwined his fingers with yours and pinned your hands above your head without ever breaking the kiss. 

You lasted about thirty seconds. Finally, the tension in you snapped and your orgasm washed over you in waves, leaving you limp and trembling. Art finished only a moment later. You could feel him pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks slowly faded away. The room reeked of sweat and sex and your head was spinning. 

Art, your precious, dutiful man, rested his head on your chest as he attempted to catch his breath. You could feel the tickle of his lips kissing your skin, the soft squeeze of his hands on your hips. You ran a hand through his damp hair, fingers massaging his scalp. 

“I love you.” He murmured against your ribs, right over your thundering heart. He said it like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed, like he didn’t believe you were here, that you were his. 

Dark hair and cigarette smoke flashed through your mind. Almost-touching hands and paper checks. 

“I love you.” You responded, kissing his hairline, “Happy Birthday, baby.” 

The only response you got was a tired, happy sound and another kiss to your collarbone. A quick adjustment later and the two of you were tucked under the blankets, your head on Art’s chest and his arm around you. Neither of you cared enough to clean yourselves up or to put pajamas on. Art was already softly snoring next to you, and you could feel your eyelids getting heavy.

As you listened to the baddump of his heart, a strange thought flitted through your mind. You’d just had the best sex of your life, and it was because of Patrick. You weren’t the only one who’d been thinking of him while in the throes of passion. The notion made something strange twinge in your gut. 

And then, like he’d somehow read your mind, your phone lit up with a text. 

Patrick Zweig: You free for lunch tomorrow?

***

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[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 14

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"Darling, I appreciate your faith in me," Bucky said, his voice low as he stepped closer, eyes searching yours. "But…I still want to live."

You didn’t flinch. "I’m serious."

He paused, letting the weight of your words settle. "Just because I told you about Steve doesn’t mean I’m going to stab him in the back."

His gaze dropped for a moment, conflicted. Steve was more than just a mentor—he was the older brother Bucky had always wanted, someone he had looked up to for years. Shawn was never that. Steve had been there when he needed guidance, someone to show him the ropes. But now… now everything felt twisted.

"I didn’t know before this election," Bucky continued, his jaw clenched. "I’ve learned things that should’ve been obvious to me. And now, you probably see me as a coward for turning a blind eye all this time."

He swallowed hard. "But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stay silent forever."

Your brow furrowed as the room fell into silence. Bucky reached out, his hand settling firmly on your shoulder, his touch both grounding and electrifying. "There’s a time for everything. Please, believe in me."

His voice held a plea you hadn’t heard before, and suddenly, you remembered what the priest once said: Timing. It all felt too coincidental. You could see the puzzle coming together in your mind, but the picture was far from complete.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, realization hitting you like a wave. “He picked you because he knew you wouldn’t say no to him. You’d follow his lead without question.”

Bucky’s face hardened, but there was something unreadable in his eyes, a mix of frustration and guilt. He opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure of how to respond.

“And our divorce?” you added, the words sharper than intended. “It was all part of the plan. To tarnish your image, while he hides his own cracks."

Bucky took a step closer, the tension between you two thick enough to cut. His voice was steady but soft. "For now, please stay quiet about what you’ve found. This could ruin both of us. Or do you want Edgar and Brock to win instead?”

You shook your head, biting your lip. "This is so fucked up. There’s only two candidates."

Bucky's lips quirked into a wry smile. "Hey… we’re not that bad."

"Don’t campaign in front of me," you said, narrowing your eyes, but the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. The tension between you was undeniable, the heat rising in the small space as you tried to keep things civil.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and teasing, but he didn’t push any further. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, as if he was fighting some inner battle to keep his distance. Then, with a heavy sigh, he turned away, letting the moment pass.

That night, sleep was impossible. Nate slept peacefully beside you, his small body curled into yours for warmth. But your mind raced, replaying every conversation, every hidden piece of the puzzle that had yet to be uncovered. You needed help, someone with answers. But who?

Then, it hit you. The perfect person. Someone who could get you the information you needed, though asking them for help would open old wounds.

He’s going to hate me for this, you thought, your chest tightening at the idea.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Ian stood near the check-in counter at the airport, casually scrolling through his phone as he waited in line. Just as he was about to move forward, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen—Greg.

"Follow me," Greg's voice said on the other end, no further explanation given.

Ian's brow furrowed slightly, but he complied, stepping out of the line and trailing Greg down a series of quiet corridors. They finally reached a private room, and Ian’s eyes immediately found you sitting there, alone.

He glanced around the room as if expecting someone else. "I’m by myself," you assured him, noticing his brief scan of the area.

Ian folded his arms, his tone cool as he tilted his head slightly. "What honor do I get to have this meeting?"

You met his gaze, trying to keep steady, though the weight of the situation made your heart race. "I know you hate me," you said softly, not beating around the bush.

"More like at your soon-to-be husband," Ian shot back, his gaze flickering with barely concealed disdain.

You straightened in your seat, squaring your shoulders. "Whatever the Barnes family has done, I won’t defend them," you said, a quiet resolve in your voice.

Ian narrowed his eyes, reading the tension in your body. "You must be desperate to come to me."

A small, nervous laugh escaped your lips as you looked down at your hands, fingers fidgeting slightly. "I am."

He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face, the lines of old memories creeping in. This felt too much like the past when you both used to dig into dangerous territory. "Just tell me what this is about. I’ve got a flight to catch."

You took a steadying breath, locking eyes with him. "Do you remember the article I wrote? Deals in the Dark: Inside the Global Conspiracy Threatening Economic Stability?"

He nodded, curiosity flickering behind his otherwise guarded expression.

"I think I’ve found someone involved in that conspiracy." Your voice was low, every word heavy with the truth you'd been holding back.

Ian’s face hardened, eyes searching yours. "Who?" he asked, his tone more serious now.

You hesitated for just a second. "It’s Steve."

Ian's eyes widened, and for a moment, the tension between you both disappeared. "Whoa…"

You nodded grimly. "We need to watch out for him. I’m starting to see how deep his connections run. There are scandals tied to him—things you wouldn't expect."

Ian crossed his arms, his expression growing more serious. "Is this about his sons?"

You flinched slightly, your heart skipping a beat. He couldn’t know about Nate. You prayed he didn’t. "What do you mean?" you asked, keeping your voice steady.

"My friend was writing a piece on Steve’s twin sons. They’re apparently bullies at their school, leaders of a gang. But before the article could go to print, the entire office lost power. Threats were made, just like when we published Deals in the Dark."

Your stomach tightened. It made sense now why you always felt uneasy around Steve's sons. You wanted to feel shocked, but it only confirmed what you’d been sensing all along.

Ian smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "This is getting interesting. I’ll dig deeper, see what I can find."

He turned to leave, but you stood, calling after him, "Ian."

He paused, looking over his shoulder.

"Be careful," you said, your voice soft, almost pleading.

Ian gave a small, crooked smile and nodded. He took a last look at you, he felt that, this might be the last time he'd see you.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Back at Bucky’s apartment, Nate sat on the couch, holding his phone up for a FaceTime call. Hazel's face appeared on the screen, still in Paris, her voice warm and comforting despite the distance.

“I miss you, Mommy,” Nate said softly, his eyes wide with longing.

“I miss you too, baby,” Hazel replied with a tender smile, her expression softening as she spoke to her son.

After a moment, Hazel’s tone shifted. “Baby, can you give the phone to your uncle for a sec?”

Nate nodded, handing the phone to Bucky. “Here.”

Bucky took the phone, glancing briefly at Nate before turning his focus to Hazel. “When are you coming back?” he asked, a bit more urgency in his voice than he intended.

“Not until the election is over,” Hazel replied matter-of-factly.

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “Seriously?”

“It’s for the best,” Hazel added with a sigh, her gaze flickering briefly before she continued, “Please watch over him while I’m gone.”

Before Bucky could respond, the FaceTime call ended, the screen going dark. He stared at the blank phone for a moment, lost in thought.

He knew Hazel had her reasons for staying away, but it still didn’t sit right with him. Nate needed his mom, and even though he was doing his best, Bucky couldn't shake the feeling that things were spiraling beyond his control. Watching over Nate wasn’t the issue—it was everything else that came with it.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Across town, Steve Rogers stood in a dimly lit room, facing a massive window that stretched from floor to ceiling. The city lights glowed faintly outside, reflecting off the glass as he stared into the distance, his hands resting in his pockets. His phone buzzed on the nearby table. He glanced at it, seeing the text message he’d ignored for hours: When are you coming back?

Unread. No reply.

Steve’s jaw clenched as he turned back to the window, his mind running over the countless decisions he had made in the last few months. The weight of the campaign, his connections, and now…this.

Knock, knock.

A sharp sound broke through the silence. His eyes flickered towards the door. “Come in,” he said, his voice low.

The door opened, and Natasha stepped inside, her expression as serious as always. “We’ve got another notification,” she said, her eyes locking with his as she handed him a folder.

Steve sighed, feeling the tension crawl up his spine. “What is it this time?”

“It’s about the twins,” Natasha explained, her tone clipped and efficient. “We tracked the IP address involved.” She handed him the information.

Steve took the folder, scanning the contents briefly before a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I should’ve known,” he muttered with a dry chuckle, shaking his head.

Without another word, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. As he waited for the line to connect, he leaned against the window, the cold glass pressing against his back. When the call picked up, his voice was calm but determined.

“Can we meet?”

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Bucky arrived at the golf course as soon as he received Steve’s call. The air was crisp, and the sun was barely cutting through the clouds, casting a muted light over the manicured greens. As Bucky approached, Steve was already mid-swing, the soft thwack of the golf club meeting the ball echoed in the quiet morning.

Steve didn’t turn around, eyes following the ball as it soared across the field. “Bucky, you know why I want to be President, right?” His tone was calm, but there was an underlying sharpness to it.

“Yes,” Bucky replied, his expression unreadable as he stood a few feet away, watching Steve with his hands in his pockets.

“We’re this close to winning,” Steve said, setting up for another swing, his movements precise, controlled. He took the shot, the ball cutting clean through the air. “One mistake could ruin us. Our rivals will use any kind of ammo to tear down our image.” His voice lowered with emphasis, a hint of menace lingering in his words.

Bucky stayed silent, but his mind was working. He knew Steve had meticulously planned every step, had considered every angle. Steve’s obsession with maintaining a perfect image wasn’t new. He had a way of knowing when someone so much as whispered behind his back.

Even the online comments rarely escaped his notice. Bucky suspected Stark Technology had something to do with that. Howard Stark, Steve’s long-time friend and the campaign’s biggest sponsor, had deep resources. It wasn’t hard to believe that some of those resources were being used to monitor any potential threats.

Just as Bucky was deep in thought, his phone buzzed. It was a message from Natasha. He opened it, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the contents. His hand clenched around the paper as he saw the name: Ian.

Steve took another swing, his voice calm but laced with tension. “This lackey of Edgar and Brock is persistent.”

Bucky folded the paper and stuffed it into his jacket pocket, his jaw tightening. “I’ve made sure to shut him down.”

Steve sighed, shaking his head as he lowered his club. “But you’re still too soft.” He walked towards Bucky, each step deliberate, his gaze unflinching. Reaching him, Steve lifted the golf club he’d been holding, pointing it at Bucky with a steady hand.

“I’ve cheated death a couple of times to get here,” Steve said quietly, the weight of his words settling between them. His eyes were cold, calculating. “I’ve sacrificed so much. I won’t let anything stop me.”

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[thedroneranger]

Fireside

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Synopsis: Jake wants to make sure his wife's terrible work week ends with a bang.

Notes: Part of the To-do List collection. Shoutout to my BB™s that listen to me drone on and on about Jake (and Glen and all 32 teeth): @cherrycola27 @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32 🖤

Warnings: 18+ only; smut.

Word count: 3.3k.

This week was one of those weeks Mrs. Seresin had to remind herself she loved her job. Most of the time, her clients were a joy. Even her selective clients—she enjoyed the challenge they brought.

What made her sometimes rethink her line of work were the naysayers and women who were mean to her because their husbands had wandering eyes. 

She was not looking forward to potentially taking a client to court. Her drive home was spent on the phone with her attorney and accountant, revisiting the terms of her work agreement. She always had the option to terminate a contract but needed to weigh the financial loss.

Jake knew his wife had been having a rough week, and he was determined to end it on a high note. 

Many of his higher-ups had a soft spot for his wife, and he wasn’t afraid to use that to his advantage. Yesterday, he used it to ensure he was able to leave work early today. On his way home, he picked up some groceries to surprise her with dinner—any excuse to use the outdoor kitchen.

A sucker for his wife’s three-legged best friend, Jake also came home early enough to take Ruck for a run. After their jaunt, he prepared the things that needed to be marinated for dinner before popping upstairs to shower.

Mrs. Seresin was surprised to see his truck in the driveway as she neared the house. Tempted to rush her call, she patiently sat in her vehicle and finished it. She was not surprised that Ruck was the first to greet her as she entered the house.

It was silent as she set down her things and wandered around, looking for Jake. Finally, she stumbled upon him, barefoot, shirtless, clad in gray sweatpants—slung low on his waist—and messy, wet hair. He was dicing okra and tending the grill.

“Hi, chef,” she said as she slipped out the door into the backyard. He greeted her with his bright smile. Jake stopped and sat the knife on the counter as she wrapped herself around him. She rested her cheek on his bare chest, relishing the feeling of the hair there as they hugged. The tension in her body told him her day was just like the other four this week. 

Jake kissed the top of her head, and then she looked up at him by resting her chin on his pectoral. He leaned down and kissed her lips. She pushed onto her toes to deepen it. He smiled into the kiss, and then broke it. “You should shower while I finish dinner.”

She closed her eyes and pushed her lips into a pout, pretending to think about it. “Fine.” Feigning a whine, she untangled herself. He smacked her ass as she turned to head into the house, and then he acted like he’d done nothing as he went back to cutting okra. She glanced over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes at him.

The shower was a welcome reprieve from the day. She stood under the showerhead and let the water rush down her body. She replayed her day in her head before letting herself think about the evening with Jake. Curled up, with healthy pours of wine, next to the outdoor fireplace. Ruck at their feet.

Her thoughts of the evening ahead were interrupted as her stomach growled. Remembering she had skipped lunch, she quickly finished her shower to get to whatever deliciousness Jake was cooking. She had a hunch she was getting a signature Texas comfort meal.

Since his outfit was nothing but gray sweatpants, she decided on a silk tank-short set and a long cardigan. 

Ruck escorted her down to the kitchen where Jake was aerating one of their favorite red wines. She sidled up behind him and wrapped her arms around his narrow waist as he poured the last bit of the bottle into the decanter. She placed a few kisses along his spine, and then moved to stand beside him. She rested her palms on the counter as she patiently waited. Finally, he slid a glass in front of her.

Her lips curved into a soft smile. “Thank you.” She rocked onto her tiptoes to kiss him. Jake turned toward her, snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her to him. A moan escaped her as he licked into her mouth. “You were sipping while you poured!” she teased as they parted. 

He grinned, and then placed a kiss in the center of her forehead before he snagged his glass and headed back outside. “I should check the grill.” He sniggered as he walked away.

While he was grilling and sautéing, she wandered over to the fireplace. It was one of her favorite renovation projects in their home. She returned the smoke-stained, white-washed brick to its former glory.

Wine in one hand, she shuffled logs from the woodpile to the hearth, stacking them in the perfect formation. One match and a handful of fire-starter later, flames began to creep along the ridges of the logs. The wood began to char as the heat bled into the cracks.

