#Marriage Challenges

[mrgaretcarter]

Challengers + I'm Your Man by Mitski

[dc-probate-attorney]

The Realities and Triumphs of Long-Distance Marriages

In a world that’s increasingly interconnected, yet still vast in its geographical expanse, long-distance relationships have become more common than ever before. Among these, long-distance marriages stand out as a testament to the power of love and commitment in the face of physical separation. While distance undoubtedly presents its own set of challenges, these marriages often flourish, proving…

[ai-kan1]

After all these years Riddles ghost marriage fit is still my favorite riddle fit 🌹

[queerism1969]

[alxandergoth]

✩‧₊‧🥰.⊹♡

[backpackingspace]

Okay yes it's romantic and over the top and completely in character and very very impressive that odysseus made a bed out of living trees. However all I can think about is that every single day Penelope and odysseus would have woken up with olives and leaves covering them.

[duusheen]

Adulthood and midlife crisis 😔

[s0fter-sin]

prince!ghost and lord in waiting!soap

ghost is a warrior prince, next in line after king price and it’s always been accepted he would be the lone ruler; never one for entertaining the courts or indulging foreign rulers trying to consolidate their power. he hardly acts like a prince at all, in name only when he spends more time as a pseudo captain of the guard. price has never begrudged him that, not when he himself has been a lone king since his inauguration

though he’s a warrior prince, he’s never lost the favour of the people; many see him as a guardian even if he doesn’t interact with the people as much as benevolent and stalwart king price. who he does interact with is the kingdom’s children; always ready to bend a knee and listen to bright voices, to praise stick swords and shields or hear the plight of a struggling family. it was a common belief that if he wasn’t out protecting, then he was with the protected; face covered, blonde curls shining in the sun

soap’s always loved ghost. as his lord in waiting, it’s been his job to attend him since they were young and even as a child, he’d idolised him; his skills in battle, his surety. he thought his life would be nothing but service, clothing a brat prince and making sure his shoes shined. but ghost has proven more than that; he treats him as an equal, consults him on strategy and court politics and over time that idolisation turned into love

and ghost has always felt the same. he’d begrudged the idea of a lord in waiting, not wanting someone always in his business but then came this spitfire who never missed an opportunity to push back on him; to make him dig deeper. johnny is more than some mere servant; he’s his confidant, his best friend, his… everything. he could be simon with him, not prince ghost

but simon figures that out too late

king price gets word from king shepherd, a kingdom they’ve only recently stopped feuding with and he’s offering up his son, prince graves, as a way to bond their kingdoms together and firmly put war behind them. price is ready to deny him, he doesn’t fear war from shepherd, when he sends some ancient laws that leave him unable to refuse. he hates it, hates that he’s ruining ghost’s happiness and feels like he’s betraying his adopted son but there’s nothing he can do

graves comes to their kingdom within the month and it’s clear from the moment he walks through their gates that he’s the opposite of ghost; arrogant and conceited, his ceremonial armour glossy and untouched by battle. he’s dismissive of their servants, of their ways, of their people and ghost hates him

graves insists that the wedding happen as soon as possible, pushing the craftsmen and cooks beyond their limits to prepare and every moment ghost spends with him, the more he dreads his wedding day. every evening he retreats to his room, exhausted, and it’s all johnny can do to keep him afloat; trying to keep him positive as ghost falls away and simon breaks in his arms. he wants to whisk him away like the old tales, the pain his oldest friend and love is in making his heart ache but all he can do is promise to be there with him

but it seems graves wants to take even him away

“soap’s been my lord in waiting since we were children,” ghost protests, voice barely clinging to civility. “i wouldn’t want to lose such a valuable worker.”

