#Changing of the Guards Parade

[thepastisalreadywritten]

LIVE: Royals join parade outside Buckingham Palace celebrating French Entente anniversary

8 April 2024

Watch live as French soldiers join with British troops in a special Changing of the Guard parade to mark 120 years since the UK and France signed the Entente Cordiale, ushering in strong relations.

—

The Entente Cordiale comprised a series of agreements signed on 8 April 1904 between the United Kingdom and the French Republic, which saw a significant improvement in Anglo-French relations.

On the surface, the agreement dealt with minor issues related to fishing and colonial boundaries.

Egypt was recognized as part of Britain's sphere of influence, and Morocco as part of France's.

By its terms, France promised not to challenge British control over Egypt.

For its part, Britain recognized France’s right, as a power whose dominions are conterminous for a great distance with those of Morocco to act in that country to preserve order and to provide assistance to bring about whatever reforms in the government, economy or military it deemed necessary.

The Entente was not a formal alliance and did not involve close collaboration, nor was it intended to be directed against Germany.

However, it paved the way for a stronger relationship between France and Britain in the face of German aggression.

It should not be mistaken for the official Anglo-French military alliance, which was only established after the outbreak of World War I in 1914.

[newyorkthegoldenage]

The band of the Coldstream Guards, in full dress, march through the streets of Manhattan on April 28, 1939. They were there to play for a month in the British pavilion of the World's Fair.

The Coldstream Guards are infantry soldiers who specialize in light role operations, such as reconnaissance and machine gun operation. But their most famous duty is guarding Windsor Castle and Buckingham Palace. They are the ones who take part in the Changing of the Guard.

Photo: Associated Press

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Hybrid Town (4) | Only Human

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Even with your growing community and a town slowly becoming filled with friendly faces, someone continues to rain on your parade. From the beginning most of the citizens are fine to do business with; with slurs uttered under their breath or a lack of manners when trying to complete simple transactions but none have been as routinely problematic as the one and only vixen–Margarine. 

“Well well out on a shopping trip? All by yourself? What a rarity.”

“Please get off my car, Margarine.”

“Aww~Make me.”

You wouldn’t realize Margarine is who she is until your fourth run-in with her, called out by one of her cronies. While the faces of her group tend to change from time to time, the Fox hybrid is a constant. Her laughter is as backward-sounding as her animal ancestors, constantly ringing out when you try to quietly go about your errands in town. At first, it starts with mere leering, laughing, and marveling at your existence from a distance. Saying:

“Oh look, a big-headed hairless mole-rat—oh wait. Even those hybrids have actual strength.”

Or

“Can you believe that thing got into our town? Probably blackmailed their way in because it felt ‘excluded’.”

Or 

“Look the human got a poor animal to do manual labor for them. Watch your necks everyone they might put a collar on you next.”

They’re words you don’t mind kinda. You can learn to ignore it but Margarine like many in town begins to realize that sitting back and watching just wasn’t enough. She is the first of her cronies to start with the small things. Egging your car, slashing your tires, cutting holes in the wooden boxes filled with produce you just bought; that’s all before she outright begins prodding at you.

“What are you looking away for human? Look at me when your better species talks to you!”

“Margarine, your nails! They’re digging into my cheeks–”

“Claws, honey! That’s what’s digging into your cheeks! Get it right, ape!”

It gets to a point that Margarine lays in bed at night laughing to herself as she replays the tearful expression on your human’s face. Playing with her tail as she goes through the workday as she updates her favored column in the Town’s Weekly. Which just so happens to be about the latest gossip in town which conveniently has been talking about you for the better part of three months. Now more than ever she’s getting the recognition she deserves and it just so happens to be by doing her new favorite thing—messing with you. But as the third month concludes some new obstacles arise. 

“Isn’t this a sight? Enslaving our neighbors are we? Looks like those human instincts are finally taking hold.”

“...Margarine please.”

“Please what? ‘Please don’t defend my fellow hybrids from your ‘oh so mighty’ reign.’ I don’t think so–”

“Marge.”

“....Miss Tiffany.”

“Surprised to see you out here. Shouldn’t you be getting coffee for the Chief?”

“I was on my way until I smelt something out of place. Just doing my bit for the community.”

“...I see. Well, the next time you decide to ‘do your bit for the community’ just know if you put a hand on their head around me I’ll tear your squirrelly hide with every bloodhound–guard dog–fox-tearin’ bone in my body. We clear young lady?”

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

She’s such a liar. Despite the other members of your newfound 'friend group' each giving separate and likely real threats against her abuse of their human. Despite feeling as though she’d pee her pants every time their predatorial gazes landed on her, she still couldn’t shake the desire to fall into her usual routine. She got away with it for a while, poking at you while she orchestrated something to keep those worrisome guardians away, to leave her to enjoy finding some new weakness to rant about in her column. Once again everything was perfect until it wasn’t.

“You’re going to have to…tone down this bias towards the unnamed…subject.”

“What?! Why?”

“The complaints we’ve received have doubled since the column first started. And these complaints…who’s giving them can’t be ignored.”

Who’s giving them? Surely that snobby cow and those dogs weren’t big enough…then who?

“So what? Have I lost the column or what?”

“Just…lean into those counterarguments you seem to have.”

“W-w-what!?” 

There was a heavy subtext that even Margarine had decided tried to ignore. With every harrowing tale, to save the face of the alias she assumed she always left something of a counterargument towards the end of every column. A typical ploy in writing to seem unbiased. That’s all it is….and yet as Margarine pouts and ponders going over her old columns, she realizes an interesting trend. Her counterarguments sound….incredibly endearing. 

For all the obvious weaknesses they have, it’s not that bad of a survival skill if someone finds it adorable.

Or

They cry far too easily, perhaps it’s another tactic that’s supposed to make you want to comfort them.

Or 

The way they shy away as their self-proclaimed guardians defend them, some might say is another tactic to get a predator's heart pumping erratically with the need to protect. But not me, never me.

It was her. And with an annoyed swag of her tail and the blood burning in her cheeks, she writes the totally in+sincere turnaround that gets attention on her column. While she didn’t think her pride would allow her to just ignore the anger she felt at your peaceful little existence, with your clawless little hands, and your clumsy little walk. She’d allow herself to be ‘learning’  in her column which seems to revitalize her popularity. But just because her alias is going to learn doesn’t mean she has to. She has no intention of stopping her role as the town bully.

“Haha getting comfortable are we, human?”

“Margarine what are you doing here?”

“Same as you. Going to get first place at the contest tonight.”

“Awfully confident.”

“Yeah considering the competition I won’t have much to worry about.”

“There’s still 4 other contestants including me, I really don’t get—”

“I’m not going to let you get anywhere near that podium and as long as I do this, you’ll stay where you belong. At the bottom.”

“...We’ll see.”

She won’t dare write about how exciting it is to see the defiant look on your human face as your confidence grows. Or how easily you lock eyes with her in any given crowd, the challenge immediately there. It might be a fear response but in the end, it’s a bond not even those dogs or that cow or that snake could understand.

“WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM Margarine?  What do you hate about me so much that you just can’t leave me alone!?”

“Let’s see where do I start? Maybe it’s your voice, your stare or maybe it’s because you’re so disgustingly weak or maybe it’s the fact that you're a grubby colonizing self-righteous human who’s walking around my town like you own the place!”

“What are you insane?!”

She admits to herself, she might’ve taken it too far this time. The competition was an annual event in town. A little romp where everyone competed in a series of challenges to win the Mayor’s Golden Carrot. The golden vegetable does come with a couple of benefits but no one actually cares for those. It’s for the social advantage. The golden trophy that makes everyone in town look at you with respect and admirable envy. A chance for you to gain the community’s respect with the help of your canine neighbors, your new roommate, and your new friend. That was the hope as Mama Tiff successfully won the baking challenge, Eudora the fashion competition, and Stein– who somehow got the award for most fearsome wonder who voted him for that. All that was next was you. A small faceless competition for floral arrangements. 

You worked hard on this….for months you ordered the flowers and grew some yourself. Placing them on your self-made wire skeleton makes the amazing shape of a bunny on its haunches. It was going to be a work of art and with the mayor judging you would have had this in the bag. That is until you return to your tent from a bathroom break to see your flowers in tatters and the one standing above them is–

“Margarine!? How could you!?”

“I always knew you were a stinky fox I just didn’t think you were rotten too!”

“....This is especially despicable even for you.”

“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU AND HANG YOUR TAIL ON MY WALL!”

She doesn’t care that in no uncertain terms they all threatened her life. It’s you. Glaring and screaming at her with a ferocity she’s never seen. You’re stabbing your finger into her chest and practically growling out all the hateful thoughts you’ve never expressed. People are staring. Others are whispering. Some of the children who are old enough are filming. 

“You—”

“NO! Shut up Margarine I’ve taken a lot from you and I’m sick of it! If you hate humans just say that but DON’T EVER go out of your way to interfere with my life again. Otherwise, I may revert back to ‘my savage ways’. But if I did it will only be because you made me!”

And for once her cheeks burn in embarrassment when it’s over. Her tail curling in around her as everyone continues to oggle but it’s not at the human stomping around the fair. It’s on her. Likely chatting about what she’s done and watching still as she scampers to the uncrowded space behind the stalls. Wringing her hands onto the fluffy end of her tail.

She battles with her feelings. Burning embarrassment and something else…something that makes her heart shrivel a little smile widely. As tears fall down she holds her head high already brainstorming how to take herself out of the event for her column. By tonight the whole town will be talking. 

“Why should I care what they say…or make me feel…they’re just a human!”

Rules | Kofi | Commissions

Taglist: @midnight-nightmares@xrenka@candlesworlds-blog@00hellohello00@lem-hhn @kawaii-cakes @ceramic-raven @lilyalone @asleepysouluniverse @mel-vaz @sxftiebee @staarflowerr @horror-lover-69 @stanfordswifey @butratherbutrather @24-7aroundtheclockanxious @li-ravings @librarymouses @cooldonbutt @whoreforeverythingspice @ethereallyoccultazalea @bitchpleaseeeeeeeeee amethysttigerfigurine @n-lol @ask-kokusu2 @greensunflowerjuna @simpforanimeboys @pocketfulofposies

[theetherealbloom]

TAKE ME DOWN TO LIFT ME HIGH

Summary: In the grand city of Rome, you, a senator's daughter, are entangled in a world far removed from your aristocratic upbringing. Your chance encounter with General Marcus Acacius, a renowned gladiator and war hero, changes your life forever.

Paring: Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, AU, PWP, Some Plot and more smut, ANGST, Fluff, SMUT, Fingering, PIV, Unprotected Sex, Exhibition Kink, Age-Gap, Ancient Rome, Canon Violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, Politics, Sexism (it’s ancient rome, babe), Sneaking Around, Forbidden Love, Loss of Virginity, Boobs,

Word Count: 6k

A/N: The amount of research I had to do for this was insane. I was more obsessed with Greek Mythology than Roman so I needed a refresher. Hehe, there’s not a lotttt of drama, but it leans more into the smut side and just cheesy over all plot lol and a little fun ceremony in the end. Everyone say thank you to @wheresarizona for listening to me go feral over Marcus. Go send her some love cause she deserves it :>

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

Song: Selene by NIKI

| Main Masterlist |

The return of General Marcus Acacius was an event of grand opulence. The streets of Rome were alive with screams and celebrations as he rode his golden chariot, smiling and waving at the throngs of admirers. It was as if the bloodshed and death that marked his victory were distant echoes, easily forgotten by the jubilant crowd.

"Long live General Marcus!" someone shouted.

"A true hero of Rome!" another voice rang out.

You weren't supposed to be in the crowd. Your place was at home, learning household chores such as cooking, cleaning, and weaving—the essential skills expected of a Roman matron. Yet, here you were, hidden beneath a hood, blending with the common folk as you watched the celebrated general parade down the street.

As the parade came to an end, you discreetly followed behind the procession, your eyes fixed on General Marcus Acacius. He was dressed in white and glittering gold, a stark contrast to his usual attire of blood-stained armor and weapons. Even though he was smiling and waving at the crowds, you could see the disdain in his eyes for such a grandiose display.

You had heard stories about him, rumors whispered amongst the noble families of Rome. They spoke of his ruthless acts on the battlefield, of his unwavering loyalty to Rome, and of his preferences. Yet here he was, parading through the streets in all his glory, hailed as a hero by everyone.

You couldn't help but feel drawn to him despite everything you had heard. There was something about him that intrigued you, something that made your heart race and your cheeks flush.

Your mind was filled with thoughts of General Marcus Acacius, wondering what kind of man he truly was beyond his reputation as a war hero.

As you stood there, trying to remain inconspicuous, your eyes met his. The connection was electric, almost as if the gods themselves had intervened. Marcus’s gaze was so intense that it seemed to pierce through the crowd and find you alone. He noted every feature of your face, his expression betraying a hint of fascination.

You felt your cheeks flush with heat and quickly looked away, breaking the eye contact. Your heart pounded in your chest as you turned and began to scurry home, the thrill of the encounter leaving you breathless.

Your pulse raced as you made your way through the bustling streets of Rome, trying to push aside the image of General Marcus Acacius's piercing gaze. You couldn't understand why you were so affected by a man you barely knew, but there was something about him that drew you in.

You managed to sneak back into your room, just barely slipping past the household guards. Being the daughter of a senator afforded you certain privileges, including an education that many girls your age could only dream of. Your studies typically included reading, writing, and arithmetic, equipping you with the skills necessary to manage a household and participate in society. You were also taught music, dancing, and literature, for understanding and appreciating poetry was considered a virtue for a Roman woman.

As you settled in your room, the memory of Marcus’s gaze lingered in your mind. The image of his rugged face, scarred from countless battles, and his piercing eyes was etched into your thoughts. There was something about him that was both terrifying and captivating.

A soft knock on your door interrupted your reverie. It was your handmaid, Lydia, her expression curious.

"Where have you been?" she asked, her voice low but firm.

You hesitated, then sighed. "I went to see the procession."

Lydia’s eyes widened. "The general’s return? You could have been caught!"

"I know," you admitted, "but I had to see him."

"Why? What could be so important?"

You bit your lip, unsure how to explain the inexplicable pull you felt towards the gladiator general. "I don't know, Lydia. It's just... when our eyes met, it felt like something changed."

Lydia shook her head, her expression a mix of worry and understanding. "You must be careful. The world outside is not as forgiving as the walls of this villa."

The days following the procession were filled with a whirlwind of emotions. You couldn't shake the image of Marcus from your mind. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw his intense gaze, felt the inexplicable connection that had sparked between you.

The grand villa of your father was abuzz with preparations for the evening’s banquet. Slaves hurried to and fro, setting tables with fine silverware and arranging elaborate floral displays. The scent of roasted meats and freshly baked bread wafted through the air, mingling with the delicate fragrance of flowers.

Tonight, your father, a respected senator, was hosting a dinner in honor of General Marcus Acacius. The entire house was a flurry of activity, with guests arriving in their finest attire, their laughter and chatter filling the atrium. You stood near the entrance, feeling the weight of your responsibilities as the senator’s daughter.

Your mother approached, adjusting the drape of your stola with a critical eye. “Remember, you must be on your best behavior tonight. This banquet is crucial for your father’s alliances.”

You nodded, though your mind was elsewhere. Ever since you had seen Marcus in the parade, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The memory of his piercing gaze had haunted you, and now he was here, in your home.

"Come," your father said, his hand on your back guiding you through the crowd. "I want you to meet someone."

You followed, your heart pounding in anticipation. As you approached, you saw him standing there, taller and more imposing than anyone else in the room. Marcus Acacius, the hero of Rome, the man who had invaded your thoughts and dreams.

"General Acacius," your father began, his voice carrying the weight of his status, "allow me to introduce my daughter."