The sun was beginning to set and it was going to be the perfect night. Cool enough the flames and a sweater provided an extra warmth, but warm enough not to be wholly dependent on the fire.

Mrs. Seresin poked and prodded logs, moving them to prolong the burn. Ruck sat just out of range of jumping embers and supervised as she worked.

Soon after the fire was blazing, Jake summoned his wife to the dinner table. Her chair was pulled out, and then he stood behind and pushed it in as she sat. She looked up at him and he bent over her to give him a thank-you kiss. 

Jake was no slouch in the kitchen, especially the outdoor kitchen. Her mouth watered as she looked at the spread on the table—fried okra, garlic parmesan crusted carrots and a quick-and-dirty smoked brisket that he had come to perfect over years sans smoker. 

“Oh! One more thing.” He jumped up and jogged over to the grill. She spied the wine bottle and topped off hers and his glasses while she waited. Finally, he came back over with a single-serve baking dish. 

The minute he sat the container down, she knew what it was. She smiled as he pulled the lid off to reveal crispy, bubbly golden macaroni and cheese. 

Jake took his seat beside her and began to fill her plate. As he filled his own, she moved her chair so they were angled toward each other and their plates touched. 

She watched Jake until he was finished and looked at her. “I hope this is helping your week end on a high note.” He gave his signature smile. 

It was infectious, and she couldn’t help but respond with a grin. “Mhmm, feed me some mac and cheese, and we’ll find out.” Jake stabbed a few cavatappi and fed them to her. She closed her eyes as she chewed, enjoying the buttery, salty combination that coated the noodles. They fed each other bites of brisket, okra and mac and cheese until their plates were empty. Never forgotten, Ruck got his own cubed piece of meat to enjoy. 

Jake shooed her away as he cleaned up after dinner, so she wandered back over to tend to the fireplace. The flames crackled as the charred wood crumbled into white ash, collecting in the hearth. She stared into the flames and nudged the embers with the poker.

“Might as well throw at least one more log on.” She turned to find Jake with another bottle of wine, refilling their glasses. He took a swig of his drink and then wandered to the logpile. He sidled up beside her to position the log among the embers. Once his hands were empty, he snaked them around her waist as he stood behind her and his lips met her temple. She closed her eyes and enjoyed his embrace. She hummed as his lips found her jaw and then her neck.

She pressed herself against him as he continued to kiss whatever bare skin he could reach. Using his chin and nose, he nudged her sweater off her shoulders to expose more. She obliged him, helping slack the fabric to rest in the crooks of her arms.

Her backside pressed against his crotch, which made him groan. His hands found their way to the waistband of her shorts. He practically growled as his fingers dipped to her bare pussy. “Before I go anything further, how exactly did you see the rest of the evening going?” The fire danced as she stared into it. They swayed ever so slightly while Jake ghosted circles on her pubic mound and peppered kisses on her neck as he awaited a decision.

A moan dropped from her mouth as he kissed her in just the right spot. She spun in his arms to face him and forced his hands to shift to her rear. Tucked under her sweater, one of his thumbs absentmindedly stroked her “good girl” tattoo. Her arms coiled around his waist as they stared at one another. 

“Well,” she began, “I was thinking I could sip wine on the couch while you ate me out.” Jake groaned and felt himself grow harder at the thought. “Or,” she continued, “it could be cathartic if you fucked me doggystyle over the back of the couch.” His breath caught in his throat. Her lip quirked ever so slightly at his reaction.

“Mmmm, I should’ve chosen white wine in case of spills.” Jake was shocked he was able to say his statement with a straight face. However, he did allow himself to look down where they were pressed chest-to-chest. 

The swells of her cleavage gave him thoughts of his cock between her tits… He needed to focus. “So my takeaway is, at some point, we should end up naked,” he clarified.

“Mhmm, yes.” Pushing onto the balls of her feet, she cupped his face as she kissed him. Jake practically melted into her. 

Her lips still on his, he followed her over to the outdoor sectional. Only then she broke the kiss to push him down and straddle his lap. His hands were immediately back under her sweater on her ass, squeezing and kneading. Meanwhile, Mrs. Seresin ground herself into his lap.

They continued to make out and she stealthily began to push his sweats down until his cock popped out. He groaned as the smooth silk of her shorts rubbed against him. She smiled as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. 

Unable to help herself, she positioned him between her pussy and her shorts, which allowed her to slide along his length. Jake felt her wetness. “Fuck.” He hissed as he leaned back, resting his head against the sofa and looking at her with hooded eyes. 

A smirk grazed her features. Without a word, she slipped off his lap. Jake groaned again, this time, at the loss of her body heat. He watched as she gathered the open wine bottle and their glasses. She handed him his glass. “Let’s drink some wine and enjoy the fire.” She kept Jake’s gaze as she took a sip from her glass.

Then she shimmied out her shorts and sweater. Jake helped her as she climbed into his lap. This time, her back to his chest. While his free hand came to rest on her lower belly, her free hand guided his cock into her heat. Jake’s head lolled back again as he reminded himself to take deep breaths. Nonchalantly, she sipped her wine as they shifted until they were both comfortable. 

Jake’s rough fingertips lazily swirled patterns on the exposed skin from her belly button to her cleft. Every now and then, he’d pick up his chin from her shoulder and trail kisses there. Mrs. Seresin was content as they watched the flames lick the inside of the chimney and the smoke tangle with the growing twilight. “The fire is getting low,” she said as she hopped off his lap. 

“Come back!” Jake whined and extended a hand in her direction. Realizing his begging was for naught, he leaned forward, tucking himself back in his sweats and setting his now empty wine glass on the table. Elbows on his knees and chin on his palms, he watched her tend the fire. Of course, Ruck was at her feet. Not in the way but close in case of emergency.

Happy with the fire, she turned to see him watching her. Her shoulders slumped a little and she pouted her lips. “Is the fun over?” She finished her wine as she came back to the table and filled both their glasses. 

“Not at all.” Jake leaned back with his hands laced behind his head. His half-hard cock glaringly obvious. “It’s a little chilly without you keeping me warm.” She grinned into her wine glass.

After setting her cup down, she ventured around the back of the couch behind him. Leaning down, she kissed the shell of his ear as her hands glided down his chest to his waistband. He closed his eyes as her fingers dipped into his pants. Meanwhile, she alternated between nipping and sucking his ear and neck.

Now he was at full mast. Legs spread wide to allow her the most room to work. One hand played with his balls, while the other ghosted along his shaft and around the head of his cock. Jake felt his muscles tightening more and more. “Keep this up, and I’ll be coming in my pants like one of the neighbor boys seeing you in your swimsuit.” 

“Mmm, could you not mention the neighbors right now.” She tugged his earlobe with her teeth. His chuckle turned into a moan. She continued to tease him, bringing him closer and closer to the edge. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one edging you?” he stammered out. 

She planted a wet kiss on his neck. “But it’s way more relaxing, and fun, for me this way,” she explained. His only response was to moan as she touched him just right. One more move and he was done, so to prolong him, she recoiled.

Jake almost came off the sectional. He looked over his shoulder to see her, cleavage pushed up just right in her silk tank, chin on her fists, looking at him. “Why don’t we play out that second scenario?” She winked. 

His million-dollar smile appeared as he leapt out of his seat. Their gazes stayed locked as he rounded the sofa. He watched in awe as she grabbed the bottom hem of her tank and pulled it over her head.

Seeing her naked never ceased to amaze Jake. She leaned against the couch back, arms spread to support her, and waited until he was standing directly in front of her. “You’re wearing too much clothing,” she told him, running her knuckle from his belly button to the waistband of his pants. 

“Turn around,” he commanded, never breaking eye contact. There was a split second she thought about disobeying but decided otherwise. Quickly, Jake discarded his pants and on his way back up, he kissed a trail from the round of her ass to her neck. 

Her elbows resting on the couch, she looked at him over her shoulder. His lips finally met hers, and his hands came to rest on either side of her, caging her in. She pushed against him as they continued to make out. He knew she was getting impatient. He smiled into their kiss, and she tugged on his lip. “Hey, now!” he teased.

She did it again and pressed against him again. “Will you fuck me, please?” Jake’s smile grew wider, and he looked into her doe-eyes. She wiggled against him again, and he grunted in response. 

“Since you asked so nicely…” Before she could reply, he buried himself in her to the hilt. A gasp got caught in her throat, and Jake covered her open mouth with his while his hand found its way to her neck. 

Zero hesitation, he immediately began a steady pace. He kissed her lips one more time before directing her to bend further over the couch. She melted into the cushion, pushing up onto her toes as Jake’s hands moved to her hips. As his pace picked up, a hand eventually came to the back of her neck, pushing her further into the sofa. 

Enjoying the manhandling, she was pliant in his hands. Her whimpers and moans kept him going. Soon, the only tension in her body were her walls squeezing him. “Fuck,” he groaned out as he continued pounding into her. It was total bliss for them both as he felt her juices dripping down his balls.

Jake’s voice began to strain. “Where do you want me to come, baby?” Her answer was barely coherent and a smirk crossed his features—he’d poke fun about fucking her speechless another time. 

Ready, he slowed as he felt himself beginning to spasm. He always enjoyed watching where they connected and the oozing white ring that formed as he continued to fuck her until he was soft. Slowly, he pulled out. One hand still resting on her hip, he used his free one to catch any fallout. 

Bottom lip tucked behind his teeth, he smeared his cum back on her swollen pussy. Her sounds spurring him on, he popped two fingers into her and stroked her G spot. “Ohmygod.” It came out as one word and her legs kicked off the ground. Jake caught her thigh to hold her steady as he continued to finger fuck her.

She supported herself on her elbows as she tried to look back at him. Jake leaned over to give her the sweetest kiss while his fingers were buried inside her. “Don’t. Stop,” she said between strokes.

“Yes, that’s it, baby,” Jake cooed. He was also enjoying her squeezing his fingers. So much so, his cock was on the rise. 

She drawled his name and said, “I’m so close.”

“Good thing cum makes the best lube.” She gasped and arched her back as he plunged back into her. He slipped a big hand between her and the couch, and pressed on her lower belly. Almost immediately she began to flutter around him. Jake held her steady as her toes curled and she moaned, lacing her hands together behind her head. Her face buried into the cushions.

Carefully, he untangled himself and unfurled her onto the couch. She gladly stretched out with an arm over her face. Jake leaned over the back of the coach and watched in awe. Finally, he moved to put his pants back on. Then he sat her up and helped her back into her silk set. 

Wine glasses full, he rejoined her on the couch. She cuddled into his side. “Cheers.” She held up her glass. Jake gently touched his to hers, and they drank.

“Was that a good way to end the week?”

She burst into laughter. Jake immediately bore a confused expression. “Good? Are you kidding me?” His expression morphed to match hers. “It was excellent.” She captured his chin between her thumb and forefinger, holding him for a kiss. When she let him go, she grabbed his arm to read his watch. He observed her. “We have a few hours left to make this week end on an even higher note.” 

“What do you have in mind?” He was smirking at her. She licked her lips as she looked at him. He could tell the wheels were turning. 

She slipped off the couch, placing her wine glass on the table. “Meet me in the outdoor shower in five.” She pulled her shirt back over her head, and then she turned to look at Jake over her shoulder. She was silhouetted by the firelight. “Then maybe we can go for a night swim.” It was more of a statement than a question as she strutted away. 

Enjoying the show, Jake stayed put and watched her until she was out of sight. Then he looked into the sky, thanked his lucky stars, finished his wine and followed her.

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[gilverrwrites]

Dickies Mom has got it goin’ on

Had to get this convoluted, angsty but fun idea out of my head. One day I might expand it into a better-written, fleshed-out fic, but for now please enjoy my yappy ramblings.

Wally West/BatMom!Reader

CWs: Wally being a not so great friend.

So like, imagine you're roughly late 20s/early 30s and happily married to the love of your life Bruce Wayne, there's an age gap sure, but ultimately that's not important. What matters is that you've made a life with him and his children. You're especially close with Dick, his eldest (late teens/early 20s) as you've known him since he was a teenybopper.

All is well, until one day in true comic book fashion; you die. You sacrifice yourself for a greater cause. It's all very tragic.

A decade later, it turns out fate isn't done with you. You've no idea how or why, but you wake in a coffin one day and have to claw yourself out of it. Cold, alone, and afraid, you make your way back to Wayne Manor. There you're greeted by your husband Bruce, but not really. This Bruce is greying. There are fine lines on his face you've never seen before and a ring on his finger that does not match yours.

You're not mad, it's been 10 years, and he was supposed to move on! But it doesn't feel like 10 years to you, it feels like only yesterday everything was perfect. It's devastating.

Queue Dick finding out. He just so happened to be hanging with his best pal Wally at the time, they both drop everything to rush over in a flash.

Your first night back on earth is messy. It's emotional, and stressful, a hell of a roller coaster. Ultimately, you spend most of it with Dick and Jay who surprise is also back from the dead. Dick is really your emotional soundboard, while Jay offers more practical advice about navigating a world that has gone on without you. He recommends you just take some time off, heal your wounds, catch-up with friends and family. You should learn from his mistakes.

Wally helps too. Primarily in a comedian relief way but also just as a sunny friendly face. His freckles and kind green eyes go a long way in making you feel at ease amongst a sea of familiar strangers.

He's adamant you've met before but you insist you'd never forget eyes that green and it stops his heart. You mean nothing by it, but it means a lot to him.

After you’ve parted ways, Dick makes a point of telling Wally not to flirt with you if he ever meets you again.

“Flirting? I wasn't flirting.”

“I was there.”

“But, come on man she's hot!”

“She’s my mom.”

“But she's our age now.”

“Wally, she's my mom!”

Eventually, after a lot of teasing, Wally surrenders but he deliberately makes no promises. He can't, not when he's been replaying the same 5-second interaction you'd had at Dicks 18th Birthday party many moons ago in his head over and over. He’ll try for his best friend, but it seems to him like this was meant to be.

Bruce may not be in love with you anymore, but he still loves you. So he helps how he can, offers you food and shelter, medical attention, a job, whatever you need to get yourself back on your feet.

You decide to take Jasons advice. Bruce still has a lot of your things; your clothes and your car. You ‘borrow’ gas money from your widowed husband and hit the road to seek out lost friends and family. Sad, but eager to get away from the city that no longer feels like home. You leave your rings with Alfred, a sign to Bruce that you expect nothing from him, that you'll leave him and his new wife be even though it breaks your heart.

The first stop is Dick, obviously, since you have to travel through Blüd. After joining him for a routine patrol, you spend the night on his couch, eating Thai food and talking about his life since you… passed. Nightwing as just finding his footing back then, but now he's a force to rival Batman.

You're two states over when you get a call from a number you don't recognise. Most of the people you know have changed their numbers since you last spoke, so don't hesitate to answer. You're surprised however by whose on the other end.

“Wally West? How did you get this number?”

“From Dick.”

He's not lying, he's just omitting the fact that Dick doesn't know Wally got your number from his phone bill. If he didn't want that info getting out he should probably put his bills somewhere other than a lockbox in a safe and quit being only person in the entire world to still actively use a landline.

His not-a-lie works however, the implication of Dick's approval helps you to let down those mother-appropriate conversation walls.

“Heard you're travelling cross country, any chance you plan on stopping in Keystone?”

“Why? Whats in Keystone?”

“Um, the Patriots?”

“Baseball?”

“And hotdogs! Al who serves em does not skimp on all the toppings, you've gotta try em.”