“there are plenty of decent servants in our kingdom; you’ll forget this one soon enough,” graves waves away, carding a possessive hand over his curls and it’s only bc he’s looking for it that soap sees ghost’s jaw twitch beneath his neck gaiter. “it’s custom for one marrying into our kingdom to embrace all that it has to offer, leaving who they were behind to become someone better. you’re entering a new life with me; you don’t need the baggage of this dreary place.”

soap feels sick as he walks behind them, his blank expression hiding all sign of his breaking heart.

“soap is beholden to me,” ghost declares. “we were sworn together by the old laws. i’m afraid a custom isn’t enough for me to break a vow to the gods.”

graves lets out a disgruntled noise, tugging harshly at one of ghost’s curls with only a thin veil of fondness; his conceding smile not reaching his eyes.

“i never made a vow to the gods,” johnny points out later. “price gave me to you because he was sick of me setting fire to the kitchens.”

simon hums and sets his freshly cleaned armour aside, turning to him with a twinkle in his eyes he’s barely seen since sheperd’s missive. “you pinkie swore that you would never leave me; that’s more powerful than any promise to the gods,” he says and soap’s thrown back fifteen years, to a willow tree big enough to touch the sky; to two boys from different stations who didn’t care that one was dressed in silk and the other in scraps.

johnny feels a lightness he hasn’t in a month as simon winks at him. “besides, do you really think graves is smart enough to figure it out?”

the days pass quickly, graves’ veneer of affection growing ever thinner, and before either of them are ready, it’s the eve of ghost’s wedding.

he’s said nothing, done nothing but stare at the wedding robes graves had tailored for him in the fashion of his kingdom and johnny doesn’t know how to break the silence. he draws out each second as he fusses with the cape piece and ensures the shoes shine in the fire light until he has no more excuses.

he sighs as he straightens up, brushing off polish onto his pants. “i suppose this is where i leave you,” he says with a weak smile but it quickly dies when simon still doesn’t look at him. “i’ll be here in the morning to help you get ready… good night, simon.”

johnny bows and makes for the door, trying to convince himself he didn’t just say goodbye.

but he’s stopped by simon’s hand loosely wrapping around his wrist.

he looks back as simon finally tears his eyes away from the robes, looking at him with such clear longing it almost brings him to his knees.

“i don’t want graves to be the first man to touch me, johnny,” he confesses and johnny’s breath hitches. “i don’t want to be married to another… not when the one i’m set to wed isn’t you. but if i have to do this… please let me feel loved one final time.”

simon’s thumb brushes the back of his hand; their kingdom’s greatest warrior caressing him with a touch light as silk. he doesn’t pull johnny in, doesn’t need to; johnny’s already sinking into his touch.

desperation and love tinge every movement; johnny dancing his fingers over simon’s neck gaiter until he all too happily removes it, baring his scarred cheeks and lips. johnny kisses each one, willing his love and his touch to linger above all others as they move together; sharing breath, sharing body, sharing soul the way they wish they always have.

when ghost makes his way down the aisle, it’s not in the fine embroidered robes graves had laid out for him. he’s in his battle armour; dark and weathered, the sign of the ghost, the warrior prince, going to battle. the only thing missing is his helm, tucked under his arm.

showing his hair; curls gone and shaved tight to his skin.

a thing done only in a time of great mourning.

graves looks irate and it’s the only spark of joy ghost feels as he stops before the altar; set beneath the willow tree where johnny promised himself to him. one final insult.

ghost is silent throughout the ceremony and in spirit and in grief, so is the entire gathered kingdom until the priestess reaches the final vows and suddenly, a great roar rises above the crowd as seemingly every child in the kingdom swarms the altar.

ghost is too shocked to do anything but let them push him away from graves, bullying their way between them like they’re preparing to protect him just as he’s always protected them.

graves is furious but the children stand firm in the face of his threats until he moves to strike one-

and freezes as soap’s blade finds his throat.