Marcus turned, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. He bowed slightly, a gesture of respect, but his gaze remained unwavering. "My lady," he said, his voice like velvet, "it is an honor."

General Marcus was the most strikingly handsome man you had ever seen. His chiseled features were framed by dark brown eyes beneath thick, black eyebrows. His long, aquiline nose and firm mouth, accentuated by a sensuously full lower lip, completed the picture of rugged masculinity. He stood tall, towering over most men, with a lean, muscular body and broad, powerful shoulders.

His hair, a captivating mix of salt and pepper, was cut short and fell in loose curls around his head, with distinguished grey patches in his beard that added to his allure.

"The honor is mine, General," you replied, your voice trembling despite your efforts to stay composed.

"Please, call me Marcus," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "We are, after all, in more intimate surroundings."

Your father chuckled, clearly pleased with Marcus's easy charm. "I will leave you two to get acquainted," he said, patting Marcus on the shoulder before moving away to mingle with other guests.

The moment your father left, the air between you and Marcus seemed to crackle with electricity. He took a step closer, the heat of his body radiating towards you. "I must confess," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, "I have been looking forward to this moment."

You swallowed hard, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks. "As have I," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

Marcus's eyes darkened with desire, and he reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against your arm. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your knees weaken. "You are even more captivating up close," he said, his voice husky. "I find myself drawn to you, like a moth to a flame."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as his hand slid up your arm, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you feel it too?" he whispered.

You nodded, unable to form a coherent response. The intensity of his presence was overwhelming, his scent, his warmth, the sheer power of his focus on you.

As Marcus's hand continued to caress your arm, you felt your heart race with a mixture of excitement and nerves. You had never been this close to him before, and the realization that he was interested in you sent a wave of exhilaration through your body.

His lips brushed against your earlobe, making you shiver. "I want to know everything about you," he murmured, his voice sending sparks down your spine. "Your hopes, your dreams, what makes you laugh and what makes you cry out for mercy."

You turned towards him, meeting his intense gaze. "I want to know about you too," you said, feeling bold in his presence.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned closer. "There is not much to tell," he said modestly, though the way his eyes roamed over your face suggested otherwise. "Just a soldier who has dedicated his life to serving Rome."

But there was something more behind those words, something hidden beneath the mask of duty and honor. You could sense it in the way he held himself, in the intensity of his gaze.

"I don't believe that," you said firmly. "There is so much more to a person than their profession."

Marcus's smile widened into a grin as he took another step closer to you. "You are wise beyond your years," he said appreciatively.

The room around you seemed to fade away as you became lost in each other's gaze. It was as if there was no one else in the world but the two of you.

Suddenly, a loud noise broke through the moment – someone had knocked over a vase nearby. The sound jolted both of you back to reality and Marcus stepped back slightly.

"I should go check on that," he said regretfully.

Marcus's lips lingered on your skin for a moment longer before pulling away to look into your eyes. "I promise, we will continue this conversation another time," he said softly.

You nodded, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. You couldn't wait to spend more time with him and get to know him better.

As Marcus turned to leave, you couldn't help but watch him walk away, his confident stride and broad shoulders filling you with a sense of admiration. You sighed dreamily and turned back to the feast, only to be greeted by your handmaids with teasing grins.

"What was that all about?" one of them asked, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively.

You feel your cheeks heat up, trying to hide your excitement. "Nothing," you said coyly. "Just a conversation."

As the guests were seated in the triclinium, the air was filled with the sounds of conversation and the clinking of goblets. You found yourself seated across from Marcus, who looked imposing in his formal attire. His presence commanded the room, yet his eyes frequently strayed to you, a subtle intensity in his gaze.

The evening progressed with toasts to Marcus’s victories and speeches praising his valor. You tried to focus on the conversations around you, but your mind kept drifting to the man across the table. Finally, you could bear it no longer. Under the pretense of needing fresh air, you excused yourself and slipped out into the garden.

The cool night air was a welcome relief as you wandered through the manicured paths, the soft glow of lanterns illuminating your way. The garden was a haven of tranquility compared to the lively banquet inside. You found a secluded bench and sat down, letting out a sigh of relief. The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant hum of voices from the villa created a serene backdrop as you tried to gather your thoughts.

As you sat there, the faint sound of a conversation caught your attention. You turned your head slightly, realizing that a group of senators had gathered nearby, their voices low but urgent. You recognized the voices of some of the most influential men in Rome, including your father.

"I hear that Emperor Caracalla is eager to stage a grand spectacle," one senator said, his tone conspiratorial. "He wants to solidify his power and win the favor of the masses."

"Indeed," another replied. "I heard he plans to pit some of the finest gladiators against each other. And there are whispers that General Marcus Acacius himself might be forced to take part in the games."

You felt a pang of concern at the mention of Marcus's name. The thought of him in the Colosseum, fighting for his life, was almost too much to bear.

"Emperor Geta is not pleased with this idea," a third senator interjected. "He sees it as a waste of a valuable military asset. But Caracalla is determined. He believes a victory in the arena will elevate Marcus to legendary status, securing loyalty from the soldiers and the people alike."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you processed their words. The political machinations of Rome were ruthless, and it seemed that Marcus was caught in the middle of it all.

As the senators continued their discussion elsewhere, their voices drifting away back into the villa, you felt a presence behind you. You turned to see Marcus emerging from the shadows, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. He moved silently, his powerful form cutting through the darkness like a predator stalking its prey.

"My lady," he said softly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "It seems we both seek refuge in the quiet of the garden."

"Marcus," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and longing. "I overheard the senators. They plan to have you fight in the Colosseum."

His expression darkened, and he closed the distance between you in a few swift strides. "I know," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "The emperors play their games, and I am but a pawn. But tonight, I do not wish to think of such things."

He reached out, his hand cupping your cheek, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you. "Tonight, I only want to think of you."

Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with a tantalizing softness. The kiss deepened, his hands roaming over your body, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His touch was both possessive and gentle, his need for you evident in every caress.

"Marcus," you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair. "This is madness. If we are caught..."

"Let them find us," he murmured against your lips. "I would rather face the lions in the arena than be without you."

His words sent a thrill through you, and you responded with a fervor that matched his own. Your bodies pressed together, the heat of your passion driving away the cool night air. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other.

"Promise me," you whispered, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. "Promise me you will come back to me, no matter what happens."

"I swear it," he said, his voice filled with determination. "No matter what the emperors or the gods throw at me, I will return to you."

With those words, he captured your lips again, sealing his promise with a kiss that left you breathless. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he reached out, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. He leaned in, his warm breath ghosting over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

His voice, a velvety whisper, sent a wave of desire flooding through you as he murmured, "I want you. Here. Now."

The moon was high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the garden, as Marcus pressed you against the wall. His hands roamed over your body, igniting fires with each touch. You could feel his desire for you, and it only fueled your own.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you up and pressed you against the garden walls. His body hovering over yours as he trailed kisses down your neck and along your collarbone. Every nerve in your body was on fire, and you couldn't contain the moan that escaped from your lips.

With a growl of need, Marcus captured your lips once again while his hands began to explore under your dress. The feeling of his warm skin against yours sent shivers down your spine as he traced patterns along your thighs.

"Marcus," you gasped between kisses. "We shouldn't-"

"Shhh," he whispered, gently sliding your white cotton robe off your shoulders. "I can't resist you any longer.”

Marcus unexpectedly reached out his large, rough hands and cupped each one of your breasts, weighing them in his palms. Your body jolted at the sudden touch, your skin tingling under his warm heat. You could feel the calluses on his fingers, hardened from years of wielding swords and other battle weapons, leaving tiny marks on your delicate skin like a trail of fire.

As he squeezed and rotated your breasts gently, desire surged through you, igniting a deep longing within. You wanted to surrender yourself completely to him, to offer up not just your body but your very being to his every whim. The sensation was so overwhelming that you yearned to throw your head back in abandonment and give in to the all-consuming pleasure he evoked.

The protests that had escaped your lips now transformed into guttural moans of pleasure as his skilled fingers worked their magic on your most sensitive spot. Every touch sent electric shocks through your body, making you shiver and writhe against the wall. As Marcus trailed his fingertips over every inch of your slick flesh, you felt yourself becoming more and more lost in the overwhelming waves of pleasure coursing through you. With each stroke, your body arched further off the wall, desperate for more of his touch. It was like a symphony of sensations, building and crescendoing until you were completely consumed by the intensity of it all.

He slid a finger between your legs and pushed it deep inside you. Pleasure shot through your body, causing you to arch and writhe as he expertly stroked your tight passage.

"My lady, you have an incredibly tight cunt," he grunted out, his voice strained and revealing his own growing arousal. His features twisted in pleasure and his eyes glinted with a primal lust.

He firmly grasped your aroused nub and slid another finger into your tight, welcoming entrance. "We have to be quiet or we'll risk getting caught," he whispered in your ear.

You nodded eagerly, pleading, "Yes, anything. Please."

As his skilled fingers gently rotated over your sensitive clit and his other digit pumped inside your wet, pulsing core, you couldn't help but surrender to the pleasure he was bestowing upon you. From the moment his eyes locked on yours, you knew you were his to be used however he pleased, your body a vessel for his insatiable desires. With each expert movement of his fingers, you felt yourself spiraling into a dizzying state of pure ecstasy, completely at his mercy. Your flesh responded eagerly to his touch, begging for more as he claimed you as his own.

The General's gentle touch on your skin was electrifying, bringing a growing pleasure to your body that felt almost overwhelming. You could feel yourself getting too hot, too tense, and you were afraid of releasing the intense climax that was building inside you with just a single touch. 

"Oh Goddess," you gasped, tilting your head back against his shoulder and shutting your eyes as your desire became sharper and more urgent.

A sharp cry escaped your lips as his long finger penetrated you, rotating and rubbing inside your core while his other fingers worked relentlessly on your sensitive clitoris. Your body squirmed against the intense pleasure, your hands grasping at his muscular arms to anchor yourself amidst the overwhelming sensations. He chuckled softly as you began to move your hips in a circular motion, still continuing to bring you pleasure with his skilled touch for several minutes. Just as you were about to reach the edge of climax, he eased off slightly, keeping his movements quick and light.

But eventually, your body tensed up and convulsed, your movements erratic and desperate, your breaths coming in short gasps. As the tension in your loins grew tighter and tighter, you let out a high-pitched wail and reached the peak of ecstasy. Your walls pulsated around his probing finger, which was now coated in even more of your warm juices.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Marcus gently turned you to face him again. His white robe and short toga were cast aside, leaving him naked in front of you. He stood tall and proud, his lean and muscular frame on full display. But it was his erect penis that took your breath away. It was massive, thick and much longer than average, standing rigid and red above a nest of dark pubic hair.

His impressive and exposed physique took your breath away as you gazed upon it. "Oh, my Goddess!" you exclaimed, feeling overwhelmed by his sheer size.

Without hesitation, Marcus reached out and grasped your thighs, pulling you closer to him. He leaned over your body, closed his fist around his member, and guided the tip towards your still-dripping entrance.

He managed to get the thick bulbous tip of his penis through your opening. You immediately felt stretched and full. You gave him a pouting look, your hips wriggling in an effort to accommodate him. “You big brute, you’re tearing me apart.”

He clenched his teeth, sweat starting to matt his silver and grey hair at his forehead. The pleasure of being inside such a tight flesh was almost dizzying, and he had to pull in all of his control to prevent himself from plunging completely inside of you. 

That would come later, he promised, once you had been well oiled by him. He pushed again and managed another inch, and slowly continued to advance his penis inside your channel. 

“You’re so tight,” his voice was harsh and strained, as if in pain. It wasn't too far from the truth; she felt tight around him, almost like a vice grip. But despite the discomfort, she was so warm and smooth inside.

With a groan, he slid the thick bulbous tip of his penis into your opening. A sharp pang of fullness shot through you as your body stretched to accommodate him. You gave him a pouting look, your hips wriggling and contorting in an effort to ease the pressure. "You big oaf," you playfully scolded, though there was a hint of pleasure in your voice.

He clenched his teeth, beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead as he fought for control. The sensation of being inside such tight, warm flesh was almost overwhelming, and he had to take deep breaths to calm himself. He promised himself that he would give in completely once you were well-oiled by him.

He pushed with all his strength, feeling the resistance of your body as he slid deeper and deeper inside. The walls of your channel were smooth and slick, clenching around him like a vice. He couldn't hold back the grunt that escaped his clenched teeth, a mix of intense sensation coursing through his body. It was a pleasurable pain, like being held in a fierce embrace by someone who loved you too much - an exquisite torture that he never wanted to end. But with each slow and deliberate thrust, he knew that the pleasure would only intensify, building to a climax that would leave them both breathless.

Slowly but surely, Marcus eased his penis deeper into your body. With each inch of progress, you both felt the intensity of your connection grow stronger. Your entire body trembled with each thrust he made. When he was halfway inside you, Marcus used his fingers to stimulate your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your core throbbed with ecstasy as Marcus took advantage of your relaxed muscles and thrust deeply inside you until he was fully engulfed.

You and Marcus both groan at the same time. He quickly covers your mouth with his hand, gently hushing you. "Shh, my Carissima... I know it feels good, but we must be quiet. We can't risk your father catching us in this compromising position." The General continues to stimulate your sensitive spot, using his fingers to tease and moisten it further.

Your hips continued to rock and push against his manhood, your desire growing with each movement. You leaned back and moaned as General Marcus Acacius took full control of your body. He held onto your hips tightly as he thrust deep inside you, the pleasure intensifying for both of you. It was clear that neither of you was far from reaching the peak of ecstasy.

You let out moans and contorted your body as the large, broad, man moved back and forth between your legs. As your face twisted in pleasure and your head thrashed about, you experienced this unfamiliar sensation called sexual pleasure. Your climax came quickly and intensely, feeling like it lasted for several minutes. You threw your head back and let out a scream as the intense pleasure broke through between your thighs. A hot wave of pleasure spread throughout your body, causing your hips to writhe against Marcus'.

As your body trembled and released into an intense orgasm, you felt Marcus' muscles tighten beneath you. A deep, primal roar escaped his lips as he too reached the peak of his climax. The sound echoed through the gardens blending with the rhythmic pounding of your heart and breath. It was a moment of pure, raw passion that left you both gasping for air and tangled in each other's embrace.

As the intense pleasure slowly subsided, you became aware of the small droplets of blood trickling down your thighs and onto the grass. It was a sign that your virginity had been taken, marking the end of an era and the beginning of a new one.

General Marcus Acacius carefully pulled out of you and helped you to sit up. You could see his concern in his eyes as he looked at the blood staining his robe on the ground and your thighs.

"Are you hurt, Carissima? I didn't mean to be so rough..." he asked, his voice filled with worry.

You shook your head, still trying to catch your breath. "No… I'm fine," you managed to say.

He let out a sigh of relief and gently wiped away the blood with a nearby cloth. You winced slightly at the slight soreness between your legs but it was nothing compared to the intense pleasure you had just experienced.

Marcus held you close, his strong arms wrapped around you protectively. "You were amazing, my love," he whispered in your ear.

A flood of emotions washed over you as you realized what had just happened between the two of you. You had shared an intimate moment with General Marcus Acacius, someone who was forbidden to you because of your status as a daughter of such nobility. And yet, in that moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was the overwhelming feeling of love and desire that consumed both of you.

Your mind was spinning, knowing all too well what would happen if anyone found out about your relationship with the General. Your father would surely punish both of you severely and possibly even sell one or both of you off.

Even with the knowledge of what had just happened, and what could, it was difficult for you to feel remorse or embarrassment. Instead, you felt a sense of contentment and fulfillment that you had never experienced before.

Marcus chuckled warmly and gave you a soft kiss on your lips. "You are truly something special, Carissima," he said with adoration in his eyes.