“You want me to detour in Keystone for baseball and hotdogs?”

“Well, there is something else.”

“And whats that?”

“Guess.”

“Unmmm… You?”

“Ding ding ding. She's smart and beautiful, a woman after my own heart.”

He's cute. So cute. He's no Bruce, but Bruce never made you laugh like this.

“Wally, this is a bad ideas. I was married until like a week ago.”

“And? I'm not askin’ you to walk down the aisle again, just one game and like 20 hotdogs. For me. You don't have to eat that many unless you want too.”

[albertasunrise]

Hope You Can Forgive Me - Hope

Masterlist

GIF by olisgifs

Summary: After Joel loses his wife and your best friend during childbirth. You support him as he takes on parenthood on his own at 22. But when feelings start to develop, you battle with the guilt you feel for falling for your best friend’s husband.

Relationships: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+… this is to avoid spoilers! (So here is my first fic update since having Lando! I hope this was worth the wait and I can't wait to hear what you all think. There is some time hopping in this chapter but it's all necessary. Enjoy ♥️)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

The words hung in the air between you. Swirling around in his head as he processed that he was sitting at a table with you after all this time. That you were smiling softly at him, not growling at him in frustration because he’d gotten on your nerves for the final time. 

“Tommy told me that you ended up going back to the hospital after you left that day and I-“

“You mean the day you tossed me out?” He interrupted, surprised by how he suddenly felt 10 years of anger surge to the surface. 

“Joel I-“

“I don’t need your sorries.” He stated plainly and you nodded numbly “What I needed then was for you to see how badly I was doing but you couldn’t.” 

He couldn’t say he blamed you really. You were facing life with a partner who was never going to walk again whilst you had to raise his toddler and the newborn baby you shared. 

‘Dwelling on the past isn’t going to change it so let's just agree to move on.” He piped up after a tense pause and he could have laughed at how your shoulders dropped and you allowed yourself to relax. 

You both sat in awkward silence for a while before Joel finally broke it. His question brought a proud smile to your face. 

“Noah’s turned out to be a fine young man.” He stated as he took a sip of his coffee “Sarah’s besotted with him.”

“He’s just like his father.” You gushed “Patient and kind.” You continued as you looked down at the wedding band and engagement ring that you still wore “He’d never said a cross word to me till recently. Learning that he and Sarah had been inseparable as babies was tough on him.

“He pleaded with me to reach out to you but I confess… I didn’t think you’d want to speak to me after everything.” 

“I never stopped caring.” Joel stated honestly “I have spent the last decade blaming myself for that crash… it should have been me that-“

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” You pleaded as you stared at him with round, tear-filled, eyes “The accident was not your fault! The truck driver is the one to blame for what happened and it was wrong of me to blame you.” You let out a long sigh before taking a large sip of coffee before continuing “I was pregnant and hormonal and facing having to care long-term for my partner as well as raise a toddler and a newborn.

“Life looked bleak and I just needed someone to blame… but I shouldn’t have blamed you.” You choked out, voice wobbling as you spoke that last statement. 

Joel remained silent. Watching you as you pulled yourself together before continuing. 

“I should have seen that you weren’t well, you're right.” You started again after a few tense moments of silence “After Tommy told me what happened… my mind started to replay everything and it was so obvious that something was wrong. I should have seen it… not shut you out so I could wallow in my own misery.” 

“I get it… I do-“ 

“But it doesn’t excuse it, Joel.” You interrupted “I should have done better by you and I’m sorry.” 

Joel nodded. Giving you a small smile before downing the last dregs of his coffee. 

“Well… now that all the tense formalities are out of the way… shall we get another coffee and catch up properly?” He asked with a grin, instantly lifting the mood. 

“That would be wonderful.” 

2 months later…

Joel watched from the patio as Noah and Sarah played a heated game of swing ball, Ali watching from the sidelines as she cheered her brother on. Tommy was at the grill, having promised Joel that he could ‘cook some damn burgers’, leaving the older Miller to watch the two childhood sweethearts play. Memories of a little Noah showing an even smaller Sarah how to throw a ball flashed in his mind. They had always played so well together. 

Some things never change it seemed. 

Joel’s attention was torn away from Sarah and her beau and towards you, as you placed the salad and condiments in the centre of the table. 

“Foods up!” Called Tommy and soon the table was filled with chatter as everyone dug in. 

It felt like old times. Only, someone was missing. 

Once the food was consumed and the dishes dealt with, Sarah, Ali and Noah slunk away to read their books under the tree at the bottom of Joel's garden, leaving you, Joel and Tommy to sip at your cold beers and catch up. 

"How's things been with you?" Tommy asked you as he turned to face you. It was something that you had always liked about Tommy. When he was talking to you he gave you his undivided attention and never butted in when you spoke. Something that Alec and his family had always done that had driven you to distraction... But never the Miller boys. They always listened to what you had to say. 

"Yeah, they're good." You nodded as you replied and placed your bottle on the table "Starting to meld well with the nice team. Making some friends too which is nice." 

"Any hot men in the office catch your eye?" 

Tommy's question took you by surprise and you couldn't help but glance at Joel a moment before you answered. He was looking anywhere but you and Tommy as they both awaited your answer and you felt a small pang of hope fill you. Why, you weren't sure. 

"Not really looking for anything at the moment." You said, shrugging your shoulders "Been so focused on work and the kids the last few months that I haven't really thought about what comes next." 

Your eyes drifted to Noah and Ali who were talking animatedly about, you assumed, something that had happened in the books they were holding. Both had ended up bookworms like their dad, something you were glad of as they had grown up. Buying them books to distract them from the reality of how sick Alec had been. 

"Plus Alec hasn't been gone long. Would be wrong for me to just move on." 

"You're entitled to be happy." Tommy stated plainly as he gave you that signature Miller look "He would want you to live life to the fullest. Lord knows you've earned that." 

"I guess." You shrugged. 

Truth be told, since coming back into the Miller's lives your feelings for Joel had started to stir again. He had turned out to be an incredible father, not that you had doubted him for a second but he had been forced to take on parenthood completely on his own when you had left. Ali's parents had died a few years after the accident leaving Joel with just Tommy for family but he had been in the army. So he had to take it all on by himself and he had flourished. Sarah was a kind, polite and caring young girl and the spitting image of her mother. Something that had made you both happy and sad. Happy, that she had turned out so beautiful, but sad because there wasn't a day that went by that you didn't miss Ali. So much so that you had named your own daughter after her. 

"How about you brother?" Tommy asked, taking the attention off of you "How's things been with that chick you're dating?" 

"We've been on like two dates Tommy." Joel sighed but his brother shrugged. 

'Still dating her." He chuckled as he took a long pull of his beer "Given her the Miller magic yet?" Joel choked on his beer as the words settled between you and your stomach sank.

He was dating? 

Of course, he was dating. He was an attractive young man, why wouldn't he? Yet this information felt like a punch to the gut. You knew you had no right to feel this way about Joel seeing someone yet it was a fight to keep the tears at bay. You would later realise as you analysed your feelings over a large glass of wine at home that a small part of you had always held onto the hope that one day, you and Joel may have had your chance. 

That after all these years, he would realise how you felt and would return those feelings. You would later realise that that was a fool's hope. 

You had broken things beyond repair with Joel all those years ago. 

There was no hope for the two of you now. There was no way he felt the same way about you. 

Oh if only you knew. 

You had found yourself quickly falling into old traditions with the Millers. Regular gatherings at Joels where food and laughter are shared only this time Noah and Sarah weren't babies anymore. You found yourself missing their antics. Howthey used to hide behind the wooden castle climbing frame that Joel had built Sarah before she'd even made her entrance to the world. They would crouch behind it and giggle, thinking no one knew they were there and you would all chuckle at them and how perfect together they were. Even from such a young age. 

You had found yourself wondering if Joel had ever thought about having more kids. He was still young after all, having had Sarah in his early twenties same as you had had Ali so young yourself. You had definitely thought that there would have been more children in your future but Alec's health hadn't allowed for that and so that dream of another baby had died along with him. 

When Sandy had stepped into the fold, you had had your question of whether Joel wanted more kids answered from the moment she'd opened her mouth at the annual pre-Christmas get-together. She was young, late twenties and perky. Both physically and personality-wise.

She had sat there for hours talking about how she had no interest in having kids. That she liked them but that it had never appealed to her personally. You had asked Joel if he had thought about having any more to which he'd replied "Nah, one and done for me." 

It had shocked you how blasé he had been about the subject and it had stung you. Why, you weren't sure but you supposed its because you had secretly hoped you'd have one with him one day. 

Now though, that pipedream seemed an impossibility that Sandy was in the picture. You hated her for it...

You knew you had no reason to. She was sweet. There didn't appear to be a bad bone in her body but she grated on your nerves with her big eyes and sickly sweet smiles. 

Your feelings for Joel may have had some bearing on your opinion of her you supposed. 

Those pesky feelings had only continued to grow the more time you spent with Joel. You and he would alternate some nights during the week for dinners or movie nights. Ali and Sarah had become fast friends, something you had worried would irritate Noah now that his relationship with Sarah seemed to have developed a third wheel but on the contrary, he seemed to welcome her. 

They still managed to find time to spend together without his sister hanging around but he didn't begrudge her presence when she was there. He'd always been a great big brother to her. 

But now it seemed that you had become the third wheel in Joel's relationship with Sandy. These once peaceful evenings had been overtaken by her loud personality but Joel seemed to lap it up, completely oblivious to how you were starting to pull away. Unable to watch them be so sickeningly happy. 

It all came to a head three months later. Unable to keep up the fake smiles any longer. 

"So, I found a new taco recipe I want to try for Taco Tuesday this week." Joel stated as he dried the last dish and placed it on the drying rack beside the sink "Churizo with fried potatoes, avocados, onions and Cilantro... Read it in a magazine this week and I knew I had to try it."

"Sounds good." You answered numbly as you picked up the last few dried plates and cutlery to put away "I'm sure the kids will love it." 

"You okay?" Joel asked upon sensing your tone. 

"Mhmm." You knew your reply wasn't fooling anyone. 

"Okay, what's up?" He asked, letting out a sigh as he turned his whole body to face you, rested his hip against the counter and crossed his arms, accentuating his strong arms and broad shoulders. 

"Nothing it's just... I won't be able to make Taco Tuesday this week. Or movie night on Thursday." You replied, not looking at him as you spoke. 

"Okay, I'll save that recipe for next week then." 

"I can't go next week either." You replied bluntly and his brows furrowed as he looked across at you.

"Why not?" 

"I'm going to be busy the next few weeks is all." 

"Few weeks?" He questioned and you simply nodded. 

"Yeah."

"Care to look at me whilst you lie to me?" He growled and you let out a long sigh before returning his gaze. 

"I'm not lying to you, Joel." You growled "I have a lot going on with work so I won't be able to make our usual arrangements for a month or so.

"But the kids-" 

"Can do all that shit without me." You replied, more snappy than you'd meant to. 

"That shit?" Joel pushed, his tone sounding a little wounded "Is something going on? Did I do something?" 

"No." You replied as you sighed loudly "You haven't done anything wrong."

It wasn't exactly a lie. His dating Sandy wasn't wrong. It just hurt you to watch. 

Joel didn't push but he knew you weren't being honest with him. You had always been easy to read, wearing your heart on your sleeve for the world to see but he didn't understand why you were suddenly going cold on him. Things had fallen back into place so easily. He thought things were good. He didn't push it any further. 

"You're still coming to the cook out week after next though right?" He asked and your heart broke at how hopeful he seemed. 

"Yeah, I'll be there." You lied, hoping he would believe you and would drop it. 

He seemed to buy it because his shoulders relaxed and he gave you a small smile. You smiled back but your stomach twisted painfully. You had two weeks to come up with a decent lie for why you couldn't make it. You knew it had to be believable or Joel would be around yours banging on your door and you knew you'd not be able to lie to him if that were to happen. 

You left with Noah that evening barely gracing Joel or Sarah with a goodbye and it was from that that he knew something serious was up. Just didn't know how to find out. 

...

Sandy had arrived a little after you had left. Cuddling on the couch, she instantly picked up on Joel's distracted state and didn't wait to question him on it. So he told her about how weird you had been that evening. How you'd suddenly become cold and closed off. 

"I don't know what I've done." Joel sighed "She was just so off this evening and then she's suddenly telling me that she's going to be busy for the foreseeable and I just... I don't get it."

"Oh Joel, baby, you're such a typical bloke." Sandy chuckled sympathetically as she turned her top half to look at him "She's obviously got feelings for you." 

"She doesn't have feelings for me." Joel scoffed "Don't be absurd." 

"Why else would she suddenly stop hanging out with her friend the moment he meets someone?" 

"I-" 

"I've had my suspicions for a while but the last few times we've hung out it's been pretty clear that she's got feelings for you Joel." 

"But she..." 

"Would you like it if you had a crush on someone and their new beau was there all the time?" She asked and Joel sighed "I am happy to back off a little if you want to spend more time with her but I don't think she'll want to." 

"She can't have feelings for me." He muttered and Sandy chuckled as she watched his mind whir. 

"Perhaps you should go see her and find out." Sandy shrugged, smiling sweetly at Joel as he looked up at her "Give her some closure." 

Joel parked across from your house before wiping his clammy hands on his jeans and willing his heart to slow. It had been a few days since that conversation with Sandy and what she'd told him played on repeat in his head. Did you really have feelings for him? He had never dared hope that maybe one day you would feel the same way he did. 

He had been practising what he wanted to ask you all evening. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to do if it transpired that you did feel the same. He supposed he would cross that bridge when he came to it. 

Tommy had agreed to watch Sarah for the evening so that he could come to speak to you. He wasn't sure how this was going to go but he had wanted the option to stay a little later if things went the way he hoped they might. 

Finally, as he had willed his heart to slow, your door swung open and grabbed his attention. He watched as you stepped outside slightly, looking at someone who was out of Joel's eyeline. You were smiling at them as you spoke, words that he could not hear from the cab of his car but you seemed to smile shyly at whoever you spoke them to. He hoped that youwouldn't notice his truck parked across the street as he watched you from the shadows. His stomach twisted when a man he didn't recognise stepped into view and leaned closer so he could place a kiss on your lips. 

A myriad of emotions flooded him at once. He felt a pang of despair fill him as he watched you say your farewells for this man, but it quickly morphed into anger as he watched the man get in his car and drive off. 

You hadn't bailed on him because you have feelings for him. You bailed because you wanted to focus on your new boy toy. You'd rather spend time with someone you barely know over him and his family. You had other priorities now. 

And Joel wasn't one of them. 

Next For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

He's mine.

Pairing: Toji fushiguro x chubby reader

Warnings: Yandere!reader, Attempted murder, Jealousy, Fluff, Ausgt, Fat shaming, Moody Teen, Reader's a little creep, Toji been knowing this, Yandere-ish stuff, implied sex. This ended up being just a little bit over 1k but I couldn't help but get into it, lol. Just give it a shot. Part 1.

Summary: It's been a few years since you had your happy ending with your beloved darling. Your daughter was now a teen and your husband seemed to be never so popular with the ladies. What was a mother and a wife to do?

In times like this, you couldn't believe how fortunate you are, the man you once saw through a cafe window, the man you stalked from afar and who didn't care about your size or your possessive tendencies was your husband. Smiling you took a bite of the freshly steamed rice, watching fondly as your husband and daughter ate the breakfast you put your heart and soul in. Putting down your bowl of rice, you wiped your hands on the strawberry pink apron Toji had gifted you one anniversary, "So, how is it?" You asked.