“you would dare hurt these children?” he growls, sword following graves as he stumbles back. “you’ve kept up your charade the entire time and here is where you show your true colours. i think it’s time i show mine.”

graves splutters as johnny turns to the priestess and king price, falling to one knee and offering up his blade. “your grace, i wish to challenge prince graves for the hand of prince simon!”

his voice rings clear and he feels the eyes of every person in the kingdom.

but he only cares for one man.

who is watching him with more love than he’s ever felt.

“who are you to challenge me?” graves sneers. “you’re nothing more than a servant; no better than the dirt on my boots.”

johnny doesn’t bother to look at him, too caught in the love in simon’s eyes and the grateful look on king price’s face. “then you should have nothing to worry about. you’ve been crowing your accolades from the rooftops since you got here; let’s see if you live up to the hype.”

because simon only ever introduced him as his lord in waiting.

never as sir soap- his second in command and one of the greatest swordsmen their kingdom has ever seen.

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Belladonna - Leto Atreides x F!Reader

Belladonna (Atropa belladonna) - Meaning: Silence, betrayal

Summary: Duke Leto's new wife has been neglected. When the Duke finds her under his Swordmaster, he summons her to his office for a talk but it ends up not being what she expected.

Pairing: Leto Atreides x F!Reader, (past fling) Duncan Idaho x F!Reader

Word Count: 918

Warnings: Slight Hurt/Comfort, fluff, Discussion of marital neglect/politically arranged marriage that leads to infidelity, reader has female genitalia but is otherwise not described, slight language, reader tries to appear aloof, Leto is probably OOC, feelings talk, a little husband/wife flirting at the end

Day 4 my loves! This is my first Dune fic and I have only seen the 2021/2024 films and read through some of the Wiki pages so forgive me if there are horrendous inaccuracies. This takes place pre-Dune by about 10 years, so Paul is a kid and Leto is a little younger but still foxy as hell.

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are SUPER appreciated! Thanks for reading <3

The thing about Caladan, you had come to learn, is that no matter where you were in the palace you could always hear the ocean. The crash of waves against the cliff below lulled you to sleep every night since your marriage to Duke Leto about two months ago. Sixty days, of which the Duke had only visited your bedchamber twice. The rest he spent, you assumed, in his chambers with Lady Jessica. 

In fact, you had barely seen him other than your weekly dinners since the wedding. The dinners were silent affairs, you on one end of the long formal dining table and the Duke on the other. Conversation extended no further than pleasantries. You didn’t mind too much — a political marriage like yours wasn’t meant to inspire affection and since the Duke had his concubine and his heir, you were only there to solidify the alliance between Caladan and your home planet, Calypso-9. 

Today, you’d been summoned to his office to discuss yesterday’s incident. 

The incident in which he’d found you underneath his Swordmaster Duncan Idaho in the training room. Half-naked. Writhing and crying in pleasure while Duncan pummeled your cervix with his impressive cock. It had been months since you’d been intimate with someone, and during your self-defense training Duncan’s touches while he corrected your form along with the smell of his sweat and endorphins from the exercise had proven to be too much. You’d given in to your baser instincts, and fuck, did it feel good.

Leto hadn’t said anything, only caught your attention with a loud clear of his throat. When he saw your and Duncan’s eyes on him, all he did was about-face and walk out of the room. 

He maintained the same stoic expression now. His dark eyes bore into yours as he stroked his beard. You had noticed how large his hands were during your wedding ceremony, and you remembered how they felt on you while he dispassionately consummated your union that night. All you could hear were the waves crashing. 

“I think we’re both aware of why I called you here,” he finally said, breaking the silence. 

“You found me fucking Duncan. I apologize if you were offended, my Lord, but I’m not sure why you called me here. Were you offended? Jealous?” You honestly didn’t know why he would want to hash this out between you unless he was going to scold you for being so indiscreet, which you supposed was deserved. 

“What if I was?” He asked, gaze softening before he continued without waiting for your answer, “Even though you and I both know I have no right to be. Our marriage is simply a political arrangement and I have Jessica and Paul while you left your homeworld to come here and be ignored by the husband you never wanted in the first place.” 