You blushed at his words, feeling a surge of happiness wash over you. Despite the risks and consequences, being with Marcus felt like the most natural thing in the world.

But as the reality of your situation sank in, a sense of worry crept into your mind. How would you continue this relationship without anyone finding out? How could you possibly be with Marcus when your father would never allow it? Or worse, your father having you marry someone else?

Marcus brushed his fingers against your cheek, and it felt like he could read your mind. "We will find a solution, my love. I promise I will marry you and make you my wife," he whispered to soothe your fears.

The weight of Marcus' words settled heavily in your heart. The thought of being married to the man you loved filled you with joy and hope, yet the reality of it all seemed impossible.

"How could we possibly make that happen?" you asked, your voice laced with worry.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of doubt. How could someone as powerful and respected as General Marcus Acacius be able to marry someone like you? You were just a daughter of a nobleman, while he was one of the most influential men in the kingdom.

Marcus spoke with unwavering assurance, his gaze locked onto yours. As you looked back into his eyes, all your doubts and fears dissipated. You were certain that he would do anything to keep you safe and by his side. "We will find a way, my love. I will do whatever it takes to make you my wife."

"I believe in you," you said softly, placing a hand on his chest.

Marcus smiled and leaned in to kiss you again, his lips gentle and loving against yours. In that moment, everything else seemed to fade away except for the two of you.

"But we must be careful," Marcus reminded you, his tone serious once again. "We cannot let anyone find out about us until the time is right."

You nodded in agreement, understanding the risks that came with your relationship.

"We must also gain your father's approval," Marcus continued. "It won't be easy, but I am determined to prove myself worthy of you and your family."

You couldn't help but admire Marcus' determination and love for you. Despite the challenges ahead, he was willing to do anything to be with you.

As the sun began to rise, you woke up in your room with a smile on your face. Today was the day that Marcus would finally meet with your father and ask for your hand in marriage. You could hardly believe the moment had arrived, the day you had dreamt of for so long.

Ever since he had first confessed his love for you, the two of you had been meeting in secret, stealing moments together whenever possible. The clandestine nature of your meetings had made your bond even stronger. The thought of being with Marcus made every challenge worth it.

You dressed carefully, choosing your finest gown, and adorned yourself with simple yet elegant jewelry. Your heart raced with anticipation as you made your way to the garden where the betrothal ceremony would take place. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers, and the gentle rustle of leaves created a serene atmosphere.

In the garden, your father stood with Marcus, deep in conversation. The sight of them together filled you with a sense of pride and hope. Marcus, in his formal attire, looked every bit the honorable and powerful man that he was—a general respected by all of Rome.

Your father turned to you, his expression warm. "My dear daughter," he began, "today is a momentous day as the gods have blessed us. General Marcus Acacius has proven himself to be a man of honor and valor. It would be a great honor for our family to be united with his."

Marcus stepped forward, his eyes never leaving yours. "It is my greatest wish to make you my wife," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I promise to honor and protect you for all the days of my life."

The betrothal ceremony commenced, a formal ritual between your two families. Your father and Marcus exchanged respectful bows, symbolizing the joining of your households. Gifts were presented, and the dowry was discussed and agreed upon. A scribe stood by, ready to document the agreement in a written contract.

Marcus then produced a small, ornate box and opened it to reveal a beautiful finger ring. "This ring," he said, "is a symbol of my commitment to you, a tradition that stretches back through the ages."

He took your hand gently and slid the ring onto your finger, his touch sending a thrill through you. The ring was exquisite, a delicate band adorned with intricate engravings that spoke of ancient craftsmanship. 

"You honor me with this gift, Marcus," you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion.

Marcus smiled, his eyes full of warmth. "The honor is mine, my love."

With the ring in place, you turned to the scribe, who handed you both the written agreement. You signed your name carefully, your hand steady despite the whirlwind of emotions within you. Marcus signed next, his signature bold and confident.

Finally, the moment came to seal the betrothal with a kiss. Marcus stepped closer, his gaze locked onto yours. He cupped your face in his hands and leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, sweet kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in that perfect moment.

As you pulled away, you saw the approval in your father's eyes and felt a rush of joy and relief. You were now betrothed to Marcus, the man you loved, and your future together was set.

"Let this day be the beginning of a lifetime of happiness," your father declared, his voice filled with emotion.

Marcus took your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "Together, we will face whatever the future holds," he promised.

And with that, your hearts intertwined, you knew that your love would endure, growing stronger with each passing day. The journey ahead was full of promise, and with Marcus by your side, you felt ready to embrace it all.

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

A Taste of Honey

Pairing: Rick Hatchett x AgeGap!Reader

Summary: At first, Rick Hatchet was just another rich man willing to pay for your company. It wasn’t personal—it was a business arrangement that bought you designer bags, first-class flights, and a seat at the most exclusive tables. He didn’t expect more from you, and you certainly didn’t expect more from him. But somewhere along the way, something shifted. Rick Hatchet has everything. So why does he seem so lost? And why do you suddenly care enough to try to fix him?

You were never ashamed of what you were.

If rich men wanted to throw their money at you, you let them. And Rick Hatchet? He was no different.

The first time you met, it was at an intimate rooftop dinner in Manhattan, hosted by one of his business partners. You’d been brought along by a mutual acquaintance—just one of many beautiful women meant to fill the empty seats and flatter the egos of men too powerful for their own good.

Rick noticed you immediately. Not in the leering, indulgent way most men did, but with a curious, measured gaze—like he was trying to figure out if you were worth his time.

You didn’t expect him to pursue you. Not really.

But the next day, a black Amex card arrived at your apartment with a note written in smooth, deliberate handwriting:

"I’d like to keep you around. Indulge yourself. - Rick"

And that was how it began.

The White Lotus resort in Thailand was just another perk of being with Rick. You were here because he wanted you here—because he liked having something beautiful at his side, something effortless to parade in front of his business partners.

But the longer you were around him, the more you started noticing things you shouldn’t.

The way he stared at his untouched drink for minutes at a time, as if trying to remember why he even ordered it.

The way he let conversations pass over him, nodding at the right moments but never really engaging.

The way he disappeared for hours at a time, only to return looking ten years older than when he left.

Rick Hatchet was tired. Not just physically, but deep in his bones, in a way that made you ache for him.

You weren’t supposed to care. That wasn’t part of the deal.

And yet, one night, after a long dinner filled with empty smiles and meaningless small talk, you found yourself saying, “You’re miserable here, aren’t you?”

He blinked at you, genuinely caught off guard. “What?”

“You don’t actually like any of these people.” You tilted your head, studying him the way he had once studied you. “You’re just playing along because you don’t know how to stop.”

Something flickered in his gaze—just for a second. But then he chuckled, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, I pay you to look pretty, not to analyze me.”

You didn’t smile. “You pay me to be here. Doesn’t mean I don’t see things.”

For the first time in your arrangement, he didn’t have a quick response.

The next morning, you found him by the edge of the resort’s infinity pool, staring out at the horizon.

“You didn’t come to bed last night,” you murmured, sitting beside him.

He let out a low breath, rubbing his temple. “Didn’t feel like sleeping.”

A beat of silence. Then, for reasons you couldn’t explain, you reached for his wrist, fingers brushing over his pulse. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

He turned to you, amusement flickering in his tired eyes. “Do what?”

“Pretend.” You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “That you’re fine. That you actually enjoy all this.”

Rick exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “And what would you have me do instead?”

“I don’t know.” You squeezed his wrist gently. “Something real. Something that doesn’t feel like running in circles.”

Rick was silent for a long time. Then, in a voice so soft it almost didn’t sound like him, he admitted:

“I don’t remember the last time anything felt real.”

From that moment on, things changed.

Rick still spoiled you—he didn’t know how to show affection any other way—but the way he looked at you was different. Less detached. Less like you were just another ornament in his collection.

You started catching glimpses of the real him in small, unexpected moments:

When you made him laugh—a real, unfiltered laugh, not the practiced one he used in public.

When he reached for your hand absentmindedly, like he just wanted to feel something warm.

When he watched you sleep, something wistful in his gaze, as if wondering how you could rest so easily while he never could.

And somewhere along the way, you stopped seeing him as just a paycheck.

He was still complicated. Still guarded. Still drowning in whatever demons he refused to talk about.

But you couldn’t ignore the fact that you wanted to save him.

One night, after a dinner that was somehow less suffocating than usual, he pulled you onto the balcony of your suite, away from the noise.

"You know," he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek, "this wasn’t supposed to happen."

You tilted your head. "What wasn’t?"

"This." His fingers trailed down to your chin, tilting your face up toward his. "Me caring about you."

Your breath hitched.

"Do you?" you asked softly.

Rick exhaled, resting his forehead against yours.

"Yeah," he murmured. "I think I do."

And for the first time in a long time, it felt real.

[thevoidscreams]

How would each primemarch be if their wife is pregnant with their child?

No real warnings for this one other than pregnancy Lion: He's as cool as ever on the outside but he's secretly a mess on the inside. The lion is not the kind to be very open with his emotions so to some (Of the few who actually know) it might seem he has no feelings at all about his wife carrying his progeny. However those who know him better notice how close he keeps you from the start. He's not going to allow anything to happen to his beautiful lioness. 2: Went out for milk and didn't come back. Fulgrim: "Oh have you heard? My darling wife is with child." This man could not be anymore different, he makes sure everyone knows and is appropriately excited. After all how could they not be? He was going to have a child that was truly his own. He parades you about in clothes that show your progressive belly and he makes a show of rubbing it in. Not even his most beloved brother Ferrus is spared. Well to be fair Ferrus is especially the target of the pheonicians excitement.

Perturabo: He is quietly delighted his giant hands have never been so gentle. His honor guard becomes yours for the whole duration, not that they weren't ordered to keep you safe as well, but now they are especially vigilant. He doesn't make a fuss about it outwardly but the nursery soon fills with tiny marvels of engineering for your future child.

Jaghatai: He's also quiet about it, but he's always been a bit aloof about his brother. But in private he is incredibly happy, practically worshiping your body. Making sure you only have the best food. He's a very dedicated husband and soon to be father.

Leman: Is boastful about it. But also very vigilant. He's not letting you out of his sight so long as you've got his pup in your womb. He keeps you warm on cold nights as he refuses to let his child be born anywhere but on Fenris so you do have to suffer the biting cold. Don't worry though, you'll have more furs than you can shake a stick at to keep you comfortable.

Rogal:

No one even knew you were pregnant until the kid came. Though their were signs, kinda, like every place you stepped foot in having even more recent additions to the defenses. His best sons being put on guard duty. A rare quiet smile on his contemplative face and stern face. His apothecaries are the only ones not completely shocked.

Curze:

Oh boy if he was a mess before?... Hes actually quite mellow for most of the pregnancy, of course that is once he's established paternity. It's not that he doubts you, it's that there are other men on his ship and he can't trust them. He holds you even closer now at night. Whispering feverish, yet loving inanities to you. His hard bitter laugh has a softer edge to it now. Could it be that he might finally have two good things in his life to bring his mind out of the darkness?

Sanguinius: I'm saying it now, he started trying early, as soon as the ring was on your finger. Sanguinius loves his sons and that love is only amplifies for the child growing in your womb. But along with that love is a terrible anxiety, what if the child is touched by his thirst, doomed to live with the curse as he and his other children are? He'll love them all the same absolutely nothing will change that. And he somehow loves you even more for this gift of life you are creating with him.

Ferrus: His massive metal hands hold you so gently when you give him the news. He has so much to do, and so much to be. Now he must also be a real father, not only to his astartes, but to a small bundle of life that will share half of his dna. Should he tell anyone? Fulgrim? His father? Ferrus feels very real uncertainty about it. He will tell no one, he decides and puts an even more robust guard around you at all times unless you are with him, in his arms. It becomes the safest place in universe just for you.

11: Went out for smokes and didn't come back.

Angron: How did this even happen? Most people assumed your marriage to this giant butcher was all for show. But no, he is your husband and despite his moments of temporary insanity at the clawing of nails in his brain, he managed to do it. He won't touch you unfortunately. Despite his general disposition about things he does not hate you, and his fear of the nails keeps his hands at bay. No matter how much you plead. He will not risk the life of his child. In his moments of clarity you hold his hand, and kiss it, he tells you he loves you. You alone in the universe as he twitches at the biting of the nails. Maybe he will go back to perturabo and finally allow his brother to aid him. For your sake and for your child.

Roboute: Also quite hush hush about the pregnancy, he journals the whole experience, and builds the nursery with his own hands, putting his own little touches on the place. His hearts swell with delight every time he thinks about it. He holds you in his arms as he picks the handcrafted animals that will go into the rooms. He thanks you softly for allowing him to have this experience. He also has the whole timeline planned out for the pregnancy, you let him have it despite knowing that these things hardly ever go exactly according to plan.

Mortarion: Is this even allowed? Is what he keeps thinking to himself, but he is happy. Fearful as well as you progress, what if he ends up being like the awful monster that raised him? Or even like his own father. He vows to not be those men, he promises to you over and over that he will be the best father. On his knees, he swears to you. He loves you so much and his love your child as well.

Magnus: As soon as you tell him that you're with child he begins divining. Looking into the potential futures to ensure his child's safety. He messages you with his collection of scented oils as he tells you of the endless futures he's seen. He loves to touch you, to feel the aura of his little one growing inside you. He'll know them better than even you by the time they're born. His sons are just as joyful about all this, but do come up with some wild concerns that you never even considered. Magnus puts all theirs worries and yours to rest, telling you hes seen what may happen and will not allow any negatives to come to pass. He is arrogant, for sure, but it does make your fears less.

Horus: He couldn't have kept it under wraps even if he tried. His sons soon learn from the mournival and now every lunar wolf is on high alert to keep you safe. Even Ezekiel, those that's on orders from his primarch. Horus spends as much time as he is able with you. He's glad to be a father, a true father, fulfilling his unspoken desires at long last. He treats you like a queen, and you are never far from his side. As he speaks soft words of love to you and kisses your hands and cheeks.

Lorgar: Lorgar looks at you as if you hung the stars yourself when you tell him. He dedicates himself to you throughout the whole process, at you beck and call the whole time. He acquires for you the most luxurious things he can to pamper you. Most of your evenings are spent with him massaging you with lotions or oils as her tells you tales from his compliances. He adores you so much. Vulkan: He is likely the most outwardly expressive with his delight. Not boasting or bragging but delightedly sharing the good news with his family. It's a nice feeling, to be so openly praised by a primarch. He, like many of this other builder brothers makes toys for his soon to arrive child. He's attentive, maybe even a bit smothering. But it's all to ensure that you are happy and well. His sons are also over the moon at the news, there much beloved legion mother carrying their brother or sister. You will certainly be very safe and loved, that's for sure.

Corvus: He might tell a few of his brothers and his father, but other than that he keeps it a rather private affair. He will of course keep you close and when he is unable will have a silent guard keeping an eye on your every move to ensure your safety. At night when he holds you, he will sing you to sleep with his soft mellow voice. His dark eyes scanning the shadows for any movement. He will keep you and his little chick safe in his nest. Alpharius/Omegon: The question is who's the father? True they are twins of a sort, technically two halves of what would have been one being. But still. Either way, no one but the three of you will even know until the baby comes and even then it's largely going to be a rumor. You are well cared for as you always are, but the two fathers will ensure that regardless, nothing happens and no one knows.

[holylulusworld]

Bucky & Ducky (5) - Family time

Summary: Bucky Barnes. Ruthless mafia boss. Soft only for his wife and…well, Ducky.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Side pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Ducky the duck

Warnings: mafia business, fluff, unusual friendship

A/N: Thanks to @buck-star for the idea and brainstorming with me. I did it…😅

Catch up here: Bucky & Ducky (4) - The new family member

Bucky & Ducky Masterlist

It’s Bucky’s day off, and he decides it’s time to get more things for Ducky. While you push the shopping cart along the aisle, your husband keeps an eye on Ducky sitting in a box inside the cart.