"You did good, doll." Toji chuckled, a small smirk on his scarred lip, as you practically beamed and giggled with happiness.

"It's okay." Your daughter, Aiko muttered, pushing around and picking at her breakfast. 'Just okay?' You thought, your lips pulling into a frown, "Is it not good enough? Do you want some pickles? You used to love-" Your ramble was cut short as Aiko slammed her chopsticks on the Kotatsu. "it's fine. Mother." She replied coldly, her grip on her wooden utensils, hardening to the point her hand was shaking. For a moment no one said a word, the sudden tension in the room intensified before you spoke up, "Are you sure?" At your words, Aiko stood up from her seat and looked at her father. "May I be excused?" She asked, and Toji waved his hand.

she stormed to her room, not one glance or word to you.

"Let me go and talk to her," Toji said as you both stood up from the Kotatsu. "Why don't you do the dishes and take your mind off this?" He suggested, his hand lingering on the back of your neck before he headed towards Aiko's room. You watched him turn the corner of the hallway with a heavy heart. You tried to do the dishes, really but the irresistible itch to know what was going on was too much to bear and without much hesitation, you quietly crept to your daughter's bedroom. "Why are you so hard on your mother?" Toji's deep, voice became clearer the closer you got, his back facing the door as you peeked inside the small opening. "Why did you marry a clingy, overbearing freak? Why not someone normal Dad?" Aiko replied snarkily, playing with her raven hair irritably as she sat on her bed.

'Clingy', 'Freak', 'overbearing' 'Normal'

Replayed over and over in your head 'Is that want she thinks of me?' you thought, staring down into the soapy water abyss as the clanging of plates, bowls and utensils dulled in the background of your thoughts. Too into your head to flinch as two muscular arms wrapped around your soft belly and from the defined chest against your back, "You know she didn't mean it." Toji squeezed your middle and hooked his chin on your shoulder, you just hummed, mindlessly rinsing off the dishes and putting them aside. "Sure sounded like it." You finally replied after a few seconds, staring aimlessly at the soapy water to which Toji sighed his hand coming to caress your side.

'If normal is what she wants then normal she'll get'

"You mean it, mom?" Aiko asked in disbelief, putting on her coat. "Of course!" You smiled sweetly, "just go have some fun with your friends." You said, ushering your daughter gently out the front door. "Thank you so much!" She grinned, and hugged you, pushing her face in the croak of your neck, her thin arms squeezing your softer body before taking off down the street where her friends waited for her, laughing as they left. It was the first time since she had turned fifteen had she hugged you willingly

swiftly, you whipped out your smartphone, and checked your tracking app, intensely viewing the red, beeping dot moving across your phone. Taking a breath, your well-concealed anxiety slowly melted away.

You inhale sharply, clutching your shirt tightly in your fist as you turn when unexpectedly, someone familiar snickered, "knew it." Toji smirked bigger, leaning against the wall of the doorway, his arms crossed, even in plain old clothes he was the most sexiest man, he just wore a black sweatshirt with grey pajama pants but the way his hair hung to the side and those verdant irises lit up in clear amusement, causing your heart to flutter in awe and love. "Toji fushiguro." You warned, slightly jutting your hip out with one hand on it yet you couldn't take it seriously and neither could your husband by the smile tugging at the corner of your lip. Toji shook his head teasingly, pushed himself off the wall and strode to you. "That ain't normal, doll." He tsked, his arms entrapping you, pulling you against him, plush breasts and soft stomach met firm chest and hard abs before your lips locked together.

The sound of panting echoed throughout your bedroom, the scent of sex still heavy in the air as you both caught your breath. All these years and you still fucked like there was no tomorrow. "Right, I forgot to tell ya somethin'." Toji spoke up, running his fingers through his wet raven hair, shoving it back before looking at you, "My next hit, a rich prick," he rolled his eyes and continued, "will be at a gala-like thing, and I need ya to come as my date." He said and you grinned, you have never been to one of those! "'m gonna go start a bath." He stretched his muscles, getting out of bed and walked to the bathroom as you watched him wander off, and damn he had a great ass.

When Aiko texted you about bringing a friend to dinner, you never would've guessed it would be a boy, who was a bit closer to your little girl thus you still led them to the dinner table, where freshly made, streaming food sat ready to be eaten. As your husband, daughter and her friend converse, you stole glances at him..something felt off about him, his lazed crooked grin, that projected a cocky and ignorant aura.

And the way he looked at Aiko with nothing but lust, not an ounce of fondness. He wasn't worthy to be in your daughter's precious presence, he's the dirty on the boot of her shoes, and an ungrateful, disrespectful fool who didn't deserve to be Aiko's friend. You gripped the knife beside your plate tightly as you stared at him.

"Mom? Hello? " your daughter's voice snapped you from your thoughts. "Oh yes, dear?" You asked sweetly, a smile on your lips as you turned to her while ignoring the look Toji was giving you. "Kaito isn't just my friend..he's my boyfriend." She said shyly with a small smile. Boyfriend? Boyfriend! Rage took over as you heard that word, you couldn't hear the horror-filled scream Aiko let out as you kept across the table, your knife raised in the air but before you could drive the shining blade into Kaito's chest, Toji grabbed your wrist and his body pinned you down as you struggled to get out from under him, "Calm down." Toji whispered in your ear.

"Fucking crazy bitch!" Kaito shouted in fear and stumbling back. Aiko opened her mouth to say something but her 'boyfriend' was already out the door. Aiko turned to you and her (your eye color) eyes were dark and glossy with spiteful, loathing and hateful rage once they landed on you. Her fists balled up, "I hate you! I hate you so much! You ruin my life! Dad shouldn't married such a freak!!" She shrieked, ignoring her father's sound of disapproval as she sent you one more glare before running to her room and slamming the door shut, noises of things being thrown and loud sobbing were all you heard, and tears fell from your eyes.

Toji sighed as he stood in the doorway of your shared bedroom, staring at the you-shaped lump under the blanket. It's been a week since Aiko had yelled at you and you had spent most of those days right here. Toji gently scooted you to make room for him, "You know, the gala will be tomorrow and you need to get out." his arm curled around your hips and his head rested on yours, "Come on doll, I want you to be the prettiest girl there don't you?" He questioned, his hand rubbing your stomach. He knew he got you once he saw the small nod when he pulled away to look at you.

Shop your husband was classy and you have never seen such a store in person besides movies and TV shows portrayed. Gorgeous dresses hung on white fancy racks, each dark or light pigment. With the help of toji, you picked a hand of dresses to try on, the first dress you put on was a silk-rusted orange with off-shoulder see-through lace sleeves, you smiled as you gave it one more once over before stepping out of the dressing stall and frowned as you notice a few beautiful women sitting and standing around Toji on the light yellow and white couch. Their clear, sickly sweet voices asked and rambled yet Toji simply paid zero attention to them and smiled as he saw you, leaning forward. One of the women noticed this and followed his gaze to you, scoffing as she saw. "You look gorgeous baby." He grinned, tracing his emerald eyes down your body.

"You got to be joking?" The woman, who first noticed you rolled her faked blue eyes. "she's like so fat and looks like a pig in that dress." A woman with ginger hair, curled her lip as she took you in as the others agreed. You looked down and swallowed a forming lump in your throat, tears blurred your vision as you rushed into the stall. The women's laughter was stopped as they stepped back, and gulped down their fear as Toji turned to them with a cold, murderous look, a dark feeling washed over them and they quick ran off.

"You know that's all shit." He kneeled in front of you after following you into the stall, he looked up at you, trying and failing to get you to look at him as you sat on the built-in bench. "I fuckin' love your body." He licked his lips, you were sexy in the dress, the way it complimented your plump figure, drove him crazy with want. "I love the way ya feel against me. The way you can take me like no other." He purred, getting in between your thighs, you could already feel your cheeks heat up at that sight, "Got the best fuckin' pussy doll." He kissed your neck, his teeth scraping against it, you moaned softly, "Don't want anyone else." He trailed his lips up, planting a few pecks on your cheek and then pulled away to look into your eyes. "Understand?" He asked seriously and hummed satisfied as you nodded.

Your mouth dropped as you took in the sight of the glorious, resemblant castle, nervously you fixed your grown then looped your arm with your husband's and wandered inside. It was recherche, a dome-like shape took the place of a ceiling, painted details, and gold beams lined the ballroom walls. The floor was clear, squeaky-clean, and reflective white tiles, you never felt this poor yet awed in your life.

Straightaway Toji spotted his hit, patting your arm he sent you to get some of the expensive wine while he worked his way to his target. The red wine twinkled in the light, sweeping through the never-growing cracks of the glass, and your eyes darkened as that reacquaintance, rage and possessiveness. Women of all ages flocked to Toji, swooning and giggling like hopeless fools as he just stood there with his hands in his suit pockets, talking to his hit. Even though the fury, you could understand why, he was strikingly handsome in his deep emerald suit and his slick back hair.

Slamming the glasses down on the table, you sauntered to the group of women and took hold of one's arm one who dared to reach out to touch your husband. "Such pretty hands..it would be a shame if they were cut off don't you think?" You smiled creepily at her, playing with her ring finger before she ripped it away with a horrified gasp. The others looked at their friend and your smile and made themselves scarce.

although your little hiccup which Toji was able to play it off seamlessly, the night went exactly to plan. "So fuckin' sexy." Toji groaned against your bruised lips, his free hand groping and kneading your ass. "T-toji." You moaned as he nibbled on your neck "Focus on the road." You whimpered in slight terror as he jerked the car to the far right, barely missing the oncoming car. Once the deed was done, and you had left the crime behind to get discovered, Toji hadn't been able to keep his hands nor lips off you.

You giggled as you stepped through the door of your house, fixing your dishevelled hair and dress, your husband's hands never leaving your body. As you passed your daughter's room, a small sob from within stopped you in your wake. "I got this." You said, not paying attention to the concerned look your husband gave you before walking to your bedroom.

"Aiko." You knocked on the door and waited a few seconds and a tiny weak 'come in' called after. You let out a gasp as you rushed to your beloved daughter where she sat on her bed, crying only louder as you took her in your arms, "what's wrong baby?" you asked softly. "I was a bet mom!" She sobbed, "he dated me to just get ten dollars!" you inhaled sharply at that, calming the flames of anger.

"I'm sorry Mom. I'm so sorry." She let out a stream of apologies, "I'm a terrible daughter." She blubbered, hiding her face in your shoulder. "Do you know why we named you Aiko?" You continued, without letting her Anwar. "Aiko means 'love'. You are the love between me and your father, you were made by that love. No matter what happens I will always love you." You smiled and wiped her tears as she smiled a tiny bit back.

Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all

Taglist; @xxmaddhatter39xx @shrimphutao4ever @pierrotandsam @darkstarlight82 @darkrose0506 @tojishugetiddies @fushiguroshotwife , @blake-has-too-much-energy, @queendessi24, @yune1337

[vsnyarbll]

A Targaryen prince is a heavy burden pt5

atpiahb masterlist, part1, part2, part3, part4, part5

main masterlist

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader, Aegon II Targaryen x reader

words: 3.896

summary: right after part 4

warnings: 18+ (making out), angst, mentions of death, explicit language

a/n: English is not my native language. / Viserys wasn't sick. / Rhaenyra gave up her claim to the throne years ago. / And I felt the need to say: I love Alys Rivers. This is just fiction.

When they reached their room, they both breathed a sigh of relief. 

y/n wanted to sleep, but she also wanted to spend time with her son. He was asleep, but even watching him sleep was enough for her.  

She looked at Aemond as she rocked her son in her arms.

"Are you free today?" she knew he didn't like to be idle. If he had nothing to do with his mother or the small council, he either went to Vhagar or practiced sword.

"I suppose I am. I've been on the small council non-stop or out for duties for months. It wouldn't be so bad to have the day to myself." 

"Sure," she said shortly. 

She carefully laid Maelor in his crib and stood in the center of the room.

Aemond was always out during the day, so she didn't know what to do with him. 

Were they going to have a conversation? 

About what? ...Maelor? Their child was still very young. They had nothing to talk about him.

What about Aegon? What was he doing right now?

Aegon.

As the previous night began to replay in her mind, regret and a sense of not knowing what to do took over her body.

She looked at Aemond again to dispel her thoughts. 

He was already sitting at the table eating the cakes. "Aren't you coming?" he asked.

y/n looked at him as if she didn't realize Aemond was talking to her. Then she nodded and sat down next to him. 

"The cake is pretty good. Would you like some?"

y/n's face showed surprise. "Sure, I could eat a slice." 

She watched the movement of Aemond's hand and the strength of his grip on the knife as he cut a slice of the cake. 

His long fingers and large hand made the knife look small, but y/n was sure it was big. 

The veins on his hand were becoming more prominent with every movement of his hand, and it was creating a delicious image. 

Aemond caught her hungry gaze as he put the cake on the plate and grinned. 

"You are very interested in the knife."

y/n gasped. "It's quite a nice knife."

Aemond didn't need to hide his grin. "Sure, it is." 

y/n took a forkful of the cake and let the icing mash on her palate. The icing was slightly sour, not to her liking, but as Aemond had said, it was a beautiful cake. 

Aemond Targaryen. He was right. As always. That bastard.

"I liked your dress."

y/n looked at it as if she had forgotten which dress it was. "Yes, it's a nice dress. The colors of your house." 

Aemond glanced down at her dress again.

"Nice collar."

y/n still couldn't understand why he was commenting on her dress and looked at it again. 

The neckline was lacy and left most of her breasts exposed. 

She understood the reason for Aemond's insinuations. 

y/n frowned slightly and looked at Aemond, who laughed at her reaction. Then he coughed to cover his laughter, but a small smile remained on his lips. 

He turned his head and looked at the cradle where his son lay.

"He's always looking for you. Even my mother couldn't calm him down today."

y/n started playing with the handle of her fork. "He is my son, after all." 

Aemond nodded briefly. "My mother wants him to have a religious education. She always wanted her children to have. Which, as you can imagine, Aegon failed to provide. Neither did Helaena. I concentrated on sword and history lessons after I claimed Vhagar. Daeron partly fulfilled her wish. He's in Oldtown, after all, but we don't know how he's doing. Sometimes I forget he exists, you know." 

y/n listened to her husband with her eyes wide open. 

It always amazed her how the man who was cold and introverted outside could be so talkative when alone in their room. 

His shoulders and posture, always tense when he was outside, relaxed in his chambers. 

Sometimes he would smile and laugh. 

But the one thing Aemond never did during their marriage was take off his eye patch.

y/n had never seen him without it, and she never asked him to take it off because she didn't think he would feel comfortable.

"If we agree and my father finds out Maelor has a religious education, he'll go mad, which I don't want him to get a religious education either."

"I thought you wouldn't want to. But I wanted to ask you anyway."

y/n couldn't help a small smile appearing on her lips. Aemond should have consulted her anyway, but she liked that he did.

They sat in silence. y/n played with the cake on her plate with her fork, and Aemond sat expressionless.

"I-" said Prince Aemond, but before he could continue, there was a quick knock on the door. 

y/n and Aemond stood up at the same time. 

There was a strange tension in the room. They looked at each other, not knowing what to do. 

y/n went to the door. But Aemond gestured for her to stop.

He quickly picked up his sword that he had left on the couch and went to the door. He was careful to hide his sword behind the door.     

Aemond paused when he saw his mother's maid at the door.

Talya's appearance in their room was already unusual, but her face, white with worry or fear, made him even more uneasy.