Gobsmacked. That was the only way you could describe yourself as you picked your jaw up off the floor. To say you hadn’t expected candor of this level was an understatement.

“I…Apologies, my Lord, but-” 

“Leto.”

“Pardon?”

“You are my wife, there’s no need for formalities. Call me Leto.”

You held back a scoff, turning it into a light sigh instead. “Since this is the second longest conversation we’ve ever had, you’ll forgive my hesitation with familiarities, but alright. Leto,” he nodded gratefully, so you continued, “I don’t fully understand your meaning.” 

“What I mean is I am angry about what I saw yesterday but not for the reasons you may think. I’m not upset with you because I understand that I am what drove you into the arms of my Swordmaster. I am angry with myself for neglecting you so cruelly since our wedding and I promise to do better by you. Perhaps not to Duncan’s extent, but-” 

You burst out laughing, which caused his brows to knit together in confusion. His large hands folded in front of him on his desk as you tried to get yourself under control. 

“I’m - I’m sorry,” you said, waving a hand in front of you, “I don’t mean to be laughing, I swear, but…is that all it would’ve taken to get your attention?” 

“Well, no, but-” 

“To think all I had to do was fuck someone else…I would’ve gotten your attention weeks ago.” 

“You’ve…been wanting my attention?”

This time you let your scoff out, “Of course! When my father told me he’d found me a husband I expected some old, ugly lord with at least two dead wives and no heirs. You cannot imagine the relief I felt when we met and you were none of those things.” 

“I’m not not old,” he chuckled, ducking his head.  

“Oh, pish, you’re barely forty, and don’t look it.” 

He looked up at you from under his regal brow and you felt butterflies stirring in your chest. “And you are one of the most beautiful women who has ever stepped foot on Caladan.” 

You couldn’t help the blush that rose in your cheeks, “Are you flirting with me, Leto?” 

“Perhaps. You are my wife after all,” he smirked, standing from behind his desk and coming around it, offering his arm to you. “Would you like to walk with me? A proper tour of the grounds?” 

You accepted, resting your hand in the crook of his arm and subtly stroking his inner forearm. “And maybe we can stop in the training room?” 

His smirk widened into a smile and you were enchanted at the sight. “Whatever my wife desires.” 

[blues-valentine]

I think some people that are so convinced Tashi doesn’t love Art are so fixated in portraying her as a heartless manipulative woman that only cares about him in the sense of Tennis and that can all be true but she also does love him in her own twisted self absorbing ways, implying the opposite feels offensive to Tashi who isn’t the type to submit herself to a relationship of 15 years with someone she could barely tolerate.

She is absolutely living vicariously through Art as a Tennis player, but you also get the sense of intimacy and small moments that Tashi is Art’s wife and partner, not just his coach. It’s subtle, but it’s there. Them cuddling on the coach could easily be them on any Sunday morning when their relationship isn’t at odds. And you can see Tashi smiling a little in that moment.

Their relationship was also build on a genuine interest — they didn’t get together right after Tashi’s injury since she was in a vulnerable place. They got together years later on a date where Tashi was like a flustered 20ish year old that allows him to see some of her defenses down. Tashi also asks Art if he’s still in love with her (as she is now and not the fierce tennis player he once knew) because here’s the thing about Tashi, she says she doesn’t want to be loved but later asks him if he’s still in love with her cause she wants love not matter how hard she convinces herself she doesn’t — and Art is someone that can give her that feeling of this unconditional love. Someone pointed out Art is the person she has vulnerable scenes with and I believe he does bring that out of her even if she resists that to put on a stronger facade. As opposed to Patrick, that usually lights up her impulsive side. Art is more like the steady calm.

(Which is why Tashi and Patrick would’ve never worked in a relationship because they’re both too impulsive and he would’ve never allow her to control him and his career like she wanted).