“Why did we come here again?” You ask, glancing at your husband. “We have everything for Ducky at home.”

“I read online that ducklings like—” He clears his throat as you start giggling. “What?”

“You signed up for that forum and googled stuff for ducklings, am I right?” You grin at him. “Right? You had to find out every little detail about ducklings.”

“I like to be informed, you know me,” Bucky grins. “And Alpine needs new toys. We don’t want her to feel left out. She’s still our queen.”

“I know,” you fake a sigh. “She was there before me and was your first love.”

Bucky’s features soften, and he brings you into his arms to kiss your neck softly.

“You’re my only queen; you know that, doll. There is no one more important than you. Not Alpine. Not my business. Nothing and no one comes before you.”

“I know,” you say, and wrap your arms around your husband. “But it’s nice to hear it now and then, Bucky.” He smiles and nuzzles his face in your neck, earning odd looks from other customers, but Bucky doesn’t give a shit. “Let’s get everything you want to buy for Ducky, and something nice for our queen too.”

He laughs. “You spoil her the most. Do not try to pretend you do not love our queen. You love her more than me.”

“No,” you giggle but fist his shirt. “You know that there is no one more important than you, Bucky Bear. Not even our pretty queen, Alpine.”

“That is an awful rhyme.” He pecks your lips. “I still love you, though. This won’t change, even though your rhymes and jokes are not funny.”

“Steve says my jokes are funny,” you pout and stick your tongue out.

“Steve tells you so because you are my pretty wife,” Bucky teases before stealing another kiss. “Let’s go back to shopping. People are already watching us.”

“Let them watch,” you grin at your husband. I like to make people jealous with my hot husband.”

“Baby doll, if you keep on talking dirty to me, I won’t be able to hold back. I’ll take you right here, next to cat beds and cat food.” He threatens with a smirk, but you know, Bucky is damn serious.

“Bucky,” you giggle, “as much as I love it when you lose control, I like this store and don’t want to get banned.”

He laughs when you mention locations you got banned from because you didn’t stop him from getting too cocky. “Fine, let’s get everything for Ducky.” Bucky pecks your lips. He’d love to get naughty right now but doesn’t want to get banned from the pet store too.

Ducky quacks loudly as someone walks toward your cart, a tiny dog in their arms. “Good boy,” Bucky grins as the woman hurriedly walks away, pressing her dog to her chest. “We don’t need a guard dog. We have a guard duck now.”

“You know Ducky is a duckling. He’s not scary at all, but cute,” you point out, but Bucky is not convinced.

“He’s a tough duckling for his age.” Bucky carefully takes the box with Ducky out of the cart to carry him toward the cat beds. “What do you think, Ducky? Do you need a better bed?”

You grin as your husband starts parading around the store, showing Ducky all the things he wants to buy for the duckling.

“Uh—I guess it’s only the two of us now, Alpine,” you say, looking at Alpine sitting in the shopping cart like the queen she is. Alpine meows and goes back to sleeping on the expensive pillow you put in the cart. “How about you get a new collar?”

Alpine lifts her head. She looks at you, suddenly interested in what you have to say as you pick a new collar for her.

“She’s talking to a cat.” You hear someone whisper. “I bet she’s one of those cat ladies. Lonely and crazy.”

“Doll, look at this!” Right before you can get angry and give these people a piece of your mind, Bucky comes back with a shopping cart full of things you’ll never need. “I found all the things I read about online and some.”

“I can see that,” you laugh. “Bucky, we don’t need all the stuff for Ducky!”

“Oh, no, no…” He shakes his head. “Not all of it is for Ducky. I got something for Alpine too. And a chewing toy for the guard dog.”

“Steve?” You giggle. “I didn’t know he liked chewing toys.”

“Did you just make a joke about my best friend?” Bucky grins. “I knew you had it in you to be funny.” He steps closer to peck your lips. “Let’s go home. I want to test the things I ordered online for…us.”

“For us, huh?” You tug at his tie. “We should hurry then…”

[silcobrainrot]

Okay I gotta talk about the Kuleshov Effect for a minute because I see a lot of people talking about how Silco and Vi were looking at each other on the bridge and it's got me scratching at the walls.

The Kuleshov Effect is a film editing effect. It is a mental phenomenon by which viewers derive more meaning from the interaction of two sequential shots than from a single shot in isolation.

In other words, the way a movie or show is edited influences the way you think or feel about it. This kind of subtle manipulation is very powerful and is used throughout film and television to guide the audience's emotional journey and can be used to influence characterization and plot just by putting things in the right order. When people talk about "unintentional implications from the writers" I have noticed several times that the cause of the unintentional implication actually being the editing, not the writing.

On the bridge just before the opening credits of episode 8, we have two perspectives: Vi's perspective and Silco's perspective. Rather than show what Vi's doing in one long sequence, and then switch to Silco's perspective in one long sequence, the editors break these sequences into smaller shots and inter-cut them.

The most common use of intercutting like this is when shooting dialogue: cut to one character, cut to the other. Because of this, to our minds, this sequence looks like they are having a silent conversation, but they aren't. They can't even see each other.

Silco can't see beyond the smog, flood lights, and oncoming parade of enforcers, and it's safe to assume Vi can't see past these obstacles either. They have no way or reason of knowing the other is observing the bridge.

So, now that we know they can't see each other, let's look at what happens if we reorder the clips so these are two distinct sequences rather than one long one.

The sequences on their own are not staged the way a conversation would be staged, because both characters are in the centers of their respective frames.

Vi is looking at the bridge where her childhood friend was about to fight her sister so she could get away. The last thing that happened on the bridge that she knows of is another bomb going off, just one. She doesn't know if Ekko or Jinx are still alive. Maybe she's wondering if she should have stayed instead of leaving Jinx again.

Silco is panicked and caught off guard by his own reaction. He has a moment of emotional vulnerability while his back is turned to his employees and while the enforcers are still too far away to see what's happening on his face. He steels himself before standing up, and faces down the enforcers before walking away.

So, why edit this scene this way? If they can't see each other, why make it look like they can? Specifically because they wanted these characters to have an emotional exchange, but can't, because they are physically too far apart. Vi and Silco only get two scenes together and they only talk directly to each other once. This helps fill in a hole where we want these two to interact, but plot-wise it makes no sense for them to be able to. The editors change the entire meaning of both of these sequences if the emotions on their faces are a conversation.

What I like about this is that it gives you two options for how to interpret this, and both can be true at the same time. You can look at each sequence on its own, and you can look at it the way the editors were manipulating you into seeing it. I do love what they've done here, and I think it's important when analyzing media to know what tools and techniques the creators have used to tell their story and be able to deconstruct their little tricks to inform your interpretation.

Anyway thank you @sweetestsixshooter for reminding me I wanted to write this down lmao

[fanboyswhore9]

The Proposal (Pt. 1)~ Sherlock Holmes

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill’s version) x Fem! reader

Contains: Henry Cavil, marriage of convenience, childhood lovers, long lost love, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

Summary: Childhood friends Sherlock Holmes and the reader were inseparable until she left for boarding school, leaving unresolved feelings between them. Nearly two decades later, she returns to 221B Baker Street with an urgent proposition: to secure her inheritance, she must marry, and she asks Sherlock for help. Unbeknownst to her, Sherlock has harbored feelings for her all along. They confess their love for each other and agree to marry, not just for convenience but out of genuine love.

A/N: THIS IS POSSIBLY THE LONGEST FIC I’VE EVER WRITTEN ON TUMBLR! This is my first Sherlock fic that I’ve done. I hope I do him justice!❤️❤️❤️❤️

The rain was steady that evening, casting a mist over the streets of London. Inside 221B Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes sat in his armchair, eyes half-lidded, mind lost in a myriad of thoughts as the fire crackled. He hadn’t had a proper case in days, which left him restless, pacing between fleeting memories and idle deductions.

A knock on the door cut through his haze. Sherlock frowned, glancing at the clock. It was late, too late for most visitors, but not impossible. Perhaps Mrs. Hudson was entertaining guests again. He rose, heading to the door, when he heard the knock again—more insistent this time.

When he opened the door, the last person he ever expected to see stood before him, soaked from the rain, her hair damp around her face. “Sherlock,” she breathed, her voice a familiar melody he hadn’t heard in almost two decades.

His breath caught. It was her. The girl from his youth, his best friend, his confidant—until she was whisked away to boarding school, leaving him behind in a cold and silent void that he rarely acknowledged but always felt. She had grown into the woman he imagined she would be: poised, beautiful, but with that same spark in her eyes that always challenged him, intrigued him.

He stepped back to let her in, not trusting his voice just yet. She entered, glancing around at the familiar setting of 221B. “Some things never change,” she said, her lips pulling into a soft smile, though there was an edge of uncertainty there. Wanting to be polite, he asked her, “I know it’s past time, but would you like a cup of tea?” She looked at him nodding gently, “Yes, please. I’d love a cup of tea.” He nods as he starts to brew tea in the kettle.

Sherlock cleared his throat, suddenly aware of the weight of the moment. “What are you doing here?” He didn’t mean for the words to sound so cold, but they came out that way regardless.She looked at him, her expression guarded, then stepped closer. “I need your help, Sherlock.”

“Help?” His curiosity piqued, but there was something else in her eyes. Something more personal. Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her coat as she gathered her courage. “I… I’ve come back to London because of my grandmother. She’s ill, Sherlock. She’s… dying.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and for once, it wasn’t merely out of politeness. “She’s left me her fortune, her estate, but there’s a catch.” She glanced away, as if embarrassed to continue. “I have to be married to inherit.” Sherlock’s brow furrowed. “Married?”

“Yes,” she said quickly, her voice tightening. “My parents are pressuring me. They’ve paraded potential suitors in front of me for months, but none of them… none of them understand me.” She took a deep breath, her eyes finally meeting his. “And I really don’t want to marry any of them.” The air between them seemed to crackle with tension. Sherlock’s mind was already racing, calculating her reasons for coming to him, searching for the logical thread.

“And you’ve come to me because…?” he asked, though a part of him already knew the answer.“Because,” she said softly, stepping closer, her eyes searching his face, “I don’t want to marry just anyone. I want to marry someone I trust. Someone I care about. Someone I…” She hesitated, her voice breaking slightly. “Someone I love.” Sherlock froze.

The words he never expected to hear from her—yet had longed to hear—hung in the air. For a moment, he was sixteen again, watching her pack her things as she left for boarding school, a thousand words unsaid between them. He had always assumed she moved on, that she forgot about him. But now, here she was, standing before him, offering him not just her trust, but her heart.

“You—” He started, but his voice faltered. His mind, usually so sharp, struggled to find the right words. “I know this is sudden,” she rushed on, her hands trembling slightly, “and maybe it’s foolish. Maybe you’ve moved on, maybe you never thought about me that way. But I had to tell you, otherwise I might regret it for the rest of my life. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, Sherlock. And if there’s even the smallest chance that you feel the same…” She trailed off, hope and fear mingling in her eyes.

Sherlock, for once, was at a loss. His emotions, something he kept carefully locked away, threatened to overwhelm him. He had thought of her often over the years, wondered where she was, what she was doing. He had buried his feelings for her, convinced they were pointless, that she was a part of his past he could never reclaim.

But now…

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he admitted quietly, his voice raw with emotion he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. “I—” He paused, the words foreign on his tongue. “I didn’t know how to say it, or if I even should. I assumed… I thought you were happy. That you had your life, your suitors.”She smiled sadly. “I never wanted anyone else.”

Silence filled the room, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy with possibilities, with unspoken promises. Sherlock, ever logical, ever calculating, found himself making a decision not based on reason but on something far more human.

“Then marry me,” he said simply, his eyes locked on hers. Her breath caught, her eyes widening in surprise. “Sherlock, I didn’t mean—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, stepping closer until they were mere inches apart. “Marry me. Not for your inheritance, not for your grandmother, but because I can’t bear the thought of you with anyone else.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she nodded, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “Yes, Sherlock. Yes.” He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he cupped her face. And for the first time in years, Sherlock Holmes, the great detective, let himself feel.

His eyes, usually so calculating and detached, softened as they locked onto hers. The distance between them seemed to disappear, years of unspoken emotions finally surfacing. His thumb gently traced the line of her cheek, his touch both tender and reverent.

“I’ve been a fool,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath, “for not realizing sooner.”

Before she could respond, Sherlock leaned in, closing the final space between them. His lips met hers in a kiss that was both hesitant and deliberate, as if he was discovering something new but also something long overdue. The kiss was soft at first, slow and searching, but then it deepened, filled with all the feelings they had kept hidden for so long.

Her hands found their way to his shoulders, holding him close as she melted into the warmth of his embrace. The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them in this quiet, intimate moment. His kiss, though unsure at first, soon became sure and steady, filled with the depth of emotion he had kept buried beneath layers of logic and restraint.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other, their breaths mingling in the silence. Sherlock’s eyes remained closed for a brief moment longer, savoring the connection, before he finally opened them to look at her. “For you,” he murmured, his voice raw with emotion, “I’ll always make an exception.” A soft smile tugged at her lips, her heart swelling at his words. “Then I’ll always be your exception.”

~SHORT TIME SKIP~

A few days had passed since she had shown up at Sherlock’s doorstep with her proposition. The weight of their confession and the whirlwind engagement still felt surreal, but there was no time for hesitation. Arrangements had to be made, and there were still people she needed to see.

That afternoon, she found herself in the grand, stately sitting room of the Diogenes Club, Mycroft Holmes’ preferred sanctuary. He greeted her with his usual aloofness, but there was a subtle curiosity in his eyes as they exchanged pleasantries.

“My brother is not one for sentiment,” Mycroft said, swirling a glass of brandy as he studied her, “but you seem to have managed what few others could.” His words were clipped but not unkind. “It’s rather remarkable.” She smiled, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. “I didn’t come here expecting him to say yes. But I know Sherlock, and I believe this is right for both of us.”

Mycroft gave her a small, approving nod. “You’ve always had a peculiar influence on him. I suppose if anyone can make sense of this arrangement, it’s you.” Before she could respond, the door opened, and a young woman with wild curls and a sharp, curious look in her eyes entered the room. Enola Holmes, Sherlock and Mycroft’s little sister, stepped in with an air of confidence. It was the first time they’d met, though she had heard much about Enola’s independent and rebellious nature.

Enola glanced between her and Mycroft, her expression caught between surprise and amusement. “So, you’re the one who’s finally going to tie Sherlock down,” she said, half-teasing, half-curious. She let out a soft giggle and smiled, amused by the younger woman’s boldness. “It seems so.” Enola stepped forward, her curiosity obvious. “I must say, I’m impressed. Sherlock’s never shown much interest in anything besides his cases. You must be quite extraordinary.”

“Not as extraordinary as you, Enola. Sherlock speaks highly of you,” she replied warmly, and that seemed to catch Enola off guard. Enola smiled, clearly pleased by the compliment. “Well, you’ve certainly earned my respect. Anyone who can handle Sherlock is worthy of admiration.”

As the girls exchanged more pleasantries, she felt a sense of warmth from Enola, a feeling of acceptance, even if it came with a bit of Holmes skepticism. It felt like the final piece of her integration into Sherlock’s life, meeting both Mycroft and Enola, and earning a place in the family dynamic that was uniquely theirs.

Later that evening, in the quiet of Sherlock’s flat at 221B Baker Street, she sat at his desk and wrote a letter to her family. Her parents, grandmother, and sister needed to be informed, though she was sure the news would spread quickly once the engagement was made official.