"What happened?"

"My prince," she said. And she pressed her hand to her mouth. She would have sobbed if she hadn't stopped herself.

"My prince. The queen sent me. She gave strict orders that no one was to leave their chambers."

A thousand thoughts raced through Aemond's mind. 

Was the castle occupied? Would the invaders kill everyone connected to the king? His wife, his son, and his siblings. Aegon.

As Talya looked at the prince with fearful eyes, Aemond's hand tightened around his sword.

"What's wrong?"

"My prince. The king-" she paused again, but Aemond already knew what had happened. He still waited for her words, just to be sure.

"The king was found dead in his chambers. Not even ten minutes ago. Your mother made sure nobody knew. It is not even certain if there will be a funeral."

y/n came up from behind and put her hand on Aemond's arm. She seemed to be trying to comfort him involuntarily. 

"But I don't understand. Shouldn't the whole kingdom be informed?" asked y/n. 

"The queen fears Prince Daemon may come for the throne, my lady." 

y/n's eyes darted between Aemond and Talya. "But Prince Daemon is not even fifth in line for the throne." 

Talya nodded. "So the queen worries that Prince Daemon could remove anyone between him and the throne." 

"You mean like... killing us?"

Talya nodded. 

Aemond swallowed. He couldn't believe his mother was letting her worries destroy her from the inside again. 

"I need to see her," he said, and Talya shook her head as he walked through the door. 

"The queen does not want anyone to leave their chambers. Please, my prince, for your lady wife. For your child." 

Aemond weighed everything in his mind. The safety of his wife and child was critical to him. He didn't care about the kingdom compared to them.

Finally, he nodded and closed the door in her face. 

He locked the door and walked into the room. He swung his sword across the armchair where he had picked it up. 

"Aemond, calm down." 

Aemond ran his hands through his hair. "They will make him king." 

y/n felt the blood drain from her veins at the mention of Aegon. 

"Wasn't that the plan all along?" 

Aemond went in front of her with a few steps. "He doesn't want to be king. He can't do it, anyway. How many times do you think he's been to the small council in his life? My mother and I have been taking care of everything since the king got bored and decided to shut himself in his chambers and stopped coming to the council less and less each day."

"But you knew he would be king one day. You knew this day would come." 

"Yes, but I hoped it would happen when we were in our fifties." 

y/n looked at him. "You want to be king?"

"Everyone in the realm wants to be king except those who are smart enough." 

"So you think Aegon is smart?"

"No, y/n." he laughed, thinking the truth was obvious. "Aegon does not refuse the throne because he is wise. He refuses because he likes to avoid his duties at all costs. He is the exception among the unwilling."

y/n looked at Maelor out of the corner of her eye. He was still asleep. 

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing." 

y/n sighed and sat on one of the empty armchairs. Aemond immediately sat down next to her. 

"Do you think Daemon will come?"

"He's too loyal to Rhaenyra to take the iron throne. If he comes, he comes for her. But Rhaenyra gave up her right to the throne years ago."

"Then your mother-"

"My mother." he smiled bitterly. "She lets her worries get the better of her too easily. But to be fair, she is trying to keep her children safe." 

"But if they don't send a raven to the Dragon Stone, that's when they'll go crazy."

Aemond squeezed the arm of the chair. Aemond did not answer for a while. He knew Prince Daemon would be furious if they didn't report his brother's death directly to him.

"Aegon doesn't want the throne," he said again. 

"There have always been unworthy kings in history. There have been cruel kings. They all ruled the realm in one way or another."

"Yes. There have been unworthy and cruel kings in history. But they all wanted the throne. Maegor fought for the throne. There is a big difference between not deserving the throne and not wanting it," he said. He couldn't understand why y/n was still trying to defend his brother. 

How could she not see that it was her husband and not Aegon who should be the king?

Aemond laughed sarcastically. "The council is all cowards. They don't want him on the throne. But they refuse to tell him to his face." 

"I wish Princess Rhaenyra were the queen. Then there would be no problem."

"There would be a great war, y/n. My grandfather is a greedy man. He would do anything to have his blood on the throne. Daemon wouldn't let him. And the realm would not easily allow a woman to sit on the throne. The lords would see it as a threat to their own heritage. Dragons would fight against dragons. It would bring the Targaryen family to a great fall." 

"I hate the lords and the realm. What makes them say a woman can't rule?"

Aemond lowered his gaze to his lap. "Fools. The ruling has nothing to do with gender. I know you can rule. You would be a great ruler." 

y/n began to play with the lace on the cushion beside her. "I think I would." 

Aemond turned to her. 

y/n felt herself trembling at the similarity between the night before and this day. 

She would burn in seven hells for yesterday, but at least her husband would be with her, would burn with her.

"Looks like we're trapped here all day." 

Aemond smiled. He carefully watched her every move. He was aware that she was distracted. 

He would sacrifice himself on the spot to find out what was on her mind. If someone were bothering her, he would destroy them. 

He thought of his old days - as he had been doing for a few weeks. 

He remembered how it made his heart race when she told him about her day in that excited voice.

Every terrible scenario that could have happened to them that day disappeared from his mind because he knew y/n was with him. His son was with him. The greatest gift his wife, his beloved, had ever given him.

"y/n, I owe you a proper apology."

y/n turned to him. Her eyes widened in surprise. 

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this," she said mockingly.

"I'll tell you everything." 

y/n nodded without saying anything. She was afraid that if she interrupted him, he would stop. 

"There's so much to tell... I don't know where to start." 

"We have plenty of time." 

Aemond sighed. It wasn't easy to explain. He knew he was wrong, even though he had his points.

"Alys Rivers." he paused. y/n's face instantly crumpled. 

"I liked her. At first, before I met you. When I was nineteen."

Aemond fiddled with his engagement ring. "She was a strong woman. The few times I went to Harrenhal for the name of the crown, she caught my attention directly. The lords in Harrenhal told me to stay away from her, but I didn't listen. I wanted to be the one running away from responsibility for once."

y/n listened to him intently, no matter how much it hurt. 

"The first time I went to Harrenhal, she saw me but didn't care. Then she probably found out I was a prince and came to talk to me the second time I went. I was attracted to her. I was only nineteen, and life was pretty dark except when I talked to her." 

y/n averted her eyes. Life was pretty dark except when I talked to her. That was it? Her husband was talking about another woman as a light that illuminated the darkness in his life, and he expected her to sit there quietly and listen to him. 

As she got up from the couch, Aemond grabbed her arm and pulled her down again. "Aemond, I don't want to listen to your bullshit. You're supposed to be apologizing. But you're only making things worse."

"I don't just want to apologize to you. I want to tell you everything that happened to me. But not to win your sympathy or to justify me. Whether you forgive me or not or how you treat me afterward is up to you." 

y/n tried to free her arm from Aemond's powerful grip but failed. She turned her head away instead. 

"Please listen to me."

y/n sighed. "I will listen to you. But only because I have nothing better to do, and we're stuck in this fucking room," she said harshly.

When she turned her head towards him, he looked at her desperately. 

"y/n, I swear to you, whatever feelings I had for her disappeared within two months. She was completely in love with power, and I realized she was only interested in me because I was a prince." 

"Why didn't you let her go then?"

"I don't know what you know about her, but she is a witch. I've seen for myself what she's capable of. She knew I loved you when I married you. She told me she would kill you if I didn't keep seeing her. She would. I know she would."

Aemond curled his right hand into a fist to suppress his anger at himself, perhaps at Alys.

And with an increasingly desperate look, he searched her face for the slightest trace of emotion - she was expressionless. 

"I couldn't let that happen, y/n. You have to understand." 

y/n raised her eyebrows, torn between disbelief and belief, her heart screaming to forgive him, to open her arms to him again. 

And her mind was telling her that this was not a sufficient explanation.

"So that's why you kept seeing her?"

"I swear I tried to rid of her. Then she found out you were pregnant and nearly lost her mind. She screamed at me for hours. When I told her we couldn't see each other anymore, she said she'd kill our child with you." 

"Then why did she get pregnant with a Dornish's child and run off with him?"

"He wasn't just any Dornish, y/n. She was pregnant with Prince Martell's child. She needed powerful threats to keep me but not to keep him. He was truly in love with her. She took the easy way out and ran away with him."

He reached out and took her hand in his. "y/n, that's why I've been so cold to you. I couldn't tell you anything. It was better that you didn't know. That's why I waited until now." 

y/n kept averting her eyes. Aemond tilted his head and tried to catch her gaze. "I stayed away from you because I wanted you to be able to hate me more easily if one day I had to leave you to protect you."

y/n swallowed. "How do I know you're not lying?"

"y/n, I swear to you-"

y/n shook her head. "You knew I was afraid of childbirth. You weren't with me when I was in labor..." she said. And her eyes filled up quickly. 

"I didn't know... y/n... I really didn't know. If I had known, I would have come to you immediately." 

"Don't lie to me, Aemond! Don't lie to my face. They sent you a raven the moment my labor began."

Her eyes began to fill more, and her vision began to blur. "I know they sent you a raven because I asked them to do. I wanted you with me." 

"That's the problem... I never got the letter. y/n... please, you have to believe everything I say today. I would never hurt you."

"But you did, Aemond... and then you didn't let me go. You didn't set me free."

"y/n, I realize I've hardly said this to you. I... I love you. I acted like a fool because I couldn't afford to lose you."

"If my life was in danger with you, Aemond, you could have just left me."

"My father-"

"King! Hah! You could have told everyone everything. You're a prince. They'd believe you." 

"It's not a question of whether they'd believe me, y/n! They couldn't have done anything. You don't understand. You don't see the magnitude of her power."

y/n could no longer hold back her tears. Aemond reached out and wiped her tears with his thumb. Then he stroked her cheek for a long time.

"I promise you everything will be all right," he said - his voice was a whisper.

"I want to believe you, Aemond, and you make me feel stupid for wanting to believe you." 

Aemond brought his face closer to hers - his forehead almost touching hers.

"Believe me, y/n. I will never let you down again. I have suffered for the past two years. If you want me to suffer more, I will. But I will never make you feel alone again."

y/n pulled her head away. "I'm sorry about your father."

She knew he wasn't sad about losing his father.

y/n just wanted to get away from the subject. She wanted to rethink everything he had said later when she was lucid and not at the point of losing her mind with sadness.

Aemond nodded briefly. 

He didn't know what the concept of a father meant to him. He'd never understood. He was just a name in his life. 

His father would never look out for him and never once patted him on the back and told him he was doing a good job.

There was no difference for him between not having his father in his life before and having lost him now.

"I will not be a father like him." 

y/n nodded. "I know." 

Then Aemond began to run his left hand through her hair. The first time he had seen her, he had seen her from behind, and the first thing he had noticed was her hair. 

He had always dreamed of running his fingers through it. 

Then he had seen how she stood up to the king. He had marveled at how loud her voice had been in a patriarchal order. 

He never thought he could marry for love. If his mother wanted him to marry someone, he would do it. Marriage was a duty - a duty to the realm. 

But he married the one he loved. 

And then he did a lot of stupid things during their marriage. Some he could help, and some he couldn't.

Looking back, he realized he could tell her why he had been so cold. He could. But then a pair of dark green eyes that came into his mind reminded him why he decided not to tell.

Alys Rivers was dangerous. 

Aemond came close to her face again. y/n looked at him with big eyes. 

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. y/n said nothing. 

He kissed her forehead, the top of her nose, and the corner of her lips. 

Sometimes he wrapped his hands in her locks, sometimes in her arms.

Aemond pulled back and looked at her face - silently asking for permission. 

When y/n nodded calmly, he leaned in for a kiss. 

y/n didn't know how to feel. Had she forgiven him - absolutely not. What about Aegon? Should she tell Aemond about him? What would Aegon do now? 

She was so confused, but she surrendered to the kiss of the man in her arms.

y/n moved her hands to his back and stroked him gently. She felt the muscles in his back under her hands. 

Aemond leaned in even more. 

He took her legs between his. And he slid his kisses down to her chin but quickly returned them to her lips. 

Aemond whimpered as y/n lifted her hips and pressed herself against his hardness. 

y/n opened her eyes in surprise. Aemond was always silent. He had always tried to be quiet because he was insecure about it. 

But this time, Aemond didn't care that he made a sound and began to kiss her harder and press his hardness against her. 

Aemond let his hand slide down her body, caressing her legs and waist as far as her dress would allow.

Then there was a knock at the door. Aemond didn't stop - he just kept kissing her harder.

When the door knocked again, y/n pulled her head back.

"Aren't we going to answer the door?"

Aemond sighed. "They'll go away." 

y/n put her fingers on Aemond's lips when he leaned in again. "It might be important," she said.

Aemond got up from the couch with a sigh. They both smoothed their tangled hair and wrinkled clothes.  y/n sat and waited for Aemond.

He turned to look at her and opened the door. "What now, Talya?"

"The coronation is in an hour, my prince. Everything is ready in the Dragon Pit."

Aemond turned briefly to his wife in amazement. "If I had asked for dinner, you would not prepare this quickly, but you can prepare a ceremony in an hour that would take months?"

Talya looked at the prince, not knowing how to answer. "My prince-"

"Okay, Talya. We'll get ready in an hour. And we'll go to the dragon pit."

Talya nodded. "Shall I send lady y/n's maid?"

"Yes," Aemond said shortly. 

Talya bowed and left. 

"I didn't expect it to be so fast," he said as he closed the door.

y/n nodded, wondering how she could bear to see Aegon at his coronation. 

taglist: (Please let me know if you want me to remove you from the tag list) @bellameshipper @siriusdumblittlepuppy @queenofshinigamis @bibli0thecary @tremendouswolfsaladracnh @marihoneywk @targaryenmoony @siimiasoi @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @tastycakee @earthangels-things @lyannesworld @yentroucnagol @fluffiy @happinessinthebeing @instantpapercrusade @nejiho3 @leemons @introverbatim @what-is-your-wish @devils-blackrose @b00kw0rmsworld @let-love-bleeds-red @afro-hispwriter @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aaaaaamond @naorizenin @truepureblue @tempt-ress @iwant-to-writeyouasong @partypoison00 @clairacassidy @kravitzwhore @imheretoread @heavenly1927 @thanyatargaryen @praline357 @flavorofsalt @barbaravicory @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @ietss @jennifer0305 @snh96 @delaynew @apollonshootafar

[rebelliousstories]

What We Know

Relationship: Spencer Reid x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 1,357

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Part One: Did You Know?// Part Two: I Know Now// Part Three: Somebody Knows

Summary: Truth or Dare. Who learns the truth? And who takes a dare?

David Foster Wallace said, “The truth will set you free. But not until it is finished with you.”

“Spence. Oh, my God. Spencer!” She yelled, running through the mass of informs that were trying to keep her away. Her heart was racing a million miles an hour as she ran to her husband. He barely registered that she was there and felt like he was in a haze.

Spencer wrapped his arms around the woman, but could not say anything. He ran his hands over her back and through her hair. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, Spencer locked eyes with JJ who was getting checked out by some medics in the background of an ambulance. As soon as their eyes locked, they broke it immediately. The stress and pain of the last few hours were catching up.

“Let’s get you to checked out, honey.” She was ushering her husband over to an unoccupied EMT so that he could be taken care of. Reid let his wife fuss over him as much as she wanted to as he let his thoughts run wild. Words ran all through his mind, and he replayed the last few minutes.