I believe Tashi’s real true love is Tennis, but she does love Art. I think she’s full of bullshit saying she would leave Art if he stops playing because I think she would never leave him. She would’ve ages ago. Their relationship feels odd because we are only seeing their marriage falling apart because Art doesn’t want to play anymore and has lost its passion for it but makes you wonder how their marriage would normally be in all the good days where Art had a passion for Tennis.

And a lot of people be like “but she cheated on him with Patrick twice!” but she can love Art and still pursue the thrill Patrick provides. First, Tashi has never been implied to be a constant cheater, it’s just Patrick (in throuple we trust). This people are all morally questionable but a thing that is common about Tashi’s encounters with Patrick is that she’s always on a bad place. The first time in Atlanta was after she saw Anna (the girl she played with and won the same day she meet both Art and Patrick) is in the first place without a rival, a place that could’ve been hers if she was still playing — she sees Patrick being a loser (affectionate) and is low key resentful of Art because he’s being a successful tennis player so they bond over that, about the feeling of being a failure. And then later, Tashi is in another bad place because Art doesn’t want to play Tennis anymore and if he stops playing then her link to Tennis is also over. The game with Patrick is her last chance to make him love Tennis again. And when she sleeps with Patrick, she’s frustrated because she’s seeing how Art lost confidence in the game and so she goes there to ensure Art doesn’t lose. She tells Art she would leave him if he loses, but then goes to beg Patrick to ensure that doesn’t happen. And that sealed the deal for me. Yes, she could also be doing all that just because she doesn’t want to lose since she’s basically living through Art — but I think that’s a very one dimensional take because Patrick asked her in the original screenplay if Art winning would make her love him again, to which she responds she never stopped loving him. Because, even if he loses the game, she would love him. And one thing she has in common with Pat is their love for Art.

Like, Tashi resents Art because he is living the life she should be having as a professional tennis player, that’s what Patrick was referring to when he told her she hated Art, and while she hates being seem as just the wife and not the tennis player herself, she also hates the fact she would never truly leave him. Let Tashi have feelings, not everything is so one dimensional.

[dc-probate-attorney]

Navigating the Sea of Love - The Power of Pre-Marital Counseling

Love is a beautiful journey, and marriage is often considered the ultimate destination. It’s the union of two souls, a commitment to share a life together, for better or for worse. However, this journey is not always smooth sailing. Like any adventure, it comes with its own set of challenges and uncertainties. This is where pre-marital counseling comes into play, as a powerful tool to equip…

[alwaysbewoke]

this year i learned that there's a thing called "permanent alimony" (support paid to the lesser-earning spouse until the death of the payor, the death of the recipient, or the remarriage of the recipient). that alone is reason to NOT get married. nahhhh.

[tarotofbadkitties]

One of my favorite little things about Challengers is how Art and Tashi show toxic traits they picked up from one another over the years. One that stands out to me is when Art had that insane conversation with Patrick in the sauna about tennis, and, after berating him in the form of elaborate tennis metaphor for several minutes, asked with a straight face "what the fuck could we possibly have to talk about other than tennis." Another one is when Tashi booty-calls Patrick then pretends she isn't there to have sex with him. Patrick used up all his patience for that in the sauna with Art, so poor Tashi must get cursed out for both of them.

[queerism1969]

John invited his mother over for dinner. During the meal, his mother couldn't help noticing how handsome John's roommate was. She had long been suspicious of Johns' sexual orientation and this only made her more curious.

Over the course of the evening, while watching the two interact, she started to wonder if there was more between John and the roommate than met the eye.

Reading his mom's thoughts, John volunteered, "I know what you must be thinking, but I assure you, Mark and I are just roommates."

About a week later, Mark came to John and said, "Ever since your mother came to dinner, I've been unable to find the beautiful silver gravy ladle. You don't suppose she took it, do you?"