Dearest Mother, Father, Grandmother, & my dear Sister,

I write to you with news I never expected to share. After years of distance & time apart, I have returned to London & reunited with Sherlock Holmes. Our connection, though it was once left in the past, has rekindled, & I am pleased to inform you that I am now engaged to be married to him.

I know this news may come as a surprise, but please understand that this decision was made with great care and certainty. Sherlock has always held a special place in my heart, & I believe that this union will be one of love, companionship, & understanding.

Sister, I especially want you to know how much I look forward to you being by my side through this, & I can’t wait to tell you everything in person.

I will return home soon to speak with you all in person & explain further. In the meantime, know that I am happy and excited for what lies ahead.

With all my love,

Your daughter and sister

She sealed the letter, her heart feeling lighter as she prepared to send it. The wheels were in motion now. Everything was becoming real. Soon, her family would know, and the life she was about to build with Sherlock was just beginning.

[baelarys]

𝙃𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙚, 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙢𝙚

Aegon II targaryen x Reader Sister targaryen

word count :

Warning : anguts, Chapter 5 spoilers, Insest

Author's note : I honestly felt very bad for Aegon in chapter 5

Your stomach turned and a grimace of disgust adorned your face as you saw the head of the imposing creature being paraded like a trophy through the streets of King's Landing. Followed by this, a wooden box that contained the body of your husband, Aegon.

“The gods are going to punish us,” you said contemptuously, drawing the gaze of both Aemond and Alicent.

Aemond approached you, his expression cold and controlled.

"It's the nature of war, Y/N. We must accept the consequences," Aemond said in a firm voice, showing no apparent interest in the matter

You looked out at the crowd, your hands tightening their grip on the small stone wall of the balcony.

"They see us as gods, they see the dragons as deities," you said in a suppressed voice, your words echoing with a mixture of pain and frustration. "But they will realize that we are only flesh, as fragile as they are."

You looked away at your mother, Queen Alicent, who also looked worried. Without another word, you retreated, moving towards Aegon's room. Upon arrival, the guards made way for you, bowing their heads slightly in respect.

The room was full of maesters bustling around, trying to do everything they could to tend to Aegon. Alicent followed you closely, her anguished expression reflecting the weight of the situation. She approached Maester Orwyle, who was carefully cleaning Aegon's burned and ash-covered face.

"Its alive?" Alicent asked, her voice heavy with restrained desperation.

“His Majesty remains with us for the moment,” Orwyle explained, his professional tone trying to convey a glimmer of hope.

You watched uneasily as the maesters lifted the Valyrian steel armor from Aegon's chest. The sight of his skin lifting up, revealing fresh, sticky flesh, made you make an involuntary grimace of disgust.

Aemond entered the room and stood next to you. You hadn't noticed until then that Blackfyre was hanging from his belt next to his sword. You little bastard, you thought to yourself.

"He can recover , Maester Orwyle?" You asked, struggling to keep your voice steady.

Orwyle paused for a moment, assessing the extent of the injuries before responding.

"It is difficult to say with certainty, my lady. The injuries are serious, but we will do everything in our power to ensure your improvement," he said, his tone full of caution.

You left the room to give the maesters space while they tended to Aegon's wounds. Crossing the threshold, your eyes met Helaena, who was standing next to one of the pillars in the hallway. His face, usually serene, reflected a mixture of anguish and concern.

––––––––

You returned to Aegon's room once the maesters had finished treating his wounds. Entering, you approached the bed carefully, watching Aegon with a heavy heart.

Half of Aegon's face was burned, and his fractured leg was nearly split in half. He shifted a little in his bed, letting out a small moan of pain. The sight of his suffering moved you deeply, but you knew you had to maintain your composure.

“Aegon, I'm here,” you said softly, taking his hand tenderly.

Aegon opened his eyes slowly, his gaze searching yours. Although his features were distorted by pain, he tried to muster a smile.

“Y/N…” he murmured weakly, his voice barely audible.

"Don't talk, you need to rest," you advised, squeezing his hand gently. "The maesters have done everything they can. Now you must focus on recovering."

"If only you had listened to me," you said softly, your voice filled with a mixture of tenderness and reproach. "But you are a fool, Aegon. Always so stubborn."

Aegon let out a soft sigh, his gaze meeting yours, filled with regret and something that might have been regret. You knew that arguing about what had happened wouldn't change anything, but you couldn't help but feel the frustration that had been building.

"I'll take care of ruling while you recover. You don't have to worry," you added, leaning down to place a small kiss on his lips before taking a seat on the other side of the bed.

The thought of Aemond taking control filled you with unease. Aegon might be a stubborn and reckless king, but Aemond would be an implacable and ruthless ruler. You couldn't allow his rigid and severe vision to prevail in these delicate times.

Aegon tried to respond, but exhaustion and pain overcame him. He surrendered to sleep, his breathing still labored but calmer.

As you stood by his side, your mind filled with resolutions. You would not allow Aemond to give a single order. You would temporarily take the reins of the kingdom, ensuring that decisions were made with wisdom and compassion.

For all you knew, Aemond had taken over as Prince Regent, but you wouldn't let him take all the reins of power. You walked quickly to the council room, where the meeting had already begun. The guards opened the doors for you when they saw you stop in front of the room.

The lords stood up when they saw you enter, except for Aemond and Alicent, who watched you with interest.

"Your Majesty, what are you doing here?" asked Ser Criston, who now held the position of Hand of the King. Aegon's choice to put someone who only knew strength in such a diplomatic position had always struck you as a questionable decision.

You walked to the center of the room with natural authority, eyeing each member of the council before answering.

“I have come to ensure that the kingdom remains in order during King Aegon's recovery,” you said in a firm voice, making it clear that you were not there to argue.

Aemond watched you with a mix of challenge and curiosity. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you were determined not to give up even an ounce of power that could result in reckless decisions.

“With all due respect, sister, I am already taking charge of the affairs of the kingdom as Prince Regent,” Aemond said, his voice filled with cold authority.

"I know, Aemond. But I am the queen, and it is my duty to rule in the king's absence," you replied, looking directly into Aemond's eyes with unwavering determination.

Aemond frowned, clearly irritated by your statement, but before he could respond, you raised your hand, cutting him off with studied calm.

“Get up from my chair,” you said, your voice resounding with a mix of firmness and serenity.

The silence in the council room was palpable. All eyes were on the two of you, and the air was thick with tension. Aemond looked at you with fierce intensity, but finally stood up with a sharp gesture.

You approached the chair with quiet grace, taking your place at the council table. The lords, recognizing your authority, sat back down, while a servant brought you a new cup which they filled with wine. Aemond, after a tense moment, took a seat in the chair across from you, his gaze fixed on you.

"Ser Criston, what is our position?" you asked, your voice firm.

"We have taken control of Rook's Rest," Ser Criston answered, his tone confident.

"And the head of Princess Rhaenys's dragon?" you inquired, as you leaned back in your chair, taking in the information, your fingers tapping lightly on the rim of the glass.

“The traitor's dragon,” Aemond interjected, clearly annoyed, his voice sharp.

You turned your gaze to him, your eyes shining with a mix of determination and authority.

“Traitor or not, Rhaenys was a Targaryen, and she will be given a burial like any other dragon rider,” you declared, your voice echoing firmly in the room.

Aemond frowned, but did not immediately reply. The lords exchanged nervous glances, while Alicent watched silently, evaluating every word and gesture.

"We cannot allow our own blood to be treated with disdain, even in times of war. We must show respect and maintain our dignity," you continued. "I will order that the remains of Princess Rhaenys be prepared for a proper burial."

Ser Criston nodded, taking note of your words.

"As you wish, Your Majesty," he responded, his voice showing renewed respect.

Aemond finally broke the silence, his tone still filled with defiance.

"Let's not forget that we are at war. Showing respect is one thing, but we must be ruthless with our enemies" he said, his gaze fixed on you.

"I know, Aemond. And we will be ruthless," you replied, your words filled with steel. "But our strength also lies in our ability to maintain our principles and our humanity."

After ending the meeting, you stood up gracefully and left the council room. Arriving at Aegon's room, you found that he was still asleep, his pale and serene face contrasting with the visible wounds that were still healing.

You carefully approached the bed, feeling a lump in your throat seeing him in that state. You sighed softly, letting go for a moment of the weight of the war and politics that now consumed you. You took a seat next to the bed, watching his calm and regular breathing.

You carefully stroked his head, your fingers gently sliding through his blonde hair, now messy and dull. With each caress, you felt a deep connection, a longing to offer him comfort and protection in the midst of his fragility. His skin, still warm to the touch, responded slightly to your touch, as if his body recognized the security that only you could provide him.

You leaned towards him, placing a light kiss on his forehead. You stayed there, with your face close to his, listening to his breathing and feeling his presence. The silence in the room was almost sacred, broken only by the rhythmic sound of his breathing and the beating of your own heart.

While your fingers continued their journey through his hair, your other hand gently rested on his chest, feeling the weak but constant beat of his heart. You closed your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself a respite in that small sanctuary of peace.

Your movements were slow and careful, each touch loaded with love and dedication. You didn't need words to express what you felt; Every caress, every kiss on his forehead and cheeks spoke of your commitment and devotion. You leaned slightly, resting your head on his shoulder, seeking comfort in the physical closeness, feeling his warmth and the soft movement of his breath under your cheek.

Time seemed to stop as you stood there, wrapping Aegon in a cocoon of tenderness and care. Despite the wounds and the pain, in that moment, in that silent intimacy, you felt a renewed strength, an unwavering certainty that together you could face any adversity.

With a final sigh, you lifted your head and gently kissed his forehead again, sealing a silent promise to always be by his side. You stayed there, not moving, allowing the tranquility of the moment to settle in your heart.

[reccyls]

Victor's Main Route: Mad Love Chapter 21 + His POV Story

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The next day, the front page of every newspaper in the country was dominated by the story of the queen’s rescue.

After being abducted on the day of the parade, Her Majesty was saved by persons associated with the palace last night. According to our sources, Her Majesty is unharmed. Eyewitnesses at the scene of the abduction revealed that an explosive had been thrown from somewhere in the crowd gathered to see Her Majesty. As a result, the carriage she had been riding in had been overturned. The guards tasked with keeping Her Majesty safe were injured in the blast and unable to mobilize. Her Majesty had emerged from her carriage to check the situation, and was captured and forced into a carriage that had suddenly appeared and quickly fled the scene. Multiple people were seriously injured by the explosion, and a number of deaths have been confirmed. Given the methodical nature of the kidnapping, it is assumed that an organized group is responsible. Her Majesty is greatly saddened by the incident, and expresses her deepest condolences to the relatives and friends of the injured and deceased. She will provide the greatest possible support to the bereaved.

I put down the newspaper, letting out a sigh. A day after the kidnapping, the palace was still in an uproar. It was discovered that the group that had kidnapped the queen was a terrorist organization masquerading as a group of republicanism advocates. As the group’s methods were similar to those used during multiple bombing incidents a number of years ago, Parliament had convened an emergency session to decide how to crack down on the group. Victor had been stuck in meetings since the morning, as he needed to make an appearance as the queen’s aide to make some superficial decisions.

(But he’s been acting in secret.)

This morning, Her Majesty had given Crown an order:

“Condemn the nobles associated with Nox Liberator.”

Nox Liberator was the name of the group of republicans responsible for the prior incidents. Victor had obtained the name when he was kidnapped last night. It appeared that the predecessor of this organization had already been taken care of by Victor and William in the past. But at the time, the name Nox Liberator did not exist yet. They appeared to have adopted the name as their members grew, and they became more radical.

(And then they deliberately began performing more conspicuous actions.)

Although their modus operandi of targeting crowded public spaces resembled the serial bombings of prior years, According to Victor and William, their current leadership was far more advanced than before.

(And why did they choose to kidnap instead of assassinate the queen?)

By killing the queen, that would be the end of the monarchy and they would have been able to establish a republic. Given their goals, it would have made more sense for Nox Liberator to kill the queen on the spot rather than kidnap her.

(Even thinking about the possibility makes me sick.)

The death of the queen meant the death of my beloved. The man who I loved and whose happiness I wished for more than anyone else in the world.

(If he died…)

I stopped myself before I completed the thought and shook my head.

(I need to do what I can right now.)

I tried to change the mood, but then–

???: Kate? Are you there?

When I opened the door, Liam and Harrison were standing outside.

Harrison: We’re here to pick you up. Ready?

Kate: Yes, ready.

Liam: Then let’s go!

As I followed after them, a decorative shelf in the corridor near my room caught my eye. I thought back to last night.

-----

After the queen’s rescue had succeeded, and after I had spoken with Victor in that church… We walked back, hand-in-hand, to Crown castle.

Kate: Thank you for walking me back.

Victor: It’s a disgrace for a gentleman to let a lady walk home alone at night.

My heart skipped a beat at his words, but then recalled the other tone of voice he used.

(I wish I was the only one who could hear him talk like that.)

Whenever he spoke directly, it contrasted with his usual gentle, polite speech, and drew attention to his more forceful side. It just made him even more attractive, and I couldn’t help but fall for him harder.

(If he talks like that all the time, I don’t think my heart could take it…)

[TL note: This entire section is basically Kate fangirling over 俺 'ore’ mode Victor, and the contrast between how manly/tough 俺 feels compared with his normal speech]

Victor: I’ll escort you to your room. It’s been a long day, so make sure to rest well.

As I looked towards him about to ascend the staircase, I suddenly realized something and stopped walking.

Victor: Kate?

Kate: Um, Victor, your bedroom is in the palace, right…?

Victor: It is, yes. Why do you ask?

I recalled the simple black bedroom, hidden away behind a shelf in his office. And the glimmering music box with its broken cylinder. That lonely, barren room was where Victor lived.

Kate: I’m really happy you want to walk me to my room. But you’ll have to go all the way back to the palace, so…

It would take some time for him to return to his bedroom to rest himself.

(Of course I’m happy to spend time with him, but am I taking away his personal time for it?)

I had always thought that he lived in Crown castle. Whenever he walked me to my room, I just assumed he was doing it because it was on the way to his own room.

(But he has to go so far out of his way every time…)

Feeling bad, I looked away. But I raised my head when I heard him laugh lightly.

Victor: Don’t worry, my bedroom is connected to a lot of different places.

Kate: Huh?

Arm in arm, we began walking up the stairs. Victor’s eyes lit up with something like excitement.

Victor: That room is a little bit like a secret base. Victor: There are a lot of secret passages linked to it. You could think of it like the heart in a human body.

As we walked down the hallway, Victor began counting off on his fingers.

Victor: My office, the audience chamber, the queen’s bedroom, they’re all linked to my room by secret passages that only I know about. Victor: This castle also has a number of passageways built into it, so it won’t take me long at all to return to the palace. Victor: So don’t worry about me.

Kate: …Should you be mentioning this to me?

I felt like I was learning another national secret and apprehensively asked Victor whether this was okay. He simply turned to me with a smile.

Victor: I know you won’t go telling anyone my secrets, am I right?

His grin turned sneaky, the confidence in his expression was mesmerizing.

Kate: …Don’t say it that way.

[TL note: He uses 俺 again here.]

My heart was racing as I looked to him. He just laughed again.

Victor: All right, we’re here.

We were standing in front of my room. Reluctantly, I let go of his arm.

Kate: Thank you.

But before I could say ‘good night’, Victor spoke first.

Victor: There’s something I want to ask you to do.

Kate: What is it?

He reached into a pocket of his coat and pulled out a note.

Victor: Ignis, Aqua, Caelum, Terra.

Kate: Huh?

Victor: When I was captured, I learned the names of Nox Liberator’s leaders. Victor: These four are all nobles, and central figures of Nox Liberator.

He continued speaking with a serious expression on his face.