“Thank you. I’ll drive him home,” came her voice, finally breaking through his fog. “Just need to see if he needs anything from his office and then I’ll make sure he gets plenty of rest at home.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispered, drawing her attention again. “Where’s is she? Where’s Erin?” Spencer pleaded with his wife with big brown eyes staring up at her.

“It’s okay. She’s safe with Krystal. I wanted to make sure that she was going to be okay before coming to get you.” She reassured him, and got him to loosen his grip just a little bit. He settled back in to where he was sitting. Letting the medics work, Mrs. Reid noticed that far off look returning to Mr. Reid’s eyes again, but just let him be for now. Once he was given the all clear, she walked her husband to their car that was waiting behind the police tape. They sat in their seats for a moment in silence before she turned to the man next to her.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” She asked, reaching a hand up to run through his hair gently. Spencer leaned into her hand when it reached his stubbly cheek.

“Let’s go get Erin. I’ll explain it later.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to her palm. Even though she was not convinced that her husband was alright, she put the car in drive and went to go get there daughter.

The drive to the Rossi estate was a silent one. Both of their thoughts were racing, but for very different reasons. She parked the car as soon as they got to the door and left Spencer in. Knocking on the door gave her the image of Krystal as she cradled their daughter.

“She’s been out like a light the whole time. Such a well behaved baby.” Krystal complimented. Mrs. Reid took her daughter from the woman with a grateful smile.

“I really appreciate you doing this for us. David’s okay by the way. And we got Spence and JJ out. We’re gonna head home now. I’m really glad you could watch her on such short notice.” Readjusting her hold on her daughter, she bid farewell to the older woman and went to get back in the car. She went to go put her in the backseat, but Spencer reached for her instead.

“Please?” He pleaded. Coming back to the front seat, she placed Erin in Spencer’s arms. She was still so little and they wanted to cherish the time they had left with her. Their daughter was just about to turn two years old, but she still slept well through the night. Whenever she could, she watched her husband cradle their daughter in the passenger seat.

Once they made it home, Spencer refused to let Erin go. Even when they made it into her room, he could not bring himself to put his daughter in her bed. He just made his way to the rocking chair in her room and held her close to his chest. Spencer switched her to one of his arms, and struggled to take his tie off with one of his hands. It was just a moment later when another set of hands came into help.

His wife was gently slipping the tie from around his throat. And once that was placed on Erin’s changing table, her hands unbuttoned his shirt. It was only a couple buttons, but the contact made Erin slip further into her sleep. Spencer still had not said much the entire evening, which was concerning to her. She did not know what went down in that store, but it could not have been good if I triggered this kind of response from her husband.

“Let’s go to bed, honey.” She gently tried to pry her husband from the chair, and he followed her soft hands wherever she led him. Spencer placed Erin down in her crib, and stood there for a minute. His wife made her way to the door and placed her hand on the knob to close it. He watched their daughter, and stroked her cheek softly. Spencer took a deep breath and walked out with his wife.

She rubbed his shoulder gently, and went to make her way to the bedroom but Spencer just went to go sit on the couch. Watching her husband with saddened eyes, she just went into the kitchen. Spencer was staring off into space when he finally realized that he was being joined again by his wife. She placed down a couple of mugs in front of them. There was nothing said as they sipped their warm beverages. Mrs. Reid was waiting until Spencer felt like he could speak to do so.

“JJ she, um, she said she was in love with me.” He finally blurted out. Setting her mug down, she sat there for a minute. She just looked to her husband with an indistinguishable expression on her face.

“The unsub, he made us play truth or dare. And he asked Jennifer to tell him something that she would never admit aloud. She said she was in love with me, and always had been.” Spencer explained, setting down his mug.

“And what did you say?” She asked.

“Nothing. I shot him with the gun from my ankle. He took my main firearm.” He replied, looking to his smirking wife.

“Wonder where you learned that from?” She teased with a smirk on her lips. Spencer finally let a smile crack across his face as he chuckled.

“How are you feeling about it, Spence? I know how you used to have a crush on her.” Husband leaned against wife and she ran her hand through his curls.

“I’m alright. I used to want her, but it’s been years since I’ve thought of her like that. I’m not sure what’s going to happen with us though.”

Spencer moved his head off of her shoulder and brought his hand up to her face. He cradled it as gently as he had cradled their daughter moments ago. There was nothing but love in his eyes as he gazed into her eyes.

“Anything else,” came her question. The man only shook his head and brought her in for a kiss. After all these years together, every time they kissed, it was still just as good as the first time.

“Let’s go to bed honey.” And with that, he pulled his wife to stand next to him. Leading her into the bedroom, Spencer made sure to completely change and secure his firearms before moving to the bed. Once his wife was in the bed as well, he pulled her under the covers and into his arms.

“I love you.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair.

“I love you too.” She whispered back, pressing a kiss to her chest.

“Honesty is more than not lying. It is truth telling, truth speaking, truth living, and truth loving.” James E. Faust

[spaceorphan18]

Three Conversations :: Polin fic

A/N: The next entry of my canon compliant series. This one is set during 3x01, and takes place between the garden party where Colin talks to Penelope and Lady Danbury's ball.

Colin has three conversations -- one with his mother, one with Kate, and one with Francesca.

Available to read on Ao3 if you like.

****

Colin Bridgerton finds himself, as he often has over the past few days since he’s returned home, in front of the window of the drawing room that faces the main square.  It’s not as though he’s looking for anything in particular.  The residents of the ton scurry by, going about their day, without much thought from him.  Something else has drawn his attention.  The Featherington Estate.  

He hasn’t returned to the estate since the night of the Featherington Ball -- the night he called Jack Featherington out on his schemes.  The night he made good on his promise that he would take care of them. Or at least one of them.  The one who mattered to him the most.  The one whom, despite countless letters, despite constantly being on his mind, he has not heard from at all. 

He’s been debating on whether it would be appropriate or not to stop by, to check in, to make sure that they are alright.  He has heard little word of any of them.  He has learned that Jack Featherington is no longer a concern, having fled back to America and he’s heard news that Prudence had found herself a husband.  But no news of Penelope.  No news from Penelope.   It’s worrying.   

And so here he stands, waiting to maybe catch a glimpse of her.  Wanting desperately to know if she is alright.  Wanting to know if her silence has been forced or intentional; though neither option seems a good one.  

He replays that moment in the garden again. He had been so eager to see her again.  To speak with her.  She is the only one he wanted to share his travels with, the only one who would probably care.  He wanted to know of her, how she’s been without him, what she has been up to, what clever observations she has made in his absence.  And yet, she had been distant, uninterested, cutting their reunion short after a few mere minutes of conversation.  After all that silence he is still met with more silence.  It feels cold and confusing in a way he can’t quite articulate.  

What has changed?  

Has her broken friendship with Eloise affected things? Is her family finally forced her to shut the world out? Or, is it…him? 

“Colin? May I have a moment?” His mother’s voice jolts him from his thoughts.  

He spares one last look at the unmoving Featherington Estate door before giving her his attention.  “Yes, always.”  

Her brow is furrowed, her well-known look of mothering concern crossing her face.  “I can’t help but observe, since you’ve been home, that you’ve been a little more outward in your affections towards the young ladies of the ton.”  

Colin lets out a groan.  He knows where this is going and it’s not a conversation he really feels like having.  He turns back towards the window.  “I’m merely playing the part society asks of me.  That is all.”  

Violet purses her lips, digging in.  “That may be, but I can’t help but wonder… You have always been so charming with the young women, Colin, maybe not with the same frivolity you’ve shown as of late, but I feel as though there’s something more intentional going on as well.  Tell me, do you have any plans for this season?” 

“My only plans are the same as they’ve always been,” he replies, with some resignation.  “I intend to continue pursuing my life’s purpose.”  

“Which is what, exactly?” Her eyebrow is arched, skeptical, but still she retains a dash of hopefulness she reserves for all her children.  

He plasters on the grin he’s well known for.  “If what you’re really asking is if I plan on taking a wife this season, the answer remains no.  I’m sure Francesca will keep you busy.  And if that is not, you still have Eloise or…Benedict.” 

“Hmmm,” Violet watches out the window, too, deep in thought.  “While I understand that your brother and sister may seem more difficult in certain ways, neither of them have ever been coy about their pursuits.” 

“And you feel that I am?” 

“Yes, quite.” 

“I have no idea what you mean,” he says, shortly.  “But rest assured, I have no desire to find a wife this season.  I have no desire to find love again any time soon.  If that is plain enough speak for you.”  

A carriage pulls up in front of the Featherington Estate.  Colin watches as Penelope and her maid are helped out of the carriage.  Penelope has a handful of books, her nose squarely in one, as she pays no attention to Lady Featherington, coming out of the carriage next, berating the driver for some unknown issue.  He isn’t sure what it is, but there’s something different in the way Penelope is holding herself, something he hasn’t quite seen before.  She is lost in her own world, relaxed, wistful, amused.  He wants to know what has captured her attention so thoroughly.  

He contemplates leaving.  It would only take a moment to cross the square, ask her about her book, ask her about her thoughts… He does miss her thoughts.  He misses her voice.  He misses her.  

The thought makes him feel both heavier and lighter at the same time.  

“Colin,” Violet says his name slowly, delicately, as if debating on which words she’d like to use.  “You have traveled the world, and I have no doubt that what you have seen has, for better or worse, changed you.  But I do have a hard time believing that someone who has felt love once so deeply is now claiming so easily to forsake it.” 

He isn’t quite sure how to respond to that.  “I am not forsaking anything,” he assures her.  “I’ve just decided that of the many pursuits I would like to have, love is no longer one of them.” 

“Interesting,” Violet hums to herself.  

“What’s that?” 

“The last child of mine to say such things to me was Anthony.” 

****

He finds himself, again, at the window.  The whole Featherington family seems to be gathered around a couple of carriages now - headed out for some kind of outing.  The modiste perhaps? There’s a lot of commotion as they’re sorting out who is going where.  He observes Penelope, off to one side, arms crossed as she waits for her turn.  He notes that she doesn’t look happy or sad, only lost in her own thoughts.  Resigned if anything.  

He still hasn’t made it across the square.  Still hasn’t gone to check up on them.  Still hasn’t figured out how someone who used to be so verbose with every interaction is now suddenly such a mystery to him.  He wants to see her, talk to her, ask her how she has been.  It’s becoming more of a need than a want.  And still he refrains.  He will not impede in places he may not be welcome.

“Colin?” This time it’s Kate who approaches, with a broad grin.  “It is a pleasure to have you back.” 

He nods, with gratitude.  “I must say, it is a pleasure to have you join our household.  I’ve never seen Anthony so…tolerable.”  

She lets out an amused laugh.  “You are too kind.  And also too kind for such gifts.”  She holds up a pair of royal purple, leather riding gloves; a pair he knew she would adore the minute he saw them.  “They are similar to a design I am familiar with back home.  I cherish them.”  

He nods, warmly.  “It’s the least I could do for such an agreeable new sister.  And if I dare say it, you are possibly the most agreeable of the bunch.” 

She lets out another kind laugh.  “Mmm, you say that now, but I assure you if you spoke with Edwina, she would tell you that I would be just as troublesome as your own blood.”  

His attention is once again drawn to the window.  A horse is neighing, being restless.  Something has spooked it.  There is a commotion outside as the drivers are trying to calm it down.  He quickly scans for Penelope, but she has wandered a bit down the road, far from any harm’s way.  He is relieved to see it.  

“Since you are my sister now, perhaps you wouldn’t mind a query,” he asks of Kate, who is also watching the scene unfold across the square.  She nods, open to his question.  “You wouldn’t happen to know what has come between my sister, Eloise, and Penelope Featherington?” 

Her head snaps towards him, surprised.  “How unlike you, Colin, asking for gossip.”  She gives him a playful tap on the arm.  

He shrugs.  “It’s less about gossip and more about feeling as though the world has turned on its head and being unsure as to how it got there.” 

“Ah,” she replies, looking out the window.  She notices what he has, Penelope pacing in a square as she waits, head to the ground, avoiding the scene that is only being exacerbated as Portia yells at the driver about the horse.  “Well, unfortunately, I do not have an answer to such an inquiry.  Admittedly, Anthony and I have heard little of the outside world lately.”  

“And yet, you may have been the only ones, besides my mother, who’ve responded to my letters.” It shouldn’t have bothered him so much to hear back so little.  Yet, it feels as though the world has moved on without him and he’s having to scramble to catch up.  

“So, I am to take it that none of your sisters wrote to you?” 

He shakes his head. “None of them.  Not even Penelope.” 

Kate looks at him curiously.  “Penelope is not your sister.” 

“Yes, but she is my…” He cuts off, unsure as to the end of the sentence.  She is his what? It is true, she is not his sister.  A friend? A confident? The only person in the world he feels comfortable baring his soul to? The only person he truly longed for while he was away? What do you call such a person? 

Maybe, simply, she is just his Penelope.  

His whole body relaxes at the thought.  

“She is a good family friend,” he responds when he notices Kate’s eyes lingering on him.  

She arches an eyebrow, making a good imitation of his mother.  “If I may venture a guess, perhaps Penelope is someone who is more important to you than merely a good family friend?”  

“Perhaps,” He says.  It is uncomfortable how closely Kate is watching him.  “We have known each other since childhood.  And with the Featheringtons no longer having a direct male heir, they should be looked out for.  She should be looked out for.  Despite what you might hear, they are a fine family.”  He adds the last part quickly, as it is clear from the scene outside that Lady Featherington, on her best days, remains more difficult than ever.  

Kate tilts her head to consider.  “I am not sure what it is I might hear.  Do not forget that I, too, have come from a less than reputable family as well.” 

“That couldn’t be further from the truth,” Colin assures her.  

“You know that, and I know that, but others may not,” Kate points out.  “Hence, I will trust your judgment when it comes to the Featheringtons.”  

“Good.” 

“And?” What more she is waiting for, he is unsure.  

“And…?” 

She clicks her tongue.  “I suspect there is more that you do not wish to divulge at present.  I understand.”  

“I’m not sure I get what you mean?” 

Kate shakes her head at him.  “Never you mind.” 

The scene outside has reached a solution.  The horse is now calm, the driver annoyed yet settled, Lady Featherington has finally stopped her screaming and has entered the carriage.  Penelope finally makes her way back towards the carriage, joining her family.  Colin notices that none of them seem to pay her any attention.  She is just there, taking up space.  A terrible oversight if he has ever seen one.  

How does one not notice her?  She is the most radiant person in any room.  

“Oh, Colin…” Kate rubs his arm, affectionately. 

“What?” 

“Nothing.  It’s just that -- as unalike the two of you are, sometimes you remind me of your brother.”  She grins, giving him a wink as she starts to leave.  “Thank you again for the gloves.” 

****

It’s evening time.  Colin glances out the window to see if their carriage, the one taking them to Lady Danbury’s ball, has come around.  It hasn’t yet, but across the square, a carriage waits at the Featherington estate.  He pauses, watching, but all is still.  They have to be going.  Everyone is going.  Hopefully, then, he will see her there.  Maybe, then, they can steal a moment to talk.  

He is joined at the window by his sister, Francesca.  She is ready as he is for the ball, dressed in a lovely shade of pale blue.  She doesn’t say a word as she approaches, only stands by his side, idly, as they both wait.  He squirms a moment, fixing his jacket, adjusting his collar, dusting off a lapel.  Nothing moves outside.  He feels restless.  

“If you’re wanting to inquire about what is on my mind, there is no need, for it is nothing,” he says, after a moment.  