John said, "Well, I doubt it, but I'll write her a letter just to be sure." So he sat down and wrote: "Dear Mother, I'm not saying you 'did' take a gravy ladle from my house, and I'm not saying you 'did not' take a gravy ladle. But the fact remains that one has been missing ever since you were here for dinner."

Several days later, John received a letter from his mother which read: "Dear Son, I'm not saying that you 'do' sleep with Mark, and I'm not saying that you 'do not' sleep with Mark. But the fact remains that if he was sleeping in his own bed, he would have found the gravy ladle by now. Love, Mom"

[crossingthedreams]

wake up — marcus acacius x f!reader

a/n: this is short, angsty and heartbreaking. i can’t bring myself to write more than this because marcus acacius is already causing me pain before the movie is even released. anyway, i’m late (obv), but here is @angstober day 11 — wake up. enjoy!

masterlist

word count: 460

warnings: angst. death. implied smut. 

“Wake up”, you nudged the man who laid beside you, smile growing wider with every muffled, sleepy sound he let out. He shifted on the bed, his arm pulling you closer to him as he mumbled nonsensical gibberish. You could only laugh, your body nestling in him. 

Nestling close to him, face side by side to your husband’s for the very first time.

You felt a hand in your stomach, and then you were turned to straddle your new husband. 

Your hair falling like curtains molding your face, as his own fell on the pillows like a halo. His hand caressed your bare back, reminding you of how he made you his in more ways than one. 

As your chests pressed against each other, you felt your hearts beating in unissound. 

He smiled softly and finally opened his eyes, those brown orbs immediately finding your gaze. You bit down on your lip, a little anxious. The two of you had met a few times before your wedding day yesterday, but would he still like the sight of his wife on a new day? 

“Good morning, caríssima”, his voice was raspy, but his tone was kind. He was the perfect epitome of what a Roman man should be: strong, protective of his homeland and caring to his family.

A hand reached to take a lock of your hair away from your voice. Much like you now moved his hair away from his face, with the memories of your first night together passing through you, still.

He was still beautiful, even with all the bruises, cuts and dry blood. The smell was awful, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

The medics and soldiers brought him quickly back to Rome after his injuries, but it wasn’t the injuries that worried them. The infection seemed to spread quickly in other men, and the General himself had shown the first symptoms already. In a matter of hours he could perish if nothing was done.

That was still your husband but, at the same time, it wasn’t. 

“Wake up”, you murmured, bringing your face closer to his. His eyes were closed, and his mouth half open. His hair was still soft in between your fingers as you caressed him. 

He didn’t move. 

The tears you were fighting began streaming down your face. No, no, no, no, no, you thought. 

You shook Marcus’ body, grasping his shoulders. Behind you, a soldier vaguely made a move to stop you, but his comrade stopped him. You didn’t pay attention to it. 

“Wake up, wake up, wake up”, you were still shaking him, tears flooding. Your strength faded as reality slowly hit you. 

You sank to the floor, face side by side to your husband’s for the last time.

[steddieunderdogfics]

For the Monday challenge, one word title fics, I'd like to recommend "Chokechain" by GhostHost. It's hurt/comfort at its finest and features a BA!Wayne. What more could you want from a Steddie fic😜

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51164569

Chokechain by GhostHost

@sp0o0kylights

Rating: Teens and up

17,739 words, 1/1 chapters

Archive Warning: Creator chose not to use

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Head Injury, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Arranged Marriage, Misunderstandings, everyones mad at Steve and the poor guy cant get through to them that its his parents not him, both steddie and pre steddie, Unreliable Narrator, BAMF Wayne

Summary:

Rumors of Steve’s pending engagement threaten to splinter the post-Vecna bliss with a harsh dose of reality: 1. Steve Harrington is nothing more than a bargaining chip to his parents. 2. His friends can't relate, or wose, don't understand. 3. The most unlikely of people show up in your corner.

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Challenge Monday. The challenge this week was Fics with one word titles.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!