Victor: Starting from tomorrow, I intend to send Crown on missions to deal with them. Victor: I want you to join them, and record their condemnations as Fairytale Keeper.

He looked me directly in the eye as he handed me my assignment a little bit early.

Victor: I’m sorry to say, you’ll probably be very busy starting from tomorrow.

He looked apologetic, and dropped his gaze. Seeing him like that, I…

In that case…

It’s okay.

Leave it to me. (+4/+4)

Kate: Leave it to me. I’ll be sure to record everything.

Victor: I had a feeling you would say that. Victor: I’ve always liked that about you.

He looked better after I gave him my answer, and took a few steps towards an ornamental shelf a little bit down the hallway from my room. He put his hand to its side. The shelf then began to shift, revealing a hidden passageway.

Victor: I’m headed back to my office to get everything ready for the missions tomorrow. Victor: You should go to bed. Tomorrow will be a very tiring day.

I stood there for a while, watching him walk away.

Kate: That shelf is a secret door…

-----

Liam, Harrison, and I arrived at East End. The mission assigned to both of them was to eliminate Aqua. Aqua had apparently been part of the original group that later became Nox Liberator, and was in charge of recording and managing their activities. He was out of the country during the bombing incidents a few years ago. As a result, there was not enough evidence of his involvement, and he escaped punishment. But recently, he returned to London and resumed his record-keeping duties. …Along with something else.

Liam: This is it.

He stopped in front of a building. It was a workhouse run by Aqua to provide support to the poor.

Kate: It looks empty.

The door was half-open and there was no hint that anyone was inside it. It seemed abandoned.

Harrison: Liam.

Liam: Yup, I’ll take a look.

Liam vanished and went inside. Harrison and I stood guard outside, waiting for him to return. The door swung by itself, and Liam reappeared.

Harrison: How was it?

Liam: I couldn’t find anyone. Inside it looks just like how it does from the outside, completely abandoned. Liam: But there is a door leading to a basement. There might be something in there.

Harrison and I exchanged a glance and nodded.

Harrison: Kate, you remember what our mission is?

Kate: To condemn Aqua and retrieve his records.

Harrison: Correct. We don’t know what’s in that basement. Harrison: So make sure to be careful.

He pulled out his gun and entered the building. Following Liam’s directions, we entered the basement. The sunlight grew fainter and fainter as we progressed, replaced by cool stale air. The deeper we went into the basement, the worse it began to smell. I had to cover my mouth and nose. Liam, who had been walking in the lead, spotted a door.

Liam: I’ll turn invisible.

And with that whisper, he faded from sight.

Harrison: …I’m opening the door.

Kate: Okay.

As Harrison carefully pushed open the door with his gun at the ready…

Kate: …What…

A girl was lying on the floor. A sea of blood spread from the hole in her chest.

Kate: !

Harrison: Hey!

I ran to the girl, but she was already dead.

???: Oh dear, oh dear. I didn’t have any plans to receive guests today….

A man carrying a hunting rifle cocked his head as he looked at me. There were a few people near him that looked like his comrades, all of them carrying a weapon I had never seen before. And in the corner of the room was–

Kate: !

–a group of shivering children and piles of corpses, sitting in pools of foul-smelling blood.

(The smell was coming from the corpses.)

I bit my lip as I realized what the smell had been.

Man with gun pointed at the children: Lord Aqua.

The man with the rifle–Aqua–kept his eyes on us, his head tilted in confusion.

Aqua: …You aren’t part of Nox Liberator. You’re in plainclothes, so you’re not from the Yard or the royal guard. Aqua: Ergo, you’re either sent by someone to kill me, or you have a personal grudge. Which is it?

He began loading rounds into his rifle.

Harrison: That’s a pretty impressive weapon.

Hiding his pistol behind his back, Harrison walked closer.

Aqua: Isn’t it? I ordered this from abroad and was just testing it out.

While working as Nox Liberator’s secretary, He had also been in charge of distributing smuggled weapons to different groups.

Kate: Why…

There were so many children in the pile of corpses. There was even a pregnant woman’s corpse, a hole blown through her stomach.

Aqua: I needed to test out these weapons, and thought I’d do a bit of cleaning, too. Aqua: I figured why not kill two birds with one stone–or a dozen poor and useless children with one gun, hah!--and had them rounded up. Aqua: And, well, it had just been so much fun. Before I knew it, there was that mountain over there.

I stared in disbelief as Aqua laughed.

(!)

I noticed Harrison making a signal with the hand behind his back.

(Now’s not the time to get depressed.) (Because there are still survivors here.)

Harrison: Wow, that sounds great. I’ve been wanting to try out a new weapon. Hey, if I join up with you, will you let me hold it myself?

Aqua: Oh, if you’ll join our group, then I’d be happy to.

When everyone turned their attention to Harrison and stopped watching me, I moved closer to the children. And just as I got reached them–

Harrison: That’s a lie.

Revealing his gun, Harrison smirked.

Harrison: If you want to lie, try telling a better one. Harrison: Well, I was lying too. I don’t need any new weapon.

Blood suddenly spurted from the necks of the men holding guns.

Liam: Kate!

Kate: Everyone, over here! Quickly!

Liam appeared suddenly, slicing the throats of some of our enemies. Harrison quickly covered him, shooting at anyone who tried to attack Liam. While everyone else was occupied with the battle, I took the children and hurried to the exit.

Kate: Hurry-

Aqua: Please wait!

Immediately after I pushed the last of the weakened children out the door, I saw Aqua lifting his gun in my direction out of the corner of my eye.

(Uh oh!)

I had to at least make sure the children were safe. I slammed the door shut, and then–

Liam: If you leave even a single scratch on her, we won’t forgive you.

Aqua: Aargh!!

Liam’s knives sliced deeply into both of Aqua’s arms.

Harrison: And there’s someone who’d be even worse than us, you know.

He aimed his pistol, then blasted both of Aqua’s knees.

His POV Story: I Am Mad For You

After our talk at the church, we returned to Crown castle, hand in hand.

Kate: Thank you for walking me back.

Victor: It’s a disgrace for a gentleman to let a lady walk home alone at night.

(I would never make you walk back by yourself.)

And more importantly, I didn’t want to let go of her hand.

Victor: I’ll escort you to your room. It’s been a long day, so make sure to rest well.

Just as we were about to start walking up the stairs, for some reason, Kate stopped moving.

Victor: Kate?

Kate: Um, Victor, your bedroom is in the palace, right…?

Victor: It is, yes. Why do you ask?

I wondered if she had something to say about my room. What she said was unexpected.

Kate: I’m really happy you want to walk me to my room. But you’ll have to go all the way back to the palace, so…

(Did she assume that I lived in Crown castle?)

It wasn’t an unreasonable thought. I came here every day to eat with Crown in the dining hall and chat with them in the common room. That must have led Kate to think that I lived here. And that every time I walked her to her room before, it had been on the way to my own room. She looked so adorable when she was apologetic that I couldn’t help but laugh.

Victor: Don’t worry, my bedroom is connected to a lot of different places.

Kate: Huh?

Arm in arm, we began walking up the stairs. I began explaining about my secret passages, like a child would excitedly chatter about something top secret.

Victor: That room is a little bit like a secret base. Victor: There are a lot of secret passages linked to it. You could think of it like the heart in a human body.

As we walked down the hallway, I began counting off on my fingers.

Victor: My office, the audience chamber, the queen’s bedroom, they’re all linked to my room by secret passages that only I know about. Victor: This castle also has a number of passageways built into it, so it won’t take me long at all to return to the palace.

My bedroom was connected to various locations in Crown castle.

Victor: So don’t worry about me.

I told her that I used the secret passages to visit Crown castle every day.

Kate: …Should you be mentioning this to me?

The timid way she asked multiplied her cuteness yet again. I smiled, and decided to change my tone for my response.

Victor: I know you won’t go telling anyone my secrets, isn’t that right?

Her cheeks instantly reddened.

Kate: …Don’t say it that way.

She looked embarrassed while sneaking a look at my face. I laughed again.

Victor: All right, we’re here.

When we arrived at Kate’s room, I let go of her hand.

Kate: Thank you.

But before she could say ‘good night’, I started talking about missions.

(I know this is asking a lot of you. But I would like you to make detailed reports of the next missions, as Crown’s Fairytale Keeper.)

I knew she would agree without hesitation.

(You aren’t the only one who needs to be prepared.)

Looking into her earnest eyes, I steeled myself as well.

Victor: I’m headed back to my office to get everything ready for the missions tomorrow.

I made my way to the shelf in the hallway near Kate’s room, pulling the lever in its side. The shelf shifted, revealing a hidden passageway.

Victor: You should go to bed. Tomorrow will be a very tiring day.

Kate’s stunned face made me want to laugh. Her mouth was hanging wide open, eyes as wide as saucers. I waved to her, and she wordlessly waved back. Holding back my laughter, I turned around and left through the passageway.

Victor: Haha, her eyes nearly fell out of her head.

Once I reached my bedroom, I stopped holding back my laughter.

(I bet she never expected there to be a secret passageway there.)

When I saw her the moment the shelf started moving, I felt the satisfaction of a successful surprise.

Victor: If I told her that I only finished it a few days ago, I wonder what she would say.

I had told her that there were multiple secret passageways in Crown castle. But not that that particular exit had only been added a few days ago. She would probably be even more surprised.

(The fact that I had its construction started the day you arrived will be my secret.)

My actions were meant to let her return to her old life, in the end. But in reality, I wished that Kate would choose to stay here forever.

(I want to see you again. Even if just for a single second.) (If my past self knew that was the reason I built a new passageway, he’d be shocked.)

Until I met Kate again, It had been enough for me to see her out on the streets of London, happy and healthy.

(I’d pass by the post office sometimes to check on her before leaving.) (Those moments had been the happiest ones of my life, back then.)

Seeing her work diligently had filled my days with reassurance.

(But ever since you came here, I haven’t been able to control my desires.)

During our third meeting, I told her this:

“If you want to return to your old life, you must not fall in love with them.”

It was also a warning for me.

(I have to let go of Kate, so I can’t indulge in these feelings.)

But contrary to my expectations, she fell in love with me. Even I had never thought it would happen. I continued behaving as though she could never be happy unless I pushed her away, but… Regardless, she just wanted me to be happy.

(You have no idea how much I’ve been holding back.)

But, maybe it was time to stop.

Victor: Because, from the very first day we met– Victor: I couldn’t help but love you.

[another-lost-mc]

a new dating sim catches your eye and asmo is absolutely 100% not jealous at all.

a date with death | asmodeus x gn!reader

cw: sfw (slightly suggestive towards the end). pet names (asmo calls reader darling, sunshine). vague spoilers for parts of the game (up to day five). silly fluff and jealousy over 2d characters.

word count: 1.2k words

a/n: I really like this game (a date with death) btw, I definitely recommend it.

"I tried that new game you've been playing."

Asmo's comment catches you off-guard and your eyes slowly blink open. You were on the verge of sleep, warm and content with his chest pressed against your back and his arm draped loosely over your waist. The words are muffled slightly against your shoulder, his lips leaving a sticky trail from the hydrating mask he smoothed over them as part of his nightly skincare routine.

You've been playing a new dating sim lately. You knew Asmo peered at the monitor over your shoulder to see what you were up to, but he didn't seem all that interested. He didn't give any indication that he wanted to play it himself, either.

It's not the first romance-based game you've played in the Devildom and he never cared before. He thinks it's cute when you find a character that appeals to you. Sometimes he watches you play through the stories, or he'll listen with a smile while you talk about the game later.

When you offered to play other games with him in the past, he insisted that was Levi's area of expertise. That didn't prevent him from finding his own ways to enjoy your hobby with you though. He preferred to indulge you with a little bit of roleplay instead: parading around his room dressed like your favourite characters, imitating their speech patterns and mannerisms to sweep you off your feet, and seducing you as if they had come to life.

(Later, he seduced you properly as himself because no one can ever love you as much as he does).

But he knew right away that this particular game was different. You giggled at your desk while you tapped away at your computer. It made you smile in a soft and charming sort of way. It irked him that some pictures and words on a screen drew that sort of reaction from you the same way he did.

You lean back and glance at him over your shoulder. His expression is hard to read in the dark, but you can feel the heavy weight of his stare on your face. "I didn't know you wanted to play it. You should've told me! Did you like it?"

"Not at all," he declares firmly, and you can't help but chuckle at his sharp response.

"Really? Why not?"

"I'm so glad you asked, darling," he says as he turns over and sits up suddenly. He flips on the lamp beside him, and he rubs the back of his hand against your cheek in apology when you wince as light illuminates his room. He plucks something off the bedside table and waves it in your direction with a flourish. "I made a list!"

You give him a skeptical look as you roll over to give him your full attention, and he clears his throat and taps the top of the page. "My first complaint is the ridiculous title: I Made a Bet and Have to Survive the Next Seven Days Without Falling in Love With a Babygirl Reaper Who Wants My Soul! Seriously? The title alone should warn you how terrible it's going to be."

"That's not what it's called in the human world," you explain with a shrug. "I don't understand why they changed it here, it's a little bit silly."

He tsks under his breath. "Silly indeed. Where do I even begin with this so-called love interest? It's almost like the creators have never met a real reaper before. I can assure you most of them aren't as nice or cute as they make him out to be." The look he shoots you next is oddly serious, and it sends a chill up your spine as his words sink in. "I recommend not getting too close to their kind. Thirteen seems docile enough, but I prefer your body and soul to remain in one piece."

You're not sure how to begin to respond to that little speech, but he pokes the paper with his finger and continues reading his list of "glaring issues" with the game. The complaints get more ridiculous and obscure, and it's only when he gets to the bottom of the page that the reason for his sour mood dawns on you.

"...and when I thought it couldn't get any worse, he calls you 'sunshine.' He has some nerve - that's what I call you. Remember when Mammon thought it would be funny to call you his sunshine too?" A dangerous gleam twinkles in his eyes before it disappears just as quickly. "At least he learned not to do that again," he murmurs under his breath.

You shuffle over on your knees and swing your leg over his thighs so you can sit in his lap. "Do you have any other complaints on that little list of yours?" you ask him with a teasing smile.

He huffs in frustration and his frown is adorable - of course he has one more grievance to share. "That stupid reaper doesn't even know your favourite flower. Tomorrow I'm going to buy you the biggest and most beautiful bouquet you've ever seen."

He finally drops the paper but neither of you spare it a second glance as it falls over the side of the bed and flutters to the floor. He wraps his arms around you and squeezes your waist gently, slumping his head against your chest with a drawn-out sigh. "I don't see what you like about him."

"Oh, Asmo." You run your hands gently through his hair as you hide your smile against the crown of his head. "Are you telling me there's a video game character you're actually jealous of?"

"Of course not," he mumbles into your collarbone, mouthing softly at the skin with little flicks of his tongue but it's not quite enough to distract you. "I wanted to see what all the hype was about." His teeth graze the bottom of your throat and you swallow down a quiet moan. "I found it extremely disappointing, by the way."

You cradle his jaw gently and tilt his head up so you can kiss the corner of his mouth. "You're so cute when you pout," you coo softly, just to watch how his cheeks turn pink. "I hope you know that he could pop into existence and appear outside your window right now, and I still wouldn't be interested in him. He's not you."

The words seem to soothe him a bit if the purring in his chest is anything to go by. You kiss the tip of his nose and let out a quiet squeak when he grasps the back of your neck and pulls you down so he can kiss you.

Repeatedly.

"You're right, darling." Kiss. "He's completely irrelevant," kiss "and I've already forgotten what his name is."

The world tilts suddenly as Asmo flips you onto your back and braces his weight on his hands. You giggle when he leans down and noses along your jaw. One of his hands slowly glides down your chest and tugs at the hem of your shirt, lifting it up and tossing it aside without a second thought.