She gives him an odd look.  “I had not the intention to ask about anything.  Though it does not sound like nothing.” She clasps and unclasps her hands in front of her, fidgeting.  

“Are you nervous for your first ball?” he asks.  

“Maybe a little,” she admits.  Francesca has always been so calm, so serene.  It’s strange to see her in such an agitated state.  

He takes one of her hands and gives it a squeeze. “There is no need to be.  You look lovely, sister.  And rest assured, we will all be here for you.” 

She smiles, but it does not quite meet her eyes.  “I find comfort in that.”  

They continue to stare out the window, silently.  

Eventually, across the way, the door opens.  Lady Featherington leaves the house, followed only by Penelope.   She’s bundled tightly in a cloak but he notices her hair is styled differently, the red waves shining brilliantly in the orange glow of the lamplight as it cascades over her shoulder.  Colin’s breath hitches a little at the sight of her. 

“I do miss her,” Francesca says, solemnly.  

“Penelope?” 

“Yes,” a faint smile spreads on Francesca’s lips.  “She’s always been so lively and kind to me. Always complimenting how I play the pianoforte.  It seems as though something has been missing not having her around.”  

“Yes, Penelope is…” his words die as there isn’t an adequate way to complete the sentence.  He remains fixed on Penelope across the way.  He hadn’t been looking forward to the ball.  He isn’t often fond of any of them.  But he’ll be seeing her soon, and a sense of giddiness arises in him.  

“It’s a shame whatever argument that she and Eloise have had,” Francesca continues.  “We did not see her at all while in the country.” 

“And you do not know their argument?” 

Francesca shakes her head.  He supposes that’s one mystery that will have to remain for now.  

Across the way, Penelope moves towards the carriage.  For a moment, she turns to look behind her.  Her eyes flash up, and Colin thinks she sees him looking back.  A frown falls over her face, and she turns away again, entering the carriage.  Colin feels a heaviness in his heart.  

“I find myself…missing her as well,” he admits.  It feels good to say it out loud.  

“That does not surprise me,” Francesca says, unexpectedly.  

“It doesn’t?” 

“You are dear to her.”

“You mean, she is dear to me?” 

“Of course, she would be.”  Francesca gives him an incredulous look.  “I only meant that I’m sure her attention towards you had not gone unnoticed.  To not have it now must feel…strange.”  

“Eloise is dear to her,” he deflects.  “Any affection for me, as well as the rest of the family, is merely an extension of that.”  

A flicker of a grin twitches on Francesca’s lips.  “Yes, I’m sure she feels towards you the same as she does for Hyacinth.” 

“I’m sure she does.”  

“And yet, her eyes do not light up nearly as bright when any of the rest of us walk in a room.” 

“Do they?” 

“Surely, brother, you jest.  Have you truly never noticed how…”  Francesca is cut off by the rest of the family entering the room.  

The bustle to leave begins as they shuffle out of the house.  Francesca is scooped up by their mother, ushering them out first as she gives Francesca tips on how to act and whom to seek when they arrive at the ball.  Benedict and Eloise head out next, the two of them huddled together as they giggle and laugh and joke about the various ways they could make what should be a very dull evening more lively.  Anthony and Kate are next, arms linked together, as they look at each other, very deeply in love.  

Colin brings up the rear, feeling somewhat like an afterthought.  

“Why are you being melancholy?” Anthony throws him a look as they wait to enter the carriage.

“I am not melancholy,” Colin states.  “I’m just being… pensive.” 

“You’re being sour,” Anthony says.  “And you’re reminding me of me. I don’t like it.” 

Kate lets out a laugh, as she puts a hand on Anthony’s shoulder.  “Let your brother be.  I’m sure his mood will improve once we get to the ball.”  She gives Colin a wink as they enter the carriage.  

He isn’t sure why everyone has been insisting he’s acting like Anthony.  Anthony had been miserable last year.  And he doesn’t feel anything of the sort.  He’s fine.  Good, actually.  Never in his life better.  A far cry from the tortured soul his brother had been the previous year.  

He throws one last look over to the Featherington estate; Francesca’s words lingering on his mind.  Would Penelope’s eyes brighten when they meet tonight? The thought has him feeling hopeful for the evening.  

[orphicreveries]

Murder on The Thorne Estate (Sherlock Holmes x reader)

I’ve never posted before, so im sorry if this is bad, buutttt, if this does okays, I wanted to maybe continue this and evolve their relationship into a lil romance. (Also, ik I said it was “x reader” but there is no mention of y/n bc I kind of gave the reader a name)

Warnings: mention of blood, cannibalism, smut later? If continued?

In the heart of Victorian England, Isadora Thorne stood by the window of her grand yet cold home, watching the world pass by with a growing sense of dread. Married to Gregory Thorne, an older man of wealth and social standing, her life should have been the envy of many. Yet, beneath the gilded surface, there lay a dark and chilling secret, one she had only just uncovered.

It had been a quiet afternoon when Isadora stumbled upon the horror that would change everything. Gregory had left for his office, and while wandering the house, Isadora ventured into her husbands study, a rotten stench filling the room, she inched closer…

Closer…

And to her absolute horror, hidden beneath a loose floorboard were the ghastly remains of a mutilated body, half-consumed, gnawed at with ferocity. The realization struck her like a physical blow: she was living with a cannibal, and the very man she shared a bed with was a murderer.

Her heart raced, her mind struggled to make sense of the nightmare unfolding before her. Isadora had to act normal—Gregory would return soon, and if he suspected she knew his secret, her life could be next. She buried the terror deep within her, carrying on with their daily routine, but inside, she was unraveling, quickly, yet so torturously slowly.

As days passed, the tension between them became unbearable. Gregory was a perceptive man, and it wasn’t long before he grew suspicious of Isadora’s nervous glances and stiff responses. One evening, during a quiet dinner, his glowering eyes staring at her. Her nervous fidgeting seemed to be adding to his pleasure.

"You know, don’t you?" he whispered, a wicked grin on his face.

Isadora’s breath hitched. She nervously steps out of her seat and slowly backs away, whilst attempting to think of an answer. But before she could respond, Gregory lunged at her with murderous intent. In the ensuing struggle, Isadora managed to grab a fireplace poker. With a desperate swing, she struck him in his thigh, slicing through his femoral artery, sending him crashing into the nearby bookcase, blood spurting all over the carpets, as well as her nightgown and face. The impact and blood loss was fatal, Isadora stood frozen, horrified by what she had done—yet relieved it was over.

The next morning, Isadora awoke in a cold sweat, apprehensive of what might happen. When had she even pulled herself to bed? The bloodstained nightdress clung to her damp skin as she replayed the previous night’s events, what had she done? She sprung out of bed with the decision that she will not be locked up for this. The authorities would not believe her if she revealed Gregory’s cannibalistic tendencies, as far as they’re concerned, cannibalism is a myth. They’ll think she’s crazy and have her sent to an asylum.

Simple minded men.

She gets to work, devising a plan, she would have to play the part of a shaken wife who had awoken to the murder of her husband.

She begins with crime scene, she meticulously wipes the fingerprints from the fireplace poker, and carefully ruffles the house around, gathering dirt from the garden, making it appear tracked in, flipping chaises and dropping books around the shelf. Spreading his blood around the floor where his body lay. Next she takes the dress she adorned at supper and some of the houses belongings and burns them. She burns her dress because Gregory’s blood is all over it, she burns the belongings in order to stage a violent burglary.

She begins to practice her part, practicing her tone of voice, her story, her alibi, when to cry and when to choke off sentences with her sobs.

She was ready.

She dresses herself, ensuring her cheeks look tear streaked, her eyes slightly red, her whole character seemingly less put together than usual. She catches a carriage to the police station and tells her story. She’s sent home, the detective will show up and question her, she needs to be faultless in her performance.

She is pacing through her home, waiting for the authorities to show up, they do, 5 police men and…no detective? “He’ll be here shortly” one of the policemen assures her, Airheads, she thinks.

She’ll have to gain their trust, be on their side, she needs to sell her sweet, distressed recently widowed young lady act.

“Would you like some tea” she quietly sniffles to the police officers. “Oh no, you poor thing, been through so much already, you just relax and calm down for when Holmes comes to look through the scene, he’ll probably want to ask some questions”

Holmes? Why are they putting Sherlock Holmes on this case, she thought. Her thoughts were racing at a million per second, he’ll be sure to see right through me, he’s like a human lie detector, im completely screwed, she feels herself internally crumbling.

“N-no I insist, have some tea, please I need something to get my mind off of…the incident.” she nervously utters.

Just as she begins making the tea, Sherlock Holmes strides in, all serious face, cane in hand, and broad shoulders, he would be quite handsome, had his personality been less sour and entitled. “Let’s get started shall we” he says in his earnest baritone. He scans the room and begins prodding things with his cane “where’s the wife?“ he questions. “In the kitchen”, a police officer known as James answers. Sherlock walks with intent toward the kitchen where Isadora is nervously trying to get herself together.

“Sherlock Holmes” he holds his not even surprisingly large hand out to her, “Isadora, Thorne- Blackwood is my maiden name because, well he’s dead now I suppose”

oh good god I’ve already fucked it up, that did in no way sound like I was mourning my dead husband, what the hell Isadora?

Sherlock eyes her suspiciously. Which is when she realises his hand is still there in mid air, she awkwardly takes his hand. “Nice to meet you Mr Holmes”

“I’ve got some questions for you” Sherlock says.

“So I’ve heard” Isadora deadpans, “well I’m sort of occupied in this moment” she says, gesturing to the tea she was making.

“Well I’ve things I must attend to, so I’m almost certain you’ll be able to brew your tea on a different occasion.”

The nerve of this man, who does he think he is, walking into my house all high and mighty, telling me what I should do and when to do it, thought Isadora.

Isadora sighs deeply and gives Sherlock a strained smile, “How about we come to a concurrence, Mr Holmes, I’ll answer your questions…after I brew my tea, you can investigate the house whilst I do so, because frankly, I will not allow the tragedy of my husbands death to disrupt my morning activities” His putrid temperament is making it exceedingly difficult to stay in character, thought Isadora.

Sherlock looked almost sour, he loathed being told what to do, “very well, Ms Blackwood.”

He began poking through things, scanning over areas, calculating, it seemed.

Isadora on the other end stood over her stovetop, anxiously brewing her tea. When she glanced at him going upstairs into Mr Thornes study,

Oh Jesus Christ Lord above, there are blood soaked, gnawed at, butchered bodies under that man’s floorboards, and if Sherlock is as good as they say he is, he is absolutely going to find the defiled remnants of what was once a human being. Why didn’t I dispose of it? I should have, but I was too busy moulding the crime scene. Fuck.

Isadoras thoughts began to race, trying to think of what she might say to him, should he find the grotesque scene.

“Have you concluded your daily activities” Sherlocks bored voice cut through her turmoil,

when did he get back?

“well obviously not, I haven’t drank the tea yet, have I?”

“Drink it whilst I question you, it cannot wait”

“Fine.” she sighs

“Fine.” He counters, not really certain what he was countering

Isadora leads Sherlock to the drawing room, “I’d prefer it if we could continue this discussion in the study” isadora stiffens. “Why? these sorts of conversations are meant to be had in the drawing room.” “So you often have to answer questions about your husband’s murders?” Sherlock inquired with a small smile.

“Humorous” she lets out a dry laugh. “Let us proceed to Gregory’s study then”

The walk to the study was excruciating, Isadora was slowly unraveling, what would she say if he brought up the cannibalised bodies?

They sit in opposite chairs infront of the desk. Sherlock watches her intently, as though he were dissecting her every twitch. “Remarkably poised, aren’t you? Some would be quite undone after such an ordeal.”

Isadora holds his gaze “Not all of us choose to crumble in the face of misfortune. I’ve learned resilience is often a woman’s only armour.”

“Resilience, yes, in all situations I suppose” Sherlock nods slowly , not breaking eye contact “Though you must have heard something, a scuffle, a struggle, a scream of pain before inevitable death” he pokes half humorously, half serious.

Isadoras eyebrows raised in surprise “are you accusing me? Because as you’ve seen, our home is rather large, I was asleep. On the third floor, he was down there. On the first floor. Being speared by some deranged madman.” She holds eye contact, only breaking for a second at the mention of her husband being speared.

“But still, no footprints, broken windows or signs of forced entry” Sherlock pressed

“Maybe had you stopped and thought that the culprit may have followed him through the front door-“ isadora started “I had thought of that, but as previously stated, no footprints” Sherlock interrupted.

Wait, no footprints? Isadora couldve sworn she had crafted fake footprints…the policemen must have tracked over them.

“Criminals are evolving, Jack the Ripper is out there and you’re here, were you not apart of that case?, if you were really that brilliant, shouldn’t you have caught him by now, instead of being his pen pal and allowing him to write you love letters about the prostitutes he murdered that inevitably end up in the newspaper-“

“You’re deflecting”

“I am doing no such thing, I am merely questioning your expertise” Isadora countered.

“The truth always has a way of revealing itself, you’d do well to remember that” Sherlock says solemnly, his gaze narrowing slightly

I’d do well to remember- who does this man think he is? Thought Isadora.

“And I do hope you find it, Mr Holmes, for his sake” Isadora nods at him, feigning innocence, with a soft, sad smile.

“I shall see you Mr Holmes. Please, do not hesitate to write to me, should you need anything with regard to your case”

“Farewell, Ms Blackwood” Sherlock says whilst nodding at Isadora, before leaving

What an odd man, thought Isadora.

What a peculiar female, thought Sherlock, as he walked through the gates of the manor.

She would be quite attractive, had she not been a possible murder and cannibal suspect.

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Stream-Mas - E.Munson

Summary - Eddie gets his stream crashed once again but this time comes a different surprise to his viewers. Kinda a part 2 to Stream Crasher but can be read as a stand-alone.

Word Count - 834

Warnings - Use of Y/N, female reader, mentions of food, mentions of stretch marks

Author’s Note - Welcome to day 13 of 25! We’re getting there, slowly but surely. I have been busy writing so hopefully everything will be written in advance but we’ll see. I hope you enjoy!

my masterlist

25 days of fics masterlist

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged

Enjoy!

not my gif

not my gif

It had been a good amount of time since Eddie had streamed with his wife crashing. However, he had decided that for the month of December, he’d stream everyday until Christmas Eve. So because of this, he was more likely to get his stream crashed once again. He had been almost all the way through, day 23 to be exact without a crash. As he was streaming a replay of Hogwarts Legacy, he heard his wife’s usual gentle knock before the door slowly swung open, the hinges creaking gently.

“Sorry to interrupt honey, I’m just bringing you some food before I go lay down,” She apologized as she approached her husband who was sporting his usual t-shirt and sweats combo, his large headphones draped over his ears.

“Don’t apologize baby. Why are you going to lay down? You feel okay?” He asked his wife, gently taking the plate from her hands. It was some cut fruit and a steaming hot omelette. 

“Just tired, this pregnancy is kicking my ass.” Eddie took off his headphones and made his way to his pregnant and tired wife.

“You didn’t have to make me anything, baby. You go rest with the little one. I’m gonna wrap up my stream so I can spend some time with you.” Before she could protest, Eddie planted a kiss to her lips before giving her a stern look. She nodded at him, kissing his cheek before heading off to their bedroom. As he sat back down and put his headphones back on, he looked at his chat.

It had completely blown up with comments about the interaction he had just had with his wife. Everyone was surprised that they were expecting a baby. As he began to read the questions, he started to eat the food his wife had made him. “I see you guys have a lot of questions so I’ll answer some before ending the stream. As for how far along she is, she’s 7 months in so not long now. We are very excited to meet our little girl and spoil her rotten. So when the baby is born, I will very likely take a bit of a break from streaming until we get a feel for being parents and getting a routine down. We do have a name but we decided not to share her identity on the internet, I’ll probably refer to her as the baby or my little girl or princess but I’m gonna try to avoid using her name,” Eddie rambled to his stream, reading over the comments of constant ‘congratulations’ coming through, some questions thrown in but the comments were flying by too quick to really read them.

“So I’m cutting the stream shorter than usual but I will be back tomorrow for the last day. Thank you all for the well wishes and congratulations, I love you guys. See you tomorrow.” Eddie ended the stream, shutting down his equipment and lights, going to the kitchen to clean up whatever was including his dirty plate before heading to his wife who was asleep on the bed with the TV playing Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince. He walked in quietly, shutting off the lamp on her bedside table, leaving the TV on as he climbed into the bed. 

“How long was I asleep?” Y/N asked, her voice muddled with sleep.

“Not long baby, go back to sleep. You’re tired, you and princess need the rest,” Eddie assured her.

“Cuddle with me, I missed you.” Eddie wasn’t complaining, quickly respecting his wife’s wishes and pulling her body as close to his as possible. Her head falling onto his chest, her arm plopped over her abdomen without care. His arms were wrapped around her, one arm around her back and the other over her arm with that hand gently tracing up and down her arm, his other hand resting on the side of her belly where he felt the baby’s little feet pushing on.

“She’s gonna be an mma fighter. She’s always kicking the crap outta you,” Eddie joked as his hand aimlessly traced over her belly and the stretch marks that littered her skin.

“You’re telling me. She kicked my ribs this morning, damn near knocked the wind outta me.” The two shared a sleepy laugh before the room fell into a comfortable silence.

“I love you,” Eddie broke the silence after a couple minutes.

“Love you more, Eds.”

If you had told Eddie from his freshman year that this is where he’d be years in the future, he wouldn’t believe you. His dreams had absolutely come true, he had his dream girl, a career he never expected on top of the one he had planned and a baby on the way. He had slept more soundly than usual, his wife in his arms, feeling his baby kick his hand from where it was resting and the sounds of his wife’s favorite movie from her favorite franchise. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Top Spies Part 4/8

This chapter is hot 🔥

Ruben and Reader are super spies, who have to pretend to be a married couple on vacation as a co-signed mission. A enemies to lovers fic, very sweet and funny!

Enjoy!

"It's strange right, him being here on the island?"

Back at the villa. You had your suitcase ready on the bed, clothes scattered all around you. An outfit was needed for tonights dinner.

"So it was him asking you out and not the other way around?"

You paused to look at Ruben who observed you from where he stood arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe.

"Why would I ask another man out for dinner?" You frowned. "I'm married to you, remember?"

"I dunno, you seem very excited to go on a date with a world known criminal. Are you sure your marrige to me was brought up?"

"Have you never heard of keeping your enemies close? I'm excited that the guy our mission revolves around is here on the island. This means we have a chance to bust him by catching him in the act."

"This guy is dangerous Y/N. We're only here to assess the situation and report back to the agency."

Ruben pushed of the door frame and began going through his own suitcase. He had agreed to go out for dinner but only because declining an invitation from your host would raise too much suspicion.

"Not that shirt." You protested.

Ruben raised his head, eyebrows furrowed.

The shirt he pick for tonight, you didn't like it. "The black one fits you better." You shrugged.

He chuckled, but did as you wished, refolding the shirt, grabbing the black one instead.

You decided to walk to the marina. Surley alcohol would be served during dinner so it was better for you and Ruben to be on the safe side getting back home.

You and Ruben arrived early. Looking around the restaurant there was a sea of empty tables, not a single person occupying them.

"What are you doing?" Ruben asked, as he watched you switch to sit next to him instead of across from him.

"He said he was bringing his whole family." You replayed. It was better to sit next to Ruben than a stranger.

"Well, here they come." Ruben sighed.

Surely it was Alejandro Martinez and his whole family. People of all ages, young and old. You recognized some of them from you first night at the resort, the boy that Ruben saved from choking and the old woman that had complemented your dress.

"Quick, put your arm around me."

"What?" Ruben frowned. "Why would I do that?"

Alejandro and his family were coming your way. It seemed like the whole restaurant was booked for only them. Whilst the children occupied their own tables, Alejandro and his relatives approached yours.

"Fuck Ruben. Do somthing, anything that indicates that you love me."

There hadn't been need for that on the mission so far. You and Ruben had mostly gone your separate ways during the day and during the night you had been lurking in the shadows, focusing only on your mission. There was no need for you to act like a madly in love couple if no one was looking. However,  tonight, both you and Ruben had to step your game up.

Ruben draped an arm around you as you stood to greet your host.

"Y/N!" Alejandro exclaimed, greeting you as if you were his long lost friend. "Pleasure to finally see you off the golf course."

"I agree." You said, hiding the slight heat that had rose to your face.

"This must be your husband." He said, greeting Ruben with a firm shake of the hand. "Your wife speaks highly of you and so does my nephew."

Alejandro pointed to the table where his nephew sat, and surley the boy looked to watch Ruben with an admirable gaze.

"It was nothing." Ruben grunted.

"If you call savings somebody's life as nothing, than I would like to see what you call doing somthing."

Alejandro was a joker and clearly as charming as they come. He had brought a date for the evening. He introduced her as Nia, an international super model from Namibia. You all went on to have a lovely evening. The restaurant had a wonderful view overlooking the ocean, a view that Ruben often caught you admiring.

"What are you thinking about?" He leaned in and whispered.

You didn't turn to look at him, which to other people made it look like the two of you were whispering sweet nothings to each other.

"It feels like I'm on vacation." You smiled. Truthfully, with you salary and the renovation going on in your apartment, you wouldn't be able to afford a vacation like this in a couple of years time.

"That's because you are." Ruben chuckled, again, surprising you by grabbing your hand underneath the table, his thumb stroking your skin.

You turned to look at him, eyebrows furrowed. But that's when you noticed that all eyes were on you. Everyone at the table were glancing you and Ruben's way, a similar pleasant expression on their faces.

"Where did you two meet?"

The starteling question came from Alejandro's date, Nia, who was also looking at you and Ruben with a smile on her face.

"Um...we...we..."

Of course you and Ruben had talked about the details of your fake identies, however, not those kinds of details.

"At work." Ruben said, clearing his throat, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

"Was it love at first sight?" A young woman asked. You had come to know her as Alejandro's sister. Apparently he had five older sister, he was the youngest of them all and the only male.

"I wouldn't really call it..."

"Yes." Ruben said, interrupted you.

"Really? Do tell the story."

Agreeing murmurs came from the people seated around the table. All but Alejandro, who was too busy watching you. Perhaps Ruben had noticed this. His arm was now clenched around your shoulders, pressing you against his torso.

"I know it sounds cheesy," he said with a fixed smile, "but the moment I saw her, I knew she was the one. It was her first days at our office and I was so captivated by her beauty that I couldn't bare being in the same room as her, afraid that I'd say somthing stupid."

A pleasant laughter erupted around the table. You however, were a bit confused. The story of you and Ruben was true. He barley spoke a word to you during your first days at the agency, but that was just who he was right? Uptight and arrogant?

"I knew that I eventually had to talk to her not to come off as a complete asshole. You can say that the rest is history."

Alejandro's family exchanged knowing glances with their loved ones. All of them cherershing the heartfelt words that Ruben had just spoken.

"To love and family!" Alejandro said, initiating a toast.

Everyone raised their glasses in a toast to love, and the night continued on with laughter and stories of blissful adventures.

A bit tipsy from all the wine, Ruben, who had managed his intake better than yours, held your hand, making sure to guide you as you walked down the marina, the cool breeze blowing your way.

"So how much of your little story was true?" You asked, curious to know.

Ruben shook his head. "I have no idea what you are talking about?"

"Oh come on." You altered your steps. "The part where you ignored me during my first days at the agency was true, no? I never knew it was because you..." You looked to Ruben. His expression was unreadable.

"You could have told me." You muttered.

You picked up your steps, letting go of his hand. Ruben was soon by your side though, matching your pace.

"Even if I did tell you, we don't have the kind of jobs that encourage you to become too attcahed to your partners." He said, in a very diplomatic matter.

"Partners?" You frowned. You looked to Ruben and he to you.

He nodded his head.

"We're partners now. We work well together. I wouldn't be suprised if Captain Harlow pair us up in another missions from now on."

"Right." You said, but it still didn't make sense to you.

Ruben grabbed your hand, forcing you to turn around and meet his eyes. They were big, big and kind.

"I got attched to one of my partners once. It didn't end well."

You nodded. "I get it. I just..."

"Ssshh!" Ruben hissed, his body shuffling you to the side of the road.

Your feet stumbled in the sand but Ruben made sure to hold you up, guiding you towards a near by palm tree. You hid behind it.

"What is it?" You whispered.

Ruben put a silencing finger to his lips, pointing his other hand in the direction of the ocean. There, not too far from where you hid, was the silhouette of two men, men you recognized.

"Alejandro and...?"

"Andrés Fierro." Ruben said, his gaze focused.

"The swindler?"

The two men looked to be arguing. It was hard to hear them with the ocean breeze, however Alejandro was shouting compared to his companion.

"It was supposed to arrive today!"

"The shipment will arrive on time boss, don't worry."

"Oh I am not worried Fierro. If the shipment doesn't arrive anytime soon you'll be the one to worry."

"Shit!" You cursed. Alejandro stormed off, the only problem was that he was coming right towards you and Ruben.

"Ruben we have to..."

He tackled your body to the ground before you had a chance to protest, wrestling you in the sand. Your heart raised with the groping of his hands. He was pulling at the hem of your dress, his hand slipping beneath.

"Ruben please..."

"Trust me..." He mumbled, his head burried in the crease of your neck. His lips latched onto you like two blood sucking leaches, kissing and licking your skin.

You heard emerging footsteps, but that's when Ruben covered your mouth with his, your lips soft against one another. To anyone watching the two of you looked like two eager lovers getting it on in the sand, with the moon lighting up the sky above your heads. It was exactly what Ruben wanted. Alejandro's emerging footsteps altered near you but changed directions. Ruben however, did not stop kissing you until he knew that the coast was really clear, by then the damage was already done.

He helped you back up on your feet, his hands brushing sand off your dress. A part of it had ripped at the bottom.

Ruben looked to your exposed thigh with slight guilt. "I'm sorry I..."

"It's okay." You assured." You did what you had to do." Matter of fact Ruben had done so well that at one point you were afraid that his creeping hand would find its way to the wet pool between your trembeling legs.

A part of you wished it would have.

[todos-quieren-ser-corsario]

Calypso's wedding

OK, so I'm out sick and have had time to do, um, maybe a few rewatches. And doing that has me bowled over by just how good this season is. So well-crafted and tightly narratively structured. Not only all the callbacks to S1, but all the internal callbacks within the season. Some of them IMO really adds to the understanding of the sex scene, hence another meta. 

There are so many incredible takes out there on episodes 6 and 7. (It’s a brilliant arc and narrative because the acting, writing, staging and lighting choices can be read many different ways and multiple things can be true at once). Ed and Stede's first time together didn’t happen under good circumstances. Things happened that they couldn't control, and it sent them crashing into that next stage in their relationship. Even so, their first time scene is set to not just an incredibly romantic song, but a song that's very much about long-term partnership.

I only know the French version, and I'm so glad they used that one. Others have written on this, but despite the title, the song is not about seeing life through rose-colored glasses, i.e. in an unrealistic way. The lyrics talk of how being in love and being in a committed relationship can make living easier and less lonely. For two people who both live with complex trauma and with a lot of guilt and shame, that's such a hopeful message. The lyrics even state that being in love is ‘une parte de bonheur’, one part of happiness, further underscoring the season’s themes that you need more than just romantic love to have a fulfilling and meaningful life. 

The song keeps going over the credits, i.e. the fade to black love scene, and includes this part: ‘It's him for me, it's me for him/He has sworn it to me for life’. Like, these are vows. These are wedding kind of vows.

This is a deeply romantic and necessary moment for them, maybe even unavoidable because they are so deeply attracted to one each other. They're being so careful around each other and the ways in which they touch and speak. But circumstances changed, the past intruded in punishing ways and so did the plan of taking it slow. The fireworks couldn’t wait because they are alive right now, one of them needs comfort and Calypso’s birthday demands to be recognized. And so the sex scene both foreshadows a wedding and is a deeply intimate wedding moment in itself.

There's been so much wedding imagery during the season, and it's interesting to see how episode 6 has many callbacks to the beginning of the season. Calypso’s birthday party is colorful, exploding with flowers, dressing up, music and song. This in contrast to the the joyless wedding raid and the bizarro wedding cake party on the revenge with a lonely Ed playing with his cake toppers. This last imagery is replayed in episode six, now in actuality and in golden light with Stede leading Ed around the room in a dance of desire to live music. The very brief screen time explicitly shows an exchange of question and consent. It ends by drawing the curtains, giving both the sense of a veil and allusions to a chuppa (a Jewish wedding canopy the couple stands under; this is important to me as someone who headcanons Ed as Jewish). 

Their morning after has something of a post-nuptial feel to it, with the lazy lounging in bed. (It also feels true to first-time early relationship sex and the new reality of bridging distances after you've touched each other so intimately). But Ed’s warm in his robe. He’s had fireworks-grade orgasms. He’s both made and eaten something for the first time this season after rejecting food as poison in the gravy basket. The food is shared toast and marmalade, a callback to the first night they ever spent together in which marmalade became both a symbol of comfort and the possibility of change. There’s even a morning gift, which is a tradition in Northern Europe at least: A husband is to give his wife something (usually jewelry) the first morning after marriage. Ed hands Stede a piece of twine with a present of emotional intimacy and vulnerability: His memory of mermaid Stede saving his life. 

I love how this arc explicitly thematizes the way sexual intimacy can be so much easier than psychological intimacy and emotional vulnerability. Ed and Stede spend the next day initially relaxing together. As others have said, the color scheme across this entire two-episode arc is deeply symbolic, going from the very bright colors of the party, the red flower between them symbolizing red love, the purple symbolizing Ed's love for Stede, to a golden light that fades into the harsher light of the next day which brings back the realities of the external world. Ed is content and relaxed, eating meals, sharing of himself. But of course the disruption of the pirate world they exist in keeps growing until it's too much for him.

The mermaid scene in episode 3 was brilliant on so many levels. One of them was allowing us to see Ed’s deepest feelings and love for Stede in a situation in which he is unguarded and fully himself. The love. The affection. The trust. The joy. The comfort. The genius of structuring the narrative in this way is that we get to know about it. We get to know that these are Ed's true feelings for Stede, while seeing how guarded he still is emotionally and how much communicating they still have to do. It makes the painful lack of casual touching and the physical distance in their body language this season easier to witness, because it's completely understandable that Ed needs to protect himself still. 

The twine is a callback to rope, to fishing nets, to the imagery of the gravy basket. Ed is giving Stede a morning present of a piece of twine as an offering, a gift, a piece of his most intimate self. However, a piece of twine is also a string, a part of the ceremony of handfasting, another Northern European tradition: The old practice of a betrothal or temporary wedding if you couldn’t afford an actual wedding yet. (It’s the reason it's called tying the knot). Ed is giving Stede, in a rare moment in which he’s taken off his rings, the equivalent of a wedding ring.