"Let's see if I can make you forget his name too, hmm?"

read more: asmodeus masterlist | obey me masterlist

[aworldinsideaperson]

Loss-Robert “BOB” Floyd

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x wife!reader

Plot: The worst day of Bob’s life.

Warnings: Critical injuries, medical themes (probably many inaccuracies), Angst, sadness, potential for death, car accident, talk of Carol Bradshaw’s death.

Word Count: 2,967

Robert Floyd had few fears. If asked, he would say the list of things that scared him was rather short. Spiders, talking to new people, and death. Though as he walked in circles around the hospital waiting room he wondered if the only thing that truly terrified him would come to pass.

He couldn’t tell if it had been seconds or hours since he arrived, a phone call he never expected to receive putting him in auto pilot; one moment standing beside his friends smiling to being in the faux comforting waiting area trying to piece together the words the doctor had uttered.

Accident. Bleeding. Severe. Surgery. Everything we can. Everything we can. Everything. We. Can. Bob Floyds one, true, debilitating fear coming to fruition. The loss of his wife.

He was hardly aware of his surroundings, pacing in a never ending circle, determined to walk a hole into the floor of this hospital. One by one his friends came, calmly laying a hand on his shoulder and taking a seat to watch Bob’s cyclical parade of one.

Phoenix stood from her seat, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder as he came to a stop. “Bob, why don’t you sit down.”

His head shook violently as the tears came to his eyes and his breath caught as he stuttered quickly. “I- I- I can’t. I can’t shit- sit c- c- cause they’re gonna- gonna be out any- ugh- any second and ugh they’re um- they’re gonna - they’re gonna tell me she’s okay and- and I- I just- I just- I gotta be ready. Cause- Cause if I'm standing they’ll know who to talk to and- and there won’t be any kind of um mix up with- with who to- who to talk to. So I’m gonna stand and I’m gonna wait and- and she’s gonna be fine. She’s gonna be fine and- and- and- and-” He could feel his heart beginning to race again and he found it difficult to get a breath as the panic began to rise in his chest once again.

Nat took his hand and squeezed to tightly in hopes of grounding him as she spoke gently. “What if I stand for a little while, you sit, take a breath, and I’ll stand. So they know.”

Looking into her eyes Bob took a deep breath and nodded. “Thank you.” He said softly as he squeezed her hand and moved back to the seat Natasha had vacated.

Bob sat between Bradley and Jake, taking a deep shaking breath, and Natasha stood. She took up post for her backseater, pacing in his place; half an hour she paced before Bradley took her place, then Jake after him. A change of guard every thirty minutes as each of his coworkers, his friends, his family, took turns standing and pacing and waiting. His people being there for him as much if not more than his wife.

As Bob stands, ready to let Maverick have the seat he’s vacating is when news finally comes. Striding toward the naval group was a tall man with a stoic look. “Mister Floyd?” Feeling as though the air has caught in his chest once again Robert Floyd only nods and takes a single step closer.

He tries to keep his head high with confidence as the man before him stands rigid and places his hands behind his back, his face still set without emotion. Bob is sure he’s about to get the worst news of his life, quickly playing out if anyone would be fast enough to stop him from walking into traffic. Then the doctor’s lips start to move.

“My name is Doctor Michaels, would you like to go somewhere more private?”

Robert Floyd looks around the room, filled with some of the people who cared about him most, people who’d kept him alive, people he’d kept alive, his family, and he shook his head as tears began to well up in his eyes.

Nodding, Dr. Michaels continued. “Your wife is on her way out of surgery and into recovery. Making it through the surgery was tough but she did make it. She is by no means out of the woods and I don’t want to give you a false sense of hope but you can come back and stay with her while we monitor her and get a room ready.”

Dr. Michaels began to walk away, leading Bob toward a double door as he continued to speak. “Over the next few hours we can discuss the extent of her injuries and what recovery may look like going forward.” He stopped beside a clear glass wall and Bob averted his eyes, keeping his focus on the doctor as he continued to speak. “She’s not out of the woods but making it through the surgery should be seen as a positive step.” Reaching out and placing a hand on Bob’s shoulder Dr. Michaels attempted a reassuring smile of sorts. Peaking for the first time at his badge he saw a yellow line across the bottom and the word ‘Resident’ in bold script. He wondered if this was the first time he’d had to deliver poor news. If the worst day of Bob’s life was a sort of milestone for the young man before him. “You can head in whenever you’re ready.” Squeezing his shoulder Dr. Michaels turned away and continued to walk down the hall.

Squeezing his eyes tightly Bob breathed deeply and finally turned to the door the opened automatically before him. Stepping inside the room he was greeted to a barely lit room, two nurses moving beside his wife tending to her. Tucking a blanket around her legs, hanging bags from her IV pole, quietly finishing and moving from her bedside. Both nurses gave him a small, sad smile as the left the room.

He couldn’t bring himself to move. He couldn’t bring himself to look up from the floor. The beeping. The pumping of the ventilator. He wasn’t ready to attach the surrounding sounds with an image. It feels like an eternity before he feels he can look at her. She doesn’t look like herself. Hooked up to machines, bags of medication dripping into her body, bruises and cuts marking every inch of skin he can see. It’s not until he sniffles that he realizes the tears he’s been bottling for hours have finally broken free. He moves slowly across the room, sitting in the chair beside the hospital bed. He reaches out to brush his fingers over her hand, fingers then slipping into her palm and drawing patterns on the soft skin. The only place that seems to be free from cuts.

Letting out a breath he trains his eyes on the face of the woman he’s loved for so long. “Hello there Mrs. Floyd, it’s me, Mr. Floyd your husband. I’m here darlin’.

Hours had passed, the sun long since set when a hand was once again placed on his shoulder. His fingers still drawing on the skin of his wife’s palm as he looked up at several staff members shuffling into the room. The woman holding his shoulder spoke gently. “We’re going to transfer her to the ICU now. The process of moving patients can be overwhelming for family so if you’d like to come with me I have some paperwork for you to work on; you can it back to the waiting room and I’ll come get you when she’s all settled?”

Bob shook his head, turning back to look at the woman he loved. “I’d much rather stay.”

“Truthfully Mr. Floyd-” She began before being cut off by Bob.

“It’s Lieutenant. Sorry she’s always on me about correcting that.” He didn’t have a habit of interrupting people. In fact if his mother had been in the room she would have attempted to scold him like he was a little boy again. But his wife was always addamet about correcting his title. Said he worked hard for it and deserved to have it recognized. She’s been so proud of his promotion she’d moaned lieutenant for hours that night.

“Lieutenant Floyd.” She began again. “Truthfully, she’s due for more sedation and there is a probability that she’s come out of it enough to experience some significant pain during the transfer. You need to take care of yourself too and you don’t need to experience that. Please. Let me come get you when we have her all settled.” She reached for the hand he had dangling over the armrest and squeezed it in her own. “I promise you if things take a turn in the time you’re away I will come and get you quicker than a flash.”

Bob looked into her eyes and as his shoulders relaxed he nodded. He squeezed wife’s hand once more, and whispered that he’d be right back as he kissed her forehead. Then he turned from the bed, following the woman out of the room and towards the nurse’s station. With a sad smile she hands him a stack of papers, a clipboard, and a pen.

“Here is that. Take your time with it. There is a lot of information and questions in there so don’t feel like you have to do it all at once.” Turning around she reached for a large opaque bag with the hospital’s name and logo printed on the front and handed it to him. “Here are her belongings. Most of the clothing was unsalvageable but everything is in there except…” Her eyes darted around the space in front of her as she searched for something. “Aha! This is the jewelry she was wearing when she came in, including her wedding ring.” Placing the small bag in his hand and wrapping his fingers around it as she squeezed his hand tightly. A feeling of comfort passed through him as she held it tightly. “I’ll come get you the moment she’s settled.”

Looking into her eyes Bob took her in for a moment. A short woman, early 50’s, graying brown hair and deep brown eyes radiating kindness. She reminded him of his mother and tears came to his eyes again. “Thank you.” His words hardly audible.

“Do you need help finding the waiting room?”

Shaking his head Bob slipped the small bag into his pocket. “No, I remember. Thank you ma’am.” She nodded and Bob turned to walk back to the room where his nightmare started.

Walking back through the double doors he looked up to find the waiting room still half full of faces he knew and a gentle smile came to his face. “What’re you guys still doing here?”

Mickey answered. “We wanted to be here in case either of you needed anything.”

Shaking his head Bob found two empty seats, placing the contents of his arms in one and plopping down heavily into the other. “You didn’t need to do that. It’s been hours.”

Natasha moved to the other side of her friend, draping an arm around his shoulder and pulling him in for an awkwardly angled hug. “We needed to be here for you. How is she?”

“Not good. Critical condition they say. They’re transferring her to the ICU and they’ll come get me when she’s settled.” He leaned forward, his forearms on his knees as he closed his eyes and tried to focus his breathing.

“How are you?” Jake asked, today one of the few times he’d been truly kind to Bob.

Looking up at him, his body still resting forward, Bob let out a huff that was reminiscent of a laugh. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” Leaning back again, eyes trained on the floor as he spun his wedding ring around his finger. “You guys should head home, it’s late and I’m sure we’ll still be here in the morning.”

“At least let us see her. Let her know that we’re here for her and that we’re with you. Whatever either of you need, we’re here.” Maverick insisted.

Looking around the room, the eyes of his friends trained on him as they all nodded in agreement so Bob nodded too. Tears filling his eyes at the love surrounding him. “Thanks guys.”

For 45 minutes the group sat in near silence; startling at every opening door or foot step rushing past. When the woman from earlier came into the room Bob made sure to take note of her name tag. Elizabeth. Social worker. She smiles warmly as she approaches Bob, taking note of the gaggle of people following along as they arrive on the 8th floor. Trekking down the hall in a single file line until they reach room 875. Directly across from the nurse’s station. Bob grabs Nat’s hand and squeezes tightly as the two of them walk into the room, everyone else lining up against the wall to wait.

He can hear Nat suck in a breath but to Bob it’s a better sight than before. The room is a little brighter, there’s a tv playing the Food Network attached to the wall, a wall of windows and they’d turned off the sound of the monitors so at least he wouldn’t have to hear the incessant beeping though the sound of the compressing ventilator still filled the room. His wife is still covered in bruises and cuts, but she looks like she’d been cleaned up. Most of the dried blood was gone, and it looked as though someone had at least attempted to smooth her hair. Sitting in the hard recliner beside her bed, Bob took her hand again and the tension in his shoulders eased. “Let everyone know they can come in when they’re ready.” Bob didn’t move as she left the room and returned with their flock.

For several minutes everyone just stood watching. Watching as her chest moved up and down. Looking at a woman whose face they knew but the could hardly recognize in the current state. Then slowly but surely they stepped up to her bedside one by one.

Fanboy taking her hand and whispering a prayer before kissing it and making a sign of the cross.

Rueben with a crack in his voice assured her that she’d be okay as he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

Jake had tears welling in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around Bob from behind and squeezed him tightly. “I live the closest. Call me if things change.”

Coyote stayed by her feet, his face hard as he gently patted her ankle and quickly left the room.

Maverick kissed her forehead, telling Bob he’d be back in the morning.

The last three in the room, Bob, Nat, and Bradley. The three of them sat silently for some time; Natasha in the chair opposite Bob and Bradley on the couch built into the wall beneath the windows. Eventually as the clock signaled the end of one day and beginning of the next Natasha stood, pressed a kiss to her good friend’s head and turned to Rooster.

“You comin’ Roo?”

“Actually Bob, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to stay.”

Giving Bradley a sad smile he let his head fall to the side as it shook. “You really don’t have to do that Brad.”

“I want to.” He assured.

Bob nodded and Phoenix said her goodbyes, hugging her backseater extra tightly and then leaving the men alone in the room.

Bob sighed, his hand still gripping tightly to his wife’s. He leaned back in the chair and turned his head to face Rooster. “So, why’d you want to stay?”

Bradley leans back slowly, running a hand through his hair as he looks up at the ceiling. “Um, my mom was in the hospital when she died. She had been doing pretty good and we were expecting her to get out soon so no one was there. Well, no one but me. One second we were laughing and talking about going on a road trip before I left for college and the next,” His eyes were now trained on the ground, emotions surfacing that he rarely let others see. “Well the next she was gone.” Standing up, Rooster took the seat on the other side of the bed and took her hand in his. “I was alone when my mom died and I know that Mrs. Floyd here is going to make a full recovery, but on the off chance that I’m wrong, you don’t deserve to be here alone.” Bradley looked over at Bob who’s tears were once again finally spilling over.

“Can I have a few minutes alone with her right now?”

“Yeah. I’ll go find us something to snack on, gotta be a halfway decent vending machine around here.” He stood and walked out of the room, the door closing behind him.

Bob sits in silence at first. His head devoid of thoughts as he watches his wife’s chest move up and down in time with the only sound in the room. He’s holding her hand, remembering the very first time their hands touched all the way back in the 7th grade. How her fingers had brushed against his so softly as they sat side by side in the library. It happened six times before Bobby swallowed his fear and took hold of her hand firmly. Their hands had been so small then but he remembered them fitting like puzzle pieces when their fingers interlocked. Their hands had grown but they always managed to still fit together perfectly.

Bob closed his eyes tight, lifting her hand to his lips he pressed a kiss to the back of it before he looked at his wife’s face and spoke firmly. “I don’t know if you can hear me baby, but if you can, don’t give up on me.”

[circumscribitwrites]

When in Rome

To celebrate reaching 100 followers, here's a longer, steamier TF-focused story. I hope you all enjoy it, and thank you for your support!

“All I’m saying, guys, is that the operative word in ‘Ren Faire’ is Renaissance.”

My friends, Miles and Leo, rolled their eyes. 

“Dude, come on! It’s all about having fun,” Miles said. “Doesn’t have to be all historical or whatever. And where else can I dress like this?”

Miles gestured to his homemade minotaur costume: black hooves, fuzzy brown pants, no shirt, and horns fastened to a headband. Under the beating summer sun, sweat had begun to run down from his face, onto his bare chest, and down his toned abs.

“But that’s exactly what I mean!” I said. “Minotaurs, pixies, Victorian ladies, mad scientists - just a total disregard for the actual theme. And you,” I turned to Leo. He was dressed as a knight. Well, dressed was too generous: Other than his boots and gauntlets, he was hardly wearing anything. “Your breastplate’s basically a crop top! And a thong, really?”

“What can I say?” Leo said, smirking. “I like showing off.”

“Wait a second…Did we only come here so you could parade around half-naked?” 

They looked at each other for a moment, then back at me.

“Uhh, I mean, that was kinda the plan…?” Miles said.

“Yup. Everybody loves a knight, especially when he’s got a sword, too.” Leo said, not so subtly adjusting himself. “But uh, look, we thought you’d like it. Aren’t you into this kinda shit? I mean, not shit, but, like, y’know what I mean?”

“Yeah…thanks.”

“Not too late to get an outfit or somethin’.” Miles said. “You wanna dress up?” He pointed to a few vendors selling all manner of outfits and accessories. “We’ll help you find somethin’, right?”

Leo nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, dude! You could be a wizard! Aren’t you always playing that game? Or, like, I dunno, one of those jester dudes?"

I sighed. “I don’t know. I guess it’s just different for me.”

I was different from Miles and Leo. I didn’t have their easy confidence. Or the arrogance that comes with admiring your post-workout self in the mirror. Some days, I hardly left our apartment. I loved history, but was I missing out on my own life to study someone else’s? They probably never worried about this sort of thing... 

“Uh, hello? You still with us, man?” Leo waved his hand over my face.

“Yeah, just thinking. Fine, sure. I’m okay if we take a look, but I probably won’t get anything.”

“Nice! There’s gotta be something good in here.” Miles said. 

Steampunk goggles? Nope. Dragon wings? No, not for me. 

We’d made it to the last of the vendors before something caught my eye: a Roman legionary’s uniform. Was it authentic? Probably not - and Imperial Rome was beyond my expertise. But whatever its faults, the armor was better than any of the cheap costumes we’d passed.   

“I don’t want to jinx it, but that might be the one,” I said. Leo and Miles gave me a thumbs-up as I made my purchase.

It was…a lot. Too much, really. But I hoped it was worth it. 

“So, I guess I’ve got to go put this on now, right?” I shook my head. “I’ll catch you guys later?”

“Yep! Lookin’ forward to the reveal, haha,” Leo said, walking off with Miles the minotaur in search of something to eat. 

I began the long, sweaty trek back to the car. It did seem as good as any place to change. I sat down, cranked the AC, and examined what I’d bought. 

First, of course, was the armor. I ran my hands along the cold, dark leather, tracing the outlines of the chestplate’s hammered abs and pecs. I guess it was nice to know I could look just as shredded as my roommates - and still keep my shirt on...

Then there was the helmet and pauldrons, the wrist guards, a tunic, a loincloth as skimpy as Leo’s thong, and finally, some knee-high leather sandals. 

What had I gotten myself into? 

Maybe I should just take everything back. That guy said he took returns, right? Ugh. As stupid as it seemed, I didn’t want to disappoint Miles and Leo. I had to change. 

I looked around to make sure nobody could see me, then quickly slipped out of my clothes. I tossed my briefs into the backseat, grabbed the loincloth, and tied it tight around my waist. 

Perhaps too tight. 

I slammed myself back into the seat, eyes closed, clenching my jaw. The rush of heat between my legs was unbearable. I could feel myself lengthening, thickening, dropping. I grabbed at myself, hoping for any relief. The loincloth dampened. Sweat ran down my body. My scent filled the car. I couldn't think straight.

I shook my head. What just…? I looked down. The loincloth was stretched to its limit. The heat had cooled somewhat, but I felt it moving through my waist, down to my legs, and up to my chest. 

Why stop now? 

I put on the sandals. Muscles stretched. Skin shifted. Then, in an instant, my calves swelled. My once-thin legs strained against the loose leather, stretching the material until it nearly snapped. A thin dusting of hair had sprouted along my solid legs, traveling down to my feet and toes. My feet widened, thick calluses covering my soles.

I threw on the tunic, then pulled on the chestplate, the pauldrons, and the wrist guards. The heat roared upward, ripping the wind from my lungs. I felt my stomach tighten and narrow into clear-cut abdominals and obliques, years of fat burned away in an instant.

Then, it lept higher, racing through my hardening pecs, out to my broadening shoulders, through my biceps, my arms, into my hands. 

Muscles bulged. Veins popped. My heart pounded as it struggled to keep up with my body. 

My body. 

I adjusted the rearview mirror, gazing at my own reflection.

Shit. I looked…good. I felt…good.

Just one more step. I grabbed the helmet and lowered it onto my head. Thing fit like a damn glove. Like it was made for me. Huh. Couldn’t really hear too good in it. Or, uh, think too good, haha. 

But that’s alright. I like it. I like me. 

Guess this fair thing’s pretty cool. Yeah, and that history stuff don't matter as long as you're havin' fun. Just gotta get back out there 'n show off a little. I hope Miles and Leo are gonna like what they see!

Like the story? Want to support me? Check out my Ko-fi!

[lara4eclipze]

» Gameboy

sypnosis: if crying was fun, ill be having the time of my life — if loving you was a jump, yeah, i probably died a hundred-ten times

warnings: angst, fluff, implied relationship, jelousy, comfort and etc

talks: I'm in an angst mood so.... smut and fluff reqs might take longer

taglist: @ohmyhaely @nyssalvr @vrtualstar @c-yerim @jellaaa @nakylvr @chuugetmesohigh

lara had taken you as her plus one in a hybe artists party — the night was truly a dream, music blasted all throughout the venue as lara was hand in hand with you

yet lara was close to her friends to be specific yunjin — hugging, pet names even small playful jokes, you drowned out your simmering jealousy with a smile and hugs

you thought to yourself that they were just close — maybe you are just less social, perhaps lara was just missing her friend — you are practically arm candy at this point anyways you shouldn't overthink it

yet as you stand at the corner of the venue you could argue is the best spot all you can see is her and lara, her and lara having fun — when you're the one she's supposed to be having fun with, you're the one she should be with

lara barely recognized your presence the rest of the night — she paraded around with yunjin clinging to her arm, laughing about a joke that was too cheesy for you to remember, what you do remember is a feeling that you didn't belong there, you didn't like the place nor the people

music blasted through the speakers, as everyone did cheers to katseye — as you ran up to congratulate your girlfriend, a hand pushed you away a guard to be specific "hybe idols only sorry" the guard stated, "I'm lara's plus one you can..." you looked again at the desi girl — there she was again ms,huh hugging lara and screaming loudly over the music, "nevermind, thank you" you cut off the rest of the sentence walking off

you sat at the table once occupied with the katseye girls now only you and a couple of unfinished plates of food — you didn't care about anything anymore, you wanted to come home — hug lara and ask for reassurance, that you were still who she wanted

of course, you fought yourself to stop overthinking don't mind it, yet the feelings overwhelmed you — you couldn't speak to anyone cause you were practically no one in this room, and you couldn't stand to look at the red-head at all

"hey you alright?" you heard the filipina ask you — snapping you out of your thoughts — you couldn't make out her features well because of the colorful lights blaring all around yet you knew she was worried

"yeah..just drained" you lied, the older girl knew you, you lived for parties like these — that the main reason you met lara, "come with me let's get some drinks" sophia eases and with enough convincing you agreed

you two walk to the bar, sophia orders a mango sunset for both of you — a mocktail cause shockingly the leader didn't like alcohol much

the feeling of loneliness left for a moment — as you and sophia talked, "hey i know lara can be so much sometimes — but she's never been better... you've changed her you know?" sophia says before bidding a short goodbye walking back to the middle of the room to interact with some illit members

you let the words sink in for a bit — has lara changed? has she changed for the better?, sophias words really strung a chord in your heart

until you felt warm tears paint your face — the trickled down like shiny diamonds embezzling your face, you really couldn't handle not being with lara neither

you've changed her the same way she changed you, you wipe away the tears yet they wouldn't stop falling, embarrassingly fast

"my love? where have you-" lara mutters before taking a look at your face "my god are you crying?!, are you alright my love I'm sorry i was just so caught up earlier" lara sputters an apology even though she didn't know what she exactly did to extract such emotions from you

you shush the girl only clinging to her — hiding your face at her neck as you inhale the familiar scent of home — safety and love

"i love you" you both say — lara nuzzles into your hair, smelling that coconut and vanilla shampoo she first offered you

lara would never know what hurts you — cause you didnt even know what did hurt you, its all a part of growing together — improving and nurturing each other even if that meant hurting

[ryanmarshallryan]

Pride Pool Party

Here is a vore story inspired by a scenario requested by @malebellyvore987

Nathaniel and Jonathan were having a lot of fun celebrating their first pride month together as boyfriends. They went to the local parade and watched all the fun floats go by, waving to their friends who were marching along among the floats. Nathaniel’s younger brother, Hector, had never been to a pride parade but had always wanted to go, so they let him tag along.

“I think Mario’s hosting a pool party sometime later today,” Jonathan mentioned to Nathaniel as they watched a gay men’s chorus march by blasting Chappel Roan, “did you wanna stop by for a bit? Maybe after we drop off Hector?”

Before Nathaniel could chime in, Hector who had been listening blurted out “Pool party! I wanna come!”

“Hector, this won’t be like one of your college frat parties,” Nathaniel responded, adjusting his sunglasses in the hot sun, “I think the dress code is speedos… or less.”

“C’mon we don’t have a pool, and it is soooo hot. I don’t have a problem with guys there assuming I’m gay,” Hector retorted.

“Yeah, but isn't this like your first pride? We don’t wanna overwhelm you too much,” Jonathan added.

“Guys relax, I can blend in. Anyways I’d spend most of my time under the water, not bothering anybody…” Hector replied, now beginning to pull his sweat drenched shirt off over his head, “but I’ll let everyone enjoy the view.”

“Gross,” Nathaniel joked when Hector revealed his skinny toned frame. Someone on a float whistled at him and Hector spun his shirt around over his head in response.

After making their way back through the crowds and taking the subway, they found their friend Mario’s apartment complex and headed over to the secluded pool area. 

The scene had been decked out in the vomit of a rainbow monster. Multi-colored streamers adorned the fence. A rainbow-sequined fabric was strung up near a box of props for photo taking. The pool was littered with rainbow and pool donuts, and the snack table was arranged as well with donuts adorning rainbow designs. Hector admired some particularly lewd posters hanging by a changing area, and saw a caption underneath that read like “Made by an actual, full-time gay man, not but some money hungry conglomerate that showers the world in rainbows only one month a year.”

Nathaniel and Jonathan found their way into a changing area, visited with Mario and chatted a bit, then dove into the pool to cool off for a bit and socialize with the other swimmers. Jonathan began to remark “where’s Hector,” when they saw a flash above their heads as Hector jumped over them in only his underwear and did a cannonball in the center of the crowd.

“Well, there’s your answer,” said Nathaniel, wiping water out of his eyes.

Hector stayed true to his word and began exploring under the water to get out of the heat. At one point he came up to Jonathan and Nathaniel and whispered, “I’ve never seen so many yahoos in my life!”

“Yahoos? You sound like you're twelve,” Nathaniel replied.

“Hector, maybe don’t stalk guys' junk from under the water,” Jonathan added, “It’s kinda weird.”

“Only admiring, don’t worry,” Hector said, then pointing to a guy across the pool, “He’s been doing it, too.”

“I think I’m gonna go dive into the pool,” Nathaniel said, searching for an excuse to leave this uncomfortable conversation. 

Hector nodded goodbye, then went off jumping back underwater and splashing nearby swimmers who were caught off guard.

Nathaniel closed his eyes and took a deep breath and tried to convince himself that everything was going great, willing the universe to not let his brother mess up his pride pool party day. Apparently the universe had other plans. For the moment Nathaniel opened his eyes and lept head first to dive into the water, he saw a slim figure approaching from the depths of the pool, that was not his reflection.

It happened very quickly. Hector, who had been playing around sitting on the bottom of the deep end, then coming up for air at the last second, zoomed to the surface and opened his mouth as wide as he could to take in a big gulp of air. But instead he got a face full of his brother, Nathaniel, who slammed hard into the back of his throat, and kept sliding down with astonishing speed into his rapidly expanding stomach. Nathaniel felt his arms crumple against his body, as he was forced to curl up, tightly encased in the balloon of his brother’s stomach. Hector, had the wind knocked out of him from the unexpected gulp of Nathaniel, and experienced a short period of shock as he tried to suck in air but could not pull down his diaphragm. 

Jonathan swam over, planning to greet Nathaniel in the pool, and wiped the water out of his face to find Hector, who was now wheezing with his torso under the water.

“Hector, are you okay? Did you swallow a bunch of water or something?” Jonathan asked, concernedly.

Hector tried to respond but was still too out of breath to form words. But a guttural, mumbled and grumbling sound issued out of his throat. Hector took one more deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, but instead found another voice issuing from out of his throat saying, “Oh he swallowed something all right!”

Jonathan looked down in surprise. He assumed the large view of Hector’s gut was simply an illusion of the light refracting in the water. He plunged under the water, opened his eyes to the stinging chlorine, and put his ear to Hector’s deformed and distended belly, which was forming the exact shape of his boyfriend in fetal position. He could hear frustrated grunting.

“Hector, you ate my boyfriend? You ate your brother?” Jonathan yelled in confusion.

Hector replied with a sheepish, toothy smile to show apology. “In my defense he literally dove down my throat,” Hector replied, now rubbing his tight gut.

“Regardless of how it happened, it’s time to get him out. Right now,” Jonathan tried to push on Hector’s stomach, but ended up just pushing Hector through the water to the shallow end. Swimmers they passed by stopped the conversation to gaze at the unexpected view of the tight man-filled belly emerging out of the water. “Nothing to see here people, unless you got some emetic drugs or something.”

Jonathan got Hector up against a wall of the pool and continued pushing, but that just made Nathaniel more uncomfortable, and as he tried to wriggle around to avoid being squeezed too hard by the stomach and added pressure of Jonathan’s hands, Hector moaned in discomfort as his insides were pressed tightly against his spine to make room for the comparatively gigantic mass in his gut. 

Next, Jonathan made Hector open his mouth wide again, and tried to shove his arms down Hector’s throat to grab Nathaniel and pull him out. This not only did not work, it had the opposite result, as Hector’s peristalsis kicked in and he began swallowing Jonathan as well.

Jonathan had just enough time to yell “I need a big strong bear to pull me out of this!!!” before his head was sucked in along with his arms into Hector’s powerful esophagus. 

By the time the bears had been summoned, Jonathan was up past his groin into Hector’s mouth and throat, and his arms and head had reached the stomach. Jonathan and Nathaniel got closer than they ever got before as they were crushed between Hector’s clammy stomach walls, with tingling stomach acid and sweat making it difficult to grip onto one another.

One of the bears reached his arms around the slender waist of Hector from the back and picked him up, with pressure on the lower half of Hector’s belly. Two other bears grabbed hold of Jonathan’s legs, which only the lower half of were showing outside of Hector’s mouth. Mario came over too and started chanting “1… 2… 3… Heave!!!” over and over again. LIttle by little, inch by inch, they pulled Jonathan’s body back out of Hector’s maw. Jonathan was trying his best to hold tight to Nathaniel, but as his head made it past Hector’s face, he felt his hands slipping. Luckily one of the bears noticed, grabbing onto Nathaniel’s wrist and pulling with a great might. 

Once Nathaniel and Jonathan were freed from Hector’s surprisingly powerful and durable stomach, the lot of them waded in the water with the bears, all catching their breath. The guys thanked the bears, who thanked them for an unexpected and interesting experience. One of the bears tickled Hector’s belly and joked that the little’s stomach was much bigger than his eyes it seemed. The other bear that had held Hector from the back gave Hector a slap on the butt, and swam on.

The last of the bears admired Nathaniel and Jonathan saying, “Hey if you two ever wanna have fun inside a gut that’s actually roomy enough to hold both of you, send me a message.” He pulled a sticky note pad and a pen out of his pocket and wrote his number down twice and gave it to each of them. The bear gave them a wink, and swam backwards, letting his belly rise above the water, looking like a whale coming up for air.

“How did that guy have a dry piece of paper in his pocket?” Jonathan asked.

“Honestly a lot of surprising things happened today and that’s the least of my concerns,” Nathaniel replied.

Jonathan held the paper up out of the water to avoid getting it wet, “Well, it could be fun to try something new.”

Mario dove into the water next to them and came to chat. “All right, Hector? Maybe refrain from eating these lads in the future,” he said, patting Jonathan and Nathaniel on the backs, “but if I run into any willing meals I’ll send them your way,” he said with a wink.

“Oh, no, that was all an accident, I didn’t mean to - wait, there are guys willing to - ” Hector began.

“Thanks so much for hosting, Mario. Sorry for my brother. He gets nervous and starts stress eating in crowds,” Nathaniel cut him off.

“No I don’t! Don’t make me - “ Hector began again.

“Well don’t just be food, come eat some! We’ve got a great buffet over by the changing rooms. And I mean eat as much as you can, I do not have the fridge space for all of this,” Mario implored them.

“I think I know a guy who could definitely help with that,” Nathaniel said, just before playfully punching Hector in the gut. “Race ya,” and they were off to the buffet to fill their bellies, and enjoy the rest of the pride pool party.